It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust after the bright sunlight.
He stood in the entrance hall, which had no windows except for two narrow panels on either side of the front door. On his left was a doorway, on his right a staircase.
He went through the doorway, and found himself in the front room. Malfoy was sitting on a couch, looking bored, and Snape was pulling the drapes from the windows. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the room.
He sat down and looked around the room curiously.
It was clean but barren, devoid of any of the normal signs of life that one could expect to find in someone's home.
"Aren't there any house-elves?" Malfoy asked as they watched Snape struggling to open a window, which seemed to be stuck.
"There were the last time I was here," Snape replied, giving up on the window and turning around, noticing Harry for the first time.
"Go upstairs," he told both of them. "Your rooms are the first two on the left."
He left the room, heading down a dark and narrow hall that Harry had not noticed earlier.
For a moment, neither Harry nor Malfoy moved.
"I can't believe this place," Malfoy moaned, rolling his eyes and getting up off the couch.
The staircase was dark, but the hallway upstairs had several windows. Malfoy opened the first door on the left, and stuck his head in.
"You can have this one," he said, wrinkling his nose and stepping aside.
Harry watched him open the second door and disappear inside, before stepping inside the room.
Despite the warm weather outside, it was cold and gloomy, the windows, like the ones downstairs, covered by heavy drapes. He couldn't make out anything else in the room until he pulled the drapes aside, letting in the sunlight.
He turned around, slowly letting his eyes take in the details.
There was not much to see. There was a bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a desk and a chair. A square rug with an ugly brown pattern covered the floor. There was nothing else.
At least it was clean.
He pulled the chair up to the window and sat down. Until his trunk was brought up or Snape returned, there didn't seem to be anything to do but stare out at the overgrown garden. A tall tree blocked his view of the country side.
He stared out the window until the sun began to set. By then his stomach was growling and he was nearing the end of his patience. There was nothing in the room to distract his thoughts. He was used to spending time alone -- at the Dursleys' he had often been locked in his cupboard for hours and even days at a time -- but he couldn't suppress his stirring anger at being cold-shouldered.
He sighed, trying to push back his frustration. What had he expected?
He hadn't expected anything, except maybe that things would be different, somehow, outside Hogwarts' walls. No Dumbledore, no Lupin, no Ron or Hermione to bother with. He thought he would feel relieved, but instead he found himself struggling with inexplicable anxiety.
Outside his door he heard Malfoy leave his room and go down the stairs. He followed, glad for any excuse to leave the room, which had grown dark now that the sun had disappeared behind the trees.
It was obvious that Snape had found at least one house-elf, because the upstairs hallway was lit by the yellowish glow of a dozen torches, and the aroma of food cooking nearly overwhelmed Harry as he started down the stairs.
He found the dining room, where a fire blazed in the massive fireplace and a long table was set for three. Malfoy and Snape were already sitting down, Malfoy looking eager and Snape writing something on a long roll of parchment.
Food appeared much the same way as it did at Hogwarts, but it did not resemble any Hogwarts meal. Instead of meats, pies, and puddings there were vegetables, bread, and soup. There was no dessert, only strong, bitter herbal tea. Harry, used to the strange eating habits of the Dursleys and still recalling easily the times he had been forced to go without food, filled his plate without complaint. They ate in silence.
When the dishes disappeared through the table, Snape rose.
"Let me make clear the rules you will follow in this house," he said, giving each of them a hard look to make sure they were paying attention.
"The cellar is off limits, as is the third floor, and my own bedchamber. You may go out, but you are not to leave the grounds. You may," -- He turned to look at Harry -- "send owls if you wish to do so, but only to those you know from Hogwarts. You will attend every meal, promptly. You will not neglect your studies."
He thought for a moment, then waved his hand dismissively. "You may go unpack, and then I suggest you go to bed."
He turned his back on them, adding wood to the fire that had almost gone out.
Harry trudged upstairs, suddenly feeling tired enough to collapse into bed immediately.
Someone had been busy in his room while he was away. A fire crackled in the fireplace, torches had been lit, and his trunk had been brought up.
Despite the fire, the room felt cold and uninviting.
He unpacked, stacking his books on the desk and hanging his few clothes in the wardrobe.
There seemed to be nothing else to do.
He changed and got into bed, looking one last time around the room before shutting his eyes firmly.
His next conscious thought was waking up to a blinding beam of sunlight coming through the window pane. He shielded his eyes and sat up. He looked around, trying to recall what had awakened him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He looked toward the window, blinking at the brightness.
