My gosh! Thank you all for the favs and follows. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; although, I must admit that I am more excited for the next chapters as they begin to follow the books less and less. This one has a lot of text straight from the books, sorry. None the less. Please proceed. I hope entertainment ensues!

Harry's Surprises

Harry's mind was reeling. Dementors in Little Whinging. Snape in Little Whinging. Mrs. Figg knew Snape. Snape's Patronus is a doe.

"He left! That good for nothing SCOUNDREL left! He knows that there is little I can do in the magic department! What would I have done if you hadn't shown up?! I'm a squib! If it weren't for Mr. Tibbies . . . Oh my word Severus, I would have never known about the Dementors! And then what?!"

Snape's doe had been playful with Harry's stag. Snape could cast the Patronus charm. The man was always angry, what memory could he possibly have powerful enough for a patronus? Snape and happy? Was that even possible? And if so, how? Probably with a memory of Harry miserable. He wondered if it was even possible to cast a patronus like that.

"All for what?! All for what?! Stolen cauldrons?!" Mrs. Figg screeched mutinously, "Oh just wait until Dumbledore hears about this! I hope he MURDERS HIM!. Ooh, DEAR LORD, I could kill that man!"

Harry stared at Mrs. Figg as if she'd grown a second head. Her words slowly sunk in. Mrs. Figg is a squib. Dumbledore was keeping surveillance on him. Looking between the two adults, he asked, "Er...You're a squib, Mrs. Figg? You never said anything and you know Dumbledore? And who's this Mundungus person?"

"Who doesn't know Dumbledore? And well, he asked me to keep an eye on you all these years. I'm sorry I couldn't be more pleasant, Harry. The Dursley's wouldn't have let you come around much if you liked my company, now would they?" She asked breathlessly. "As for Mundungus, that no good lazy bum was supposed to be watching you. But of course, cauldrons are more important than you!"

Amusement flickered on Snape's face, but even more to Harry's surprise, his scowl deepened as her words settled in the air.

"Now quick, we must hurry along. Grab your cousin." She demanded. "Severus, you need to get word to Dumbledore. The faster he hears about this, the better. I can escort Harry home...or maybe you should stay until he's safely there. Dumbledore said no magic and-"

"You did not see the Patronus charm cast?" Snape looked paler than a ghost. Mrs. Figg shook her head. Her brows furrowed, "I wasn't aware you were capable of—"

"Potter cast a Patronus." Harry noted there was none of the usual surliness in his voice. "No doubt we'll be hearing from the Ministry shortly."

Mrs Figg frowned then, "Oh dear, just what Dumbledore was afraid of!"

"Wait, so, Dumbledore's having me followed?" Harry asked the woman, his eyes darting to glance at his professor briefly—whom for the most part—remained impassive. Harry took notice that he did seem a bit...twitchy.

"After what happened this past June, you didn't think Dumbledore would let you wander around alone, did you? Good Lord, they told me you were intelligent!"

"Perhaps," Snape snorted, "it would be best to take the boy home and then we can proceed from there."

Harry glared at his professor, but the man had already turned around to look at Dudley. Snape drew his wand and murmured a spell pointed at his cousin. Not much of anything happened and Snape grumbled as his shoulders slumped. Turning to Harry, he sneered, "He will not stand. You will help me carry him. I'm in no condition to do anymore magic and if Mundungus appears, I will have to hold off causing bodily harm for later. Mrs. Figg, you should head home and attempt contact with either Mundungus or the headmaster."

At once, Mrs. Figg watched Snape warily, but soon enough relented and ran off in the direction of Privet Drive. Any other time, Harry would have questioned Snape's intentions. Dumbledore seemed to trust him implicitly and as he had learned: Snape was a death eater. Now that Voldemort was back. Harry was under the impression Snape would return to him, as a spy for Dumbledore, but none the less return. Harry should be more skeptical, more on edge. Yet, the man was unbelievably pale, more sickly looking than he had ever seen him. He had said he couldn't do magic. If it was a trap to get him to Voldemort (as a loud voice was arguing in his head), Harry reckoned he would have done so already. Nothing made sense. On the alternative, Snape hadn't been face to face with the dementors, though he'd been in their presence. Did the dementors affect him so much as to render him incapable of magic? Snape was rather fearsome—Harry loathed to to admit hardly anything seemed to phase the irritable professor—so the thought was rather foreign to him. Now if he was lying, waiting to get him alone, to snatch him...Somehow, he didn't quite believe this either.

