The train station, the guitar, and even "random meetings" are always rigged by Magic

Severus Snape rolled his eyes. Oh Merlin! How this Albus was boring him. "The Dark Lord will return!" - Boohoo, it made him sick to his stomach. Leaving the annoying Headmaster, the newly minted Potions Professor decided to take a short walk around Muggle London. Why newly? Because the same Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore decided to make Severus a real teacher, who in the future would not like to teach those brainless kids who only get the giggles and giggles! However, something we too quickly and impetuously began our story. Let's talk about everything in order.... Nine years ago, on October thirty-first, one thousand nine hundred and eighty-first year, Lily and James Potter were killed by the Dark Lord Voldemort. In the scuffle that unfolded, three people died: the Potter spouses and the Lord himself when he tried to kill the little heir. Only the boy survived. Everyone was rejoicing at the victory, some were grieving for their dead loved ones (Severus among them), and only one person was behaving in a completely outrageous manner. Albus Dumbledore. He's been saying the same thing for all of these nine years: that bloody-damn-damn-his-ass Riddle is coming back! No one believes him, of course, and everyone thinks he's a weirdo and a crazy old grandfather (which is true), but no one is going to contradict the chairman of the Wizengamot. There are rumors that they want to remove him from that position, as well as from the position of Director, but no one has put it into action yet. He gets on the nerves of the entire wizarding community. He's annoying beyond belief. And now he's started messing with Severus's head! Slipped him the position of Potions Professor, arguing that, and I quote: "You promised Lily you'd look after the boy, keep him safe." There was no use arguing. Only the Potions Master didn't realize how interconnected the professor's activities and his promise to Lily were. And he spoke as if...as if he had made that promise to Dumbledore himself! Anyway, he decided to take a short break from all the hustle and bustle of the magical world and take a walk around Muggle London. He didn't think about anything, he just walked, looked at the people, breathed in the fresh cool summer breeze, squinted at the sun and didn't realize how he had reached the train station. The station was dark and cool. Muggles were scurrying back and forth, back and forth, like ants in an anthill, by God. Snape smirked, remembering that Muggle expression. Suddenly a noise caught his eye. People crowded close to him, obscuring what they were looking at. Or was it listening? There was music and a voice, but the words were inaudible from so far away. Severus' curiosity got the better of him and he stepped closer. As he made his way through the crowd and finally saw what everyone was looking at, he was stunned. A small replica of James was looking at him, only with his hair pulled back into a tight little ponytail. The boy was in some tattered clothes that hung on him in a bag, he was unkept, but the green eyes behind the patched-over glasses shone with happiness, and in his hands he had a small.... guitar. He was strumming the strings and singing a cheerful song about the happy life of a young man who had escaped from his hateful past life, even though it had cost him dearly. Next to him on the dirty floor was a small jar with some coins in it. People rummaged through their bags and pockets, finding money and putting it there. Soon the last chord of the song sounded and the townspeople went their separate ways, Severus alone standing there looking at the boy in shock. But the little copy of Potter Senior paid no attention to it, as if it wasn't the first time such a thing had happened; he put aside his guitar and began counting the coins he had earned, and then he whispered quietly in joy, but the Potter still heard: «Wow.... There's enough for bread and water for a week! .... More luck this time than last....» Those words sent a chill down Severus's spine. What does that mean, more than last time? Does he live here or something? He looked him over again from head to toe and concluded that he probably did. The kid wouldn't sit there, counting money happily, stroking his guitar with one hand, and not worrying about the fact that August was actually quite cool this year. Sighing, he wanted to go on his way, but one thought stuck in his head and kept him on his toes. "He looks like Potter Senior, if only it weren't for those green eyes. Lily's eyes..." - Shuddering at such musings, he shook his head. "No, no, Lily's son can't be wandering around singing songs on an ordinary Muggle guitar, earning his meager subsistence by doing so...!.." But the picture is there: there he is, the son of his favorite woman, alive, not exactly healthy - there's no way a street kid could be perfectly healthy! - joyful and shaggy, just like his deer father. He gritted his teeth at the memory of James Potter and tried to focus on the boy who had decided to pay attention to him and was now staring at him with curious eyes. The look made his throat tighten, the way Lily used to look when she recognized something interesting. «Boy», he said hoarsely, trying not to show his excitement. «What are you doing here?» The boy tilted his head sideways, looking at the strange man, who was dressed all in black, which was a little strange. His bottomless black eyes were devouring the boy, but he wasn't afraid; it was better than the little piggy eyes of Uncle Vernon, whom, by the way, he hadn't seen in a year and a half. «I'm sitting here», he said in a boyish voice, not a little frightened of the man. After thinking for a while, he added: "This is my place of residence for today». The man raised an eyebrow in bewilderment: «For today?» The boy nodded: «Yes, for today. I'm traveling around London. I ran away from my relatives, I mean my aunt and uncle. They hated me, beat me and accused me of every imaginable sin, so I ran away. Now I wander from station to station, from place to place, earning food with my songs». «Where did you run away from? Do they live here in London?» «No», the boy shook his head negatively. «They live in Little Winging. I couldn't stay there, because all the neighbors knew me, and they were brainwashed by my aunt and uncle, making up about me that I was all bad and terrible, a future criminal. Sure, it took some singing to get to London, but it was worth it.» Severus gasped in amazement. The boy was completely scrawny and small! How did he even get here? «How long ago did you run away from them?» Squatting down, the potionist asked. «A year and a half ago», was his laconic answer. Snape's gaze fell on the small guitar. He frowned. If the boy was unloved, hated by his relatives, and now barely making ends meet, then where had this lovely thing come from? Had he stolen it? Frowning even harder, he asked about it: «Where'd you get the guitar? I don't think you have the money to buy one, and you said your relatives didn't spoil you». The boy smiled radiantly, and Severus's heart skipped a beat. That smile was so similar to Lily's.... His heart squeezed with pain and bitterness, and a lump lodged in his throat, but he pushed all the emotions associated with her farther into his consciousness. No, her son needed to be dealt with now. Though one would have to make sure he was really her son.... Meanwhile, the boy explained how he got the guitar: «This guitar used to belong to my cousin Dudley, he got it for his seventh birthday. But he never used it, never even touched it. Anyway, somehow it ended up in my possession. It's the only thing that ever really belonged to me», the boy finished quietly. The words made Snape's heart bleed, and he felt so angry at those damned Muggles that he wanted to strangle them right now. «Tell me, please, what's your name?» He asked, trying to keep the angry tone out of his voice. The answer was obvious. «Harry Potter». Finally satisfied that the boy was Lily's son, Severus made his decision. So what if the new school year was just around the corner? He would manage somehow! Harry, on the other hand, might not, for his "profit margin" was rather shaky. Just as he was about to offer him something, Harry asked him a question: «Where are you from? You're not like other people. I've seen many, many, many people as I've roamed from place to place, but you're very strange, you stand out somehow. You're not from around here? Have you come from abroad? Or are you from here in England? Or are you from the States?» Gasping at the impetus, Severus didn't know what to say at first. Yes, the boy was indeed Lily's son - such curiosity and impetuosity was not something Potter Senior had ever had in his life! Well, maybe he had, but.... But not in that way and not so blatantly. «You'll know where I come from if you come with me. And you'll also learn a lot of new things.... Many new magical things». The boy's eyes lit up at the man's words. He was offered to leave this place! Yes, yes, of course! He would love to leave this train station! «I want to leave with you.... It's all right, isn't it?» The man in black didn't say anything. He stood up and simply held out his hand to the boy. Harry smiled happily, closed the money jar, grabbed his guitar and money, and accepted the help. Once they were both on their feet, they hurried out of the train station and only two figures could be seen, one small and one large.

