Chapter Text
Ron was still yawning. It was so early. It was supposed to be the summer holidays. But no. He’d been pulled out of bed at stupid o’clock before even Percy was up. And then his mum had insisted he write to Harry right away, even before breakfast! She’d told him barely anything about their meeting with Dumbledore, only that everyone was looking for Harry, who was apparently hiding somewhere at Hogwarts. Harry hadn’t gone with Hagrid at all. He just hadn’t wanted to go home! Ron wouldn’t have believed her… except, well, Harry did have that cloak. And he knew better than most that Harry didn’t mind sneaking around out of bounds. But this was different! He couldn’t believe Harry hadn’t told him. He had a lot of things to say, but Molly wasn’t letting him write any of them. She hadn’t let him send a howler either, even though he knew that if he had hidden at Hogwarts all summer, he would have absolutely gotten the loudest, screechiest one she could charm.
He had never spent so much time over one stupid letter. For some reason, Molly kept freaking out about his handwriting and insisting it had to be neat and clear. This was the third rewrite. She had ended up dictating almost every word to him. His letter. To Harry. His friend. Even Arthur kept butting in. He was at the other end of the table, supposedly fixing an old clock, but was clearly listening and kept making approving noises or uncertain little coughs. Ron finished the draft and handed it to Molly, who practically snatched it out of his hands. He stood as she took his seat at the table, pushing him out of the way absentmindedly. Ron pulled a face but nobody noticed so he just sighed and then stretched out his shoulders as he waited. Molly was reading very slowly with a frown scrunching up her face. She had never looked so serious about anything he had written before. She looked like Hermione after he’d done a particularly lazy essay. It wasn’t that bad, was it? He leaned in to read it again over her shoulder as his dad came to stand next to him and did the same thing.
Dear Harry,
You're welcome for the whole rest of the holidays, you don't need to go back to the Dursleys. The address is The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole. If you can get to a magical fireplace (like any of the ones at Hogwarts or any wizarding household) there should be a little pot of grey floo powder nearby. If you take a pinch of this, throw it into the fire, stand in the fireplace and say “The Burrow,” loudly and clearly, it will take you straight to our kitchen.
Otherwise, mum or dad are happy to pick you up. They can apparate so they'd just appear wherever you are and then you could side apparate back with them. You'd just have to let them know your location. You can send word by Errol.
Can't wait to see you. Everyone is glad you liked the snacks. We're sending some belated birthday food, sorry we couldn't get it to you sooner. There's a present for you when you get here.
Ron xxx
Ps I asked Dad and he told me how to get into the kitchens at Hogwarts! He said that you need to find a portrait of a fruit bowl in the right hand corridor below the hall. If you tickle the pear you get in and you can ask the house elves for anything you want to eat! I can't wait to try!
"That's good," Molly said finally. "Arthur, do you think we missed anything? Is it clear about the floo? For a muggleborn?"
Arthur shrugged. "It looks fine to me. Minerva said she'll put the powder out tonight. Good job, Ron."
"Why don’t I just tell him we know he’s at Hogwarts and he needs to stop messing around?” Ron moaned.
“We’re not sure he is,” said Molly slowly. “And if someone intercepts this, we don’t want them to realise he’s on his own.”
“Why would someone intercept?”
Arthur looked vague. “Well, stranger danger. You know.”
Ron huffed. “You mean someone like Quirrel… or You-Know-Who…?”
“No, no,” said Arthur cheerfully. “Very unlikely. We just want to be on the safe side.”
“And Quirrel died,” said Molly softly. “Remember?”
“Of course, I remember,” said Ron hotly. “But You-Know-Who died and that didn’t stop him going after Harry. And I had nightmares about Quirrel just hearing about it. Harry was there when he died and practically killed him with his hands, sounded like, and then he’s been on his own ever since - “
“I know, Ron,” said Molly softly. “It’s ok, we’re going to find him. It’s ok.” She dropped the letter and pulled him into a hug. She was very warm but her jumper was awfully scratchy on his face. He pushed her back.
“But how did Dumbledore not even realise?" he shook his head, still floored by the thought.
"It’s been a big mix up, I think. But we’ll find him. And you're not to tell anyone, not even Ginny or the twins. I'm serious, Ron." Molly looked tired.
