A/N: Thank you for all of your great comments. I'm extremely pleased with the initial response. Enjoy~

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"You're burning the bacon, boy!"

"Mummy, he always ruins my breakfast!"

"I do not! Why don't you cook it yourself?"

"Easy boy…you don't want another lashing now, do you?"

It was total chaos at number four, Privet Drive this morning. Normally, Vernon Dursley would have been at the office right now, but his son was feeling ill today, so he had stayed home to help his wife cater to their boy's every whim and desire. He had been hoping to be able to sit back and relax with his morning tea and newspaper, but as usual, the boy had to spoil everything. Vernon had already caught him trying to sneak a piece of bacon for himself; as a result, the boy was to go hungry until lunchtime.

Harry frantically poked at the greasy bacon, trying to keep it from catching fire, but his attempts were futile. The smoke detector began beeping loudly, and his glasses were soon engulfed in black smoke.

"Mummy!" Dudley squealed at the top of his lungs. "I can't hear the telly!"

"Vernon, do something!" Petunia shrieked as she rushed to open the back door for some fresh air.

Unsure of what to do, Vernon flung a nearby window open and tossed the smouldering pan out onto the grass, torching it slightly.

In the midst of this insanity, the doorbell chimed, though it was barely audible to the Dursleys over Dudley's crying, Petunia's wailing, and smoke detector ringing.

"Get out of here, boy!" Vernon roared at Harry. His face had turned purple as it always did when he was angry, and the veins were popping out on his forehead, giving him an odd, monstrous appearance. Harry immediately did as he was told, knowing there was a violent punishment waiting for him in the near future. He sprinted to the hallway and slammed his cupboard door behind him, hoping the visitors would distract his relatives long enough for them to forget why they were going to punish him.

Harry could hear Dudley still screaming in the kitchen, but the sounds from the outside world were muffled now, and he felt himself slowly relaxing. He was safe…for now.

Ruining his cousin's breakfast wasn't entirely Harry's fault. He was just too tired to pay attention to what he was doing today. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night; there had been too many strange dreams involving an unfamiliar red-haired woman and the green flash of light. There was another dream about three mysterious people whom he didn't recognize. One of them was an old man with a long white beard and an interesting pair of spectacles, another was a giant man covered in facial hair, and the third person was a tall woman with black hair, square glasses and a crooked hat. He didn't remember seeing their faces, and when he had woken up, he shrugged it off as just another weird dream. He'd never seen people who looked like that in his entire life, after all.

When most of the smoke had been cleared from the Dursleys' kitchen through the back door and the burnt bacon was thrown out, Petunia rushed to the door. Just before opening it, she hurriedly brushed the toast crumbs off of her vivid pink skirt and glanced at herself in the mirror, ensuring that she looked presentable for her visitors.

On her doorstep, a man and an older woman were waiting patiently. The woman had jet-black hair and a strained, though pleasant smile. The man, on the other hand, was staring at Petunia with a stony expression in which she wasn't sure how to interpret.

"Hello," the older woman greeted her warmly. "I am Madeline Miller, and this is my husband, Tobias. We just moved in next door and were hoping to meet some of our neighbours."

Petunia gawked in the direction the woman was pointing. These two were the new neighbours?! She looked back at them and scrutinized their appearances: they both seemed reasonably normal. So had she imagined the cloaks after all?

"I—I'm delighted to meet you," she stammered. "I'm Petunia Dursley."

The woman's smile remained unchanged, but for some unknown reason, the man smirked.

"I love your garden," Mrs. Miller continued conversationally as she kneeled down to examine their flowers. "Petunias, lilacs, morning glories, roses…"

"No lilies?" the man sneered, making Petunia highly uncomfortable for a few moments before she realized it was just a coincidence that he mentioned it. She had so many different flowers out here that a fairly knowledgeable botanist could easily notice which common type of flower was absent.

"Please, come in."

Petunia had been so startled by their unexpected visit that she automatically invited them inside. She loved showing off her impeccable home and family, and with the boy safely hidden away in his cupboard, she didn't have to worry about any funny business.

Luckily, the kitchen was perfectly clean and calm when the three walked in, allowing Petunia to relax slightly. Her boys were simply munching away at their morning cereal as they watched the news. It almost seemed as though nothing had happened at all.

She noticed the Millers shooting furtive glances at each other behind her back, but she ignored this.

"This is my husband, Vernon," Petunia gestured to the large, beefy man sitting closest to the TV. "Vernon? These are the Millers…our new neighbours."

"And that would be your son, I suspect?" Mrs. Miller inquired, nodding to Dudley.

Petunia's face lit up and she nodded. "Diddykins, can you say hello to our new neighbours like a good boy?"

