Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters and most of the settings in this story. The honour belongs solely to JK Rowling. I suspect that I do not even own half of the plot, as this has been influenced by the numerous fanfics I've read.

Author's Note: Again, I'm very sorry about the long delay between updates. I've been trying to decide where to take this story, whether I'll end it at Chapter 13 like originally intended, or continue on with a sequel. I've decided to go with the sequel as I feel there are many things that can still be explored. The sequel won't be posted for a couple of months. The sequel will be much longer, similar rating, and it will be beta'd. If you are not interested in a sequel, just ignore the parts about Mark Evans, as that is setting up things for the sequel.

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Chapter 11: Number 11 Privet Drive

Harry stood in front of the door at Number 11 Privet Drive. He had been standing there for five minutes, dreading the look that was sure to be on Snape's face when he opened the door to find Harry there, complete with trunk, cauldron and owl.

Using every ounce of Gryffindor courage he possessed, Harry knocked on the door. Heart pounding, he only had to wait moments when the door opened, and he saw the form of Severus Snape glaring back at him.

Snape took one look at Harry, the trunk and the birdcage, worked out immediately what was going on, scowled "No!" and started to close the door.

Harry, expecting this kind of reaction, put his foot in to block the door. "Please, sir. Let me explain."

Snape glared at him. "Explain what, Mr Potter. Clearly, you had an argument with those hideous muggle relatives of yours, and you want to reside here. Although why you would want to be in the same house as the dreaded potions master is beyond me."

"I need to finish the lessons so I can take the test, sir. I have nowhere else to go around here. Uncle Vernon made sure everyone hates me."

"I assure you, Mr Potter, I am also one of those people." Although many people would be hurt at such a brass statement, Harry wasn't the least bit offended as he had heard it all before. "See, Mrs Figg, and don't bother me about this again!"

Snape was about to slam the door again when Harry stopped him. "I can't. Mrs Figg had to go and visit her sister who's sick. Please, there is nowhere else."

Snape leaned forward so that his face was only inches away from Harry's. "I will say this very clearly, so I am not misunderstood. No." Snape shoved Harry out of the doorway and closed the door.

This was it. It was all over. He knew he could always get the Knight Bus to the Burrow. The Weasleys would be happy to have them, as they have already asked him three times to stay this summer. But if he did that, he wouldn't be able to complete his lessons because he can't apparate yet, and Snape's not on the flue network.

Feeling it was better to have a roof over his head than to sit on the path with trunk cauldron and owl, watching the residence of Privet Drive stare at him like he was barmy, Harry resolutely took his wand out and began the motions to signal the Knight Bus. But just as he was about to extend his wand arm out, the door behind him opened.

"Get in and be quick about it." Snape snapped.

Harry stood open-mouthed staring at Snape. Did he just hear correctly, Snape's letting him stay? It wasn't until Harry saw how furious Snape was getting at Harry's idleness, that he grabbed his belongings and rushed inside.

Snape guided Harry to another part of the house which Harry had never seen before. In the past, Harry had only been permitted to enter the lab at the end of the hallway, but this time, Snape took a different turn, and they ended up in what Harry assumed was a living room, but it was not very welcoming. Like the rest of house that Harry had seen, the living room looked like it would have been better placed in a cold, dank dungeon. There were no windows to let the light stream in as the outside would suggest. It was dark and damp and very chilly. There was no fire in the fire place, and the room was lightened not by electricity but by torches which were aligned along the walls. Harry wanted to ask why anyone would want to live here, but he held back his tongue. The last thing he wanted right now was to be kicked out before he even set his bag down.

In the living room, Snape turned to Harry. "If you are going to be living here, we need to set down a few ground rules. One, the only rooms you are permitted to enter is your bedroom, the bathroom, the dining room and the potions lab. This that clear?"

Harry nodded.

"Second," Snape continued, "you will not treat this house as a rubbish tip. I have seen the state of your room at the muggle's. One thing out of place and I will send you straight back to your relative's."

Again Harry nodded.

"Thirdly, you will not touch anything of mine. You had best get that unhealthy curiosity of yours under control, Potter, for if it begins to waver, you will be very sorry indeed."