"I won't. I just… I can’t believe he didn’t tell me."
"No, I know. I know," sighed Molly. She and Arthur gave each other a long look. Then Molly tapped the parchment to make sure all the ink was dry and rolled it up. She gave Ron a big smile. A big, fake smile. Ron stared at her until she looked away. Did she think he was a baby? None of this made sense.
"Why didn't the muggles even report him missing?" he asked, with a scowl.
"Harry told them he was staying with us,” said Molly matter of factly.
"Oh," said Ron, fiddling with his quill. He bent it so far back it was close to snapping. Molly usually told him off for that. "And they didn't even check? Why didn’t Harry just ask to come here in the first place? I don't get it."
"I don't know, dear. I suspect it's complicated," she sighed again, her head in her hand. Arthur gently took the quill away from Ron and laid it on the table.
Ron considered this and then snorted. He didn’t think it was complicated. Harry was just being an arse. After all they went through together last term? After he and Hermione specifically told him he didn’t have to do everything on his own? Harry lied to them both! And then he’d gone off and had another adventure without them. Ron wouldn’t have told anyone. And what if there had been another troll? Or if ghost You-know-who was still floating around in the forbidden forest? Great strategy, Harry. Git.
"Are you giving the letter to Errol now?" Ron asked.
"Not yet," said Arthur. "We'll have a bit of breakfast and then apparate to Hogsmeade. We’ll send him from there. Hagrid is going to try and watch where he goes."
Ron nodded and then snorted. "Has Errol ever apparated before?"
"No," said Molly with a slightly frightened smile. "Please hold on to him tight. I hope he doesn't die of shock."
Ron sighed. The things he did for Harry.
…
Severus hadn't slept all night. He had begun work as soon as he left Albus’ office, starting in the dungeons and working his way up, interviewing every single portrait along every single corridor. It was very frustrating work. At dawn he stopped for a coffee break and considered all he had heard. He had only reached the second floor, but he had spoken with hundreds of paintees, ranging from the dull to the ecstatically irritating. He gleaned no information of any use, but a lot of information all the same. It seemed that plenty of portraits were not spoken to very often and all very much enjoyed telling their stories. It didn't help that Severus couldn't be explicit about what he was asking. What an abominably inefficient way to search.
Usually at this time in the morning, Snape enjoyed a peaceful forage. His ingredients were complex but ultimately predictable. Over many years he had learned to read the forest, he knew the herbs which flourished in the shade, which spices required sunlit borders. He knew the fungi that popped up after a rainfall, the flowers which bloomed only with a full moon. He did not enjoy foraging for scraggly, idiotic children who followed no logic whatsoever. He fished a piece of salix from his pocket and chewed it as he trudged on, but his headache was persistent. He cricked his neck and thought about exactly how he would like to punish Potter for putting them all through this nonsense. Perhaps having him wipe down every portrait in the castle would be fitting. Dursleys or no Dursleys, the child was a menace. His capacity for chaos was unparalleled. Invisibility cloaks. Of all the nonsense. Like father, like son.
And yet, with irritation, Snape couldn’t help feeling this was his own fault. Somewhere, somehow, James Potter was probably crying laughing at him. The boy had annoyed him all year. The boy had no subtlety. He was loud and showy and drew every eye without effort, the centre of attention wherever he went. His annoyingly recognisable giggle burst out at odd times in the great hall, disturbing the gentle chatter at mealtimes, grating on Severus with its consistent unpredictability. Potter was always whispering at the back of class, a little irrepressible hissing like a leaky bottle of garrotting gas. Even in the refuge of the staff room, Snape hadn’t been able to escape “Harry this,” “Harry that,” this year’s top gossip. Severus had felt surrounded all year, he had felt trapped, at times he had been so tempted to cloud the child in a nice, little, permanent muffliato. But now, here Severus was, desperately searching for any trace of the boy, just like any other of his insufferable fan club. And the boy had disappeared as thoroughly as any diricawl. He could be anywhere. He was nowhere. Not one portrait had seen or heard a peep out of him. Infuriating.
