Disclaimer: standard--see chapter one.

Severus rubbed his eyes as he looked over the history homework he'd collected that day. He was only halfway through the third one, and he already had a headache. It wasn't because the writing was particularly bad, nor were the answer mundane: he simply did not know much about muggle history, and had to keep looking up the answers in an ancient textbook.

A correcting quill. That was what he needed. Then it wouldn't matter if he knew the answers or not: the quill would mark the papers for him.

Severus looked around. He needed an owl... Maybe he'd have to take a trip to London over the weekend. Until then, the students weren't getting their homework back.

Sighing, he set the stack of papers on his coffee table and stood up. He walked to the large, front window of the house he'd acquired and peered out at the neighborhood. The sun was starting to set, but there were still children out riding bikes and playing ball in the middle of the street.

Suddenly, Severus heard yelling coming from the corner near the park. Looking in that direction, he spotted Piers wriggling between the bars of the gate that locked it off for the night. Right behind him, Dudley Dursley was trying to heave his weight over the top.

"Hold him!" Dudley called breathlessly.

They can't be getting after Potter again, Severus groaned inwardly. Ah, well. All the better for me, I suppose. Chance to be the-- What was it he said? Loving mentor? He smirked as he opened his front door and strolled down the sidewalk.

When he came even with the park gate--which Dudley had finally managed to haul himself over--he saw the same three who'd been behind the school earlier that day gathered around a fourth, much smaller boy. Potter didn't seem to be hurt yet, just scared. Severus frowned. Scared wasn't enough. Not yet. He would have to save the boy from a very severe beating if he hoped to find himself as the "loving mentor." He slowed his steps to give the three a chance to pound on Potter for a few minutes.

He didn't have to wait long. Once Piers had Potter's arms pinned behind his back, Dudley wasted no time burying one of his meaty fists in the smaller boy's stomach. Potter doubled over and dropped to the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around his midsection. The third boy, who was not in Severus's class, kicked Potter in the back and legs several times while Dudley and Piers scoffed and sniggered. Severus was reminded forcibly of Crabbe, Goyle, and Knott Juniors.

Severus took his wand out of his pocket and lazily tapped the gate's lock. It swung open soundlessly. As he tucked his wand away, Dudley kicked Potter in the chest and Piers stomped on his ankle. The third boy was just aiming a kick at the back of Potter's head when Severus decided he should probably say something. An unconscious Potter would not be able to be a grateful Potter, after all.

"What do you three think you're doing?" His voice was cold, and Severus felt some sharp satisfaction at seeing Piers visibly shiver at his question.

They backed away from Potter immediately, but their only escape lay behind Severus, and none of them seemed to dare try and get by him.

Severus peered down at Harry, who groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. "Polkiss and Dursley, is it? And who are you?"

The boy, who must have seemed so huge to Potter, shrunk before Severus, obviously sensing that this was not a man to be messed with. "Um, Verge, sir. Gordon Verge."

"Sir, um, we can expla--"

"No need. I'll be making calls to your parents this evening. I suggest you all get home. You'll want to be there to defend yourselves while I am handing out tongue lashing to your mothers and fathers."

For a moment, Dudley seemed unable to figure out what he meant, but Piers caught on fairly quickly and took the invitation to leave. Gordon and Dudley, seeing their friend fleeing without reprimand, scurried close behind him.

Severus turned to Potter, who was still only half sitting, his arm curled protectively around his ribs and stomach. "All right, Potter?"

"Yes, sir." There were tears in his eyes.

"You look a right mess." Severus took a strong hold of the boy's upper arm and hauled him to his feet. "Up you get. I dare say my house is at least a bit closer than yours. We can stop there and call your parents to come and get you."

Potter shook his head slightly, visibly fighting more tears as the ones that had been shining in his eyes spilled down his flushed cheeks.

"I'm not going to leave you here. Where do you live?"

He shook his head again.

Sighing with exasperation, Severus took Potter's arm again. "Come on, now. Don't cry," he admonished lightly.

"I'm not." The fear had finally left the boy's eyes and was replaced by anger. By pure rage.

That's what we want to see, Potter, Severus thought contently. "Come with me. Get you some tea, at least. I won't send you home on your own in that state."

Reluctantly, moving only at Severus's coaxing grip on his arm, Potter walked up the path, through the open gate, and down the sidewalk. He didn't say anything. Severus peered at him for a moment when he felt Potter start to shake. Heavier streams of tears coursed down his face.

"I live just here," he said quietly, directing Harry up the front walk. He opened the door and pushed Potter inside with a light hand on the small of his back. "You can sit on the couch while I get some tea made. Don't touch anything." With that, Severus disappeared into the kitchen. It took only a second and a flick of his wand to make tea, but Severus was sure he'd heard somewhere that it took a while for muggles to do it, so he stood by the counter for a minute, then picked up the two cups and went back into the living room. "Here. Hope you don't mind it with milk."

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Now you remember your manners," he commented, sipping his own tea.

There was a short pause while Severus drank a little more, in which Potter just stared into his cup.

"Are you hurt badly anywhere?"