"Well, are you going to stand there all day?"

Scrambling, Harry moved to join Snape in helping him lift Dudley upright. Together, one shoulder under each of Dudley's arms, they hauled him home. His feet dragging behind on the pavement. Harry had no energy to do anything about it and Snape either felt the same way or didn't care. Harry imagined it was a mixture of both, but he noticed his Professor's jaw was clenched tightly. The walk was quiet, only Dudley's soft whimpers disturbing the silence. As they neared number four, Harry spotted Mrs. Figg smacking some man with her string bag.

She yelled at him furiously and he merely attempted to shield himself from her wrath before dissaparating with a loud crack. Her body was tense and fist clenched, but relief flooded her face when she saw them approaching. Meeting Snape's gaze, she nodded and ran off into her house. When they approached the door, Harry hesitated before ringing the bell. Throwing caution out the window, desperation for answers overriding everything else, he asked Snape, "Professor Snape...?"

The man shifted Dudley's weight on his shoulder, "What is it, Potter?"

"What's going on...sir?" He hastily added at the end when the man's face darkened.

"I haven't the slightest clue." Snape met his eyes for a second, "We shall see if I can stay conscious enough to find out."

As his aunt's figure drew closer, Harry wondered if Snape had heard of the Dursley's before. Could it be that he was afraid? The thought nearly made him laugh, yeah right. That would be something else. He didn't ponder longer when the door swung open.

"Diddy! Where have you been? I was just about to-"

Both Snape and Harry glanced at Dudley and then at each other. Springing away from the boy, they watched as he vomited over the doormat. Snape's face twisted in disgust, but he was looking a bit green too. His aunt opened her mouth with what Harry assumed would be a screech for his uncle. Instead, she shrieked, "YOU!"

He couldn't be so lucky now. To his surprise, however, she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at Snape. Harry stared, his mouth gaping like a fish. As if it weren't enough, Snape merely scowled, "Petunia, I see you've not changed."

The way he said it, Harry knew it wasn't a compliment. More importantly, they knew each other. Snape reached down and pulled Dudley, "Potter, close your mouth and help me get him inside."

Another surprise, his Aunt Petunia didn't stop them. She only made a strange sort of choked noise, but stepped aside. Dudley, no more responsive than before, was dragged inside into the sitting room and dumped onto the nearest armchair unceremoniously. Uncle Vernon chose that moment to stomp in. His eyes flickered from a panting Harry, to a scowling Snape, and finally to a comatose Dudley.

"What...WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" He bellowed. His moustache twitching above his lip as it did when angry. Turning his glare onto Snape, "WHO ARE YOU?! What are you doing in my house? Petunia, what is the meaning of this?!"

His eyes flickered from his aunt to Dudley, worry etched on his face as he watched his son. A sting of rage he couldn't understand burned Harry, but quickly dissipated as his uncle turned his attention to him, "Boy, you better start explaining or-"

His hands were clenched into fist, face turned red and almost purple with fury. Harry was hyperaware of the fact that Snape in no way, shape, or form could pass off as a muggle. Not as he was dressed. Maybe it was everything that had happened in the short span of however long it had been, but he finally noticed, that not only did Snape look sickly—his robes were identical to those he had seen on the Death Eater's at the graveyard. He almost started hyperventilating. Except, as he looked closely, Snape's robes were torn and because the material was dark, it was hard to tell, but he saw it.

"Professor...you're bleeding."

"PROFESSOR!" yelled Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia gapped, "You? A professor?"

Snape rolled his eyes, "Surprised?"

She scoffed. Uncle Vernon's eyes looked like they could combust at any moment, "Petunia, you know this...man?"

