A/N: Hello everyone! I know it's been far too long since my last update. But in my defense, I had a lot going on. Since my last update, I got my bar results (I passed!), spent some time job hunting, found a job, moved to a new house in a new city to start that job, and am just now starting to feel like I'm settled in my new routine. So hopefully you all can forgive me for the tardiness of this update :)

Enjoy the new chapter!

Uncle Vernon clamped a hand on his shoulder and began steering him towards the exit, dragging Harry's trunk behind him.

A few seconds passed. And then Harry looked back over his shoulder as Uncle Vernon continued to drag him through the station.

But there were too many people blocking his view. He could no longer see the bench or Snape. He was now alone with Uncle Vernon.

And he was terrified.

*Two Weeks Later*

Harry sighed in relief as he finally made it to the compartment at the very back of the train. He was early. One of the only few students to have boarded the Hogwarts Express yet. But he was grateful for the quiet. And for the time alone.

Keeping his right wrist clutched closely to his chest, the boy pulled his trunk into the empty compartment and practically collapsed onto one of the seats.

The Gryffindor winced in pain as he fumbled around in the pocket of his jacket for the bottle he had stored there. With trembling fingers, he uncorked the stopper and forced himself to take two large swallows of the disgusting concoction.

He coughed involuntarily, and a sudden pain shot through his chest. Trying not to breathe too deeply then, he laid back against the seat and stared out the window.

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since he had last been here, at King's Cross. When Uncle Vernon had shown up to take him back to Privet Drive.

Oh, why hadn't he just said something to Snape? He should have begged the man to let him go anywhere but with the Dursleys.

Harry closed his eyes. He was going to be in so much trouble.

Because surely someone would find out what had happened over the holiday. What he had done. And when that happened—

Harry shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. But, unfortunately, he just couldn't bring himself to stop thinking. The last two weeks just continued to play over and over in his head.

And he was completely powerless to stop it.

It had been a long ride home.

Harry had sat in the backseat of the car, deliberately staring out the window and gently rubbing his tender shoulder where Uncle Vernon had roughly grabbed him and marched him to the car after accusing Harry of "purposely lagging behind and wasting his time" at the train station.

Aunt Petunia hadn't once spoken to Harry, her arms folded and eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead of her the entire time. Harry had to wonder why the woman had even bothered to come at all. She was clearly not happy to see him. So why not just send her husband to King's Cross alone?

Uncle Vernon, for his part, had cursed at a few of the other drivers on the road who had been moving far too slowly for his liking. But otherwise, there had been complete silence in the car. The tension in the air had been palpable.

In fact, Harry had been almost relieved to see Privet Drive getting closer and closer through the window. Because the air in the car was absolutely suffocating and oppressive.

And then, before he knew it, he was dragging his luggage up to the front door behind his aunt and uncle, wondering the entire time what would be in store for him over the next couple of weeks.

"Poor Dudley," Petunia suddenly stated sympathetically, as Vernon fumbled around with his keys to find the one that would open the door. "That took longer than expected. He'll be wondering where we are."

The woman threw a nasty glare over her shoulder then, her eyes falling squarely on her nephew, as though blaming him for how bad the traffic had been.

Harry ducked his head, immediately sliding back into the habit Snape had been trying to break him of all year. But unlike the potions master, the Dursleys hated eye contact. And he was determined not to do anything that might set them off.

"You're back in the cupboard," Petunia suddenly said, then. It was the first thing she had uttered directly to her nephew since he had slid into the car at King's Cross.

"What? Why?" the boy couldn't stop himself from asking, his head snapping up in surprise.

"Because you are no longer a part of this family," Aunt Petunia answered simply. "And the extra room was needed."

Harry gripped the handle of his trunk tightly as his stomach started twisting into knots. "Then why am I here?"

But before his aunt had the chance to berate the boy for asking questions, Uncle Vernon finally found the right key and was pushing the front door open.

And just like that, chaos ensued.

There was suddenly a series of loud thumps and shouts coming from inside the house, followed by some shattering glass. And as the front door swung open, there was the unmistakable bark of a dog.

"Is that—?" Harry started to ask, but the boy never got the chance to finish his question.

Petunia shrieked and stepped back as the big bulldog launched himself through the door and straight at Harry.

The young Gryffindor was nearly bowled over by the excited canine, and had to cling to the handle of his trunk to keep himself upright.

"Aah! Ripper! Let go!" Harry exclaimed, giving his arm a shake in an attempt to free his jacket from the dog's tight grip.

