Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still belongs to JKRowling. Still.
Chapter 25 : The Hunger
Summary: Dobby wakes up, too.
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*click*
A flood of bright steady light confused him; illuminating strange shapes and colors. Wrong, all of it, except for the soft gray cloth that ended at his own wrist. I am in my nightshirt and my nightshirt is at Hogwarts. I only ever sleep at Hogwarts. Snape clung to this verifiable certainty. More students playing stupid pranks. Potter's fault. Snape glared down at Potter -- not so far down these days, the boy was growing. "Explain."
Green eyes glowed defiance at Snape, and Snape stared back, startled to see the ghost of Lily's stance and bearing in the child. Did you clench your fists at the merfolk too?
Potter stumbled angrily over the words, spots of pink burning hectic on his cheeks. "They attacked us... and I couldn't just run... I couldn't. I had to try to save Dudley -- "
"You what?" the cry of disbelief from the fat boy cracked the staring match, but the Muggle wilted under the sudden attention of two wizards. "Er... I mean... Look, I'd better go and check on the food then, shall I?" He fled through a glass door.
Food?
Snape staggered as something hit him like a well-placed curse, too hard and too quickly to mask in front of the children. He collapsed against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself to try to contain the overwhelming sensation.
"Professor!" Potter leapt forward, catching Snape and preventing him from finding a more comfortable position. "Wait! No! Don't fall over!" The boy was babbling, making it harder to think. "Just a few steps, sir. Here. Come sit on the couch." Snape let himself be propped up, moving his legs obediently as he tried to make sense of things. Thunder rattled the windowpanes, nearly drowning out the boy's yattering. "Professor Lupin said that, too... said I shouldn't take risks.. . but things always seem to happen to me. I never put my name in for the Tri-Wizard Tournament! I mean... I might have done some stupid things when I was younger, but I thought that I needed to. I don't want to waste what my mum did for me." And then, with a cracking note of incredulity, "Did you like my mum?"
Lily.
"She was the truest friend I ever had." The words were engraved in elaborate script, worn by repetition into deep grooves in the lonely hours of the night. Memories too, no matter how often the kaleidoscope was shaken, tessellating bloody and golden, Gryffindor colors filling the space behind his eyes --
-- down in the mud before her, lightning crazing the world, nothing right, nothing ever right any more... plus ca change, Potter had come to her on one knee, now he came to her on two, anything you can do I can do better... he couldn't bear anymore... he'd cast it all away with his bloodstained soul... but first he had to tell someone what he knew, what they'd done... someone who hadn't been seduced by Voldemort's soft lies... someone who would listen...Lily would listen, Lily had always listened, but it hadn't been his fault then...and now... now...the words went on, impossible lying truth and anyone else would have stopped listening to the horrors, would have not waited to hear him finally say I'm sorry --
Lily believed me when no one else would.
-- her hand startling on his shoulder, her arm linked unyielding in his, pulling him upright... her fingers unclenching his fist, revealing the phial of punishment, of judgment that he'd saved for himself, for someplace quiet and hidden... like a fantastic dream, her smile, sad and -- kind? -- as she answered what should have been unanswerable... as she placed words where he had none--
-- murdering yourself won't make it right. --
-- it will make it stop --
-- no... it will make you stop... and we need what you know...we need what you can still find out for us... we need you... come on... come with me... Dumbledore will know what to do –
--a moment's hesitation... for the honor of Slytherin... but that honor was already besmirched – stained -- and by his own hands... it is no worse a betrayal... she was talking of life, purpose, plans, a way to make amends, and he grasped at her future like a wisp of straw, grateful to her for seeing that he did not truly wish to die, and for all his gratitude he still tucked the phial safely back into his pocket --
--wrenching sway of Apparition, her wandwork so bright and sure... she was wonderfully powerful now in her gravid condition, and he could not turn aside her insistence on coming with him, to vouch for him to Dumbledore... Hogsmeade crouched silent beneath the unending storm, nature raging over the spilling of innocents' blood, rattling a warning from John o' Groats to Land's End... the thunder crushing conversation... he had nothing left to say, all his rehearsed words used up... staggering all the long way up to Hogwarts castle....stubborn witch huddled next to him, her warmth at his side as she slogged with him through the greedy mud, one arm wrapped around him, the other cradling her cauldroned belly... rain whispering deprecations, speaking of depredations... numbness like poison in his blood, in his head... nothing real, save for Lily's hand hot as a coal in his... her hand and the rain, cold and welcome against his face --
-- standing before the stern stone gargoyle which guarded Dumbledore's office... rain hissing outside the walls, snaking silvery down their soaked robes onto worn flagstones...he had stood here so many times before, practicing answers, waiting to be asked questions that he daren't answer for the honor of Slytherin... the gargoyle sneering down at him as always before it turned away and set the stairs grinding down like millwheels of doom --
Lily knew the new password.