It took him until noon to get through the third and fourth floors. Severus endured one last monologue from a knight with an impossibly slow, languorous drawl, but then had to admit, he was starting to lose focus. He was aching all over. He decided to have a sandwich and another coffee, then head to Argus’ office before going further. The staff room was empty. He chomped through a sandwich fiercely. As soon as he was done, he rubbed his eyes. He stifled a yawn. His heart sank. He longed to sleep. This was what Potter had driven him to? Napping? He shuddered and decided to forgo the drink, instead simply crunching a handful of raw coffee beans from his pocket as he carried on his way. When he reached Argus’ office, he rested his head briefly on the door frame and then knocked.
"Come in," growled the old caretaker.
Severus pulled the door open and was about to speak when he stopped short. He gaped at the bizarre sight of Mrs Norris wrapped in so many bandages that she looked to be twice her usual size. She was sitting in a large basket stuffed full of blankets and pillows, which had pride of place on Argus' desk. He was currently dangling a mouse toy at her and she was batting it away, with jerky movements hindered by the ludicrous trailing dressings.
“What happened here?” asked Severus.
"Peeves," said Argus with a look. "Ought to have been exorcised years ago. Stomped on my cat's tail. She’s very upset."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Severus said. There was a little silence. Mrs Norris appeared to be purring. She seemed surprisingly unconcerned with the atrocious mountain of coverings. Perhaps this wasn’t unusual. He watched Mrs Norris swat and bite at the toy for a little while, before remembering why he came.
"I wanted to ask if you've seen anything out of the ordinary," he asked.
Argus leaned against his wall. "Here? No," he said sarcastically.
"Apart from Peeves," said Severus.
Argus scratched his head. "Like what?"
Severus sighed. "Can I check lost property?"
Filch waved him over to a drawer. Severus rifled through but there wasn’t much there and he didn't recognise anything that might have been Potter's.
"Any break-ins to your office? Any signs that someone has been moving things around in classrooms? Anyone trying doors or sneaking into the kitchens?"
Filch raised his eyebrows. "Like students? Not since the term ended. Why?" He reached across to a biscuit tin and offered a cookie. Severus shook his head impatiently, trying to think of anything else he could ask. What might Filch have noticed? Footprints? Odd noises at night? Filch shrugged and grunted as Severus questioned him further but there was nothing of note in his responses. Severus tapped his tongue against his teeth as he watched Filch put the biscuit tin back in the cupboard. Then, he paused. One of the cupboard doors was nearly broken off its hinge.
"What happened there?" he asked.
"Peeves, like I said," Filch huffed. "Haven't got round to fixing it yet."
"Peeves was stealing cookies?"
Filch scowled. "I found a whole bag of desserts he was planning to throw. I got these two tins away from him, but he still has a pie. I'm expecting it to reappear in my face any day now."
Snape stared. Then, he cleared his throat. "When was this?"
"Three days ago. I had to fight him!" Filch exclaimed. "I found the cakes hidden in a deserted classroom, on the second floor. I knew it was Peeves, always ready for mischief - he threw a trifle once. Got all the jelly in my hair. So I took the bag here and left the door open to trap him. I've done it before. One time I lured him in and then let the Bloody Baron have at him." Filch sighed fondly at the memory.
"And Peeves came for the desserts?" asked Severus.
Filch snorted. "Of course he did. That's when he got Mrs Norris. He was invisible of course, but I'm used to his tricks by now. Oh ho ho, he thinks he's so clever. I swear when it's my time, I'm going to come back and haunt him!"
"And what happened?" Severus insisted.
Filch smirked. "I slammed the cupboard door on him. He got past but I held on as long as I could to the bag, he was twisting and pulling, the desk was knocked all over the place. But then he grabbed the pie and was gone. Still, I kept hold of the tins." He held up a torn rucksack with pride.
Severus flinched. "That bag's got blood on it," he said.
"Well, you know Peeves and his jump scares,” Filch shrugged. “Thinks he can intimidate me. Pah. Losing his touch."
"But that's not a poltergeist trick, that's real blood," Severus said.
Filch yawned. Severus tutted and bent down to inspect the cupboard and the two tins more closely. They were beautiful tins, if quite dented and battered. One was dark green with silver stars and the other was purple, with a white owl.
"Peeves wouldn't have put desserts into tins to throw them," said Severus.
