One moment, Harry was staring at his least favourite teacher in astonishment, and the next, the world seemed to have shrunk to the size of a narrow tube and his body was trying to squeeze itself through it to some unknown destination. The only certainty in that timeless moment of non-being was that he would have a hell of a bruise on his arm from the greasy git's hold on it. His feet hit the pavement after a suffocating eternity, and he collapsed to his hands and knees as his stomach roiled with violent nausea. He threw up the meagre dinner he had had before the Marge fiasco, and glared up at Snape. The man was just standing there with his hands folded across his chest, watching the boy sick up in boredom.
"What have you done to me?!" Harry demanded angrily, and Snape's sour face twisted for a moment at his tone.
"Ah, the famous Potter disrespect," the man drawled softly. "I must say it would be rather… disappointing to discover you have been cured of it during our time apart."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the git, he understood that he was being mocked, but couldn't quite figure out how. Snape was always on his case to be more respectful to him, as if he deserved any respect. His stomach settled somewhat by then, he stood up and looked around, only now realising that they were no longer in front of the Leaky Cauldron. This was a narrow cobbled street that had the same dingy feel as Knockturn Alley, except that a few cars were parked on the pavement indicating clearly that it was a muggle neighbourhood.
"Why have you brought me here?" Harry asked, unable to keep nervousness out of his voice. The place seemed to radiate misery from the walls of the humble buildings along the street.
"You have not earned the privilege to interrogate me, Potter," Snape hissed with menace in every syllable. "You have no privileges to speak of, in fact," he turned on his heel and started walking away. "Come."
"Does he think I'm his bloody dog or something?" Harry muttered with a peevish glare at the git's retreating back.
He really didn't want to go anywhere the resident bat of the Hogwarts dungeons might want him to, but the oppressive gloom of the shabby houses wasn't inviting either. Harry had no idea how he would even go about getting back to the Leaky Cauldron, and anyway Snape could probably track him down as easily as he had before. Heaving a dispirited sigh, he started to follow his teacher, dragging his trunk over the broken up paving stones.
By the time he somewhat caught up to Snape, Harry was breathing hard and sweating, he basically had to jog the whole time just to keep up with the brisk pace the man was setting, dragging his trunk over the uneven pavement. The boy only managed to draw level with him now because Snape had stopped at a particularly unimpressive gate, it led to a shabby two-storey house that had fallen so much into disrepair that a demolishing team should really have a go at it before it collapsed on the inhabitants' heads.
Snape was tapping his wand on the gate surreptitiously before it sprung open, Harry's eyes grew large in dismayed horror. This decrepit old hovel was where they were going? Was this even safe to enter?
"I'm not coming into that rattrap," he objected disdainfully, coming to a halt. "It looks like it should be demolished for public safety!"
His teacher's lip curled scornfully, and he reached out, grabbing the boy's arm in a vice-like grip and pulling him unceremoniously through the gate. Harry gasped as he was dragged across a magical field, it felt as though a rain of icy needles pierced every pore of his body. The sensation lasted only a few moments, and then he was through, struggling to get Snape to let go.
"Don't touch me!" The boy shouted, managing to pull his arm free, and rubbing the spot with his other hand vigorously. He was sure the bastard had left a bruise there. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Temper, Potter," Snape growled, walking away from him without a backward glance. "You're on thin ice."
"And I should care because-," Harry shot back irritably, gripping the handle of his trunk and debating the merits of following the man inside. "You can't take points during the summer."
"I advise you reconsider," the man said with a sort of dark amusement, pausing to unlock the door with a key. "We'll be sharing a domicile for the foreseeable future, and I won't tolerate your insolence and disrespect. Inside, now."
Harry came to an abrupt halt, his mouth falling open at that pronouncement.
"What?!" That was a joke, right? The greasy git was poking fun at him! "What is that supposed to mean?!"
Snape ignored him, coming inside and leaving the door open for the boy to follow. Fuming, Harry stomped after the man, dragging his heavy trunk in his wake. The narrow hallway was very dark, and he stopped to give his eyes time to get used to the poor lighting. He could make out three doors leading off the entryway, and he chose one at random, pushing it open with more force than was strictly necessary.
"I'm not staying here!" Harry shouted, spotting the object of his ire standing calmly at the kitchen counter, presumably making tea. "I can go to Ron's or Hermione's!"