His aunt sided eyed Snape, "He was that nasty boy my sister used to hang around with when we were kids."

Dreaming. Harry was dreaming and he would wake up soon for this disturbing nightmare. Snape ignored them and watched Dudley, "Boy, can you hear me?"

Dudley didn't respond, only whimpered and it was as if Snape expected it for he didn't try again. Twisting sharply in the direction of the kitchen, he asked, "Tell me, you do keep chocolate around, Petunia."

"No Vernon, hold on. Bring Dudley with you." His aunt told his uncle when he tried to follow Snape into the kitchen. She then locked her gaze on Harry and tilted her head to follow before responding, "I have some cocoa. What's wrong with my son?"

Harry thought he might faint. He had so many questions before and now rather than having answers, he had even more questions. The sight before him rendered him speechless. His Aunt Petunia was handing a chocolate tin to Snape (who she apparently knew). Snape, it seemed had pulled milk from the fridge and was heating it in a small saucepan with no magic in his death eater robes. Harry's head was going to explode and soon.

"Your son was attacked by a dementor."

"What the hell is a dementor?" Uncle Vernon bellowed. Snape ignored him as he stirred chocolate into the steaming milk. Snape is making hot chocolate. Nothing made any sense anymore. Snape grabbed two mugs as he answered, "They are creatures that guard the most secure wizarding prison."

"Azkaban." Aunt Petunia murmured looking every bit alarmed as she did so.

Uncle Vernon glanced at her questioningly, and then at Harry, "They looking for you boy? I always knew you were up to no good with those awful, freaky parents of yours. How do you contact them—these dememaboobs? I'll turn you in myself."

Snape slammed the spoon he was stirring with as an owl gracefully flew through the kitchen window and dropped a large parchment paper at Harry's feet before flying away the way it came. Uncle Vernon's face once again turning purple, a vein at his temple becoming pronounced as he shouted, "DAMN THESE OWLS. I REFUSE! Boy, you better-"

His uncle stopped mid-sentence. Snape had his wand digging into Uncle Vernon's neck. His dark eyes flashed dangerously, "I dare you to speak another word."

It seemed to Harry that because Snape hadn't pulled out a wand nor discouraged him from speaking harshly as he was, his uncle had forgotten the man was a wizard or simply assumed he wouldn't say anything. Harry would not assume that Snape's actions were in any case on his behalf...although, maybe, if he and his mother had been friends. Well, then maybe that would explain it, but then nothing would make sense as well. His mom and Snape, friends? Harry shuddered. All in all, Harry settled with the thought that Snape just didn't have the patience for his uncle and for that, he could not fault him. Bending down, Harry picked the envelope off the floor and ripped it open.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.

The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.

As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Angrily, Harry crumbled the envelope in his fist. The kitchen was silent and it was suffocating. He wanted to scream and yell at the unfairness of it. Throwing the paper forcefully to the ground, he moved to stomp away, but Snape held his arm firmly. The professor glared at his uncle as if daring him to move and them coolly faced Harry, "Sit."

Harry suppressed the urge to punch him, "Let go."

"Now, Potter."

"I SAID LET GO!" Harry yelled, "You got what you wanted! I've finally been expelled! You must be so happy!"

Snape's eyes widened, his grip loosened and Harry yanked his arm free, "Well guess what? You can't tell me what to do anymore, Snape!"

Pinching his nose, Snape sighed, "Pick up that letter and sit down. You have not been expelled. Make no mistake, disrespect me once more and I will keep you in detention all year round."

His words were threatening, yet they held no bite. He had been expecting Snape to snap at him, but the man just watched him tiredly. Oh, how he had wanted Snape to lose it. Why did the man choose now to have some restraint with his anger? Why now when Harry felt his self-control rapidly slipping. Against his better judgement, he picked the letter and slammed it on the table. Slumping on the nearest chair, he crossed his arms. Rather petulantly, even to his own ears, he grumbled, "Well read it. It says it there."