Aunt Petunia, meanwhile, had gone completely pale. "How much longer must we house that filthy animal for?" the woman hissed, hurrying inside to assess the damage to her house.

"Inside!" Uncle Vernon growled at Harry, then. "Now!"

Fortunately, Harry was finally able to extricate his arm from the jaws of Aunt Marge's favorite bulldog, and he was able to move over the threshold and into the house. But then the thought suddenly occurred to him. If Aunt Marge's dog was here, then—

Aunt Marge must be too.

The door closing behind him felt so sinister and foreboding. Like someone had just locked him in a cage with a pack of hungry wolves.

He resolved right then and there to do whatever he could to stay out of the Dursleys' way for the next couple weeks. Especially if Aunt Marge was in town for the holiday. That woman somehow always managed to make things worse for him.

"It wasn't my fault!" Harry heard his cousin's voice coming from the living room. "He just knocked everything over when he ran to meet you at the door!"

Harry peered into the living room at the absolute mess on the floor. Apparently, in his haste to greet the newcomers at the door, Ripper had completely knocked over the Dursleys' Christmas tree, sending ornaments, lights, and tinsel flying in every which direction. Needless to say, it didn't take long for the string of curses to start flying from Uncle Vernon's mouth.

Seemingly unconcerned, the canine in question merely trotted over to where Harry was standing, an expectant and almost satisfied look on his face as he wagged his tail at the boy.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ripper as he resisted the urge to laugh at the dog's expression. Aunt Petunia was always so proud of her Christmas tree, he knew. She would spend hours making it look absolutely perfect, adorning the artificial branches with only the most beautiful of glass ornaments and several strands of white, twinkling lights. There was no telling what she would do now that it was all ruined.

"Is there something funny, boy?" Vernon was suddenly advancing on him, his face quickly morphing into a dangerous shade of purple.

Harry's heartrate quickened as he immediately took several steps back into the hallway. "No, sir," he answered hastily, the tiny smile on his face immediately wiped away.

"That's what I thought," the man growled, yanking Harry forward by the front of his jacket and catapulting him back into the living room.

"Start cleaning this up," Aunt Petunia barked at him, practically slamming the trash can she had retrieved from the kitchen down in the middle of the floor.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, quickly moving forward to scoop up a clump of tinsel from the ground.

"A couple of ornaments landed in the dining area, too," his aunt spat out. "Be sure not to miss any of the glass shards."

The woman started to leave the room then. But Harry was speaking before she could reach the hallway where her husband stood.

"Do you have gloves?"

The woman whirled back around. "Excuse me?"

"For the glass," Harry quickly explained, thinking back to how Snape had reacted to him picking up that shattered beaker off the dungeon floor earlier that year. "I probably shouldn't pick up glass with my bare hands."

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "You would only need gloves if you were planning on being careless," she uttered angrily. "You're not planning on being careless, are you?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"Good," the woman interrupted. "Then get to work. Your uncle and I wish to speak with you when you're done."

Uh oh. That didn't sound good.

"Can I go, now?" Dudley suddenly whined. "You promised I could go when you got home."

It was amazing then how quickly Aunt Petunia's face softened. Harry had to resist the urge to gag.

"Well, of course duddykins," the woman answered, immediately reaching for her purse to fish out some money. "You've been such a big help today. I trust there weren't any issues?"

Dudley shook his head as he eyed his mother's purse greedily. "Nope."

Harry suddenly felt an enormous amount of sympathy for Ripper, who had had to spend much of the day alone with Dudley. Because apparently his cousin had been tasked with watching the canine while Petunia and Vernon were gone. It wasn't a fate Harry would wish on anyone, even if Ripper was the kind of dog that couldn't be trusted not to make a mess of things if left alone.

Not that it had mattered in the end, Harry thought to himself, looking around at the mess from the fallen Christmas tree.

And then he suddenly remembered something as he watched Dudley snatch the wad of cash from his mother's hand and practically sprint for the door without so much as a greeting or glance in Harry's direction. Not that Harry minded in the least. The less contact he had with Dudley, the better.

"Where's Aunt Marge?" he asked, when the front door slammed shut behind his cousin. After all, if Ripper was here, then the unpleasant woman couldn't be too far away. She didn't go anywhere without her favorite bulldog.

"She's upstairs in bed," Petunia immediately snapped.

Harry tried hard not to make a face. So that was why he had been put back in the cupboard. Because Marge was now occupying his bedroom upstairs for the holiday.

"Is she sick?" the boy asked then. It was far too late in the day to be in bed, after all.