Without looking up, Dudley grunted and continued shoving food into his mouth as though he hadn't been fed in weeks.

"What a…lovely boy," Mrs. Miller said weakly.

"Is he your only one?" Mr. Miller asked, feigning curiosity as his eyes bore into Petunia's.

"Oh yes, we only have one son," Petunia replied far too quickly. She immediately averted her gaze from Mr. Miller; the look he was giving her made chills run down her spine for reasons she couldn't explain. "Please have a seat."

She hurriedly pulled the fourth chair out for Mrs. Miller, and ran into the sitting room to find another for Mr. Miller.

xXxXxXxXx

While Petunia was gone, Severus and Minerva continued watching Dudley in disgust. The boy was a pig, just like his father, and aside from his overinflated cheeks, there was nothing special about him. So this was the family the Boy-Who-Lived had been staying with for the past decade? The son of two deceased Order of the Phoenix members, living here, in a plain Muggle neighbourhood with a family full of wretched simpletons?

Their initial jitteriness had become apprehension, as Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. Minerva wanted to approach the subject of their nephew slowly, since they weren't exactly supposed to reveal that they knew about Potter. Severus, who was finding it rather difficult not to say anything rude to Petunia, decided he would let Minerva handle it. He was still firmly against Dumbledore's plan for 'maximum normalcy' but he knew better than to do what the headmaster had specifically told him not to do. It would be best if he just held his tongue.

"So…what do you do for a living?" Vernon asked aggressively once Severus reluctantly took the seat next to him.

"I'm a scientist," Severus replied lazily. "I conduct dangerous chemical experiments for major corporations."

Vernon looked mightily impressed. "You're a businessman, then?"

"Sure."

"Excellent. I'm the director at Grunnings Drills myself," he bragged. He turned to Minerva. "And do you do anything, or do you stay home with your kids like Petunia here?"

"I'm a teacher," Minerva said truthfully. "But Tobias and I don't have children. I think they're wonderful but he—" she shot a glare at Severus, "—doesn't care for them."

Severus Snape 'not caring' for children had to be the understatement of the century. He hated them. Especially the little prick that was still inhaling food to his left. If Potter was anything like the Dursley's son, then Severus was certain he would hate him as well. He could only imagine what he was like: a disrespectful and spoiled little git who would always be demanding more, more, more. James had been the same way. Like father, like son.

Although Severus immensely enjoyed berating James' son, a new concern arose: where was Potter?

Severus remembered walking past a table on their way inside, where dozens of pictures of Dudley and his parents had been enshrined in spotless glass frames. Not one picture contained a boy that resembled James or Lily. There were no signs that Potter lived here at all. Perhaps the Dursleys had carted him off to an orphanage?

"May I use the loo?" Severus asked suddenly. It was time to investigate. Vernon had been blabbering on about his stupid drill company while the ladies continued talking about children, and Severus had had enough. He was not a socially-conscious individual, and the only reason he was wasting nearly two months of his life here at Privet Drive was for Potter.

"It's the first door on the left upstairs," Vernon said, disappointed to see that Severus couldn't have cared less about Grunnings.

Once Severus was away from the dining room, he began heading down the hallway, searching for any miniscule sign that a fourth person lived here. There were no clothes in the utility room that would fit a boy smaller than Dudley (unless of course, Potter was the other boy's size, which Severus rather doubted), and all of the toys that were strewn about were labelled 'Dudley.' Even the TV was labelled 'Dudley.'

He cast a nonverbal Muffliato charm in the direction of the kitchen, then began opening the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find one shred of evidence that Potter was still here. He knew it was considered impolite to rummage around people's homes, but since it was Tuney's home— the girl who had always secretly listened in on his and Lily's private conversations about magic and Hogwarts when they were kids— he felt no remorse for returning the favour. Furthermore, he had already gone through her belongings once in his life and found grand treasures, such as her letter to Dumbledore, pleading him to allow her into Hogwarts. Perhaps he would get lucky again…

Realizing there was nothing of interest in the sitting room; Severus made his way over to the stairs. Just before his foot touched down on the first step, he spotted a small door on the side of the stairway. He heard a faint rumbling sound emitting from it, and while he was fairly certain the boy was hiding somewhere upstairs, he felt a strong, inexplicable urge to at least check the door before going up. There was a very good chance that it only stored Petunia's cleaning supplies, but when Severus reached up to the tiny brass knob and saw that it was locked, he was intrigued.

He pulled out his wand again and pointed it at the lock, nonverbally casting Alohamora as he did so.

The door quietly cracked open on its own, revealing a sleeping boy in the cramped room. Severus knew better than to push his luck and open it wider for a clearer glimpse at the boy; instead he continued staring at the boy from where he knelt.