The man ignored the letter and walked to the saucepan he had left simmering. Gently, he poured the hot drink into the two forgotten mugs. As he was becoming accustomed to, Snape surprised him again by setting a mug in front of him and giving his aunt the other for Dudley, "Chocolate helps counteract the effects of a dementor attack. Your son came very close to having his soul sucked out. He lives because your nephew protected him, magically."

Uncle Vernon, looked sour, but much more subdued asked, "Why did these Dementees show up in the first place? Boy-"

Snape glared at his uncle and Harry watched with satisfaction as the man shrunk back. Snape grabbed the letter crumbled on the table, ignoring the beefy man. Uncle Vernon turned to Harry, "Well?"

"I don't know."

It was true. He didn't know, but his mind was racing. Snape reading his letter of expulsion, in his kitchen, in death eater robes...and then he wondered again. What was Snape doing here? Looking away from his uncle, he turned to Snape who leaned heavily on the counter. As if sensing his stare, Snape looked up from the letter. Harry spoke softly, "Was it him? Is that why you're here?"

Snape seemed to almost look through him. His eyes glazed over a bit and then he said, "I do not believe so."

"Who? Who are you talking about?" Aunt Petunia whispered urgently, her hands combing Dudley's hair soothingly as she attempted to coax him into taking a drink from his mug.

"But you don't know." Harry insisted.

"No." The man admitted and then almost to himself added, "How convenient..."

Harry didn't get a chance to question him on the matter for another owl slammed rather hazardously through the window and landed on the table. Urgently, the bird stuck his foot out for Harry to take the roll attached to it. Once in his hands, the owl didn't stick around and flew off. Snape moved to look over Harry's shoulder as he opened the letter. His fingers gripped the back of Harry's chair as if it where the only thing keeping him upright.

Harry —

Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND.

Arthur Weasley

"Someone with sense...of course, with that many children, one would only hope."

Despite the backhanded compliment, there was something in Snape's voice akin to satisfaction, or relief, or even respect. He wasn't sure. Harry himself felt relieved. Dumbledore was working on it. He wouldn't let him be expelled, would he? Being unable to do magic any longer...just the thought of having his wand snapped sent a shiver of fear down his spine. But even as a small ray of hope blossomed in his chest, he wondered, if Dumbledore had that kind of power...and if he didn't...then what could he do? Would he fight? Would he run? He might just end up in Azkaban after all. Anger flared up in him again, "It's not fair! There were dementors! What was I supposed to do? Let myself be kissed?!"

Harry should have known to not expect anything from Snape because while the man had always been fairly predictable as far as his reactions to Harry's woes, he'd been acting strange all evening. He wondered suddenly, if the man was under Polyjuice. Wouldn't be the first time someone impersonated a professor to get to him. Though really, Snape was the last person that should be used for that purpose. Harry didn't react to Snape's words this time however, despite the fact he was very much confused by the man's demeaner.

"It's not fair, but it is what is." said Snape noncommittedly and hesitated before he continued what seemed to be thoughts aloud, "The Dark Lord did not make mention of sending dementors and he does like to celebrate after he has vented through his frustrations. Those dementors seemed keen on sucking your souls out. Had it been him who ordered them...that wouldn't be so, unless they changed their mind, but that's unlikely. He would have made them an offer much more valuable to them than the souls of two boys. Perhaps...?"

Harry watched him anxiously, "Perhaps what?"

"Dark Lord?" Aunt Petunia muttered.

Uncle Vernon hoarsely stumbled over his words, "What are you two blabbing about? Who is this Lord of Darkness and what does he have to do with the Dementoids?"

"Risky and idiotic," Snape uttered darkly. He looked pensive, as if he were trying to put a puzzle together.

Harry frowned, what was he on about? It was then another owl flew in. Uncle Vernon looked like he might combust. One look from Snape kept his mouth shut, but he stood from the chair he currently occupied and as soon as the owl flew out the window, he slammed it shut. By the time he sat back down, Harry had begun reading the letter.

Dear Mr. Potter,

Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken.

Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further enquiries.

With best wishes,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

"With best wishes," Snape scoffed, "With everything the ministry has been promoting, it's a wonder."

