Severus Snape was an accomplished Legilimens, and he had never regretted it as much as he did now. He stood in the living room at Number Four, Privet Drive, and on the couch were three of the worst people he had ever met. That was saying something, considering he used to work for the Dark Lord Voldemort himself and associated with Death Eaters. They did horrible and unforgivable things; but, the one thing they had never done, was allow the physical abuse of a child, unlike these people.

Snape had almost missed the place when he came here because of the magical protections it had. Repelling charms and ignoring charms covered every inch of it, not to mention the blood wards that had been placed on it. It was old magic, not used on modern magical buildings, because their occupants changed so frequently. To find it on what was supposed to be a muggle house was surprising, until he saw the recent memories of the woman.

His stomach filled with bile as he glared at the entranced woman, barely understanding how she could do what she did to a baby, until he asked her what Harry's life was like and he saw what it entailed. He left the living room at a fast walk and stopped in the hallway and opened the small door of the cupboard under the stairs. His eyes beheld the nest of blankets, the broken plastic soldiers on the shelf, and small piles of old clothing tucked into the corner.

No one deserves to live like this, let alone a child. Snape thought in disgust, then he remembered why it looked so familiar. He had been at Malfoy Manor a time or two and their house elf had a similar set-up. A nest of blankets, forced to cook and clean for the family, and nothing to call their own. There were no signs of the Potter riches, no magical artifacts, and no proof that the boy had been spoiled as his father had been.

His father was rich and never had to work, so I just assumed... Snape shook his head and closed the door. He hated himself just a little bit more for seeing the son's defiance as arrogance. He was well dressed and comported himself in the same manner as all the other rich children did. So, Snape had made certain assumptions, thanks to the things Dumbledore had told him over the years about Harry being healthy and having a good home life away from the wizarding world.

Snape closed the door to the cupboard and walked back into the living room. Against the laws of the Ministry of Magic, he went to Petunia and applied three drops of Veritaserum onto her tongue.

“Do you know... who I am?” Snape asked.

“Yes, you vile creature.” Petunia said, her face impassive and her voice flat.

“Why do you treat your nephew so harshly?” Snape asked.

“He's a filthy beast, just like you.” Petunia said. “Black messy and greasy hair, dirty skin, scowling all the time. I hate him.”

Snape was surprised by this, because Harry didn't look like that at all. “What about now?”

“I hate that he is so handsome. Perfect skin, hair styled, expensive clothes that he must have stolen. I hate it all.” Petunia said. “If it wasn't for the money that his mother's estate pays me, I would have sent the little freak to an orphanage.”

Estate? Snape asked himself. As far as he knew, no such thing exists. “What estate?”

“It was all in the letter. A stipend every month for taking care of the brat, on the condition that he live in the house.”

“How much?” Snape asked, curious.

“Two galleons a day.” Petunia said. “The letter said that was enough for a meal and boarding. I laughed. The next day, I was surprised when an envelope appeared in the mail with money in it. A note told me the galleons were converted to British money and sent. We were given 28 pounds and 52 pence every day until last week when it suddenly stopped.”

Snape quickly did the math in his head. It was over 850 pounds a month, or well over 10,000 pounds a year. Over ten years, that was a whopping 100,000 pounds. They were paid a lot of money to take care of the boy and all they did was verbally abuse the child and let their son beat on him as 'boys just roughhousing'.

“Why did you never use the money to actually take care of him?” Snape asked.

“He doesn't deserve it.” Pertunia said. “If he didn't exist, my sister wouldn't be dead.”

Snape took in a sharp breath and he couldn't look at the woman anymore. Her words brought the whole event back into his mind. How it had been him that warned the Dark Lord of a prophecy that foretold of his downfall and how it spurned the Dark Lord into action. The Potters lost their lives son after and the Dark Lord was no more.

Or so everyone believed.

Snape pulled up his sleeve and looked at the faded Dark Mark on his arm. If the Dark Lord was truly gone, his mark would be also. Dumbledore checked with him occasionally and gazed at the mark, examined it, then he would huff and go back to whatever it was that he does inside that huge office all day.

He put his sleeve back in place and swiped his wand at the three people on the couch to start waking them from the trance he had put them in. He couldn't do anything to them, despite his desire to, and he strode out of the living room, down the hallway, and out the front door.

