Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belongs to J. K. Rowling.

**

Chapter 4:

Clark was absent from school for a few weeks, but then it was announced that the allegations against him had been totally unfounded, and he would be returning as Sports teacher. There was a spontaneous cheer, and several turned to sneer at Harry, who took care to show nothing at all.

He was still excused from sport, so it was a few days before he happened to pass the Sports teachers in the corridor. Clark said casually, "You caused me some trouble, Ricky."

"Keep away from the young ones, don't hurt anyone, and I won't cause any more."

Clark was astounded, "You're not threatening me, are you?"

Harry hesitated, "I don't know. If I find another kid as upset as Dan was after he took up your offer, I will not stay silent."

"I will not touch anyone under eighteen. Will that satisfy you?"

"Yes, Mr. Clark."

Clark shook his head, wondering just exactly how a teenage youth had managed to intimidate him. Those cold, measuring eyes. He'd never seen Ricky look like that. He'd wanted him. Brilliant green eyes, long silky hair, a beautiful build. Not very big. He preferred his boys not too big. But he no longer wanted Harry. It was a little difficult to think of him like that now.

That same day, Harry turned a note over and over in his hands. It was from Vance McKenzie, suggesting a meeting on Saturday. Severus Snape was to be there, and would collect him.

He was a little suspicious, aware that it could be a trap. He watched from cover for a time, extending his mind, in a skill he scarcely realised he had. Once he was sure that the man in severe Muggle dress was Severus Snape and not an imposter, he slipped back to a position a little further away, and then walked towards his Demter Guardian as if it had never occurred to him to worry.

Snape greeted him, asked how his shoulder was, and said, "We're to meet Vance McKenzie at a Muggle place, in Brighton. Are you ready to apparate?"

"What does he want?"

"To talk to you. Maybe to thank you."

"Is it safe?"

Snape reminded him, "You're the one who said that you wanted people to know you're still alive."

"I guess."

They found McKenzie sitting at table overlooking the beach. There was no-one close. Harry nodded when he was introduced, and commented, "I've seen you around."

McKenzie was taken aback, "I was always dressed as a Muggle. You should not have noticed me."

Harry swore to himself. He could tell Muggle from wizard by the feel of them, but he guessed not everyone could. He said, as casually as he could manage, "Maybe you need to work on your Muggle-dress skills. But anyway, I saw you before, I think. At Hogwarts."

McKenzie said, relieved, "So you did. I thought you would have forgotten."

Snape said, "There's a small café near. We can talk safely there if we use a Privacy Charm."

McKenzie stood, "It's cold here. We'll have a coffee."

Harry looked around at the small café where they sat with some pleasure. It was not something he'd done before. McKenzie asked what sort of a coffee he'd like, but he glanced at a different menu, "May I have a chocolate sundae please?" It was not only because he liked ice-creams, it was also because he wanted to be seen as a harmless boy. Vance McKenzie was the Chief Auror. He could make life very difficult for Harry. He knew perfectly well that he was safe only as long as McKenzie permitted it.

Once they were served, the men with coffees, and Harry with his ice-cream, the Privacy Charm was performed, and McKenzie started to speak seriously. "Our world owes you a great deal, Harry. We didn't want to hurt you afterward, but we were all far too much under the influence of Dumbledore."

Harry flashed him a look, and took another mouthful of ice-cream. He didn't want to talk about that time afterward. They'd forced potions on him, every morning, every evening. It was how he'd learned to fight. Every time he'd fought. He hated potions!

McKenzie sighed, "I am sorry, Harry. I know you've never spoken of our world to Mugglekind. I know you're not a danger to us."

Harry suddenly pushed away his half-eaten sundae, and said coldly, "I cannot use magic any more, and if I did speak of magic, they'd only think I was insane. Whether I wish to or not, I cannot do any harm to anyone."

McKenzie's eyes fell on the wrist-bands, and he wondered if they could be removed now. Probably not. All attempts had failed before. He glanced at Snape, who was looking imperturbable, then tried again, "We owe you something. I have something I want you to accept." He pushed over a small box.

Harry opened it, and studied the pendant inside. On a black leather thong, a tiny figurine, a flying silver horse. McKenzie explained, "Like the pendant you sometimes wear. You could wear it all the time if you wanted. It is untarnishable silver, like on the Bracelets. It's a way you can call for instant help, for instance if you are attacked by someone like John Pettit. You twist the wings around so they touch, and the Auror Office is alerted, and someone will come to you, to help."

