Author's Note: Hello! I've probably read far too many stories like this one...so I decided to write one because I absolutely love the idea. Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are all welcome and encouraged. Thanks!

(Ah, also, this is crossposted on AO3)

Severus Snape knew many things, not that he was one to brag about his knowledge. He knew how each and every ingredient would react to another or to any outside stimulus whether that be heat or a stirring rod. He knew how to brew the most complicated of potions without so much as a glance at the recipe no matter how long ago he'd first seen it. He knew how to fight and how to create spells to end the fights quickly. He knew how to deceive even the most paranoid of people. He knew that he should never have agreed to become a teacher and, above all else, he knew that Petunia Dursley nee Evans should never be allowed within a hundred feet of a magical child.

For the first year and a half after the Potters met their unfortunate end, Severus couldn't bring himself to care where their brat had ended up, though the rest of the magical community demanded answers as he allowed himself to remain mired in his grief. He'd been content to remain that way as well until Minerva had started on Dumbledore at breakfast.

That morning had been the first time in a week that Severus had made it out of his quarters to eat with the rest of the staff that had remained over the summer or that were there for some reason that he didn't know and didn't care to know. Severus ate in silence as Minerva spoke with Poppy and Filius, the latter regaling them with tales of his latest dueling tournament and the grievous errors his opponents had made until one Albus Dumbledore strode in and blinded them all with his...unfortunate..robes.

"Good morning everyone!" he greeted, entirely too happy for Severus' tastes no matter what time of day it was. He returned to at least appearing to read his potions magazine to avoid having to speak.

"Good morning," the others replied and the meal continued peacefully...until Minerva suddenly turned to Dumbledore and asked,

"Do you have any updates on how Harry is faring?" Dumbledore stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"Of course, my dear," he replied once he had swallowed his food, "I received an update from his family just this morning, he's settling in well."

"He's lying." Severus thought, spotting the way the elder wizard reached for his napkin as he spoke, using the cloth to wipe at, and consequently cover, his mouth as he said the last few words.

"I can't imagine him settling in well with those people," Minerva muttered, not even looking at the headmaster.

"Now Minerva, you saw how they treated their own son," Albus chided, taking on the calming tone he used with anyone who ever thought to question him, "why wouldn't they treat their nephew the same? He is family, after all, they treat him like a prince!"

By now, alarm bells were going off. Severus knew for a fact that Potter didn't have any siblings which meant that, unless the idiot had been lying, Dumbledore had left a young child in the care of the woman who had been abusive to her own sister since their childhood.

"Freak! You're a freak, Lily!" that screeching voice echoed through Severus' memories, high pitched and childish but no less caustic. Petunia Evans would never treat Lily's child like a prince, not unless she was under some sort of compulsion and he highly doubted that was the case.

"Do you really want that boy to end up like their son?" Minerva asked caustically, "Their child has already been spoiled beyond belief!"

"He's fine, Minerva," Albus said soothingly, though Severus didn't miss the quick glance in his direction to make sure he wasn't really paying any attention to the conversation, "Arabella Figg lives just down the street, she sends me regular updates on young Harry's life."

"If you're certain, Albus…" Minerva sighed, obviously not believing the man but willing to trust him to do what was best for the boy.

"Of course I am, he's in the best hands," Dumbledore said happily and that was that.

Later, heading back down to the dungeons, Severus fought to keep his mask in place as suspicion gnawed away at him. Arabella Figg was an elderly squib with more cats than she could handle and the inability to see more than two feet in front of her face. There was absolutely no way she could give any sort of accurate report on the child's life. But this was Albus Dumbledore...he wouldn't deliberately place a child as important to their society as Harry Potter in a situation where he'd be mistreated...would he?

Unbidden, memories of his own pleas to remain at the school during holidays rose to the surface.

"Now I'm sure you're just exaggerating, my boy. Your father loves you, surely he deserves more than accusations on your end?"

Severus hated the creepy twinkle that appeared in the old headmaster's eyes any time he thought he had convinced someone to do things his way, especially when it was directed at him.

Of course, Harry Potter was much more important than Severus Snape had ever been, especially to the headmaster, so surely the old coot would never allow something as awful as the potions master's childhood to happen to the Boy-Who-Lived. With this in mind, the man went down to his personal lab, intending to brew all his worries away, as he usually did.

Halfway through bottling a simple fever reducer, Severus felt a tug on something deep inside him. He knew the feeling, it was an odd thing that occurred at least four times a day, a weird sensation he usually ignored since he connected it with the guilt and self-hatred he fought against all the time. This time though, it felt...sharp, almost painful and undoubtedly urgent.

