Yet Another Snape Meets the Dursleys Story: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still belongs to JKRowling. Still.
Chapter 26 : The Wand
Summary: Harry uses magic again.
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Petunia Dursley was furious. She could see. She could hear. She could think. But she couldn't move – not so much as an eyelid – although somehow her eyes didn't dry out. She didn't hurt – or at least she was unable to feel the hurt, but she was lying half in and half out of the refrigerator at an angle she knew would hurt tomorrow and which was forcing her to witness the unlovely sight of her precious son reduced to clinging to Harry Potter and begging him for help. She couldn't blame Dudley, all those horrid noises from upstairs had been frightening, and it had been dreadful when the kitchen taps writhed like tormented snakes and vanished away down through the holes at the back edge of the sink. It was Harry's fault for interposing himself between Dudley and the doorway, getting in the way. He should have told him to run. She could hear Vernon shouting from upstairs, and her heart flipped. Run, Vernon, she thought at her husband. Don't let the magic get you.
Crack!
The awful little gremlin reappeared near her ear with a bang like a gunshot and made a beeline for the boys' knees, wedging itself between Dudley and her freak nephew. "Harry Potter is in terrible danger! Professor Snape is being a bad wizard! Dobby has seen...mmrflemrfle..." Harry's hand choked off the sentence as the boy picked the thing up and wrapped it in his arms like a hysterical terrier.
"It's all right, Dobby!" Potter shouted. "It's all right! I've got his wand, see? He can't hurt me without his wand." But Harry was as pale as the thing, and almost as shrill.
The gremlin twisted in his arms to free its head and wailed louder, "Dobby has seen the D..."
Harry muffled the creature again, much to Petunia's frustration. Dear God, what is that freak doing to Vernon?
"We don't talk about that in front of Muggles," Harry said firmly.
He's going to kill him. Just like Lily and James. They kill each other all the time and now he'll kill us. Vernon -- ! Petunia struggled desperately, black spots dancing before her eyes and her heart pounding her eardrums with the strain and yet the Herculean effort gained her nothing. She was still frozen, helpless.
Harry had caught the gremlin fast by both broomstick wrists and was shouting at it, " -- to Professor McGonagall, and no one else, do you understand? Not another house elf, not another wizard nor witch, not a ghost, not anyone. The only other person you could possibly tell is Professor Dumbledore and I'm not sure where he is and I'm quite sure he's not to be disturbed. You go to McGonagall and you wait until she's alone. Do you promise, Dobby?"
"Dobby promises." The thing's green eyes were bulging grotesquely. "Is Harry Potter sure he will be safe?"
"Snape's not properly awake yet," Harry said. "He won't be able to get loose on his own. And McGonagall will know what to do. Now go."
The thing snapped its fingers, fading out of Harry's grasp like a movie effect. The boy took a deep breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Snape won't be able to get loose... we could kill him. We'll have to. Even that unnatural thing knows he's evil.
"What was he talking about, Harry?" Dudley asked nervously, glancing at the ceiling. "What did he mean by saying that Professor Snape is bad?"
"It's complicated," Harry said. He appeared to make up his mind about something. "Snape's -- he isn't -- he's not well. He is like a bear, you were right, he's going to be furious. You take Aunt Petunia and hide in the garden shed."
"What about Daddy?"
"From the way he's shouting, I think he's still locked in the guest room. He'll be safe enough in there." Harry measured the weight of the wand in his hand like a loaded pistol and then straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin defiantly. "I'd best hurry. The longer Snape's trapped, the angrier he'll be."
"But what if... what if something goes wrong, Harry?" Dudley asked as he came over to pick up his mother.
Run, Duddykins! Save yourself!
But her good boy wouldn't leave her, and Dudley managed to lift her awkwardly although she couldn't see now what Potter was doing. "Harry," Dudley said heavily, "what if? I mean, how will I know it's all right?"
"I'll come get you."
"How...how will I know if it's not?"
"Watch through the greenhouse roof. If you see any green flashes, run." She heard Harry hesitate in the doorway. "And Dudley... don't look back."
****
Snape was cold.
He was wet.
And that was the good news.