"So there's a Locator Charm on it?"

"It will hardly work if there's not. It's not effective all the time. Only if you put it in the wings together position."

Harry fiddled with it, turning it and putting the wings together. McKenzie nodded, "It's a call for help. Your magic should never have been stripped from you. Even with the aid of Mind-Magic, Dumbledore didn't try and convince anyone to accept that."

Harry turned a questioning look towards Snape, who nodded. Harry thought he could run a few checks on the pendant as soon as he was alone, and slipped it into his pocket, - not around his neck, just in case, and said, "Thank you."

McKenzie smiled, pleased and a little surprised that the gift had been accepted. He would have expected that Harry would have been a little less trusting after his experiences. Snape said casually, "Finish your ice-cream, Harry. No point wasting it."

Harry started eating again. If McKenzie thought he did what Snape said, that too, would help.

Snape said, "There's another thing. It is time you had your eyes fixed. The eye specialist is Troy Vanden. He says that it should be a straightforward series of spells, though quite exacting. The problem is afterwards, you'll need to stay very quiet, and leave on a blindfold."

McKenzie said, "It's notoriously difficult to change a wizard's genetic inheritance. It's why people sometimes get into deep trouble when they try to improve their appearance with spells or potions. You'll need to trust us."

"For how long afterwards?"

"Six days, if all goes well. If there's any sort of a disturbance, even longer."

Harry was playing with his ice-cream, and Snape said, "It's difficult to stay quiet that long, especially for an active teenager. Children are mostly kept very quiet with the aid of potions."

Harry shook his head decisively, "No potions!"

"I thought you'd say that. And I expect you would prefer not Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head, suddenly feeling panicky inside. Not Hogwarts!

McKenzie said, "A quiet flat, within walking distance. You can have a look now if you like. This is not a Ministry matter, and only myself, Severus, and perhaps the school nurse would know where you are. Spells on your bedroom, which will make you feel calm and sleepy, but all you have to do is walk out the door, and you'll feel normal again. TV if you like. That should help you sleep. I've always found it totally boring myself." Harry gave a weak smile.

Snape said, "Professor McGonagall is very much in favour of it, and both myself and Madam Pomfrey will be available for a week. You would never be alone."

Harry took off his glasses, and fiddled with them. He looked around at the blur. He might be a powerful wizard, but when it was so easy to take away clear sight… He should have his eyes fixed. They were quite right.

He replaced his glasses, and studied Vance McKenzie, who looked back, hoping that he'd be judged trustworthy. What had the Prophecy said, Shame for the Side of Light…. The Child of Light lost and broken… Harry Potter had been bitterly hurt, and would not trust lightly.

Harry said, "You said a flat, quite close?"

"We'll go and see it now if you're finished."

"I am finished."

It was a spacious two bedroom flat, quite nice, though the block of six flats looked a little rundown. It overlooked a stony beach, and Snape said, "You actually own them. It's a nice earner for you."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

"They need a coat of paint."

"Would you like me to mention it to your manager? It can be done before next Summer."

"Thanks, Professor, but I can handle it."

"Call me Severus. You're not my student any more."

Harry tried it, tentatively, "Severus."

"You'll get used to it."

"Can you show me the spells?" Snape went into the bedroom, thought for a moment, then started muttering incantations, wand held still, as he moved himself in a circle. He finished, glanced at the bed, blinking, and said, "They work. The bed is looking suddenly inviting."

Harry nodded, looked at the bed, then stepped outside the doorway, relieved when he felt perfectly normal again. McKenzie too, tried and remarked, "Very effective."

Harry said, "Professor Snape… Severus. Is it a good idea?"

Snape nodded, "It is a good idea. You may not have been directly responsible, but when over 10% of the adult male population of Britain is wiped out at one blow, it's not going to be forgotten."

Harry stared, "10%?"

"Our population is small, the numbers are very significant."

"Why did so many follow him?"

"He was different when he was young. He was close to winning the war. It was not evil versus good, as you've been led to believe. It was more like a Civil War. Many felt the Ministry was far too much under the influence of Dumbledore, and far too open to corruption."

"But then he heard that prophecy, and decided he had to eliminate the threat."

"Yes. There hadn't been many cold-blooded killings before that."

"I never knew a great deal about it. Just that he killed my parents, and meant to kill me. I just reacted. I was never a warrior. No-one should blame me." Harry was feeling close to tears. 10% of the male population! How had he done that? He hadn't done that. It was just that the fools had allowed a magical Binding Mark, so they'd died when their Master died.