"Why not?" snorted Filch. "He chucks all the furniture. I've had to rescue sofas from chandeliers before. Do you know how long it takes to get a sofa down from a chandelier? Probably could take the good Professor Dumbledore about three seconds but no, me and my bloody stepladder…"
"He must have stolen them,” Severus cut in. “I'll ask around in the staff room."
Filch groaned but waved Severus off as if to allow it. Severus took the tins and placed them gingerly into the ripped rucksack. He turned to leave.
"Wait!" said Filch. He reached for the bag and pulled out the owl tin back out, opened it and grabbed a handful of chocolate squares. I'm sure nobody would mind," he grinned. "For my troubles."
Severus could feel his teeth grinding but he restrained himself. "Let me know if you find that pie, or any other lost forgotten food or tins or trunks," he said tightly.
"If you say so, Professor," Filch scowled.
Severus shut the door behind him and sprinted up to Albus' office. If he could confirm the tins with Molly, then they'd know for certain Potter had still been here three days ago. That was the good news. He hadn't liked Filch's description of the fight or the blood on the bag. There was a good chance Potter was quite seriously injured. He knocked at Albus’ door, immediately opened it without waiting and rushed in only to find the office crammed full of people. He could just about make out Albus sat at his desk.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he murmured. Albus nodded at him. Severus shuffled and rearranged his cloak so the bag was hidden from view from the unknown crowd. He then bit his lip, hoping that Albus would realise from his demeanour that it was urgent. Who were all these people? He looked around to assess and he realised that the Minister of Magic himself was standing right in front of him. He sucked in a surprised breath. Perhaps he should have waited before barging right in.
"Professor Snape," Minister Fudge cried, turning to him. "Exactly the person we were looking for."
Severus tilted his head in confusion but Albus’ expression was inscrutable. Minister Fudge moved aside and Severus that realised there was a young boy stood in the middle of the ministry officers. For a second he thought they’d found Potter. But no. It wasn’t Potter. It was Draco. The boy's face was frozen somewhere between a sneer and a grimace. He looked up briefly at Severus, who saw that his eyes were puffy and red, and his jaw was locked with tension. Then he stared back at his boots.
"I'm afraid this young man's parents have been taken for questioning regarding some rather curious items we found last night hidden around their manor after an anonymous tip off," said Fudge jovially, as though he had announced they were just popping out for afternoon tea. "I believe you are the boy's godfather."
"Yes," said Severus, his mind whirling with the new information. He stared at Dumbledore who looked a little too pleased with himself. "Of course, I can take him. Draco, is that OK with you?"
Draco didn't look at him. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged his shoulders with a jerk and a slight toss of his head.
"Excellent," said Fudge. "If you'll just sign here, Severus…"
A parchment appeared in midair. Severus scanned the custody document feeling dazed, then signed with his finger. The document vanished with a crackle of sparks.
"Then we'll be off," Fudge beamed. "Thanks for the sherbet lemons, Headmaster. I'll be in touch."
Albus nodded. The ministers started manoeuvring themselves out.
"I'm so sorry, Draco," Severus whispered, kneeling down to him. Draco shrugged and continued to stare at the floor.
"Let's go down to my quarters and get you settled in. Do you have luggage? Your broom?"
Draco just shrugged again. Severus thought it had been a long time since he had been in Draco’s presence for more than a minute without hearing his voice.
"I'll make sure it gets there," said Albus. "I'm sorry, Draco. This has been quite a shock. Take your time and let me know if you need anything. I'll give you any updates on your parents as soon as I can, but you should be prepared for the eventuality that you'll be staying with Severus until school reopens. He'll help you with any homework, I'm sure and maybe take you out flying on the quidditch pitch at some point."
There was a little silence and then finally Draco nodded.
"Of course," said Severus. "But first, Albus, I must tell you. Argus had a dramatic fight with an invisible Peeves three days ago. He took this from him, but the poltergeist slipped his clutches. I believe it once belonged to Molly Weasley. Could you please check with her?"
He held out the bag. Albus' enormous smile faded as soon as he saw the state of it.
"I'll do that immediately," he said.
"The desserts were originally found in a second floor classroom; Argus might know more," Severus added as he shepherded Draco out. "Please keep me updated."
"Will do,” Albus sighed. “Thank you, Severus. Goodbye Draco, I’ll see you soon.”