--staring at her, wondering how deeply she was involved in the war, seeing some strange ineffable thing cross her eyes ... what's wrong? the first words he'd spoken since Godric's Hollow... maybe she was wrong, maybe it wouldn't work, he still had his answer in his pocket, the last and most definite answer... her answer to take his hand and lay it smooth beneath hers against her rounded belly... wet cloth and warmth beneath it, and then the kick of a small, hard heel into his palm –
-- so very wrong he'd gone, such awful distance now between them... she a bearer of life, he a dealer in death... the dichotomy robbed him of words, of breath... all the pain and misery inside him rose to choke him if only it could and he began to weep, shuddering, gagging on the foulness –
--and then the taste of coffee, laced with brandy... he clutched at the ceramic cup, hoped the drink would put words back into him so he could speak... Lily's presence beside him on the venerable couch holding his hand, anchoring him while he recited his piece... one more long gasping run through his winterbare confession all the way somehow, somehow, to I'm sorry and he shattered, sobbing like a child who'd played with lucifers and set the house ablaze --
--Lily's voice, quiet but determined, as she outlined the advantages of his change of heart...Dumbledore's voice concerned, describing the dangers...his own voice hoarse from unaccustomed tears, putting the choice in their hands...he had to make things right, somehow, and he was too tired to weigh the options: espionage, or Azkaban, or the small glass phial in his pocket...only the first held any hope of doing good, but at least neither of the other two held hope of doing more harm...Dumbledore handing the choice back to him again... it doesn't matter...it does matter...better to make amends than to make an end...faint outrage that the old man could make a pun of his dilemma but the blue eyes were not twinkling... Lily again, pressing her hand against his arm, too close to the shameful mark of his last choice...to save even one life –
-- yes...he had to make things right...to save someone, how marvelous that would be...and in the end he must be finished, by his insane peers or by the friendly phial safe inside his pocket --
-- rain beating against the high windows, lightning outside and thunder... the warmth of the fire uncomfortably close, and the scent of Lily's perfume beginning to fade already... she was gathering herself to go out into the night...back to Potter and the promise of the child who was to be... don't go it isn't safe... but it was safe as any other place out there and she smiled when she saw him looking and her eyes sparkled with their old sun's-edge fire... the feather light benediction of her kiss against his forehead... "It'll be all right, now," she said. "You'll live." ...promise or geas...the phial lay useless now... he'd have to live --
Lily saved me.
"And I couldn't save her," Belatedly, his ears registered the hoarseness of his own voice. Did I say that aloud? Who could tell beneath the shudders of thunder? Lightning again... green eyes... and ... black hair?
"Please, sir. Just drink this. Just a little." A boy's voice; Potter?
"Maybe we should put him back to bed, Harry. He doesn't look well, all clunched up like that." Another boy. Dursley.
"I don't think we can get him up the stairs."
"Don't you know how to make people float yet?"
"Of course I do, Dudley. That's a First year spell. But if we can just wake him up enough to tell us what's wrong then I'll know whether or not to send to Hogwarts for help."
Send to Hogwarts?
More recent memories scrambled for their places. Potter was hurt – sick – poisoned – wasn't he? And Dursley wasn't a student he was...Cousin. Muggle.
More of the world came out of the gray fog. Garish wool, crocheted in bright squares, an afghan someone had wrapped around his shoulders. His own knees pale and ordinary beyond the end of his nightshirt. I must be at Hogwarts. A cup of brown stuff.