Harry's eyes widened and suddenly he understood what conclusion Snape had been drawing, "The Ministry? What are you talking about? What have they been saying?"

"Have you not been reading the Prophet, Potter?"

"Yes, but there hasn't been anything major, not about Voldemort."

Snape huffed exasperated, "Not that the Prophet is the best source material, but suddenly I understand why your Potion's essays are so dreadful."

"I'm not exactly worried about Potions right now, professor." Harry glared at him.

The man glowered, "Take a drink, Potter. Be glad it was boiling when I served it, otherwise it would be cold already."

"Tell me what you meant...sir."

"Drink."

Seeing Snape wouldn't say more until he did, Harry begrudgingly sipped on the warm chocolate. Much he hate admit, it tasted wonderful and it took just a bit of the heaviness he felt. Snape nodded approvingly. Their eyes met again and Snape held his attention for a while. Over three weeks he'd been waiting to no avail for answers. Over three weeks, he'd been desperately obsessing over the news. Of all people he had expected answers from, Snape wasn't even on the list, but as many questions as had risen from his arrival, Snape had answered some and that was more than he could say from others. He didn't let himself linger, but Cedric crossed his mind. Facing Voldemort was still fresh in his mind. Because of everything he'd been through, didn't he deserve some answers? It killed him. It killed him to think it, but one thought was at the forefront of his mind: just give me something. Please.

Snape pressed a hand on the table, now standing in front of him, watching him carefully as he spoke, "The minister refuses to believe the Dark Lord has returned and the Prophet is backing him by smearing your name: labeling you an attention seeking person whom fancies himself a tragic hero. Of course, you wouldn't know this by reading headlines only."

Harry felt embarrassed by Snape's pointed look because he was right. He had only read the front pages, the big news, because Voldemort was so. Harry gripped his mug so hard he thought it might snap, "But he is back! And I'm not an attention-seeker! That man KILLED MY PARENTS. I WOULD GIVE EVERYTHING..."

Harry hated his eyes for watering in a room full of people who couldn't give two damns about him, people who hated him if anything, but he was angry and no one was stopping him. The kitchen was deathly silent. Aunt Petunia was looking at him as if it were the first time she'd seen him. Uncle Vernon seemed just as startled as she. Dudley was looking at him...his eyes appeared less dead and slightly more aware. His cousin shakily raised his mug to his lips and his aunt clutched his shoulders, but her eyes remained locked on Harry. Snape, on the other hand, stared. Yet, there was no anger or disgust, not a line of mockery was present on his face. If anything, his eyes felt familiar. It was as if he were looking into a reflection. No one was stopping him and so he yelled more because...well, he wasn't sure why. He just did.

"I would give anything! ANYTHING! If it meant that night..." Harry croaked, "I've NEVER wanted the fame! I just wanted...I just...wished...my parents weren't murdered. My fame comes from that. There is nothing special about it."

Snape looked like he'd discovered something new. Long, slender hands, gently pushed the mug Harry had set down earlier forward, "Finish your drink, Potter."

The man had spoken so gently, almost soothingly. Maybe another day Harry would have screamed some gibberish at him, if Snape hadn't chosen then to double over the table, Harry may have even thrown the mug at him. But Snape's legs gave out and he barely caught him, "Professor!"

Harry twisted off his chair and slowly dropped Snape onto it. He held a hand against Snape's stomach at first to keep him from falling. Said hand was covered in blood. Snape leaned his head back, "Looks like this is as far as I can push it. I assume that Mundungus failed to inform Dumbledore of my presence here and so that leaves me with little choice. Get me some water, rags, peroxide, bandages if you have any, yes."

"Now hold on a minute-" Uncle Vernon reproached.

Snape glared at him weakly, "Shut your mouth if you want to keep it."

Uncle Vernon seethed, but didn't speak. Harry meanwhile began to fetch the supplies Snape had asked for. As he did so, an owl pecked on the window. Harry ignored it in favor of fetching clean water and rinsing his hands quickly. The owls could wait. As he left the kitchen and returned with everything he'd been asked for, the owl flew in from the kitchen fireplace. Harry supposed the owl couldn't wait. Setting everything on the table, Harry took the letter from said bird and the owl promptly left the way he'd come.