If he expected an answer, the boy was disappointed, as the only reaction his teacher gave to his angry outburst was to tap his teapot with his wand, setting the water to boil.
"Aren't you going to say anything?!" he demanded crossly.
After the day he'd just had, Harry was pissed off enough to start sending hexes, but before he could get so homicidal Snape's ruddy tea steamed, and he poured it into two porcelain cups, transferring them and the teapot to a small tray.
"You're operating under a misapprehension, Mr. Potter," Snape finally spoke, carrying the tray to the table and sitting down. He began stirring his tea with lazy movements, as his piercing black eyes fixed on the angry teenager in front of him. "You appear to believe that I am under some obligation to cater to your whims, allow me to correct your confusion by stating that it is not the case. Sit down."
Harry crossed his arms, sending the greasy git his best death glare.
"I don't want your stinking tea, sir," he snapped, twisting the last word deliberately to make it as insulting as he could manage. "I want to leave!"
"I see," Snape stated in a very dry voice, pausing in his stirring. "My estimation of your maturity was vastly overoptimistic, Potter. I should send you to bed with a stinging behind like a spoiled toddler you appear to be, instead of making an effort to explain things to you."
That brought the boy up short, his eyes darted around Snape's impassive features, but he couldn't tell if that was another poor attempt at a joke.
"Y-you can't do that," Harry laughed it off, pretending that the slight questioning tone in his voice didn't mean anything. "You're not even my guardian."
Snape folded his arms loosely on the table, and leaned forward slightly. It wasn't a particularly threatening posture, he supposed, but for some reason Harry felt the need to step back closer to the door.
"Actually," the man said in his supercilious drawl, raising an eyebrow. "I have been made your magical guardian, Mr. Potter, giving me responsibility to oversee your upbringing and education. And yes, that includes disciplining you when I see fit."
Harry had gone pale sometime during that speech, feeling trapped in a nightmare his mind wasn't creative enough to produce. As a little kid, he had often imagined what it would be like if someone took him away from the Dursleys, but nobody like Snape had ever featured in those fantasies. He must have zoned out for a moment, as the man was snapping out.
"Sit down, Potter, don't make me say it again!"
"Sorry, sorry," Harry mumbled, his voice strangely hoarse. "I just…"
He plonked into a chair heavily, reaching for the teacup and cradling it in his hands. He could feel Snape's angry gaze on him, and although the man didn't repeat the earlier threat, it hung in the air between them.
"That is better," his apparent guardian barked after the silence stretched for a few minutes. "Do you have any questions about this arrangement, Potter?"
Harry stared at his tea gloomily.
"What about the Dursleys?" he asked softly, "they're supposed to be my guardians."
Snape sighed, narrowing his eyes at the child.
"In the muggle world they remain so," the man explained smoothly. "However, it has been clear over your Hogwarts career, that your muggle caregivers wished not to be involved in our world any more than necessary. In such cases, the Ministry of Magic assigns magical guardians to muggle-raised children to prevent magical neglect. It is rare that a child is removed from his muggle home during the summer, but the circumstances of your particular case made that step unavoidable."
Harry stared at him, his lips slightly parted. Magical neglect, huh? All the other kinds of neglect were apparently fine, the thought made him so angry. Nobody ever cared that the Dursleys treated him like shit, and suddenly what? They figured out that they didn't like magic?!
"What circumstances are those?!" he demanded furiously, his voice rising. "What bullshit is that?!"
Harry was too upset to notice Snape's face darkening with anger of his own, he opened his mouth to continue his diatribe, but before he could utter a word his head was knocked to the side with a hard slap. He hissed in pain, touching his stinging cheek with trembling fingers, wide eyes following the man's retracting hand with stunned disbelief.
"You will not speak to me in that tone of voice, boy," Snape rebuked him. "If you cannot be respectful, you will be silent."
The boy shook his head, shock and confusion warring with outrage for dominance in his mind. His fingers traced his cheek, feeling a bruise forming already, his scattered thoughts coming to a jarring realisation of what had occurred. Snape had just slapped him, and even uncle Vernon didn't do that, not like that anyway. Teachers weren't supposed to do it at all.
"You c-can't just…" he protested weakly, watching his least favourite teacher with apprehension.
"Hit you?" Snape finished for him softly, apparently having no difficulty in naming what had happened. "I can and I will, Potter, corporal punishment is very common in wizarding households, even as it is rarer among muggles, and I will utilise it as needed. The days of indulgence you enjoyed thus far are over and done with. You require strict discipline which I was tasked to provide."