Snape said inexorably, "Right or wrong, you have enemies."

Harry took a deep breath, "Blake Brooks. He was the leader in that attack on the Aurors. He said I'd be blamed, probably sent to a closed ward at St. Mungo's, never see the light of day again."

McKenzie said, "Blake Brooks. Were there any others?"

"Blake Brooks was the leader, John Pettit and Roddy Liddicombe, several lookouts, I think. Pansy Parkinson warned them to get a move on, so she was one of those keeping watch. The Aurors were lured in when a girl screamed. They didn't even look for an ambush. I thought Aurors were supposed to have more brains than that."

McKenzie said dryly, "They are."

Snape pressed, "Well, do you agree, Harry? Maybe next week?"

"Hadn't I better see the eye specialist first? Make sure it's possible?"

Snape took the spells off the room, and held out an arm, "Vanden's office, then."

McKenzie asked, "Will I come?"

Snape replied, "I'll let you know what he decides."

They were not kept waiting long, called in before a woman with a child of around five, and two elderly men. Vanden did a brief examination, and said, "Perfectly straightforward, at least it is for me. It's a pity you didn't have it done years ago."

"I was lucky to be given glasses years ago."

"Well… Monday week?"

Harry nodded, and Snape smiled. Vanden said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "I'll complete the healing of the collar bone as well. At this stage, the Muggles won't notice."

"I thought it was better."

"It probably feels it, but it's not completely."

Harry said, "Then yes please." He still tensed a moment, but if he was going to trust them, it would be silly to balk at this minor thing.

Once they left Vanden's office, Snape said, "I'm very pleased that you're willing to trust us, Harry."

"Do you remember when Madam Pomfrey tried to take the Bracelets off, and she failed?"

"I remember."

"I thought then that it was never intended to take them off. It was all a pretence so I wouldn't be frightened. I thought you'd offer to try, except that you'd kill me."

"Why didn't you run, if that's what you thought?"

"The Aurors at the door. And anyway, by then I wasn't sure it mattered. Life was pretty miserable. It turned out you really were trying, I could feel it. You nearly did it." He gave a half smile at Snape, "So maybe I should trust you now."

"I always wondered why you seemed happier when logically you should have been more miserable."

"You didn't kill me after all. I thought that was quite a good sign."

Snape laughed, "I guess it was."

Harry had one of his periodic nightmares that night. Again he was begging for help, struggling as he was held tight and fed the potion that had rendered him mindlessly passive. He only vaguely remembered the physical pain of the rape, but clearly, it seemed, he could feel the pull at the core of him, the pull at his magic. He muttered and fretted. In his dream, a judge made his appearance, shaking his head, condemning him. Over 10% of the male population. He cried, "No! Don't lock me up! Please!"

Chris mumbled, "Shut up, Ricky. No-one's locking you up."

Harry woke, staring at the ceiling, panting, still in the grip of his panic.

It took him a very long time to settle down. He'd never done the arithmetic. Over three hundred Death Eaters had died, not counting the ones knocked unconscious. Some had been left with brain damage. Around six thousand Anirage in Great Britain, less than three thousand men, as there was always a greater toll among the men from fighting and accidents, - was it three hundred and seventeen deaths Draco had told him? That was easily over 10%. It you took children and old men out of the equation, probably closer to 15%. Some of the Death Eaters would have been women. 10% then. How could he go back to the wizarding world, ever? How could such a death toll be forgiven? There could hardly have been a family unaffected!

****

Ross Davies looked up at the knock at the open door, and sighed. Ricky again. It was not that he was a real problem, rather it was that he suspected that he had little real influence with the boy. He asked, "Are you about to get into trouble again, Ricky?"

"Well, the school might not like it, maybe. It's just that I'll be away for the week, probably back next weekend. I thought I'd best tell you so you don't give away my bed."

Ross said with a hint of sarcasm, "So you are thinking of returning?"

Harry said politely, "Yes please, Mr. Davies."

"Are you going to your protector? Will he pay you?"

Harry hesitated, and then laughed, "You could call him a protector. I am confident I will return."

Ross said persuasively, "You're only just sixteen, Ricky. Tell me where you're going. I'm responsible for you. I need to know."

"I don't expect to be in any danger, Sir, moral or physical. It's only that I'll get behind in my schoolwork, but that can't be helped."

