Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or anything in the Harry Potter universe. If I did, I wouldn’t be writing fanfic. You could sue me, but as I’m 17 years old, I don’t think you’d get very much, except maybe my calculus book. Which you can have, by the way. I’m not overly fond of it. Just don’t take my Harry Potter stuff!

Author’s note: I really like comments, so after you read this, please review! By the way, I wanted the sections done from Harry’s POV to sound like that of a 3-year-old. So any grammatical errors are intentional. That said, enjoy!

* * * * *

Severus Snape was not having a good day. He had got an owl from Minerva, requesting that he meet her to discuss his...attitude...toward his students, and to come up with alternatives for improvements for next term. Leave it to her to ruin his summer vacation. She simply didn’t understand. He had reasons for being the strict disciplinarian that he was. It was for their own good. So he had flown all the way from Hogwarts to London in the pouring rain just to be lectured by the annoyingly well-meaning Transfigurations teacher. He felt a cold coming on.

After pretending to agree to her terms, Snape got up from the table, grumbled something about “see you next term”, and stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron into muggle London. Ignoring the strange looks both he and his broomstick got, he turned the corner and bumped into a very large, purple man.

Vernon Dursley looked up from the child he had been yelling at and turned to see a sallow-looking man dressed all in black and carrying a broomstick. He looked the man up and down, as the man in black did the same to him. Vernon Dursley did not like him at all. He did not approve of such attire.

“Excuse me,” Snape said, eyeing the large purple man, who just stared back. Snape looked down at the little crying child who the man had just been scolding. At the moment the child was trying to fight off a rather large boy with matted blond hair, who was swatting at him and trying to steal his glasses.

‘Stupid muggles,’ he thought. ‘Don’t even watch out for their own children.’ As the large purple man continued to stare at Snape, the blond boy began a new taunt. He ran up and down the block with the other boy’s glasses, yelling “Scarhead! Scarhead!”

‘How uninventive,’ thought Snape. But then he stopped short. His mind was running wild, back to his school days. That boy’s face looked awfully familiar. Those eyes looked familiar. “Scarhead...” Suddenly it dawned on him. He ran to the little crying boy and picked him up.

Harry looked curiously at the strange man in black who had just picked him up, and he almost stopped crying. The man was holding him very gently, brushing back his hair to look at that nasty scar that Dudley always made fun of.

“Potter?” said the nice man in black. Through his sniffling, Harry asked how the nice man knew his name. But the nice man didn’t answer.

“Why are you crying, Harry?” Snape asked instead. Strangely enough, he felt anger fill him as Harry told tearfully about getting in trouble because Dudley teased him. Looking around at the nearly empty street, Snape chanced a small charm. “Accio glasses.”

The blond pig of a boy screeched as Harry’s glasses flew out of his hands and into Snape’s. At this, Vernon Dursley jumped as the realization hit him.
“You!” His face cycled through five different shades of purple. “We don’t approve of your kind here. Get away from my family! You...you freak!” He began shaking violently as Snape glared at him.

“Shut up Dursley! Harry is not your family. Dammit! Have you no idea what I could do to you? How dare you treat Lily’s child like this! Like common low-life trash!”

Vernon Dursley’s breathing was coming in harsh gasps now. “If you even try to turn me or...or my Dudley into a...toad, or something, why I’ll...”

“You’ll what Dursley? Run to your muggle policemen? Tell your mum the big bad wizard hurt you? What would they say, Dursley? Think they would believe you?”

Harry watched in silence as the nice man scolded Uncle Vernon. He liked this man. No one else had ever been so nice to him. He wondered who the man was. Then the man turned to him and smiled. He put his hand on Harry’s forehead and muttered something Harry couldn’t understand. Whatever it was though, Harry liked it. It made him feel very warm and calm. He didn’t want the nice man to leave, but after a second he put Harry down and walked right up to Uncle Vernon. He grabbed Uncle Vernon’s shirt and must have said something, because when the nice man let go, Uncle Vernon grabbed his cousin’s hand rather roughly and said in a choked voice, “Come along, Harry.”

Severus Snape watched as the three receded down the street, then turned back and went into the Leaky Cauldron where, thankfully, Minerva McGonagall still sat.

