Crying was all fine and well but it didn't solve anything, or so Harry had learned over the years. He soon stopped and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. If something had happened to Snape… if he had died… then he—no, wizards and witches don't die easily. Look at how Snape fell into a potion and survived, you practically had to do the Unforgivable to kill them. Snape was fine and Harry had to get out of the room to find him.

But how, though? The windows had new bars on them, too narrow for Hedwig to pass through, or he could have written a letter to someone, and the door was locked. The best he could do was stay quiet and not irritate his aunt and uncle and sooner or later Aunt Petunia would need him to do things in the house or garden. His gaze fell on the bucket in the corner and he groaned. It might be later, rather than sooner…

Hedwig hooted and Harry went over to her cage to rub her soft feathers for a while. At least her bowls were still full of food and water, magically charmed not to spill, and he didn't have to worry about her for a while. And he still had a roll and sweets stuffed in his pockets from the train. Things really weren't looking so bad, he's had it worse—that time when he shrank Dudley's jumper he was locked up for a week.

A fist banged on his door, breaking through his maudlin thoughts, and Dudders yelled, "I've got your little dolly, Freak!"

Harry forgot all about staying quiet and this time he screamed and banged on the door until his fists were bruised and his voice hoarse.

No one came.

You would think the neighbours would wonder at all the ruckus but for sure Aunt Petunia would have some excuse. What did you expect from a St. Brutus boy?

Vernon shouted there would be no food until he 'shut it' but Harry was beyond caring. Dudders was worse than an Unforgivable and he couldn't imagine what he would do with Snape. No, he could. He had seen his cousin's broken toys; this room had been filled with all the toys Dudley had ruined over the years, mostly on purpose. When he got out he was going to hex Dudley so hard! He didn't care about the stupid note they had handed out saying they weren't allowed to use magic over the summer.

He spent the day fearing the worst. When evening came he watched the Dursleys leave to treat Dudley to dinner in his favourite restaurant. They would be gone for a while, Dudley could eat for hours, he knew, but it didn't matter because he was stuck in the bedroom with no way out.

Hours later Harry was in the blackest mood ever, remembering all the discarded limbless, headless bodies of dolls he had to throw away over the years. Piers's little sister used to collect Barbie dolls and they had an endless supply from stealing those. Dudley and his friends would play reverse hangman, breaking off a limb every time someone guessed a wrong letter. It was one of their favourite games, and the most stupid part was they could barely spell more than their own names.

He was staring with burning eyes at the catflap when he saw it move. It rattled and then slowly raised as someone struggled to push a stick through it. No, not a stick, his wand! Harry scrambled from the bed and rushed over to the door.

"Help from your side, Potter," Snape squeaked and swore.

"Professor!" Harry grabbed the flap and raised it, taking his wand before letting the wizard pass through.

Then he sat back on his heels and gawked.

"Not a word," the miniature wizard warned.

At first he thought it wasn't Snape. Gone was the greasy shoulder-length hair, and in its place a lopsided buzz cut. It was awful. The left side had bald spots while the right still had long locks over his ear, all standing at right angles to his head; he looked like he had been ripped into by a maniac barber. Was he missing an eyebrow?

"Sir…"

That was not the worst of it.

Snape was wearing a skin-tight pink t-shirt proclaiming 'girlz rulez', the letters covered in silver glitter, and lurid orange leopard-print leggings, with calf-length, neon-pink plastic boots rounding the ensemble off.

"If you're done staring, Potter…" He broke off, sounding tired, and rubbed his chest.

"Sir?"

"Cast an Alohomora in the bloody door, let's go."

Harry raised his wand then lowered it again. "I can't," he croaked, the words hurting his raw throat.

Snape seemed to regain some energy at that. "What do you mean you bloody can't? You've learned the damn spell, cast it!"

He had learned it by heart over the last week, having enough practise in their nightly wanderings. But that wasn't the problem. "We're not allowed to use magic outside school," he reminded Snape.

"And you've suddenly decided to become a law-abiding citizen, is that it? Idiot child! Look at where you are! Locked up by Muggles, while I was being tortured by that whale! We're not staying here one moment longer than necessary!" He gasped for breath and held his side, nearly doubling over.

"Sir!" Harry crouched down. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said, biting the words off. "Cast the bloody spell, Potter. I'll take care of any repercussions."

There would be repercussions? Harry hadn't thought further than the fact that they weren't allowed. He wanted to ask now, but Snape, as white as a sheet, still managed to scowl at him, so he cast the spell, putting effort into it. The locks rattled and clattered open one by one making a loud racket and then the door swung open.

"Get your trunk," Snape ordered. "Let's go."

"Hedwig…" He scrambled to get the cage and found Snape already in the hall when he turned around.

"How long do they usually lock you up?" Snape asked, looking from the door to Harry. His voice was flat and Harry had no idea what he was thinking.

He didn't want to say. He hadn't made any friends in Hogwarts but that didn't mean he hadn't paid attention to the kids around him. For a long time he had thought his life was normal, that this was how you were treated when you were an orphan but Susan Bones was living with her aunt and all her stories were of treats and outings. Humiliation burning through him, he wanted to protest that this had never happened before but Snape always went on about what a spoiled little hero he was and that made him say in a rasp, "Longest was a week."

"Lock the door then, let's hope they won't miss you for a few days."

He locked the door and picked Snape up—very carefully—and together they went to fetch his trunk. Harry didn't ask where they were going, for now going was enough. They had money, he had brought some from Snape's rooms on the wizard's orders so they weren't going to live on the street. It wasn't Muggle, but Harry didn't say anything about it when Snape told him in a tired voice where he sat on his shoulder to remove some now, though he wondered if the wizard knew Muggles used different money.

Snape was quiet, only giving curt orders that Harry followed without protest. He locked the cupboard under the stairs also and made sure there was no trace of their activity.

"Cut another piece of the invisibility cloak, we don't need anyone to see me."

He did so and Snape draped it around himself.

"How did Dudders not suspect, sir?"

"I pretended to be a doll, didn't you hear him?"

"Was it very bad?" He felt stupid asking, of course it was, he knew Dudley, didn't he? Just exactly what had happened in his cousin's bedroom? "Did he hurt you?"

"I've had worse, Potter. Let's go. Out. Find a quiet street and try not to be seen."

It was dark out, most people were having dinner now, he knew, and they slipped unseen to the park where he finally gathered the courage to ask, "Where are we going, sir?"

"My home. Raise your wand in the air."

"Your home?" He raised his wand. "What spell do you want me to—"

A purple triple-decker bus appeared with a deafening bang, millimetres from his nose, and Harry stumbled back, making Snape grab onto his hair with a pained curse.

Neville Longbottom rode the bus to Spinner's End where he cast a second Alohomora on a grimy door of a miserable-looking cottage in a miserable street. The air smelled like refuse, and Harry could only pray it was coming from the river he had seen outside and not the house itself. No one was around. The row of identical cottages was all dark and deserted, and far off a streetlight flickered uselessly, unable to make a dent in the night.

"You live here?" Maybe they just needed something from here? He could only hope!

"I live in the school. Don't expect a palace Potter, go in before you're seen!"

"By who?"