"No, sir. I mean, not really." Pause. Potter set his cup on the coffee table. "I should go. I'll be in trouble as it is, and it's getting dark out."

"In trouble? What for?"

Potter looked at his hands, a slight scowl on his face. Several moments passed. "Just being late, I guess."

"Surely your parents won't be angry. I said I'll bring you home. I can explain to them what--"

"No! Thank you. Sir. I'll be fine. I just have to go." He stood up. "And they're not my parents," he added before retreating.

Severus sat, watching the boy limp out the door. Any good teacher wouldn't have let him go. But Severus wasn't trying to be a good teacher. He was trying to win the boy's trust and confidence, and that meant not pushing anything too far, too fast. It wouldn't do to have Potter thinking Mr. Williams had any of his information by force. Let him volunteer it. It would be worth so much more that way.

Smiling, Severus riffled through his paperwork for the directory of student telephone numbers. Now for the fun part of being a teacher: getting the little rats in trouble.

"Lancaster, read from the first paragraph on page thirty-five."

As Aaron Lancaster stood up and began to read, Harry turned his head and looked out the window. Two days had passed since Mr. Williams had found him in the park and he still hadn't commented on it other than a stern, but vague warning to the entire class about how bullying, if discovered, would not be tolerated among his students.

"Potter, second paragraph."

Harry stood up. When he was finished and given permission to sit down, he went back to staring out the window. It was sort of strange. He'd expected to be in loads of trouble when he walked into the Dursleys' that night. He'd been in trouble in school--twice--and then he'd come home after dark and, more importantly, after Dudley. But he hadn't gotten anything. Uncle Vernon had looked him up and down, taking in his torn clothes, bloodied hands, and bruised face, then sent him to his cupboard without a word. Dudley, who'd been sitting on the floor in the living room, two feet from the TV, a huge bowl of ice cream in his lap, had looked no worse for the wear, but Harry hadn't really expected him to be punished.

Harry was jostled out of his thoughts by the bell ringing.

"Settle down, settle down," Mr. Williams drawled as he finished writing their homework on the board. "You're dismissed once you've copied your assignment."

"Mr. Williams?"

"Yes, Miss Smith?"

"When are we going to get our homework from Monday back?"

"When I give it to you," he answered scathingly, his dark eyes narrowed with some emotion akin to annoyance.

"Yes, sir."

Standing up, Harry scooped his books into his bag. He was just about to pull the heavy bag unto his sore shoulders when Mr. Williams said, "Potter."

Everyone stopped and stared. Harry's classmates had not gone ignorant to the new tension between Mr. Williams and himself for very long.

"Yes, sir?"

"Stay back a moment."

"Yes, sir."

From the grin that spread over Piers's face as he peered back over his shoulder from the doorway, Harry knew he, Dudley, and, probably Gordon, would be waiting for him around some corner on his walk home. Gordon, who'd been punished the worst of the three, had been hissing his want for revenge every time he found himself and Harry in the hall without any authority figures around.

For several minutes after the class had emptied, Mr. Williams continued to sit behind his desk, marking grammar quizzes. Just when Harry was sure the man had forgotten he'd asked him to stay, Mr. Williams looked up.

"How are those ribs?"

"Sore, a bit."

"I've been wanting to ask you about your guardians. You claim you don't live with your parents."

"No, sir."

"Who do you live with?"

"My aunt and uncle, sir."

Mr. Williams smirked slightly, his eyes hard with malice. After a moment, his expression changed back to one of polite curiosity. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead. They were in an accident when I was a year old."

"I see. The reason I am asking this is, I found it extremely interesting that when I went to look up your telephone number to report your poor homework performance, I found the exact one I called two evening ago when I spoke with Mr. Dursley. The Dursleys are your aunt and uncle, I'm assuming?"

Oh, wonderful... "Yes, sir."

"I also assume that your troubles with Dursley, the younger are a factor in your poor attention and work performance, is he not?"

Harry looked down at his desk.

"Look at me when we are having a conversation."

Harry looked back up. "Yes, sir. Sorry."

"And kindly answer my question."

Pause. "I sometimes have a hard time getting my homework done, so I try to do it in class before the bell rings. I use to be able to," he added ruefully. So far, Mr. Williams had not been to the class room early a single of his three days: a fact that gave Harry no small amount of dismay.

Quietly, Mr. Williams spoke, "This is a family situation. It is not a teacher's place to interfere with family situations. However, I do understand your predicament and am, however distantly so, sympathetic to your problems. Or at least the problem of your grades. So we shall try something. In an effort to keep you from failing, and as you obviously need the extra help, you will attend compulsory study sessions with me each Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon. They will be one hour each. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Somehow, it sounded like he'd just been given a permanent detention sentence.

"Very good then." Mr. Williams slid a folded piece of paper across his desk in Harry's direction. "Take this letter to your aunt and uncle. It explains everything. Now hurry home. You don't want to be late."

For one, wild second, Harry considered telling Mr. Williams that Dudley and his gang would be waiting for him; waiting to jump out and start beating on him again. But the impulse passed and he took his book bag and his letter, and left.

TBC