***

A year later. «Severus, Severus! Look, look what I've made up!» The black-haired whirlwind ran into the warm and cozy living room. There was a leather couch, a fireplace with logs burning in it. Near the window stood a Christmas tree decorated with Christmas toys. A blizzard raged outside the window. Next to the fireplace were two upholstered armchairs, in one of which sat a man reading a black-covered book. When he heard his ward's voice, he broke away from his reading - undoubtedly fascinating - and smiled gently. «Yes, Harry, what have you composed?» Harry, who had grown and strengthened over the past year, gripped the guitar in his hands, inhaled and exhaled, and looked furtively at his guardian. Severus nodded encouragingly. Gathering his strength, Harry struck the strings. The music flowed, a pleasant melody, dissolving into the room and merging with space. It caressed his ears, soothed his heart, gave peace to his soul. It was full of love, tenderness and all such feelings. But nothing warmed the soul as much as the words that followed. It was about Harry's terrible childhood; it was about his year of wandering; it was about their first meeting, their first evenings, days, nights; how Severus had sought custody of him, how he had tried to gain his trust; how they had come to understand and accept each other, how they had come to love each other as father and son; how they had become a family; and how Harry loved his guardian, how grateful he was for everything. He sang about everything that touched them directly and indirectly, everything they had experienced and would experience together. Toward the end of the song, Harry burst into tears, and Severus didn't hold back his emotions either. «This is my Christmas present to you», the boy sniffled. The Potions Master was stunned at first, digesting the information, and then he smiled happily, picked Harry up in his arms and said: «This is the best gift I've ever received in my life».