He shifted his head the tiny fraction of an inch that he was able, trying to see if he could free his tongue enough to speak. He hadn't the energy for wandless magic, but he had the anger and desperation and if he could only form the words of an incantation he would free himself and be damned to the cost. But the house elf had known its business all too well – the crisscrossing pipes had woven nets around his head and hands first, one snaking itself into a gag the moment he opened his mouth to try to bespell them away. He'd Lucius Malfoy to thank for teaching Dobby that trick. It was all very fine and well humiliating prisoners and tormenting the house elf by forcing the latter to act as jailer to the former, but it grew awkward if you were careless enough to lose control of the elf. Snape vowed that he'd have a chance to see Lucius benefit from Dobby's education someday.
The taste of tarnished copper pipe grating against his teeth taunted him. Copper was a fairly soft metal, as metals went, but it was still slightly too hard to chew through – he might dent it, but he'd never get through it without help, not even as hungry as he felt right now. I'd settle for making a hole. He could feel the vibration of the water passing through the pipe. There was still water falling on his head and back from the shower, but the angle was wrong for much of it to trickle down into his mouth. It was cold water, as cold and refreshing as the sea, if only he could drink of it. Of course if I do manage to chew a hole, it will doubtless enlarge itself, drowning me most efficiently. He stopped worrying the pipe.
Fortunately, neither he nor the Dursley boy had turned on the hot water. None of the pipes that had warped and tangled their way around his body were more than warm, and most of them were pleasantly cold. And he'd managed to rinse his eyes and face clear of the grating Muggle chemicals before Dobby had beset him.
He must have been sent. It wasn't a matter of interrupting someone in the shower -- house elves had been created to be body servants and were no more disturbed by human nudity than feline nudity – but no house elf of Snape's experience would risk disturbing a wizard without a reason. And I know who sent him.
Potter.
Water, anger, fright, pain, he wasn't sure which had jarred the sequence of the yesterday's events into proper order for him, but Snape knew where he was now. Trapped. He was fairly certain that it had been Petunia who had tried to kill him when he'd first wakened. I should have trapped her. He knew that it had been Draco Malfoy and his bookends who had raided the Dursleys' home, blundering in as usual. Idiot boys. But they don't bear the Dark Mark, not yet.
How had Potter failed to realize how badly Dobby would react to the sight of the Mark? He should have known better. How typical of him to be careless of secrets which are not his own! That boy is going to get us all killed.
"Professor?" Potter's voice came uncertainly over the indignant roars of his imprisoned uncle and the gurgling of the water in the pipes. "Professor Snape, can you hear me?" He must be just outside the door. Snape made an impatient noise in his throat, as loudly as he could, wishing for leverage enough to clatter the pipes against the wall. "Is that a yes?"
Snape made the impatient noise again, so loudly it made his sinuses ache.
"Oh, good." Potter sounded rattled. "Uhm... I'll...ah... erm... I'll just... roll your wand in through the door, then, shall I?"
For Merlin's sake... Snape made no sound, counting to twenty in Greek in his head. When he reached sixteen he realized he was grinding his teeth on the pipe caught between them, but surely that was too soft a sound for the wretched child to mistake for assent.
From beyond the door Potter coughed, artificially and awkwardly. "Or not, then."
Silence from the boy. His uncle was still bellowing mindlessly.
Snape waited for the next crack-brained suggestion. It came. "Uhm.. Oh, I know" Potter sounded suddenly cheerful, and Snape's heart skipped a beat as a hand bearing his wand appeared around the edge of the door. "Finite Incantatum!"
Fat heavy globs shot out from the wand and splashed against everything in sight, black threaded through with red sparks like piebald lavabombs. Snape distinctly saw several of them vanish through walls and floor. One hit the mirror and bounced back toward Snape, and he felt the hot/sweet tingle of magic against his skin. The sudden return of the pipes to their normal positions, whipped him around to face the showerhead, leaving more bruises in their wake. He stumbled on something soft and looked down. The nightshirt he'd doffed and dropped to his feet to rinse had transfigured back into his dayrobes. He caught a whiff of chemical tang and crouched quickly to extract the phial of acid from its pocket and pour it down the drain. It had been sealed with a spell for safety, but Potter had undone that. Unthinking brat, how many other spells have you undone with your carelessness?