Ross complained, "I think I'd really rather have a straightforward pickpocket or thug. They don't pose the problems you do."

Harry grinned, "Sorry, Sir."

Ross spread his arms out, "Go then. But please come back. And please, tell me if you're in trouble."

"I'm not in trouble, Sir."

Ross muttered, "I hope not."

Harry went to the door, and at the last, Ross said quickly, "Whatever it is, Ricky, good luck."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll be back in a week. I've told Chris, so he won't be worried."

Ross watched from the window as the boy headed toward the bus stop. He clearly remembered him returning before, looking like he'd been though hell. The doctor had said that he was merely exhausted and malnourished. Aside from a few bruises, there had been no injuries.

Snape took Harry to the flat first, and Harry set up his CD player, bought for just this purpose, and said, "I'll show you how to work it, Severus, if you don't mind. I thought I'd listen to some French lessons while I'm here, as I can't do much else."

Snape picked up the CDs he'd put down, and nodded, "Good idea. Maybe you should have music as well."

"I didn't buy any music." Harry looked around and shivered suddenly. He didn't like it.

Snape said casually, "I haven't put the spells on the bedroom yet. You'll feel better then. And any time you start to worry or be too restless, just think that you'll never need your glasses again. And call for Poppy or I to come and help."

"Where is Madam Pomfrey?"

"At the Healer's probably."

Harry went to the bed, and then counted his steps to the window, and then to the door, and into the bathroom, closing his eyes, and feeling around. Snape said, "You will have help. Whatever you need."

"I sincerely hope I do not need help in the bathroom, blind or not."

"Merely blindfolded, Harry. There is a difference."

"Yes."

He turned and studied Snape. Voldemort had known about Legilemency, and for several days, Harry had been practising. Snape drew back, startled, "Where did you learn that?"

Harry looked away, embarrassed. Snape said quietly, "Relax. I understand you're nervous."

Harry admitted, "I have nightmares about Aurors coming at me with Calming Potions."

"That will not happen."

Harry shivered, and Snape put a hand on his shoulder, "Would you like a backrub to help you relax?"

Harry drew away, but laughed, "I don't think that will be necessary."

"We can simply cancel it, you know. It's something for you, not something you have to do."

"Yes. I'm very grateful to you for setting it all up."

"It is owed."

Harry regarded him, a wry smile on his face, "I can't help thinking that you're right. The wizarding world does owe me."

"Ready to go?"

Harry shut his eyes again, made his way slowly to the bathroom, then counted his steps back to the bedroom, even to the bed. Finally he nodded, "Ready to go."

Harry didn't really like putting himself in the hands of others, and was very tense when Vanden aimed his wand. Vanden dropped it to his side, and said, "Relax. This first is routine, then a few more precise spells, checking between each one. None will hurt."

Harry looked at Snape, who said smoothly, "Healer Vanden has impeccable references, and I can assure you that he is not a Death Eater."

Vanden added, "Vance McKenzie actually insisted that I show him my forearm before he said who the special patient was. In any case, I could prove that I was working all day when it happened. No Death Eater could have been working that day."

"Yes, Sir. Please go ahead."

It took little time then, and Harry beamed when, for the first time in his life, he found he could see clearly without glasses. But then the blindfold, and Vanden stressed, "Stay very quiet for six days, and I'll check you. No disturbances, or you could find your eyes as bad or worse than they were before."

"Yes, Sir." Already he was hating the blindfold, hating the feeling of helplessness.

Snape said, "I believe there's a rather strange daytime serial on TV at the moment. I'm quite sure it'll put you straight to sleep."

Harry relaxed, and laughed. Snape would look after him, and he could maybe throw away his glasses forever.

The spelled room worked well for the first two days, but then it seemed like a yawning vista of days still to go. Snape found him pacing when he entered the room on the third day, and shook his head as Harry wheeled to face him. "It's only me. Relax."

Harry admitted, "It's getting harder to be quiet."

"You're an active person by nature. I was wondering… What about Muggle drugs, maybe on your food. Would that help?"

Harry looked restlessly toward the window where he could hear the noise of the sea.

Snape said softly, "They're not like potions."

Harry lay back on the bed, "They're exactly like potions, except that maybe they don't taste as bad. I'll play the French lesson again, I think."

"I have a book. I'll read it to you if you like."

Harry chuckled, "Probably you'll go to sleep."

"Then I'll tell you again about your experimental laser surgery that has cured your eyes."

