Fellowship & Fairydust

By LastCrazyHorn

Word Count: 105891

Rating: PG-13 for brief language, violence, and depictions of abuse

Summary: A disabled Harry comes to Hogwarts story. Everyone expects him to be like his dad, but how can he be with such a different past? A Slytherin Harry takes on Hogwarts in an unusual way

Snape shook off Moody’s hand with an expression of disgust.

“That is the last time I let you apparate me anywhere,” He announced with a displeased expression.

Stepping forward, he narrowly avoided tripping over a broken tricycle. His expression soured further before abruptly becoming blank.

“You found him here?” He asked softly, gesturing at the ramshackle house in front of him.

They were in the front yard—if one could call the overgrown expanse of frozen weeds and gnarled bushes such—of a house that had once been painted blue, judging from the scattered paint chips still bravely hanging onto the boards.

The neighbouring houses were vaguely visible through the thick trees that blanketed both sides of the yard. The houses seemed to be built very closely together, too closely for his tastes, and certainly for Moody’s sensibilities.

Behind them, on the opposite side of the road, ran a medium sized stone wall, and standing atop that was a copse of small trees that looked to have been planted within the past decade or so, if he were to make a guess. He supposed that estate agents might describe the environment here as, “Cosy,” but he preferred to make his home in a place that was more than a stone’s throw from the next residence.

“Where are we?” Severus asked, his voice still soft.

Through the fence he could hear the sounds of a neighbouring family arriving home. Their words were easy to pick out, and he subtly cast a weak muffliato, not wanting his conversation to travel any further than the twisted man beside him. Then, with a glance down at his and Moody’s robes, he sighed and cast the Disillusionment charm over them both.

“Dorking,” Moody answered gruffly, nodding in apparent approval over Severus’ choice of spells.

Severus glanced sharply at the man and raised an eyebrow.

“How in Merlin’s name did he manage to stay hidden in a town of this size?”

“He didn’t, not entirely. That’s how I found ‘im,” Moody admitted slowly, his real eye staring fixedly at the decrepit building in front of this.

It was not a home. Severus refused to think that his snake—his son—would have lived in such a place as this. It was a shelter and nothing more.

“Why didn’t the authorities pick him up?”

“I ‘spect they did, from time ta time,” Moody said with a sigh.

“And then?”

“Seems that our boy’s a bit sneaky,” Moody answered with a wry grin.

“Really,” Severus deadpanned.

“From what I can gather,” The older man answered thoughtfully, avoiding Severus’ intent glare. “Albus liked ta swoop in and obliviate the officials before they could figure out what ta do with him. Then he’d drop Harry back off at the Dursleys and the whole mess would start ag’in.”

Dark hate bubbled through Severus’ heart and gut at the grizzled auror’s words, and he turned his face away to avoid letting him see how much his words had affected him. White lipped, he gritted his hands into fists to try and drive back the merciless angry magic that threatened to rip out of his soul and destroy everything around them.

“What do you mean about finding him?” Severus managed after a long minute of uncomfortable silence.

Moody turned away from him with a sigh, and Severus took the opportunity to really look at his esteemed companion. The old man’s features were drawn more than usually, and his hands were twisted tightly in his crumpled robes. After being around one another for as long as they had—and wasn’t that a terrifying epiphany—he could honestly say that he had never seen the other man look as uncomfortable as he did now.

“Moody,” Severus prompted softly.

“Me sister’s a squib,” Moody stated, staring off into the distance with an intensity that Severus had rarely seen from the older man.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a sibling,” Severus admitted.

“No one knows ‘cept for Albus.”

Severus’ eyes squinted in suspicion.

“And that matters, because?” He held up a hand to hold off Moody’s inevitable arguments. “It obviously matters, you old idiot. Tell me.”

Moody frowned and turned back toward him with a glare rivaling one of Severus’ own.

“There was a point in me life that being related ta a squib was an issue, because of me job. There was a job that Albus wanted done that I refused, and . . .” Moody trailed off, gnawing on his lip furiously.

“And what?” He pressed, moving into Moody’s personal space with a moue of distaste.

“And she was attacked the next day by a couple of masked men.”

Severus eyebrows raised briefly in surprise.

“Where was she?”

“Outskirts of Hogsmeade. She took my mum’s family name, and we don’t ever meet in person. Just owls.”

Severus mulled over his words, thinking of what Moody hadn’t said.

“You never told Albus about your sister? Was he headmaster when you went to Hogwarts? Hang on, did you even go to Hogwarts?” Severus’ questions were rapid fire.