Coffee. Tucking his wand into his sleeve for safekeeping, he wrapped his hands around the cup, grateful for the painful heat of it. This is real. Someone steadied his hands as he sipped, at first. The coffee was bitter, reheated. Someone had tried to disguise the taste with sugar and had failed. "This is swill," he said. But it was sweetened swill and his body screamed for more. He put the cup back to his lips and gulped down the rest of the bitter liquid until he got to the sugary sludge at the bottom. He leaned back with the cup upended over his mouth, waiting doggedly as the sweetness oozed slowly onto his tongue.
Somewhere beyond the coffee cup, the boys were still talking.
"Maybe we should get him some more."
"We can't; that's the last of the pot. I used it all up at lunchtime. But we could just put more water in the coffee maker and see if it worked. Like using a teabag a second time."
"Worth a try." Potter sounded doubtful.
"It won't matter what it tastes like if we put in enough sugar," Dursley said confidently. "Not if he's hungry enough. It's like a bear, isn't it? They wake up ready to eat anything in sight."
"He's not a bear," Potter said. "Well, not exactly. I don't think."
"Well, then why does he have ice on his clothes, except to make it more like winter? He's hungry because he's been hibernating." It was the sort of logic that suited children, and Snape couldn't think clearly enough to dispute it.
"McGonagall didn't say he was hibernating, she said he was dormant. There must be a difference."
Dormant? "The correct term is aestivation," Snape's father's voice echoed back to him from the shadows of the cool cellar bedroom. "Much simpler than dealing with heat or drought, but it does complicate one's social calendar. I suggest that you refrain from accepting invitations to your year-mates' homes over summer break."
But it's never happened to me before. He'd been very conscientious about following the rules. Keep your clothes cooled with a charm; drink plenty of ice water – the family had learned the trick of keeping the sleepiness at bay within a generation or two. This summer must be very hot indeed.
The coffee was gone. Snape let his hands and the cup fall to his lap. His knees were bruised. He sympathized. "My head hurts," he told them, remembering.
That made two things to be certain of. No three. His head hurt. There was no more coffee. He was in his nightshirt.
Why am I in my nightshirt? There was a house elf sleeping next to him on the couch. I've never seen one sleep before. Maybe someone had cast a sleepiness spell. Nothing made sense because this was a dream -- or a nightmare. Except he could never remember being so hungry in a dream. The sugar had only made it worse somehow. "Wake up," he told the elf. "I want some breakfast."
"Breakfast?" A hand moved between him and the elf and he followed it with his eyes, to find Potter crouched down studying his face. "Are you hungry?" Potter asked, very slowly and clearly, the way one might speak to a moron.
"Yes." He had a stomachache all over. "I am very hungry." Snape told Potter in the same sugardrip tones. Sarcasm didn't work. The boy's eyes lit up with relief.
"I see," he said. "That's easy enough to mend. Dinner's almost ready. And we can get you some aspirin, too." He addressed Snape, again with that patient clarity. "Do you want to go back to bed?"
"I want more coffee." Snape glared at the dunderheaded child. The boy was a mess: pale, and there was blood splattered on his face and arm, cracking as it dried. The pyjamas he wore were too large, and faded with wear. Something wrong here. Snape tried to think around the enormous gnawing hunger. You were supposed to feel hollow in your middle, not your head. But his middle was like something shrinking in on itself pulling everything around it in as well.
"Dudley's going to make some more."
Dudley? Dursley. Muggle. He wouldn't be at Hogwarts, not even in a dream. In Snape's dreams, the children were always home for the summer, safe, or at least not his responsibility. And in his nightmares, the Weasley twins were always in attendance.
But if he wasn't dreaming, where was he? Not at Hogwarts. Nothing smelled right, or felt right for Hogwarts. But I have been sleeping. I am in my nightshirt. And I only ever sleep at Hogwarts. And there had been boys – students – fighting. Students only ever fought at Hogwarts. Didn't they?
He had a memory of a dream, a nightmare, of being in a Muggle house with Lily's sister mocking him. But there wouldn't be a house elf in a Muggle house. But Potter's cousin wouldn't be at Hogwarts. Snape turned his head to look at the oversized child who was standing nearby, too-solid flesh. A lightning flash from the window lit up the picture askew on the wall behind him. A man, a woman, and a younger version of the same boy frozen in unnatural stasis within the frame.
