Harry's face fell. "Do we have to? Can't I go straight to school - I won't be any trouble. I can earn my keep. I'm good at cleaning and gardening and stuff."
"I'm afraid not," said Snape. "The school is closed during the school holidays for cleaning and refurbishment." He looked down into the pale little face. "You're not frightened to go back, are you?"
"No-oo." Then, passionately. "It's just so embarrassing! Uncle Vernon will yell and Aunt Petunia will make tutting noises and tell you how awful I am and... and.. you'll see it all."
Snape almost flinched. He'd forgotten how much he had hated outsiders to see the mess of his own childhood. The hideous, writhing shame when teachers and other children saw how he lived - and at least his mother had, in her own, ineffectual way, tried to do her best with the ghastly situation they'd found themselves in. No one in Harry's life seemed to wish him well, or even attempt to hide their feelings for him. "I assure you," he said, as kindly as he could manage. "In ten years as a housemaster, I have seen just about every variety of horrible family you can imagine." The boy did not look at all comforted. "Not all magical families are kind to their children, and I have seen more than one boy or girl arrive covered in bruises. Your family are unpleasant I know but, at least they don't beat you. Do they?"
Harry shook his head reluctantly. "There's a lot of dragging and shoving and Dudley and his gang beat me up if they can catch me, but that's all."
"If it ever gets worse, you must promise to tell me, Harry."
The boy nodded, but Snape was not convinced. He knew only too well the battered child's tendency to keep the truth to themselves. "Harry, look at me." Harry's head came up and Snape dipped, briefly, lightly, into his memories. The cupboard under the stairs, the boredom, the pushing around, the sheer lack of care let alone love. That porcine brat and his gang chasing after him. The sly kicks and pinches from his cousin, the lack of time and effort given to him. But no, nothing physical beyond the occasional pinched ear, and aching arms from too much housework too young. He slipped out carefully and the boy did not seem to have noticed.
"And I promise no matter how disgustingly they behave this afternoon, I shall not be sharing the details with anyone."
"But..."
"No buts, I'm afraid. Now, do you need the lavatory before we leave?"
As Harry trailed disconsolately towards the Gents, Snape paid the bill and was ready to meet him when he came out. It was raining as they left the restaurant, so they ducked into a nearby branch of Marks and Spencers and bought Harry a summer jacket. This cheered the child slightly. "Dudley wanted a baseball jacket but they couldn't find one to fit him - he'll be really mad."
They entered The Leaky Cauldron quietly. Luckily there was no sign of the Malfoys so Snape led Harry upstairs to their room. Harry finished his packing, while Snape returned the pillowcase to its original form and shrunk his own nightshirt so it would fit in his pocket. Which gave him an idea.
"Harry? Would it help if I took your trunk to Hogwarts for you? I can have the name tags put in for you, if you'd like."
"Would you, Professor? Please. I was wondering where I was going to keep it."
"Very well. Why don't you take one or two books to look through over the holidays and I'll take care of the rest." He was, despite himself, half-touched and half-triumphant when one of Harry's choices was the Potions text book. "And this is for you." It was the T-shirt with the moving dragon on. "A birthday present - it won't move when muggles can see it."
Harry looked at him, eyes wide, and it occured to Snape that Harry was probably not used to presents. A suspicion verified by the boy's stuttering thanks.
Then it was time to leave. The bedroom fireplaces in the Leaky Cauldron were all on the floo network and he wondered briefly about how to explain it to Harry, but abandoned the idea in favour of simply lifting the boy off his feet. Startled, Harry wrapped arms and legs round him as he strode towards the empty fireplace. "Arabella Figg's," he said and moments later they were stepping out into the fussy, cat-infested living room of Harry's old babysitter.
"Wow, is Mrs Figg a witch too? Oh hello, Mrs Figg." Harry coughed a little as he was set on his feet and then shivered as the cleaning spell removed all the soot.
The old woman had reeled back in her chair and was clutching her chest. "Ooh Harry, you did give me a shock. Who's this?"
"Oh sorry, this is Professor Snape, he's a teacher at Hogwarts, he took me to get my things for school. Are you all right?"
"Excuse us," interrupted Snape. "We don't have a great deal of time." If nothing else, he had to get back to Gringotts before it closed. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him out into the street.
"Is Mrs Figg a wiz... I mean a witch?" Harry was having to run to keep up.
"No, she's a squib. A non-magical person, born into a magical family."
"Poor lady."