Elephantine footfalls along the hall announced the release of Vernon Dursley. Snape stood too quickly and had to grab at the replaced taps for balance, wasting precious seconds in outlasting lightheadedness before he could stumble out of the tub. By that time it was too late. Dursley's shout of outraged triumph was cut off by Potter's panicked shout and the hiss and pop of more magic. Snape snatched the terrycloth bathrobe that was hanging on the back of the door, flung his left arm and the rest of himself into it, bundled himself into its generous folds and knotted the belt fast and stormed into the outer room to confront Potter who was standing frozen, the wand still held high as he stared whitefaced at a large fat toad. Bright satisfaction mingled with alarm as he moved up behind the boy.. Have you no self-control, boy? Flinging curses every witch-a-ways.... Snape plucked his wand from the child's nerveless hand.
Potter flinched -- he hid the motion well, stopped it almost in time, but Snape was a connoisseur of fear and he recognized it plainly. The boy's green eyes flashed with atypical fright – only a for a moment – and then they shuttered, going uncommunicative, and then Potter's face settled into the aggravating stubborn sullenness that he wore to class. "Oh, it's you," he said flatly, and looked away again, towards his accursed uncle.
"That was," Snape informed him, "a particularly Lockhartesque display of poor planning and worse results."
"Your wand doesn't like me." But the accusation had stung Potter free of the shell he'd been crawling into.
"It dislikes being carelessly used."
"I wasn't careless -- "
"No? You've set the house afire, hurled chemicals and curses about indiscriminately, sent a house elf up to disturb me without considering what it might see or do." Snape had more to his list, but Potter flushed angrily and interrupted.
"Dobby was going to go to Diagon Alley, and I thought you might want something," he snapped. "Or aren't you hungry after all?"
Hungry? Ravenous! "Diagon Alley..." Snape could get a batwing casserole from Madame Mim's, and ingredients to brew--
"Yes. To the grocers. That was our dinner that was burning up, and it wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for Malfoy interrupting me. And as for the chemicals, if I'd had my wand..." Potter's furious tirade was interrupted by the bedroom door slamming open.
Snape cast the spell instinctively, and the heavy butcher knife dropped to the floor, embedding itself point first next to the small frightened shrew that had been Petunia Dursley. That'll fetch the Aurors. There must be alarm bells going off at the Ministry. Memory charms, and paralysis spells were one thing, Transfiguring Muggles something else indeed. Of course, this is her third... or is it fourth... attempt to kill me. Perhaps I can plead self-defense.
"But... she was paralyzed," Potter stammered, rising from a protective crouch. "How did she...?"
Snape swallowed his grin, glared at the boy. "If you cast spells without looking¸ of course they're going to go astray," Snape said sarcastically. "Particularly if they strike mirrors. You're hasty and impulsive."
"Me! You're the one who just turned Aunt Petunia into a shrew!"
"As nearly as I can tell she's always been a shrew," Snape growled. "And my spell has had only the intended consequences. As for yours...I hope you've nothing of importance bespelled in this house." Wait. Spells. On the house. The protections...!
Potter's eyes widened with alarm. "The snowglobe!" Ignoring Snape he turned and limped hastily to the windowsill to collect his mother's bequest.
Snape stared after him, torn between wanting to condemn the child for focussing on trivialities and unreasonable panic that the globe had been unmagicked. Movement from the floor recalled him to himself. The toad was trying to get away. Snape collected it and the shrew and put them into the mouse cage, transferring the remaining mice to one of the bathrobe's deep pockets, before turning to look at the boy who was still sitting on the bed by the window, studying the depths of the crystal. "Well."
"It's all right," Harry said, softly. "It changed, but not... not in a bad way."