Although most of his body was hidden by shadows, Severus could immediately see that Potter was a splitting image of James. Fantastic.

It looked like he had inherited James' poor eyesight and messy black hair, and there was the lightning-bolt scar Dumbledore had told him about, zigzagging down the middle of his forehead.

Severus' fingers twitched anxiously in his pocket. He wanted to see the scar in its entirety, not as a little mark obscured by the boy's raven-coloured locks. He wanted to know he wasn't just imagining the minor disfigurement, the mark the Dark Lord have given him just seconds after killing his lovely and hopelessly courageous mother…

But Severus held back. He did not wish to wake the boy, and honestly, one little scratch was nothing compared to the dozens of scars Severus himself had acquired after years of excruciating assaults from James and his friends. Potter may have survived the Killing Curse, but that did not make him special. Not to Severus, anyway.

Overall, he was highly disappointed with Potter's appearance. From what he could see, Potter hadn't taken after his mother at all. His anger toward Dumbledore reignited; he had probably been lying about the boy's eyes all along. He was a perfect copy of his father, as though hell itself had spat him out for a new generation of torment for Severus. When his eyes opened, would he see the same taunting hazel eyes he had seen not too long ago?

Shuddering slightly, Severus carefully closed the door. In a sudden fit of rage, he wondered why the boy had to survive if Lily couldn't. If she had to die, then why couldn't the baby die along with her? Severus would have been free of this miserable existence, doing something he actually wanted to do, not teaching a bunch of dunderheads how to brew amateurish potions year after year. If Harry Potter had died, he could have abandoned Dumbledore and his pathetic post at Hogwarts, since there would have been no boy to protect. But would he have been truly free?

There was always Azkaban, Severus reminded himself. If it weren't for Dumbledore's crafty scheming, he would have undoubtedly been sent there to spend the remainder of his days with the dementors. And Black. Sirius Black, who, to Severus, was just as bad as James Potter. He was currently residing in Azkaban for life along with the rest of the Death Eaters who hadn't gotten lucky as Severus had.

Perhaps Potter's survival and Severus' subsequent enslavement weren't so bad, after all.

xXxXxXxXx

Severus was accustomed to hearing many peculiar noises as he slept at night— for instance: scurrying rats, whistling wind gusts, and the sizzle of potions brewing outside of his private quarters at Hogwarts— but the crying of a small boy was definitely a new one.

It was coming from next door, at number four, Privet Drive. It was only ten o'clock, so it was probably too early for the Dursley boy or Potter to be having a bad nightmare. There were many possible explanations for this, but Severus had an inkling of what it might be, as he, too, had experienced it several times as a child. Someone was getting a lashing.

Judging by the way Petunia and Vernon treated their precious 'Diddilydums,' Severus was forced to conclude that the occasional whimpers were coming from Potter. He almost felt sorry for him, seeing as it was his fault for inquiring about the sleeping boy in the cupboard. The Dursleys were horrified to hear that he found out about Potter and began making all sorts of excuses for him, from mental derangement to severe antisocial disorders.

Vernon had been going to beat the boy, or 'teach him not to make such a racket,' until Minerva pleaded for him to leave the boy alone. He had reluctantly agreed, but Severus knew the beatings would come later anyway.

He silently contemplated which man was worse: one who beat children with alcohol as the driving force, or one who did it entirely on his own accord…

Although Minerva had wanted to stay behind to ensure Potter's safety, they had to leave the Dursley home once the Polyjuice Potion began to show signs of wearing off. Since Minerva hadn't been able to meet Potter, she promptly invited the entire family over for a dinner party on Friday. Petunia instinctively tried making an excuse for the boy, but Minerva sternly reminded her that she was experienced in dealing with 'problematic juveniles' and she made it quite clear that there was to be no arguing with 'Maddie Miller.'

"You…ungrateful…little…son of a bitch!" Severus heard Vernon bellowing as the belt continued to fall on what sounded like Potter's bare skin. The boy actually yelled out after a particularly harsh strike. Severus winced. He wondered if the Dursleys knew that their neighbours could hear them. If they did, they certainly didn't care.

A tiny part of him almost felt sympathy for Potter, knowing what it was like to be the little boy pitted against a leather belt and an abusive adult. On the other hand, his authority figure, teacher-side reminded him that without discipline, children become unruly and uncontrollable monsters. Take James Potter, for example. The boy had been raised a selfish, arrogant prat, and Minerva and Dumbledore's failure to control him over the years resulted in nothing but pain and suffering for Severus. At least Black had gotten what he deserved in the end.

With the happy thought that Potter had definitely done something to deserve his uncle's abuse, Severus quietly returned to the land of slumber, indifferently ignorant of just how similar he and Harry Potter actually were.

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