They arrived at Privet Drive but there was no sign of a car and no answer at the door. Snape glanced round and caught sight of a scrawny bottle-blonde over the road, peering at them suspiciously. "You don't seem very popular with the neighbours."
Harry hunched his shoulders and contemplated his new trainers. "Aunt Petunia tells them all I'm disturbed and a trouble-maker. I get blamed for everything Dudley and his rotten gang do." He flinched as the gate over the road opened and Mrs Pardiggle's high-heels clip-clopped over to them."
"They're not in," she said in her silly affected voice.
"I am aware of that," replied Snape, repressively.
"Are you his probation officer? She always said he'd come to no good." The prospect of some really juicy gossip was obviously too great to ignore.
"No, I am not. I," said Snape, lying extravagantly. "Am a teacher at Harry's parents' old boarding school. I have come to tell them that Harry has just scored the highest mark ever recorded in the entrance examination and has been awarded a full scholarship."
"So he'll be going to Smeltings with his cousin?"
"Smeltings? Good heavens no." The sneer was unmistakeable. " Harry's new school is in Scotland and is attended by some of the best families in the land. I'm afraid .... Dudley, is it?... would not be considered at all suitable." There that ought to do it. He was almost certain he'd read about one of the muggle Queen's children going to school in Scotland. With any luck, it would be all round the neighbourhood in minutes that Harry was going to Gordonstoun and, best of all, Petunia could hardly deny it without a great deal of explanation she would be loathe to give. "Now, if you will excuse us." He swung round, tried the door handle which, thanks to a muttered Alohamora, opened in his hand.
Harry was giggling beside him as they stepped into the sterile, empty house. "Would you care for a cup of tea?" he asked, obviously copying his aunt, since his voice went high and false.
"No thank you." Snape had no intention of consuming anything in this house. He led the way into the sitting-room, dominated by a huge television set and photographs of Dudley in varieing states of development. The windows were covered in net curtains, so he waved his wand and the pictures all turned to the wall. He took a seat on the hideous, uncomfortable sofa and took Harry's ticket from his pocket. He handed it over.
"Platform nine and three-quarters?"
"Just walk confidently at the barrier between platforms nine and ten and it will open to admit you. Muggles don't see anything but you might see other people going through."
Shortly after this, a car drew up outside and the blustering tones of Uncle Vernon, and Dudley's whine, were soon heard. The front door opened with a crash.
"Can't we empty the car tomorrow?" That was Dudley.
"Get back here, boy, and carry these bags." That was Uncle Vernon.
A high-pitched scream. That was Aunt Petunia entering the sitting-room. Uncle Vernon came barrelling in behind her.
"YOU!"
Snape was unimpressed. He got to his feet, waved his wand, and all three Dursleys found themselves sitting on the sofa - mute. Harry was relieved to see that Dudley was no longer sporting the snout Snape had given him the previous day.
"Now listen carefully," said Snape, sounding if anything a trifle bored. "On the morning of 1st September you will drive Harry to Kings Cross Station in time for an 1100 am train." Better leave room for malevolent carelessness. "He will be wearing the clothes he is wearing now, washed, pressed and undamaged." Better leave room for sheer malevolence. "Until then, you will feed him and leave him alone." He waved his wand in the direction of Dudley and muttered transferodolormagnis. "If you fail to do this, your failure will be visited upon your son. If you strike Harry, your son will feel the blow - greatly magnified, if you do not feed Harry, your son will be ravenous, if you feed him badly, your son will go down with scurvy, beri-beri and rickets, if you over-work Harry, your son will be aching and exhausted and if you insult him, your son will hear and take the words upon himself. If, on the other hand, you leave Harry alone - he will leave on the 1st of September and you will not see him again until the summer holidays. Do we have a deal?"
Uncle Vernon was purple-faced but a kick on the shins and an angry glare from Aunt Petunia eventually resulted in a reluctant nod.
"In that case, Harry, perhaps you will walk me to the station." He waved his hand and the Dursleys unfroze. Uncle Vernon opened his mouth but was hissed into silence.
"Oh and Harry, hold out your hand, would you?"
Harry held out his hand and Snape slapped it lightly. Harry heard the clap but felt nothing.
Dudley on the other hand yelled "OWWWW!" and bent over a bright-red and no doubt throbbing hand.
Snape turned in the doorway for a parting shot. "And buy the boy an entirely new toothbrush - unless of course you want all your son's teeth to fall out.
tbc