Not Hogwarts. Potter's home. I came to give him...antidote. And his cousin... and his uncle... and his Aunt...
Jumbled memories fell into a line. The owl and the boy, poisoned for the sake of a murderous prank. The cupboard under the stairs. Mutilated photographs. Lily's snowglobe. Dinner. A new curse. Endurance potion.
Ah. That explains everything.
I really shouldn't take it with food.
"Of course this is a Muggle house," he grumbled at Potter, as he worked through the data. The lights, the furniture. The smell. "It must be. Every Muggle house I've ever been in has been burning."
"Burning?" both boys chorused, as if they'd only just detected the smoke.
"Dinner!" Dursley cried out, and ran like an earthquake for the kitchen. His voice came back in a high frightened squeal. "Harry! Harry! Help!"
Potter jumped up and swayed a little before he steadied himself on the back of a chair. "Hold on," he ordered Snape, as if he had a right to give orders. "I'll be right back."
Hold on to what?
***
A wave of dizziness hit Harry when he jumped to his feet and he grabbed the back of the nearest chair and gave it five seconds to pass over him. He had to stop trying to cast spells without a wand. It just took too much strength away, every time, leaving him feeling like a soggy sponge. I hate this. I'm not in much better shape than Snape is. He'd have to risk getting his wand from the trunk soon. Whatever had let Draco and his goons into the house might work for someone else.
The smell of burning grease and a cloud of smoke rolled over him as he reached the kitchen. His first fears were relieved – no one had got in. The grease in the pan of chips had caught fire, flames leaping up to lick at the wall and the fan above the stove. Dudley was rushing from the sink, carrying a bowlful of water. Harry realized suddenly what his cousin meant to do, "No! Dudley!"
But it was too late.
The water hit the grease and sent it splattering, onto the pan of fried rice and the counter, spreading bright flames. Harry swore and ran for the fire extinguisher. Dudley grabbed the towel off the rack and beat at the blaze, squealing when the cloth caught on the handle of the frypot and most of the burning grease was knocked to the floor still afire.
"You're making it worse!" Harry yelled, as he picked up a dishrag and beat at the flames. It didn't work very well. He needed a bigger towel to smother the flames. He needed -- "Fire extinguisher!" Harry exclaimed, pushing past his cousin to get to the red canister that had been dangling next to the sink for so long he'd almost forgot it existed. "Get out of the way!"
"Mum's going to go spare!" Dudley panicked, dancing cumbersomely from foot to foot. "Why did you set the house on fire?"
"I didn't!" Harry protested. "All I did was make dinner!" He grabbed the extinguisher and squeezed the handle. Nothing happened.
"Not like that!" Dudley said, fumbling for purchase on the headpiece of the extinguisher. "You've got to pull the peg out first!"
"What?" Harry coughed, trying to blink smoke out of his eyes.
"This!" Dudley hooked his finger through a metal ring and tugged and the fire extinguisher began to belch out white powder – just in time to hit Snape full in the face as the Potions Master came into the kitchen with his wand held high.
The next few moments were rather loud. And messy. Dudley was cursing, Harry was shouting, and Snape was coughing, and none of them could be heard very well over the roar of the fire extinguisher as it spewed yellow-white powder in every direction. It ran out of powder and air quite abruptly, and Harry realized that he'd had his hand wrapped around the trigger. He dropped the canister and grabbed for the blinded Professor, pulling him away from the flames before his nightshirt could do more than begin to smolder.
Dudley was at the sink again, arming himself with the sprayer hose attachment.
"Good idea," Harry said, thinking that Dudley was going to rinse off Snape and then realizing that his cousin was aiming toward the stove. "No, not that way!" He needed a wand. Snape had a wand, but he couldn't stop coughing. "Sorry, Sir," Harry said, starting a tug-of-war with the man over the wand.
"Dobby will save Harry Potter!" The house elf reeled into the room, raising a long thin hand. His whipcrack of magic was almost louder than the thunder.
The fire went out. So did the lights.
Dudley screamed.
"No!" Harry shouted.