"That would be useful."

When he put himself to bed, he lay face down. Snape took the hint, and while he gave him details of an entirely fictitious hospital stay, he rubbed his back, quite firmly. He'd done it like that when Harry had been almost out of his mind with pain from the Binding Bracelets. Harry at last relaxed, and settled further into the bed.

Poppy Pomfrey glanced in and smiled. She'd known Severus a very long time. His temper had improved drastically since Voldemort was killed. He no longer took pleasure in humiliating students, and his teaching had improved. She felt a lot more relaxed herself. She'd been widowed by Voldemort. Her mind had been on her Pierre when she'd joined the queue to look on the dead face of the monster. Now the two of them were looking after the boy who'd achieved it. This time, he was looked after as he should have been looked after in the first place, not treated as a dangerous criminal, certainly not subject to the agony of having his magic destroyed. She could barely imagine how painful that must have been.

When she noticed Snape's eyes drooping, she indicated, and then took his place. The spells affected anyone in the room. Just using spells or potions on the patient was far more practical.

Snape shook off his sleepiness in the other room, and went to the window. It was a cold, Wintry November day. How was he going to keep the boy quiet for as long as needed? It was fairly obvious that he was becoming habituated to the spells.

Harry found it a lot easier to be quiet the next day, mostly lightly sleeping. It wasn't until breakfast the day after, sleepily eating the cereal that Snape had provided that he suddenly put down his spoon. Snape asked quietly, "All right, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him, tilting his head to the side a little. He would have been staring if he wasn't wearing a blindfold. At last he sighed, "All right, Severus." A Muggle drug, he guessed, since it didn't taste foul. Probably all day yesterday, when it had seemed so much easier. He resumed eating.

Snape said gently, "You're doing well. Only a few more days, probably. Vanden will do his check Sunday at breakfast." Snape felt a sense of quiet achievement. For years, he'd been trying to make reparation for that disastrous error of judgement when he'd allowed the man he'd so much admired to Mark him as his follower. Spying on him afterwards had been a precarious occupation, especially as sometimes Dumbledore had seemed far too careless with the information that he was a spy. Only after he was dead had he been grateful that so many knew of his true loyalty. Dumbledore never had put it in writing, and he could so easily have been arrested for the crimes he'd committed as a Death Eater. That Harry had guessed about the drugged breakfast, and then eaten it anyway…. The boy trusted him. It felt very good to be trusted.

****

Sunday morning, Harry was feeling far more alert, if not agitated, pacing the room, waiting for the Healer. Snape threatened, "Either sit down, or I'll spell you asleep. You're making me dizzy!"

Harry sat, "Sorry, Severus."

Madam Pomfrey said severely, "Really Severus. The poor boy's just anxious. He just needs a little care and gentleness."

Snape sighed, obviously, "Do you want a backrub, Harry? Will that help?"

Harry grinned at him, "I want a backrub from Catherine! She has certain attributes you don't!"

Snape laughed, though the nurse was a little shocked, "You're a little young to be thinking of such things surely, Harry!"

"I'm seventeen, Poppy. I could marry if I chose."

Snape winked at the nurse, "It's Pure-blood wizarding tradition you know, to marry early."

Poppy sniffed, "Harry should still be at school."

"I am at school, and next year, University, I hope." He stood again, and walked to the door, cocking his head, then feeling around, and raising the window, "I can hear the waves."

Snape said casually, "There are hardly any waves to hear. I made a spell to make it sound like Kreighley Beach."

"I should have guessed."

"Just don't start pacing again!"

Harry went to the sitting room and felt for the TV remote, flicking through the channels.

He jumped when the doorbell rang, but beamed when he was finally allowed to have the blindfold off. It seemed a miracle that he could look around, and see everything, perfectly clearly. He kept touching his face. It seemed that he had to be wearing glasses. The healer watched him, smiling. It was rare to do this routine correction on a teenager. It should have been done much earlier. Harry smiled around, "Thank you, Healer Vanden."

Snape said casually, "The account as discussed."

The healer replied, "Certainly." The account was to be paid from the Tom Foundation, by Snape. But afterwards, as was already arranged, Harry would take over administration of the charity. From now on, any Kreighley boy who qualified could go to University. It would not fund Oxford or Cambridge, but certainly it would pay for the University of Cornwall. There was a Campus at Falmouth, which was quite close to Traynor.