“I went ta Hogwarts, ya git. Next thing you’ll ask is if I can read. I can do that too, just so ya know,” Moody’s lips twisted into the semblance of a sneer.

Severus scowled and took a much needed step backward away from the infuriating man in front of him.

“Don’t go getting yer knickers in a twist over lil ol’ me,” Moody spat.

His words were challenging, but his guarded stance spoke of the other man’s deep discomfort with the conversation.

“Was Dumbledore headmaster then? I imagine that you would have seen him a great deal if he had been. Just how bad was your record of truancy, anyway?” Severus asked with a sneer that he didn’t really feel.

If Moody wanted to hide behind the patterns of their usual conversations, then it wouldn’t be much of a hardship to continue doing so. After all, any excuse to insult the retired auror was a positive in Severus’ book.

“Says the man who skipped most of second year Charms,” Moody chortled back at him.

“I do not want to know why you even know that. It seems that the line between policing agent and criminal is never very thick, is it?”

Moody’s tooth filled grin was his only answer.

“My gods man, have you really never heard of a toothbrush? I can see entire civilizations between those rotted stumps you call teeth,” Severus needled.

“Bit rich comin’ from you, mangle mouth!”

“At least as a halfblood I have reasons for such teeth. As a pureblood, you should have realised that there were alternates to such slovenly practices. I would venture a guess that your sister has perfectly nice teeth. She probably even bathes and wears the occasional clean shirt!”

The buoyant mood that had briefly sprung up between them instantly plummeted.

“F—, Snape,” Moody growled, rolling his eyes skyward.

“No, thank you,” Severus answered with the barest edge of a grin.

“Albus had no business knowing about her. Wasn’t my head of house, wasn’t the headmaster, wasn’t even in the political games much then.”

“When?”

“Back in ’68. I only was assistant ta the head auror then. Albus was good at making predictions, ya see. Knew I’d be head auror before the year was out.”

“Do you think he helped these predictions come true?”

“Some of them, yeah. Mostly though, he was good at watchin’ it all go down. Good at seein’ things that other people didn’t notice, patterns and the like. Helped me out on a few cases here ‘n there.”

“And you’re certain that he had no reason to know about your sister?” Severus asked.

Suddenly paranoid, despite the active spells around them, he motioned Moody closer to the front of the house.

“Is there any reason why we can’t continue this conversation inside?”

“Other than the smell, you mean,” Moody grumbled, moving his wand in a series of complex motions before opening the door.

Walking forward and feeling the tingle of wards merely confirmed his suspicions. The only light was from the front windows, and Severus really didn’t want to know what the terribly smelling room looked like beyond the little he could see.

“These are your wards.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Listen ta me, Snape, and you listen good,” Moody closed the door only to recast the same wards he had just undone. “Me mum died when I was a fifth year in Hogwarts. Sam was only ten.”

“Sam is your sister?”

Moody jerked his head in a sharp nod.

“What of your father?”

“What of yours?” Moody sounded more than a little bitter, and even though Severus would have liked to curse him for the statement, he knew it would get them exactly nowhere.

“Touché,” He said with a scowl, letting it slide momentarily.

“A cousin took her in, but said they couldn’t take me too,” Moody shrugged.

He suspected that there was more not being said, but he didn’t press any further. Silently, he cast the bubbleheaded charm around himself and then around Moody as well. Something had died in this house, possibly in the same room they were currently standing in. He hoped Moody didn’t light any of the candle stumps he could see on the windowsill beside them. His imagination was creating enough horrors without the confirmation that the light would give him.

Harry.

“And who knew?” He asked, forcefully pushing his mind away from the physical unknowns surrounding them.

“No one, Snape. No one ‘cept me and Sam and o’ course our cousin.”

“Is your cousin a squib as well?”

“Was, and no. He wasn’t much with a wand, but he got by.”

It seemed that Moody’s cousin had been homeschooled after not receiving a Hogwarts invitation. He was competent in basic spells, more so than anything Filch had ever managed, but not much more. He had been a bootmaker until his death, and afterward Moody’s sister had moved to Hogsmeade on her own.

“Hogsmeade is hardly a large town,” He pointed out. “How do you know that Dumbledore didn’t merely ask around? Hell, he could have even known her himself.”

“Yeah, ‘cept for her being deaf, that theory woulda worked out well.”

Severus was fairly certain that he hadn’t heard that right.

“Deaf?”