"What happened to the lights? What happened to the lights?" Dudley banged into the counter and knocked something over with a crash. Water from the sprayer went flying in all directions – some of it went into Harry's ear, startling him sideways;. he slipped in something slick on the floor, falling and wrenching Snape's wand from him. He fell hard on one leg and banged his funnybone on the chair, sending sparkling pangs through his arm. It took a moment to be able to cast a spell. "Lumos!" The tip of the wand brightened uncertainly. It didn't help. It was like holding a lantern in a yellow-gray fog.
"We're going to die of smoke inhalation!" Dudley was going to step on someone if he kept flailing around so noisily.
"Is Harry Potter all right?" A small frantic figure attached itself to Harry's sore leg.
"Dobby! Take care of the smoke!" Harry ordered, biting back a yelp. "I'm all right."
Another whipcrack of magic from Dobby, and all the particles in the air poured to the floor with unnatural speed, revealing the damage. Everything on the stove was burned, and everything on the counter had been coated with a fine layer of powder and soot. Harry glanced into the sink. Even the roast was covered with the stuff. And the bowl of cake batter was broken on the floor. That's what I slipped on. Dudley had fire extinguisher powder clinging to his hands and arms, where'd they'd been splashed by the sink, and Harry could see that he had the same grit mixed with sweat on his own hands. He could feel it caked on the side of his face as well.
Snape had got the worst of it, though. His eyebrows and hair were so thick with goo that the layer was developing cracks, and he was bent over, coughing and spitting out more of the stuff. He found his voice, or a hoarse equivalent thereof and asked, "What...is...it?" shoulders braced like Neville Longbottom was when he was required to drink one of his own potions in class and was waiting to turn into a toad.
Harry reached across the floor for the fire extinguisher again and wiped off the instruction plate. "Um. Contents... contents... Monoammonium phosphate, mica, ammonium sulfate, talc, nuisance dust...nuisance dust?... irritant..."
"?" Snape made an inquisitive noise between coughs.
"It just says irritant. And methyl hydrogen polysiloxane. Whatever that is Wait, this part says you should rinse it off with clear cold water." It also said that you shouldn't inhale the stuff, Harry realized, but it was too late to tell Snape that now. "Do not ingest," he read further.
Snape promptly sicked up, with a remarkable purpose and economy of motion.
"Hey, not on the floor!" Dudley said, taking Snape's arm to turn him. "The sink's over... Harry?!" He backed away in alarm as Snape turned toward him.
Harry brought the wand around hastily and nearly panicked himself when he saw Snape's eyes. He'd expected to find them clenched shut, but they were wide open, completely coated with yellow-white powder. Alarming as that was, it wasn't half as bad as seeing a thin black line appear horizontally across the middle of each eye as Snape's face turned toward the wandlight, only to vanish another paroxysm of coughing shook him.
"He's an alien!" Dudley squealed. "He's got two sets of eyelids! Just like in Men In Black!!"
Two sets of eyelids? Harry breathed again. Hedwig had an inner eyelid. It was called a nictitating membrane, and birds used it instead of blinking, according to his book on owl care. Of course, in Hedwig's case each eye only had one membrane, that slid from one side to the other, but Snape wasn't a bird. A lizard maybe. "He's not an alien, Dudley." Harry said as he tried to pull himself onto the nearest chair without using his sore leg or dislodging Dobby, who was still babbling apologetically. "He's just part something else."
"He's a freak," Dudley said flatly.
"He is not," Harry said impatiently. "Extra eyelids aren't any worse than hibernating, and that didn't scare you." His leg hurt. He'd hit it hard, twisted that ankle, maybe even sprained it. He looked over to Snape, who was feeling his way to the sound of running water at the sink. "Give him a wet towel for his eyes and take him up to the shower."
Dudley shook his head. "I don't want to."
"Dudley!" Harry tried to sound calm. "If any real Death Eaters show up at the door we're going to need Snape because they're not going to try to beat us up they're going to kill us. Do you understand?" All right, so he'd ended up shouting, but at least Dudley was nodding frantically, eyes wide with horror.
Snape turned his head to look at Harry, the dusted inner eyelids startled open and then quickly shut again when the chemical touched more sensitive tissue. The beleaguered teacher tried to say something and went off in another fit of coughing. Harry took a deep breath and forced himself not to shout again. "Look, Dudley. Just take him upstairs and put him under the cold water."
"Why can't you do it?" Dudley whimpered, beginning to edge tentatively over to Snape.