"Dumbledore won't let you!" Harry objected rather desperately.
"Enough!" his teacher thundered, making the boy jump in his chair so violently that it topled backwards, spilling him to the floor. "Foolish boy, must I spank you to make you sit still!"
Harry scrambled to his feet, but before he was quite upright Snape was beside him, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt. He swung his hand back and brought it hard on the boy's bottom, eliciting a gasp and a squok of pain.
"Enough with the theatrics," the man growled, bringing his hand down a second time. He dragged the chair up, and pushed the petrified child into it. "Will you be still, now?"
The boy found himself giving a jerky nod, heart hammering in his chest as his childish dream of leaving the Dursleys unexpectedly came true, but twisted and horribly wrong.
"But I don't understand!" he practically wailed. "Dumbledore never cared what the Dursleys did before!"
Snape's black eyes flashed with irritation.
"Mind your tone, Potter," the man rebuked him sharply. "You won't get another warning. It's Professor Dumbledore to you."
Harry gritted his teeth not to let out an angry rant that he wanted. He had begged the headmaster not to send him back to the Dursleys, told him that they hated him, but he sent him back time and time again. And now, out of the blue, he was taken away and forced upon another person who hated him.
"By allowing you to run off, your muggle relatives proved insufficient guardians, and in the present circumstances your custody was removed under emergency clause of Minor Child Protection Act," Snape was explaining, failing to notice that Harry's eyes had glazed over. "It is seldom done to enact such changes without the right to appeal, but in your case the custody was transferred to me with a permanence clause. You are here to stay, Potter, at least until the current crisis is over and your muggle caregivers petition the Ministry for partial custody. In any event, I will remain your primary guardian until you reach the age of majority."
"I don't… understand," the boy repeated, his breath coming in quick, shallow inhalations. Panic, he recognised. "W-what are the p-present circumstances?"
"Drink your tea, boy," the man suddenly snapped, pushing the teacup towards him. "And stop working yourself into hysteria!"
Harry did as he was told, lifting the cup to his lips, and swallowing bitter tea hurriedly, anything to give himself time to think over what he had been told. Four years, however he counted it, he couldn't imagine a scenario in which the Dursleys would want him back in any small way now that they were shot free of him. He wished he could enjoy his freedom as well, but it was impossible if the price of that freedom was to be foisted upon his hateful teacher instead. His throbbing cheek and backside spoke to how much worse off he would be if he stayed here.
"Have you heard of the character named Sirius Black, Potter?" Snape asked, when the boy's breathing evened out somewhat. "Ah, I can see from your face that you did, and your erstwhile guardians?"
"I guess," Harry shrugged, puzzled. "He's been all over the muggle news, but what's that to do with the Dursleys losing custody?"
"Don't you think it's a tiny bit irresponsible to allow a child out on the streets infested with mass murderers?" Snape demanded mockingly, his face growing dark with anger when the boy only shrugged noncommittal. "And that attitude answers my question of how severe a punishment this latest stunt of yours deserves."
Harry's eyes were stinging strangely, so he blinked, and stared sightlessly at the white tablecloth.
"That's not fair," he mumbled, "there are plenty of criminals out and about in the muggle world, the news is full of them!"
"You're right," Snape acknowledged, prompting the boy to look up in surprise, the expression on the man's face was not encouraging however. "It is the responsibility of adults to discern appropriately the risks and dangers of any situation, and to guard their charges against those risks, disciplining them for foolish choices. And I shall do so."
Harry averted his eyes, that was not his experience at all. He had spent many a night locked out of the house as a little kid, even in the middle of winter, and nobody ever got concerned about his safety. Why were they suddenly so bent out of shape about some escaped convict that they would remove him from the Dursleys, permanently and without the right to appeal? An answer came to him in a burst of intuition, and his eyes grew wide.
"He's a wizard, isn't he?" he asked quietly. "One of his, that's why you're doing this."
"That's correct," Snape sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Sirius Black is one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's followers, and there are indications that he has escaped to come after you, Potter," he paused, narrowing his eyes into angry slits. "While you couldn't have known the man was a greater threat to you in particular, you should have exercised more caution instead of barreling out of safety without a thought for the consequences of your actions."