Arthur's just told us what's happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do.

It was in Sirius handwriting. For once he was disappointed. He'd been sure it'd be Dumbledore explaining everything. Harry scowled. He'd just fought off two dementors. TWO! Sure, he'd had Snape's help, but no one was sending him letters of reprimand. They'd acted like Harry had done something bad, like he hadn't had to defend himself. As if he was fighting dementors just for the kick of it. Scowling, he demanded from Snape, "Does anyone even know you're here?"

The man narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone, but focused most of his energy on removing his cloak and began working the buttons of his outer robes. His trembling hand made it difficult for him to undo the fifth button and he paused, "Mind your tone, Potter. I didn't know I landed here."

Harry furrowed his brows as Snape began to work more buttons, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly that."

Snape at this point was left in a white button-down shirt. Three large bloodied stains soaked the fabric where it had been torn. Harry felt his eyes open widely, "What happened to you?"

With trembling hands, Snape worked the buttons on that shirt. Uncle Vernon began to sputter indignantly, "Stop that! You dare-"

"I am injured." Snape deadpanned, "I'm not disrobing for your entertainment."

Wincing, Snape dragged the shirt off his shoulders. Snape didn't come off to Harry as the type to shamelessly disrobe like this, but Harry supposed if he'd been going around wounded like that...The man was probably beyond caring about his decency. Uncle Vernon was fuming, but rather than speaking, he had opted to look away. Aunt Petunia simply focused her attention on Dudley, whom was now becoming slowly responsive. Aunt Petunia's eyes would flicker to Snape's chest every so often.

Harry didn't bother looking away. The man looked like he'd been hit by a cutting curse thrice: across the collar area, his chest, and abdomen. Though the wounds didn't seem to be bleeding profusely, at some point they had been (if the stains on the shirt and Harry's hands were anything to go by). Snape had just about finished cleaning his wounds and was attempting to wrap the bandages around himself when Aunt Petunia asked uncharacteristically timid, "Did you go see your dad or something?"

Snape glared at her, "He died long ago, Petunia."

"What a pity," snapped Aunt Petunia.

The professor's trembling hands seemed to steady, but he gripped the bandages in his hands tightly. Surely, Aunt Petunia didn't imply that Snape's father would injure him like that. Finishing up, Snape exhaled heavily, "I won't ask you again. Finish your drink, Potter."

He then pointed at the letter in his hand, "What does it say?"

"It's from Sirius." Harry murmured, still irritated by the lack of content. Handing the letter over, he reached for his mug. The drink was cold now.

The man took the letter. Darkly, his eyes scanned across the message. He said nothing. Uncle Vernon chose then to speak, "So, why are you here and what do you have to do with the dementettidies?"

"That, is none of your concern." Blandly, Snape added, "I will need to remain here until I can find means out."

"NOW LISTEN HERE! I'VE HAD IT WITH YOUR FREAKISHNESS! I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE! I WANT YOU OUT OF MY HOUSE AND TAKE THE BOY WITH YOU TOO!"

Harry had seen Snape angry plenty of times over the years, but his eyes were positively possessed now. He stood with the grace and speed unbelievable for someone who only looked to be at death's door. Before it could escalate further, his Aunt Petunia shrieked, "Stop! Stop it now!"

She was looking at his uncle. The man gaped, "But- Petunia, we-"

"No Vernon." She interrupted him with finality. Then, she looked at Snape and softy said, "Just answer two questions."

Snape watched her intensely. She then asked, "You said a Dark Lord was back... Is he... the man who killed Lily...is he back?"

"Yes."

Uncle Vernon's face became darker than a prune, "He must leave Petunia! He CANNOT STAY! I WON'T ALLOW IT! I WON'T!"

Aunt Petunia had paled almost to match Snape's sickly color. If she heard Uncle Vernon's rant, she didn't acknowledge it. Her gaze was fixed on Snape unflinchingly, "And you, you are protecting the boy..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but they were watching each other in a way that gave Harry the impression there was more to that statement than met the eye. Snape didn't deny her statement. He only said, "That's not a question."