"Yes, Sir, and thankyou,"

"Your thanks mean nothing to me. Your room is over there," Snape said, pointing to a room over at the far end of the living room. "Go!"

And Harry went.

Harry laid down in bed on his first night at Number 11 Privet Drive. He looked around the room to find it very sparse. The floor was a bare dusty stone, and the only furniture was the single bed he was currently laying on, a small simple style desk in one corner where he would do his studying and a 3 tier chest of drawers on another corner. There was no fireplace or any kind of heating. This might have been home for Snape, but Harry felt like he was in hell.

Harry decided he'd better get some sleep so he stood up to empty his pockets before removing his clothes. He found the letter he received earlier that evening, the first of two letters which were the cause of Harry's current predicament. Harry ripped open the letter in disgust, wanting to find out who he could to blame. It was a very short letter, and it was from Mark Evans.

To Harry,

I really need to talk to you. I'll meet you at the convenience store on Magnolia Crescent Monday at 9.00am. Please come, it's important.

Mark Evans

'What on earth is this all about?' Harry thought. Mark seemed fairly worried which was strange because he sounded quite happy last time they met. Harry would go, of course.  His lessons didn't start until 1.00pm so he had plenty of time. Besides, he was very intrigued about what was going on with Mark Evans. Harry hoped that Mark would tell him what he did to Dudley. That knowledge might just make up for Harry's current mess.

Harry changed into his pyjamas, pulled back the thin solitary blanket, and crawled into bed. Harry immediately began to shiver. In was colder in bed than it was out. Knowing he was in for a very long night, Harry laid back and tried not to let the thoughts of Snape, Mark Evans, his secret helper, and the bitter cold stop him from sleeping.

The next day, Harry simply couldn't remember what had possessed him to stay at Snape's, even if it was only a few days. The Dursley's were a breeze compared to this.

Whereas the Dursleys often ignored him by pretending he didn't exist, Snape watched him like a hawk. Harry felt like he was constantly walking on eggshells, and was yearning for the questionable peace at the Dursleys. Snape meant what he said about anything out of place. Harry had left a towel on the back of a chair, intending to pick it up after he tried to comb his unruly hair, and Snape pounced. ("You may like living in a doxy infestation, but I do not!") This was interesting as Harry managed to get a fleeting glimpse into Snape's private room earlier and it was worse than Harry's had been.

For most of the day, Harry stayed in his room. It wasn't exactly tranquil, but at least there was no Snape to offer a constant stream of criticism and insults. He used the time to study everything he had learnt over the summer, as the test was only a couple of days away. As a consolation, Harry could at least study magic openly without fear of repercussion.

That night, Harry wasn't exactly sure what had been served up to him for dinner, but it looked suspiciously like bat wings. 'He's eating his own kind?' Harry thought cruelly, then instantly regretted it when Snape's head suddenly jerked towards Harry's direction.

Knowing that he was probably making another momentous mistake, Harry decided he had to know who was helping him this summer.

"Who sent me the note, sir?" Harry blurted out. He had intended to be more subtle that that.

Surprised, Snape said "What?"

"That note which came with the book. Who sent it to me?" Harry repeated.

Recovering, Snape replied, "It's none of your concern, Potter. Finish your dinner."

"Of course it's my concern, sir. There's been someone watching me all summer, and not the same way as last year when the order was trailing me. This person knows exactly what I am doing, what I need and when I need it. It's a little scary knowing someone is watching you all the time and I'd like to know who it is." Harry tried to emphasise how much he needed to know what was going on. "Sir," he quickly added.

"I assure you Potter, you don't need to worry. I've returned the book to the person in question and told her to keep her nose out of it."

"Her?"

Snape looked angry, "Stop prying into things that aren't any of your business. Sometimes there are reasons for the things we do, Potter."

"This is my business!" Harry snapped.

Snape, however, was not going to give in.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No. If she wanted you to know she'd tell you herself. Now finish your dinner."

Resigned, Harry did, in silence. He was counting down the days until this summer was over and he could return to Hogwarts.

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R&R