Snape strode over and put out a peremptory hand. Harry put the snowglobe into it reluctantly, accepting the mouse cage in exchange. Snape studied the globe. The castle stood, the owls swirled, but now small figures in black scurried across the grounds, and in one of the tiny windows of Gryffindor tower he could see a red-haired girl leaning out to wave. "I see." And if this smaller enchantment has held proof against your son's heedlessness, surely the protections on the house are secure. The Aurors will have to wait outside. In his relief he became aware again of his own discomforts. His face itched. It must still have dust on it. He gave the globe back to Potter. "I'm going to finish cleaning up," he said, curtly. If Dumbledore's machinations were still in place at the Ministry there should be twenty or thirty minutes delay until the Aurors came, if they came at all, and there was no point in going to Azkaban still contaminated by Muggle dust. Or hungry. "Tell Dobby to make up some sandwiches."
"I sent him back to Hogwarts," Potter said absently, looking back at the snowglobe. "He was too frightened not to talk in front of Muggles."
"So you sent him off to dither in front of wizards instead!" Snape squelched the treacherous part of his mind that cheered at the thought of the end to his dangerous double game. I did not spend the last month toadying to Lord Voldemort and playing his murderous games so that you could render that effort moot!
"I didn't! I told him not to talk to anyone but McGonagall!" the boy shouted right back. "How stupid do you think I am!?"
"I think you've finally surpassed your father!" Snape hauled Potter to his feet and sent him stumbling towards the bedroom door. "Now go down and see to the food!"
****
Dudley waited at the base of the stairs, clutching the newel post as if it might offer some protection. He'd only just got his mother settled on some soft-looking bags in the garden shed when a weird black shape had come through the wall, splattering itself against the windowpanes and splashing over him and his mother. He'd felt sick and confused when the magic hit him, at least at first, but it had set Mum free. He'd never seen her so angry. Dudley was almost happy that he'd been too dizzy to go with her when she'd grabbed the biggest knife and headed upstairs. The lightheadedness hadn't lasted long – and when Dudley had taken inventory he found nothing else wrong -- but as his head had cleared a guilty feeling had compelled him to come this far and listen.
It was only Harry and Snape yelling at each other now, although Dudley had heard something bang hard earlier. He wanted to call the police, but he just knew that they wouldn't believe him – and if they did believe him, it would end up in the newspapers and the family would be disgraced for all time. Especially if Mum had managed to hurt Snape with that knife.
Someone was coming. Dudley bit his lip in nervousness, but it was only Harry after all. His cousin came down the stairs like he wanted to stomp, but his feet hurt too much to do it. He was carrying the snowglobe in one hand and the mouse cage in the other. Dudley saw something green moving inside the wires. Snape? But the water was still running upstairs. And where were his parents?
"Do you know where Mum is?" he asked his cousin.
Harry scowled all the harder, holding up the mouse cage he held in one hand. "She's in here. So's Uncle Vernon."
Dudley stumbled back, feeling his heart pick up speed. He knew it would be bad, with all that shouting, but he'd never expected Snape to really change his parents into frogs. "Let them out! Turn them back!" he cried.
"I can't. Snape's got the wand." Harry said sourly. He got to the bottom of the stairs and turned toward the kitchen, disdaining Dudley's half-attempt to take hold of the cage.
"But... but..." Dudley trailed after him, trying to get a good look. He could see one brown-green lump in the bedding, and a bit of brown fur on the far side. "Why? What for? What does he want?"
"Food," Harry pushed through the kitchen door.
"He's going to eat them?" Dudley hated the way his voice wobbled nervously.
Harry snorted impatiently. "He's hungry, but I don't think he's that hungry." He set the cage and the snowglobe on the countertop and opened up the cupboard. "Ah, there it is." He pulled out a can of vegetables. "Put these lima beans in a pot to heat up, Dudley, while I see what else I can find."
Dudley looked at the label. "These aren't lima beans, they're fava beans," He squeaked. Hastily, he opened the window and threw the can out into the rain-swept garden.
"What did you do that for?" Harry demanded.
"I'm not giving him any ideas!" Dudley said.
"Then you make dinner!" Harry exploded, angrily, snatching up the snowglobe protectively. His mouth was set in a hard, mean line. "And if Snape's hungry enough for frog legs it'll be your fault."
"But...I don't know how to cook," Dudley told Harry's back as he stalked into the living room and flung himself onto the couch.
"Learn!"