Snape walked out onto the street after applying a Disguise Charm on himself to make him look like he was wearing muggle clothing and not his black robes. He walked two streets over to stop at the front door of another house. He knocked this time, since he didn't need to be sneaky about it.

An older woman wearing a hat and carrying a cat opened the door. “Yes? Who are...” She stopped talking when she noticed who it was.

“I have... some questions for you... Arabella Figg.” Snape said with a sneer.

The woman recoiled and winced at the tone, then she stepped back and Snape entered. “I don't know what you could be asking me about...”

“Harry Potter.” Snape said.

“Oh, fudge!” Arabella said and he turned to look at her. “I knew breaking my ankle would come back to haunt me.”

Snape looked down at the small cast on her foot that he didn't notice before.

“I couldn't babysit him all summer and I guess they locked him up.”

“They did.” Snape said and looked deep into her eyes.

“You don't need to do that.” Arabella said and hobbled past him and sat down in a large comfy chair that was reminiscent of the chairs in the Griffindor common room. “I've nothing to hide.”

“You should be hiding it.” Snape almost spat and refrained from sitting.

Arabella sighed. “I couldn't make his time here enjoyable or his aunt wouldn't have let him come back.” She said as an explanation. “Dumbledore specifically said...

“...to give him a horrible time and make his life even worse than it was?” Snape finished for her.

Arabella winced again. “I couldn't let the boy know what he was. I was under orders.”

“I didn't say you should reveal all of our world's secrets. You just should have been a safe harbour for him.” Snape said.

“I was sent here to only keep an eye on him and told to not interfere, no matter what I saw or heard.”

“You didn't think it was prudent to report on everything you've seen him suffering through?” Snape asked. “Until the Ministry showed up, he was only skin and bones.”

“He was never attacked, harassed, or targeted by dark wizards.” Arabella said with a shrug. “I reported everything I saw and heard to Dumbledore. I don't know what went on inside the house, though. Harry was always quiet and never said anything.”

“Did you ever think it was because of your behaviour that he never told you anything?” Snape said, a little louder than he intended, and her face flushed red. “No, I suppose it didn't.” He said and turned away. “One more thing.” He turned back to look at her. “Where are you getting the money to live here?”

“I get a letter every day with muggle money in it. Five galleons worth.” Arabella said. “It suddenly stopped a week ago. Do you know what happened?”

Snape closed his eyes and tried to fight the bubbling anger inside of him that threatened to break loose. Harry's watcher was getting paid two and a half times the amount that Harry's supposed guardians were getting to take care of him.

“Send a letter to the bank.” Snape said and then squinted his eyes. “Better yet, send one to Dumbledore. I'm sure he will explain... or he will give you an excuse that you will believe.”

Arabella looked surprised and Snape turned away and walked to her door. He left the house and strode down the street. When he was out of sight of everyone, he apparated away. Now that he had the base from which to build from, now he needed the context. Harry's current actions at school were uncharacteristic from what he had just learned.

What had happened to him after he learned about magic? Snape asked himself as he appeared down the street from the Leaky Cauldron. He would have to follow Harry's footsteps through his introduction to the magical world. His first stop, Tom the Barman. With a fake purchase of an ale and a few extra galleons, he learned of what actually happened to the man that was supposed to be hired as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Dumbledore lied to me again. Snape thought as Tom recounted the story, with some elaboration, and Snape got the proof he needed that Voldemort was actually still around. He was a spirit, yes; but, he was around. If he could possess someone, then there was no telling how long it would take for him to regain a body.

Snape's thoughts focused on that. Dumbledore knew he was inside Quirrell. He thought. He had to have known. No one in their right mind would ever hire the blithering idiot otherwise. The man was afraid of his own shadow and wasn't fit to teach the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape was grateful that the potential damage he could have caused was avoided. Then he thought of what the damage could have been like if Voldemort had been inside Quirrell for the entire year.

Snape shuddered at the thought. No one would have been safe. He thought and thanked Tom for the ale without drinking it. He left through the back door and used the brick wall, then walked through the opening into Diagon Alley. He had to visit the shops to find out how Harry had acted after killing a man.