"You are protecting her son, are you not?"

Harry thought that Aunt Petunia had just taken everything he knew and set it all aflame. Voldemort was a distant memory in his mind, as impossible as that seemed. Later, he would tell himself he should have expected Snape to shock him some more. After all, Snape was not someone that enjoyed being cornered. Harry reckoned they had that in common. That was retrospect though. As it happened, Harry nearly lost his sanity when Snape unabashed replied, "Yes."

It was then another owl flew in. To Harry's surprise, the bird didn't stop in front of him. The owl soared above his head and flew to his Aunt. For all her bravado, she let out a squeak as she read, "Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Four, Privet Drive–"

The enveloped began to smoke and the owl in one sweeping motion smacked it on Aunt Petunia's face before darting away and out of the house. Harry brought the mug in his hands to his lips. Who would send Aunt Petunia a Howler? Sipping the rest of the sweet mix, he wondered why he bothered thinking anymore. Setting his empty mug down, he slumped in his chair, "Open it. It's happening regardless."

She refused and then it exploded. An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table.

Remember my last, Petunia.

As if that's what she needed to hear, she told Uncle Vernon, "They stay."

"But Petunia! That man...! The boy-"

"They will share Harry's room."

The entire time, she had been fixatedly focused on Snape and she remained so. Harry was struck by her use of his name. Suddenly very tired, he sank onto an empty chair beside Snape, "Who sent that Howler?"

She didn't speak, but his question didn't go unanswered. Snape had an eyebrow raised at his aunt, "The Headmaster."

"Dumbledore?" asked Harry. Petunia nodded slowly.

Snape tugged a bunch of greasy hair on the back his head. Harry then asked, "Why would he...?"

The Potion's Master sighed, "This plan of his just went to hell."

"What plan?" Harry asked urgently, "I deserve to-"

The man glared at him, but there was no fire in his gaze, "It's not about deserving, Potter! If your feeble brain can't understand that, then how do you expect to be trusted?"

Harry glowered, "I can be trusted!"

"Can you?" Snape hissed, "If I looked you in the eye and invaded your mind, could you toss me out? Could you keep me from seeing your memories?"

"You can't do that!" Harry snapped. Doubt creeped in and Harry knew before he said it.

"I can."

Speechless, Harry watched the man. Was he reading his mind now? Greasy git.

"I'm not in your mind, Potter." Harry narrowed his eyes and Snape looked at him as if he were an idiot. To Snape, he probably was.

Snape drew his wand out, "I don't need to. Your thoughts are all over your face."

Harry sulked, "So what now?"

"You can't do magic and I am too weak to apparate." Snape grumbled, "Trying to is how I ended here in the first place."

So, he wasn't supposed to be here. He hadn't even meant to be. That makes sense. Frowning, Harry looked down at the professor's bandages, "How did you hurt yourself?"

Snape frowned, "You need not know."

"It was him, wasn't it?" Harry phrased it as a question, but they both knew it needed no answer.

"I am going to try to do magic-"

Uncle Vernon became red in the face, but one look from Aunt Petunia and he quieted down. Snape continued unperturbed, "If it works, I may be able to plan the next course of action."

Suddenly he grumbled, "I can't believe . . . "

Firm, clear, and with extreme effort Snape waved his wand, "Expecto Patronum!"

The silver doe he'd seen before glided brightly around the Dursley kitchen. She shone brilliantly, beautiful. For that reason, Harry supposed no one said anything, not even Uncle Vernon. The doe trotted to Harry and gave him a sniff. Harry blinked. Snape scowled, "You are my patronus."

The doe then turned and nudged Snape's shoulder with her head before standing still and expectantly. Visibly startled, Snape told her, "I need you to deliver this message to the Headmaster: I am alive and with the boy. He is safe in his home."

The doe took off in a sprint through the closed window of the kitchen when he ordered, "Be discrete. Go."

Snape then turned to Petunia and Harry, "I will be turning in. Potter, if you would lead the way."