"...similar to the Dark Lord's call…" he realized, setting his potion aside. Alarm shot through him at that thought.

A less cautious man would have merely followed the tugging out of curiosity. A more fanatic follower of the Dark Lord would have gone immediately in case it was their master calling for them. Severus was neither of these.

He left his lab and took a seat in his sitting room. Closing his eyes, Severus turned his gaze inward and searched out his magical core. It took very little time at all to find the ball of magic, a swirling mass of deep blue that pulsed and glowed. Two strands of foreign magic connected to his own. One was the familiar blood red strand belonging to the Dark Lord himself that had faded almost completely out of existence. The other strand was one he often forced himself not to think about, the sickly yellow thing that was his oath to protect the Potter child...or it had been. He was almost jolted out of his meditation in shock as he found the odd yellow belonging to the headmaster had vanished, replaced by deep, emerald green that pulsed rapidly.

Severus stood abruptly and grabbed his cloak, making sure he had his wand and potions pouch before flooing to Spinner's End, no longer able to ignore the tugging sensation. Something was obviously very wrong with the child for him to have overridden the headmaster's magic with his own. Praying that he wasn't about to stumble upon a murder scene, Severus focused on the bond and apparated away.

Boy didn't feel good. Of course, he never felt good, but now he really reeaaaallyyy didn't feel good. He didn't tell anyone though, just kept cleaning the bathroom as he'd been ordered. Aunt Petunia told him to always stay very very quiet or he'd never be a good boy so he kept his mouth shut.

"Mummy!" Dudley screeched from downstairs in the living room, "Mummy! Want pudding!"

"Of course, Sweetums!" Aunt Petunia replied, "You can have all the pudding you want for being such a good boy!"

Boy wasn't surprised. Dudley always wanted pudding and he always got what he wanted. Boy didn't understand why Dudley was a good boy to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, he always yelled and demanded more food, crying when he was hurt or dirty, and he couldn't even use the toilet yet even though he was now three years old! Boy knew that if he tried to act like his cousin, he'd be shut away in his cupboard for a really really long time. He knew because he'd tried it once, telling his uncle no and proceeding to throw an impressive tantrum. That was the first time the man had hit him. The blow had thrown him into the nearest wall, pain making his screeching cries even louder than before which had irritated Vernon to the point that he just shoved him into the cupboard and locked the door.

"Mummyyyyyy!" Dudley whined, Boy had no idea what he was on about this time but he hoped that his cousin wasn't blaming him for whatever it was. He wouldn't defend himself though if Dudley was blaming him for something. He was just Boy after all.

As Boy cleaned the bathtub, he thought about the nice dream he'd been having before he was forced awake by Aunt Petunia banging on his door. It was all fuzzy but he thought he could remember a beautiful lady speaking to him. He could still hear her voice in his mind,

"Hold on, love. Be strong."

Boy had felt safe and warm for a moment, as though the lady was hugging him. That was how he'd known it was a dream. Aunt Petunia said that no one wanted to touch freaks like him because it might rub off on them. She'd also told him that awful, freaky little boys didn't get a mummy or a daddy so he should be grateful he had an aunt and an uncle willing to take care of him. He supposed that made sense.

Boy coughed, leaning away and trying to get the strong scent of the cleaner he was using out of his nose and lungs. Aunt Petunia said the store bought stuff was too watered down so she made her own, somehow managing to make something that reeked of bleach and lemons. The use of the concoction always left Boy coughing and feeling lightheaded and that day was no different, possibly worse than it had ever been before since his eyes were so blurry and it kept getting dark around the edges. Maybe it was that there was more bleach in this batch...or maybe it was because Boy's tummy was angry at him for not being good enough to eat anything that entire week...he wasn't sure.

"Boy!" Aunt Petunia yelled, "Get down here and clean up this mess before Vernon gets home!"

"But I didn't do it." Boy thought sadly even as he quickly left the bathroom to do as he'd been told.

He made it to the top of the stairs before his vision went black around the edges again. Boy, already woozy and unstable, managed to trip over the ends of the too-long and much too large pair of jeans he wore, sending him careening into the open air for a moment before his entire body lit up in pain as he tumbled down the stairs.

For a moment, Boy heard Aunt Petunia screeching angrily at him, though it sounded like he was underwater so he couldn't really make out what she was saying before everything went black.