“Problem, Severus?” she asked with slight amusement at the urgent look on the Potions Master‘s face. He looked around quickly before sitting across from her at the small table and leaning in close to whisper.

“You will never believe who I just saw outside.” At this she looked even more amused, making Snape slightly angry.

“Alright, Severus. Alright. I’ll play. Who?”

“Harry Potter.” At this McGonagall could no longer contain herself. She threw her head back and laughed. People in the bar turned away from their conversations to stare at the Hogwarts professors. It was several minutes before McGonagall calmed down sufficiently to allow herself to speak.

“Oh, Severus, you’re too much! You realize you can’t possibly be telling the truth. Do you know how many people there are in England? What are the chances of seeing Harry Potter in London? Besides you know the muggles are supposed to keep a low profile of him, for his own safety...” The amusement on her face slowly receded as she saw the annoyance on Snape’s face. He wasn’t kidding.

“Merlin, what happened?” It was finally plain to her that the Potions Master was not happy with what he had seen. A shred of fear slowly crept its way into her heart as Snape related to her the events he had witnessed.

“They’re the worst muggles I’ve ever seen, Minerva. They have a very...medieval attitude...towards magic. I wouldn’t be surprised if they never told him anything about who he is or who his parents were.”

The two sat in silence for several minutes, each lost in thought, trying to think of anything that could be done. Finally...

“Arabella...”

McGonagall looked up into the young man’s face. He looked triumphant, though she didn’t quite understand why.

“What about her?”

“She’s supposed to be Potter’s babysitter right? And the muggles don’t know she’s a witch. She could easily keep an eye on him, if nothing else, and report to Dumbledore if they treat Harry any worse.”

“Yes, you’re right,” McGonagall nodded in agreement. “I’ll watch the muggles’ house for the rest of the day, and I’ll meet you at Arabella’s at midnight.”

* * * * *

Vernon Dursley was not in a good mood. He hated wizards. All of them. He hated Lily. He hated that bum Potter. But most of all, he hated Harry. That boy had nearly gotten him killed today. Or worse, turned into some sort of animal. But he would be sorry. Oh yes. He would pay.

Pulling into 4 Privet Drive, Vernon noticed a cat perched on his lawn, writing something with a feather quill. No. That couldn’t be it. The cat was playing with the quill. Cats don’t write. But for some reason this animal made him feel uneasy, especially when it looked up from its parchment to glare at him. Vernon couldn’t help thinking that this situation looked awfully familiar, but quickly chased the thought out of his mind.

He ran inside and began to complain loudly to his wife Petunia about her funny sister and those queer people of hers. He suggested that perhaps they should make Harry weed the garden as punishment for being one of them, and Petunia, after mumbling something about him being only three years old, agreed. After making sure the cat was gone, Vernon shoved Harry outside and ordered him to pull out all the dandelions from the garden, chuckling over his ingenious choice of punishment.

* * * * *

Later that night, Severus Snape apparated to Privet Drive and, seeing the tabby waiting for him on the sidewalk, followed it to Arabella Figg’s door. He knocked twice on the oak door and waited not-so-patiently for several seconds before muttering Alohomora and walking in.

This was a mistake.

“Petrificus totalus!”

Snape fell to the floor, nearly missing the cat, who had slinked in the door behind him. Minerva McGonagall shifted back to her human form, looking very sour indeed. Arabella only chuckled lightly at her mistake as she moved around the fallen Potions Master to close the door.

“Really, Arabella, you knew we were coming. You could have hurt him.” She motioned to Snape.

“Oh, he’ll be alright. He’ll just have a bump on his head. And he’ll be cranky. So, not much different than usual.” She walked into the kitchen as a tea kettle whistled, laughing at her own joke. McGonagall huffed and puffed a little as she moved to revive her colleague.

Snape sat up with a jolt, holding his head and cursing under his breath about “cranky, paranoid old witches.” As he fumbled around in his robes for his wand, McGonagall conjured him an ice pack and helped him to the sofa. He glared at Arabella, who was returning from the kitchen, levitating a tray laden with a tea kettle and three tea cups in front of her. She was still chuckling. Snape swore some more and grabbed the tea before she even had a chance to set it down.