That royally sucked, Harry decided, hunching his shoulders in dismay. He couldn't imagine a worse prospect than having Professor Snape in charge of disciplining a flobberworm fairly, not to mention his favourite punching bag. He gulped, that hadn't been the most fortunate choice of simile, had it?
"What are you going to do to me?" he asked dully.
Snape pursed his lips, regarding the impetuous teenager thoughtfully for several moments.
"You have run recklessly into dangerous situations frequently, Potter, with nary a thought in your empty head since you set foot at Hogwarts, there are three-four such instances every year, each time coming closer to dying. Do you even realise that?"
Harry opened his mouth to protest, it wasn't like he asked for any of that crap to happen to him. He didn't have a choice but to do something! Somehow, he couldn't make himself say any of that to refute his teacher's words, he was still plagued by nightmares about his last encounter with Lord Voldemort and the Slytherin monster. Snape scrutinised his expression before nodding in satisfaction.
"You are a child, Mr. Potter, and you should not have involved yourself in adult matters," he lectured sternly. "The leniency you have been shown previously had given you a false sense of entitlement, encouraging more reckless behaviour instead of curbing it. I will not allow that confusion to continue."
"You aren't really…?" he trailed off helplessly, averting his eyes in embarrassment . He wasn't sure he wanted to know in advance anymore.
Snape snorted in dark amusement, clearly enjoying the boy's anxiety more than a responsible adult probably should.
"Who would have thought the prospect of a spanking would make a vaunted Gryffindor such as yourself speechless," he mocked mercilessly, prompting the boy to glare at him. With a sigh, he relented. "You're in for a sound switching at the very least for this escapade, Potter, it'll hurt quite a bit, but you won't be damaged by it so don't be so absurdly forlorn. Hopefully, the unpleasantness will deter some of your more brainless ideas."
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat with some difficulty, he had no idea if he should be relieved or horrified by what he heard. He didn't have the experience with this kind of punishment, but his instinct was choosing horror at the moment. He had to lock his muscles in place to hold himself in the chair, rather than scamper out of there. He might have tried his luck, except he was afraid of what Snape would do to him if he caught him.
"Now?" he forced out in a strangled voice.
"Tomorrow," his teacher responded without sympathy. "A night of anticipation might do some good as well, besides, you need to cut out a switch for me to use first. After breakfast will be soon enough."
The boy's eyes just about bugged out at the crazy demand.
"Why would I bring you a stick to beat me with?!" he asked incredulously.
Snape shrugged as if it didn't matter one way or another.
"You may refuse," he said without emotion. "I will use the Strap in that case."
The way he said the word made Harry flinch, making him suspect it would be the worse alternative.
"Would it hurt more, sir?" he asked quietly, hating how young and vulnerable, and plain scared he sounded.
"Quite," Snape confirmed, giving the boy a piercing look. "Am I correct in assuming that your muggle guardians didn't use physical punishments?"
Hunching his shoulders, Harry shook his head, he didn't think the frying pan counted, when he could evade it easily, or uncle Vernon's habit to shake his arm to emphasise his lectures, when a single slap from Snape hurt more than those instances ever had done. Dudley's Harry-hunting had hurt, but it was something else because Dudley and his mates were kids like himself, he could run or hide, avoid the beating if he put his mind to it. He could feel deep in his gut that Snape wouldn't be avoided as easily.
"In this case, you'll find it quite distressing I wager," the man's lips twisted with scorn. "I suggest you do your very best to stay out of trouble, as I won't hesitate to discipline you in that way, child. Did you have any other pressing concerns?"
Harry shook his head, biting his bottom lip to dispel an overpowering need to cry, of all things. He never blubbered like a wimp, it certainly didn't solve anything to cry about it. He wasn't going to let the greasy bastard scare him into weakness, even if his heart was pounding fit to break his ribs at the moment.
"Very well," Snape said, standing and coming around the table, snorting when the boy hastily mirrored his movements to keep the man at a safe distance. "Before I release you, I need you to hand over your wand, broomstick and invisibility cloak to me, Potter."
Harry's hand had just curled around the handle of his trunk, to pull it to whatever dungeon the evil bat wanted to make his cell, when Snape issued that demand. He spun around, glaring his defiance.
"I won't!" he retorted angrily, his newly discovered fear of the man momentarily pushed aside by more familiar emotions. "You can't have my stuff!"
"That was not a request, Mr. Potter," Snape barked, and Harry found himself cringing automatically from the sharp tone. "Bear in mind that I could easily summon them myself, one way or the other, you will not retain the possession of those items. Do you really want to get in trouble over it?"