Vanden's eyes dropped to the Binding Bracelets. He'd heard about those. A good thing on the whole. Otherwise the boy would probably become as obsessed with having total power as had been the megalomaniac who'd died. As it was… He came forward, and shook his hand. "Our world owes you a debt of thanks. I hope you know that."

Harry touched his eyes, and said, "Not our world, your world. But it has come in useful this time."

"No active sports for three days, and don't read for more than an hour at a time, no more than three hours in a day."

Snape said, "You were going to provide a note for his school."

"Ah, yes." He fished out a note from his pocket, "It says you've had specialist treatment, experimental in nature. It excuses you from sport and any physical exertion until the end of the coming week."

Snape said, "No mention of magic in other words. Perfectly safe for your Muggle teachers."

"Good."

Ross breathed a sigh of relief when Harry reported that he was back, and showed him the note. He said accusingly, "You could have told me. I was worried sick!"

"Yes, Sir. There were reasons."

"Did it work?"

Harry grinned, "No glasses. I've always worn glasses. It's wonderful!"

"Well, it seems your protector has done some good, finally."

"It does seem that way."

"Did you have to pay?"

Harry grinned, carefree, "Not in the way you always assume!"

Ross said sternly, "I should have you thoroughly checked for sexual abuse."

"I didn't have to do anything like that, and anyway, to see clearly like this... Maybe it would have been worth it. Someone told me it doesn't have to hurt if it's done right."

"Planning on trying it?"

"No way. Much better to have a girlfriend!"

He went and phoned Catherine after that, and arranged to visit at her house. Catherine said, "We can watch a movie if you like."

"Great." But it would have been better if they had somewhere private to go. It was November, far too cold for sex outside.

****

Harry lived in a Muggle world. School was satisfying, he had friends, and Catherine gave him enormous pleasure whenever there was sufficient privacy. He thought he was perfectly happy in his life. No-one was trying to kill him, there were no impossible expectations, and he lived next to the beach. What more could he want? The first of the dreams about his old world began slowly. Of all things, he was in a History of Magic class, and exchanging notes with Ron about the latest gossip. According to his dream, Draco Malfoy and Venetia Vanden had been discovered kissing in a broom cupboard. He remembered it clearly when he woke, and put it down to Venetia having the same surname as the eye specialist. She was probably related.

The next night, and again it was fairly mundane. He and Ron were practising a particular shield spell, with Hermione complaining that if they'd only paid more attention to the preparatory work, they would not be having any trouble. In the next nights, he dreamed of working in the library, with Madam Pince looking at him disapprovingly, at a detention, he didn't know what for, and the line he was writing was surely nonsense, I must never stir anti-clockwise.

He didn't need glasses any more. It was a continuing pleasure to him. He may have routinely used charms to ensure his glasses stayed in place, and didn't become fogged up with rain or sweat, but they'd still been a nuisance. A wizard healer had done that for him, and both Severus Snape and Poppy Pomfrey had given up a week of their time to help him afterwards. They may have owed him some consideration, but they hadn't had to give him any.

There was that device that Vance McKenzie had given him as well. There had been no tricks with that. He'd checked thoroughly. Voldemort's knowledge came in very useful sometimes, though he still avoided looking too closely at his memories.

He dreamed of diving after the snitch in a game of Quidditch, filled with the joy of speed and flight. He remembered the dream clearly when he woke, and admitted to himself that he might be just a little homesick. Maybe the bitterness was finally fading. His world had had its good points. One day, he guessed he could be Harry Potter again, just as long as he was thought to be harmless. If he was attacked? Severus Snape hadn't been trying to frighten him. What he'd said was quite true. He would have enemies.

He made a few decisions. One day, he would try a return to his own world, like a test of the water. He would not be unprepared. He'd practice with weapons aside from magic, - a knife, a gun maybe, though they were strictly regulated in Britain. Lessons in self defence were expensive, but any tricks he could learn would be helpful. He was rated a good fighter by the other boys, but maybe he needed to be an expert fighter.

There were other defences that could come in helpful. He should be skilled in picking locks, for instance, and maybe how to steal and drive a car. Chris Vane was stunned when he was asked for lessons, but helpful. A nearby farmer never knew that his car had been 'stolen' several times over, or that it had been used for driving lessons. Silencing spells and Cloaking Magic could be done surreptitiously, and Chris only assumed that the farmer and his family were away, as Ricky said. Jason was the expert in picking locks. He said his father had started teaching him when he was about five.

***chapter end***