“I’m sorry, Severus. I’m only an old woman after all. When someone ‘magic’s’ my door open, I have the right to be paranoid.” Snape sneered in reply.

“Well then. What is so important that you had to see me about it tonight?”

“Harry,” McGonagall began. And, as Snape refused to say anything until his headache dissipated, she related the story of what had happened that day outside the Leaky Cauldron.

“Honestly, Arabella. I knew they weren’t the best people, but I never dreamed they would be so unfair to the poor boy. And this afternoon, when they thought no one was looking, they made Harry weed the garden. He sat on the lawn picking out dandelions with his bare hands.” At this addition Snape’s head shot up.

“They made a three-year-old boy weed the garden?” McGonagall opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by Arabella instead.

“Severus, why do you care so much? I mean, you hated James. Everyone knows that. You’re not particularly fond of children, and you don’t give a dragon’s egg that he survived You-Know-Who’s attack. So what is it about this boy that concerns you so much?”

Snape took the time to glare at her before giving his answer. “As you seem to think that I am an unfeeling, cold-hearted son of a bitch, I don’t know why you give a damn about my opinion. But I will answer your question anyway. He is Lily’s son. Lily was my best and only friend at Hogwarts, besides Dumbledore. In some ways she was even better than Dumbledore. She...treated me as an equal. I will always remember that, and I will do anything to keep her child safe from harm.”

That wasn’t all, of course. Harry had looked at him with so much trust in his eyes...and so much admiration. No one had ever done that before. But Severus was not about to voice these thoughts.

“Alright, alright Severus. You’ve sold me on it. I’ll keep a better eye on him.” Arabella laughed again and poured more tea into his cup. “Here, let me find you a potion for that headache of yours.”

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Severus Snape was walking back to the corner of Privet Drive so he could disapparate back to Hogsmeade, when something made him turn around to the Dursley’s house. Approaching the residence, he heard a soft sobbing coming from a tree in the front yard. Looking more closely, he saw Harry, dressed in pajamas, sitting in a little tree house.

“Harry?” he called softly. “Harry, what are you doing up there?”

“I don’t know. Can‘t get down,” the little voice called back.

“What do you mean?”

“I was sleeping, in my cupboard. Then Dudley waked me up and ran after me. Then I got here. Don’t know how. I can’t get down.” Snape nodded in understanding then. Harry’s magic was acting up. And very strongly for someone his age. Wait...

“Sleeping in your cupboard? What cupboard?”

“Under the stairs,” came the little voice again. “Help me. Can‘t get down.”

“Alright, child, hold on.” Looking up and down the street, Snape decided it was sufficiently deserted, and the muggles would be asleep. He levitated Harry down to the ground, then picked him up.

Harry liked this nice man in black, and was happy to see him again. He felt so safe in his arms. The man brushed his hair back and told him that it was o.k. He didn’t have to cry anymore. Then he said a funny word again and the door opened. He carried Harry to his bed in his cupboard and asked him if he would like anything.

“No. I’m tired,” was all Harry said. “Don’t leave!”

The nice man in black smiled. Then he pointed a smooth wooden stick at the bed. The cot glowed for a minute, then became very soft and warm. Harry smiled and, all of a sudden, threw his arms around the nice man, trapping him in a big hug.

Snape stared down at Harry for a minute, very surprised, before giving in and hugging him back. When the child finally let go, he tucked him in and muttered a sleeping charm, wishing he could do more about the bed. Standing up to leave, he sighed and looked down at the sleeping boy once more.

“I know you will never remember me, Harry, when you get to Hogwarts. I know I’ll just be the mean old Potions Master to you. But I will be there to protect you. You’re not alone and you never will be. I want you to remember that.” He stepped out and closed the cupboard door softly behind him.

Walking to the front door, he muttered another spell, and chuckled softly to himself.

“I believe it will sufficiently hurt Dursley’s pride to wake up with green hair.” And with that he left Privet Drive behind.

* * * * *

That night, Harry slept peacefully and dreamt about the nice man in black. He felt very safe and warm, and somehow knew that, someday, everything would be alright.