Put that way, no, he didn't. Harry hung his head, feeling like the worst kind of coward as he bent down to open his trunk. He removed his precious cloak and broom, and held them cradled against his chest for a few moments, knowing that he'd likely never see them again. Snape didn't snap at him to hurry up, but eventually the boy was able to turn around and deposit his things in the man's outstretched hand. His hand shook as he drew his wand and placed it in Snape's open palm, but here at least he was fairly confident that he would see it come September.
"Well done, Potter," his teacher said in a hard voice, before banishing his broom and cloak to parts unknown. He traced the boy's holly with his own wand, muttering some spell too quietly for Harry to make out. After a moment, Snape's eyes snapped up, and his hand shot out to grip the child's chin with steely fingers, tilting it up and forcing him to make eye contact. They stared at each other in loaded silence, until an unwanted whimper escaped the boy's throat. "I cannot abide open defiance, Potter, speak to me with such disrespect again, and I will dole out a spanking that you'll remember vividly a year later. Is that understood?"
"Y-yes, sir," Harry croaked out, beginning to shake from the tension, and what was undeniably a cloying, insipid fear that he never knew before. Snape let his chin go after a moment, and Harry gasped, swaying at the onslaught of emotion. He ducked his head to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes from the man.
"Here," Snape held out the boy's wand unexpectedly. "You are to carry it on you at all times, boy, both within and without the wards. It now has an emergency port-key charmed into the handle. The activation phrase is your mother's middle name."
Harry's fingers curled around his wand, warm magic siffusing him, and filling him with courage. The sensation was a relief next to the fear of a moment ago, and he didn't listen to the words that accompanied the return of his wand, but the mention of his mum brought his attention roaring back.
"What about my mum?" he asked confusedly.
"Pay attention, Potter," Snape actually groaned despairingly. "Marie is the activation phrase for the port-key in your wand. Do you know what a port-key is?"
Harry shook his head apologetically, and his new guardian pinched the bridge of his nose in a sign of frustration, but explained calmly enough how a port-key would whisk him away from danger and deposit him in a pre-ordained safe location, which meant this house apparently.
"Do not forget the password, and be aware also that I let you keep the wand as a precautionary measure only. If I discover that you used magic for anything but mortal peril, you will be severely punished. You'll not disregard the restriction for underage sorcery on a whim, Potter. Am I very clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, looking away. How many times did the man have to threaten him in one conversation? He wasn't so thick not to figure out that Snape would use any flimsy excuse to beat him. The sick bastard probably satisfied some weird inferiority complex from tormenting him. He needed to get out of there!
"Come along," Snape ordered tersely, indicating that the boy should proceed him into the hallway.
The room Harry was led to was on the upper storey, and it was smaller than Dudley's second bedroom. The creamy paint was cracked and stained in places, and it had the atmosphere of long abandonment. Harry pushed his trunk against the end of the narrow bed, and looked around at the aged furniture. There was a desk with a chair, with bookshelves on the wall above it, and a small wardrobe squeezed in by the door. Everything was empty, only a desk lamp remaining of the things the previous inhabitant left behind.
"You'll forgo a shower for the evening," Snape told him, returning to the room with a pile of fresh linens in his arms. He set them on the bed. "Unpack and go straight to bed, as it is well past your bedtime."
"It's only ten o'clock!" Harry exclaimed, somewhat indignant at the childish term, curfew sounded more dignified, and in Gryffindor curfew wasn't until eleven.
"It is already half past," Snape corrected dryly, turning to walk out of the room. "From now onward, you will be in your bedroom by nine in the evening, and in your bed with lights out by half past. Goodnight, Potter."
And then he left, leaving the boy to stare at the closed door, fuming in impotent fury.
Harry couldn't sleep, tossing and turning on the lumpy mattress, plagued by thoughts of what his father would have said about his own son giving up his family heirloom to his school enemy. At Hogwarts, he wouldn't have capitulated so easily, he would have lied, argued, anything. He would have tried, but today, one unspecified threat of punishment from Snape had been enough to frighten him into compliance. He was ashamed of his cowardice, it burned in his stomach, but he knew that Snape who could beat him at will wasn't the same person who had given him all those nasty detentions.
A/N: I know Harry should have learned about Sirius Black on the Knight Bus, but in this universe Stan was too busy reading the sports column to chat.