"Because I've hurt my leg, and it would take too long. Hurry up. The safety instructions said to wash the powder off as soon as possible. So you take care of Professor Snape; I'll see if I can't find anything else in the house that we can eat for dinner, and Dobby will clean up the mess, right?"
Dobby immediately conjured up a dozen miniature brooms and dustpans and began to orchestrate the attack against the dusty floor. "Yes, Harry Potter! Right away!"
Dudley swallowed hard and backed away from the magical cleaning. "But there aren't any lights, Harry," he argued faintly as he opened the cupboard door and pulled out a clean dishtowel to soak under the tap.
Harry glanced out the window. The neighbor's lights were still on, visible through the downpour. Dobby's spell to put out the fire must have done more than he meant it to. But was it just the lights that had been on, or was it all of them? The refrigerator was close enough to reach if he stretched a little. He grabbed the handle and pulled it open, and a flood of white light spilled out. "There," he said. "the lights still work. It's probably just the bulbs. You can check them as you go."
"But..."
Harry didn't have any patience left. "Just do it!" he shouted, and then almost regretted it when his cousin flinched and Dobby skittered backwards, grovelling in the spilled batter. Almost. He raised the wand, biting hard on the temptation to use an Imperius curse. It seemed so reasonable just now. Dudley chose the lesser of two evils and grabbed Snape's elbow, shoving the wet towel into the teacher's hand and steering him quickly toward the door...
...which opened, revealing Aunt Petunia, blood streaming down her face from a cut near her hairline, a bar of metal held over her head like a samurai sword as she charged. "I have had enough!!!"
Snape dodged, Dudley screamed, and Harry cast a Leg Locker Curse with a speed that would have earned him top marks from Professor Flitwick. Her legs suddenly glued together, Aunt Petunia lost her balance and went sideways, careening into the open refrigerator and clutching at the shelves as she fell. Glass jars shattered as they hit the floor, plastic tubs spilled open, and food scattered in all directions. Petunia wasn't stopped. She clutched a jar of olives that had bounced off her and came up to her knees, ready to launch it at Snape's head.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry shouted. The spell hit with a blinding dark-blue flash, leaving Petunia frozen, the rage on her face all too clear even with the light at her back.
Snape had opened his strange second eyelids when he was being attacked, but not without cost. He crouched by the door, pressing the towel Dudley had given him against his face now, whimpered imprecations coming between the coughs. "....Merlin's ...bodkins..." Harry had never thought Snape could sound so miserable. It was more frightening than being attacked again, and Harry felt himself starting to shake.
"Get him to the shower!" he ordered Dudley. "Now!"
"But Mum's..."
"She'll still be there!" Harry snapped. "Go!" Dudley obeyed hastily, almost picking up Snape in his haste to flee. Harry yelled after him, "And check on Uncle Vernon!"
He needed to rest. He couldn't rest. Not with Snape hurt and Dudley frightened and Aunt Petunia... Harry looked over at his mother's sister and felt a lump in his stomach. I'm going to be locked in my room until Christmas.
Dobby appeared at his elbow, bowing so abjectly his ears hit the floor. "Harry Potter, sir? Harry Potter is angry?"
And then there was Dobby. Harry sighed and pulled himself together. "Harry Potter is hurt, Dobby. And hungry. That was dinner before it caught fire," he explained wearily, waving a hand at the debris.
"Dobby will make a new dinner, Harry Potter!" the house elf volunteered happily.
"Clean up first," Harry told him, wishing that he were a house elf. It took so little to cheer Dobby up, really -- just something to do. He watched as Dobby bespelled the sink to wash the dishes and began to mop up the batter and wished that worked as well for people.
Well. Maybe it did. Harry decided that they needed more light if they were going to make another dinner. He stood up, with a hand on the back of the chair and tried bearing his weight on his aching ankle. A careful essay proved that his ankle was only twisted – it hurt to walk, but it got a little better with each step. As soon as Dobby had cleared a good space on the floor of grease, batter, and dust, Harry got out the stepstool and a spare light bulb and climbed up to replace the bulb.
Overhead he could hear the water running in the bathroom, and Dudley knocking at the guest room door. He must have taken care of Snape. Good. One less thing to worry about, at least for a little while.