"Enough questions!" Vernon exclaimed. "Get to work. Then we'll talk about your arrangements for the next couple of weeks."

"I already know I'm back in the cupboard," Harry grumbled, stooping to pick up an ornament at his feet.

"Watch your tone, boy!" Vernon warned, taking a swing at the back of Harry's head as the boy straightened himself once again.

"Ouch!" Harry's arm immediately flew up to rub at the now-tender spot on his head.

"That spot in the cupboard is in no way guaranteed, Potter," the large man continued, flecks of spittle flying from his mouth as he continued to speak. "If you want a roof over your head, you're going to have to earn it."

Harry frowned. Wasn't that pretty much what he had been doing his entire life? Earning his keep by doing all of the cooking and the cleaning and the yardwork? So why was Uncle Vernon making such a big deal about it now?

Unless the man suddenly had something else in mind for him to do. But what could that possibly be?

Harry had a feeling he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry jumped in surprise as a new voice finally managed to bring him out of his reverie.

"Wow, mate. You were out of it!" Ron declared, throwing himself down onto the seat next to Harry. He didn't seem to notice how his friend flinched away at the sudden close proximity.

"Honestly, Ronald. Must you be so loud?" Hermione inquired, sticking her head inside the compartment before crossing the threshold with her luggage in tow. "I could hear you from the other end of the train."

Ron shrugged. "Sorry. Harry was daydreaming."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she sat down across from the two boys. "I trust you both had a nice holiday?"

"I suppose," Ron answered with a sigh. "Aunt Muriel was about as much a joy as you would expect. But it wasn't too bad."

"How about you, Harry?" Hermione asked then, turning to her other friend.

"It was fine," Harry answered, doing his best to sound as normal as possible. "Really quiet, actually. Didn't do much."

And with that, Harry turned to look out the window. It was always uncomfortable to lie to his friends. No matter how necessary it was.

Hermione frowned. "Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah. Just tired," Harry answered quietly.

"I've got some extra wizard crackers in my trunk from Christmas," Ron offered with a grin. "That might wake you up."

"Ron! Not on the train!" Hermione protested.

"Maybe later," Harry replied. "I think I'm just going to try to take a nap now."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Ron inquired then, suddenly seeming to share Hermione's concern.

"Yeah. Just fine," Harry mumbled, his eyes still focused on the window.

Neither Ron nor Hermione looked very convinced.

The living room was all cleaned up and the Christmas tree restored to a standing position. It seemed to lean slightly more to the side now, though. And right in the middle of the room stood Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, looming over their nephew, who was very carefully avoiding eye contact with either one of them.

"What?" Harry asked, not quite understanding the words that his aunt had just spoken.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon exchanged looks then before Vernon took over with his rumbling voice. "We said we're willing to offer you a deal, Potter."

Harry frowned in confusion. "A deal? What do you mean?"

And with that, Vernon grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and began marching him towards the hallway and up the stairs.

Harry's eyes blinked open, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. But when he caught sight of the changing landscape racing past the nearby window, it suddenly all came back to him. He was on the train. Heading for Hogwarts.

It was another few seconds then before he realized what it was that had woken him up. Looking down at the wrist resting against his chest, he used his other hand to turn off the alarm he had set on his watch.

When the incessant beeping had stopped, the boy looked up to see his two friends staring at him.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" Hermione asked, clearly still worried. "You've been sleeping for nearly an hour."

"I'm fine," Harry answered, slowly getting to his feet. "I'm feeling a little stiff, though. I think I'll just go for a short walk."

And before either of his friends could question him further, Harry had slid the compartment door open and stepped out into the corridor.

When the door had closed behind him once more, Harry glanced about to make sure no one was watching. Thankfully, the corridor seemed to be empty at the moment.

And so he once again reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle he had taken a drink from before.

"Just two swallows," he murmured to himself, bringing the bottle to his lips.

The taste was awful. But Harry knew he didn't have a choice. So he gulped it down as quickly as he could, shuddering at the icky sensation that went through him as the potion slid down his throat.

The boy sighed then as he put the bottle back into his pocket. "Come on, Harry," he whispered to himself. "You have to be more convincing. They already suspect something's up."

He took another minute then, despite the pain he was in, to make sure to school his features before heading back into the compartment. Because he couldn't afford to let his true emotions show on his face.

Time to practice occlumency, he thought to himself. Wouldn't Snape be proud?

And with that, Harry threw open the compartment door once more and slid across the threshold, a smile firmly in place.

"So, Ron. How about those wizard crackers?"

A/N: Feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

-Ailee17

March 1, 2019