“Couldn’t hear? Like you’re bein’ now?” Moody taunted.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“F— if I know,” Moody shoved his hands in his armpits and turned his back to him. “This whol’ Harry and you thing seems more like a dream than anythin’ else. Hell if I know what I’m doing anymore.”

His last sentence was muttered in a barely audible voice.

“You are hardly the only one with that problem,” Severus admitted stiffly.

“Doesn’t much seem like it,” Moody admitted, turning partially back toward him.

“Was that a compliment?” Severus asked, trying to drag the conversation back out of the depths it had sunk into.

“Wouldn’t answer that even if I did like ya.”

“Was she hurt?”

“Lost use of her arm. Attackers just ’bout took it off. After that, I changed her name, removed her from the records. Moved her and obliviated anyone who had ever seen her. She used ta dye her hair and now she’s grey. Used to wear it long, but cuts it short now. Wears contacts and lives in a new f——- town, and we communicate via a system that looks like muggle post, but that’s really owls that I change frequently, and I got just about every single damn anti-tracking charm on it that’s known to wizardkind and even a few that’s not. If he ever, and I mean ever even thinks about looking at her again, I’m going to cut out his heart and feed it ta him. Ya get me, Snape? It ain’t happenin’ again and I never do what I promise him and . . .” His burst stopped just as suddenly as it had started and he slumped against the grimy windows beside them.

Severus grabbed the front of his robes before he could hit the floor, and dumped him into a hastily conjured chair.

“You look like shit, Alastor,” Severus pointed out none too charitably.

Moody snorted and gave him a two fingered salute for his effort.

. . .

Minerva.

The voice woke her up. She looked around the Infirmary, trying to see who had spoken to her, but there was no one there. Just as she was chalking it up to a bad dream, the voice spoke in her mind again.

Minerva. You must help me.

“Who’s there?” Minerva whispered into the silence.

It’s Albus, my dear child. It’s Albus. They have locked me up in this room. They have locked me up and taken away my wand. You must rescue me.

“Who locked you up? Where are you?” She asked aloud, standing up and taking a wobbly step forward.

Aurors. Severus and Moody are traitors to our cause. They have stolen Harry and locked me here.

“Where’s here?”

The Infirmary.

“Professor?”

Minerva whirled toward the unfamiliar voice, her wand automatically in her hand as she cast a stunning spell. The man opposite her dropped like a sack of potatoes and she stared down at his unmoving body in shock.

What have I done?

Distantly, she could hear Albus clambering for her attention, but she ignored him. Instead, she walked straight into the smaller figure of Poppy Pomfrey, and grabbed at the front of the matron’s robes with something akin to desperation.

“Poppy. You have to help me,” Her voice rose in pitch with every word.

Only casting a look in her direction, Poppy quickly pulled free of her hands and rushed over to the man spread out unconscious upon the floor.

Minerva. Albus’ voice pushed back into her consciousness.

She screamed at the sound of it and with all of her energy, she threw her wand far away from her person.

“Put me in restraints, please Poppy, I beg of you. I can hear Albus’ voice. I have, I have listened to it for far too long, I fear,” She admitted in a very faint voice.

Distantly she heard a groan from the man—the auror—slowly being levitated onto a nearby bed.

“Please, Poppy. I surrender. Please keep me from doing something I already regret.”

The last thing she saw was a worried Poppy casting a spell in her direction.

. . .

Albus cursed as his faithful puppet fought against his control. It hadn’t happened in years, so why was it happening now?

Unbeknownst to him, Poppy—at the urgings of both Moody and Severus—had been magically purging Minerva of any and all potions or foreign substances from her body.

“Blast it all,” Albus cursed to himself.

He had an emergency portkey that worked through Hogwarts’ wards, but it only worked one way, and it was held in a rather inconvenient location within his body. It was only a last option, anyway.

Unfortunately, over the next four hours, he slowly came to the realisation that his control over Minerva had not only been weakened, but was nearly non-existent. He cursed again and knew who was to be blamed for this loss.

It could only be his twisted potions master, and the longer he thought about it, the more he wished to express his displeasure to the other man. It was obviously the man’s fault that his spell had backfired so spectacularly. His snake had taken Harry from him and now he was clearly responsible for the loss of Minerva.

Albus’ lips curled in disgust at the lack of loyalty Severus had shown him in the past year.

“And after I have done so much for him. Without me, he would be nothing! Just a nasty little boy in black robes playing grown-up games!”

It seemed that it was time to reward his spy’s extreme disloyalty. With a grimace, he moved to the washroom and proceeded to carefully remove his portkey.

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