The light came on while it was still in his hand and Harry blinked away green spots and looked away as he finished putting back the cover. The kitchen was really a mess. With the refrigerator emptied like that, Harry wasn't sure if there was enough food left to make another dinner at all.
He sat down on the stepstool. "Dobby," he asked. "Where do the house elves get the food for Hogwarts?"
Dobby hastily set aside the discarded lightbulb he'd been examining. "In Hogsmeade," he answered. "At the grocer."
"Oh." Harry said. He'd never noticed Hogsmeade having a grocer, but it made sense. He wondered if they bought supplies from Muggle farmers or if there were wizards who farmed. "If I sent you to Hogsmeade, could you bring some groceries back here?"
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir. But Dobby could go to Diagon Alley from here. It's much closer."
"Yes, yes of course it is. Good idea, Dobby. Let's make a list, then."
Dobby waved a hand and a quill and parchment appeared, floating in the air. "What would Harry Potter like Dobby to fetch?"
"Um. How about steak?" Harry said. "And some potatoes, of course. Some peas. Salad. Bread. And we need more butter and milk." The quill wrote down his suggestions. "Can you carry all that?" he asked Dobby.
"Dobby can carry much more than that," Dobby reassured him.
"Then we'd better get breakfast too. Let's see. Eggs and bacon." He remembered this morning's breakfast and Dudley's reaction to it. "Oh, yes, and yogurt for Dudley, and some grapefruit. We've got to make sure that he's got the things he needs for his diet."
"I thought you were mad at me." Dudley's voice was so quiet Harry almost didn't recognize it at first. He turned his head to see his cousin standing hesitantly in the doorway.
Harry found his voice. "I... I was just frightened. It's been a long day."
Dudley nodded jerkily and walked over to bend down and check on his mother. When Harry didn't say anything right away, Dudley straightened up and shrugged uncertainly. "He sent me away. Professor Snape, I mean, once I had the water turned on. He said he could get in the shower himself. And he asked me if there was anything to eat. Daddy's still snoring." He looked down at Petunia. "She broke the wall out of your room. I think that must be how she got hurt."
"She broke the wall?" Harry exclaimed. "How do you break a wall?"
"I don't know. It's just broken. Maybe she hit it with her head." Dudley looked around the kitchen. "Is there anything to eat?"
"Not much. Well, there's a tin of lima beans which is probably all right," Harry said. "But that's about it. Dobby's going to fetch some groceries. We're making a list." Harry pointed out the floating scroll and Dudley swallowed and nodded, paling as he always did in the presence of magic. Harry shouldn't have frightened him. "Do you want anything special?" It wasn't an apology, exactly, but it made the tension in Dudley's shoulders ease a little.
"Just chocolate cake," he said. "And I'm not allowed to have that."
"Dudley Dursley can't have chocolate?" Dobby asked.
"Dudley Dursley can't have cake," Dudley said with a scowl.
"Dobby can make chocolate yogurt," the house elf said, waggling a finger at the quill to make it write something. "And fruit salad, like Dudley Dursley had at breakfast."
"That was good," Dudley said, relaxing even more. "What about you, Harry? What do you want?"
"Things to stop happening," Harry said fervently.
"Yes, please!" Dudley agreed with equal fervor, and looked up to meet Harry's eyes for the first time since he'd come downstairs. He almost smiled. "What about Professor Snape? What kind of food do you think he'll want? He sounds hungry enough to eat a cow."
"I don't know," Harry shrugged. Snape usually ate the same food as everyone else, at least when he showed up for meals. But maybe being dormant meant he needed special vitamins or extra potions. "Dobby, why don't you go and ask him if there's anything he wants. We shouldn't waste the chance since you're going to make the trip to Diagon Alley anyway."
"Yes, Harry Potter, sir." Parchment and quill coiled themselves into tight balls and vanished and Dobby raised his fingers to snap himself upstairs. Dudley jumped as the elf disappeared as well.
A moment later they heard a high, inhuman shriek.
"What's that?" Dudley exclaimed, staring at the ceiling.
"I don't know!" Harry fished Snape's wand out of his pocket. The cry had been like nothing he'd ever heard before. But the next sounds he knew. Metal bending, tile clattering, porcelain shattering... "It sounds like a mountain troll destroying a bathroom!"