A large barn owl was perched on the window sill outside, and was tapping on the glass. Harry jumped up and pushed the window open.
"Sorry, I don't have any food for you," he said apologetically as he removed the letter from the owl's leg.
The owl flew off, clearly not expecting to carry back a reply, and he sat down on the edge of his bed, tearing open the envelope.
Professor Dumbledore feels that we need to give you time to adjust, but I couldn't resist writing, if only to give you my address in case you want to owl me over the summer. I should have done so before you left; somehow it slipped my mind. But there, I'm rambling. I admit I'm struggling with anxiety, though I am certain everything is fine and you are adjusting to your surroundings. Dumbledore is right, I should give you time.
My address is enclosed, please feel free to owl me at any time.
R. J. Lupin
Harry smiled weakly at the awkward note, then read it again, twice, before realizing what he was doing.
He dropped the letter into the drawer of his nightstand. For a few moments, he had almost missed Lupin, could almost see the man's face in front of him, the concern in his eyes along with the sadness that never left them now.
He shook his head to clear the image. He was not missing anyone. Not less than a day after leaving Hogwarts.
He gathered his clothes, and for the first time opened the door to the bathroom. He should have taken a shower the night before. His hair clung to his forehead, and his skin felt grimy. Now he would probably be late for breakfast. He could almost hear Snape again, and his warning to be prompt for meals.
He raised an eyebrow at the sight of an old-fashioned bathtub with clawed feet. One thing he would be missing were the tidy Hogwarts showers.
He showered, and dressed, and wiped the steam from the mirror. He tried to smooth down his hair; as usual a useless gesture. His face was thin and pale, and he couldn't remember when his eyes had grown so large. He turned away from his own reflection.
Footsteps in the hallway outside offered a welcome distraction.
He went slowly downstairs and into the dining room, where Snape and Malfoy were in the middle of breakfast. Snape didn't look up when Harry came in, so Harry slipped quietly into his chair.
The plate in front of him remained empty.
Nothing could have induced him to speak up, so he sat in glum silence. His mouth watered at the sight of Malfoy dipping a piece of fruit into a bowl of cream, and the stack of plump sausages on Snape's plate. He couldn't help squirming unhappily. Was Snape planning on starving him as punishment?
Snape looked up, as if hearing his thoughts. He didn't say anything, but held eye-contact for a prolonged moment, and Harry, falling into an old trap, dropped his eyes. Snape sniffed scornfully, and speared a sausage with his fork.
A moment later Harry's plate was filled.
He began to eat quickly, not wanting to be the last to finish, until he looked up and saw that Snape had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth and was staring at him in mute agitation.
He sighed as he slowed down, and moved his elbow off the table for good measure. He would never please Snape, no matter what he did. He didn't know why he tried at all.
It was another grim meal, and he breathed a sigh of relief when it was over. He was going to escape to his room, and reply to Lupin's letter.
"I intend to get some work done this morning," Snape announced.
Not understanding, Harry looked uncertainly at Malfoy, but Malfoy looked blank.
"Go out," Snape clarified, pointing at the door.
Harry went out into the garden, feeling wrathful and trying to understand how him sitting up in his room would have bothered Snape.
His curiosity got the better of him as he picked a path and started to circle the house slowly. He had never seen such a neglected place before. The weathered walls were covered with moss and creeping vines. The stones of path he walked on were broken and crumbling, with weeds pushing up from below. He had to duck under overhanging branches, or squeeze around shrubbery. If there were house-elves, clearly they did not leave the house.
He visited Hedwig, but she lost interest in him as soon as she realized he had not brought treats.
Finally he came across a bench and sat down.
He tried to force his mind to drift, which was the surest way to pass the time. It had been a while since he had been able to lose himself; ever since he had worn out his welcome in the dungeons he had been unable to find much time to be alone, and lately, the detached feeling simply refused to come.
That was the case now.
Sunlight filtered through the trees overhead, creating a pattern of spots and streaks on the ground. A bird sang cheerily. It was too light, too animated. Everything reminded him of life, he couldn't filter it out.
He gave up, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands.
Time dragged. It was his first day there, and he was already bored out of his mind.
He managed to be on time for lunch, and afterwards went up to his room. He spent the rest of the afternoon studying; the only activity he could get his mind to focus on. He started to write a response to Lupin, but after several attempts he gave up, realizing his letter bordered on whining.
The day couldn't end soon enough, and when he got into bed, the darkness lulled him into a rare deep sleep.
