Chapter Six
The breath wheezed from Harry's lungs as the world rematerialized. He looked around, no recognition forthcoming as to his surroundings. An alley was all he could figure; they were in a dark, damp alley between two muggle shops.
"We're in London?" he asked, forcing a polite voice through his nausea while he made an educated guess.
His master, who'd been watching him with an indecipherable expression while Harry recovered, nodded shortly before taking off towards the busy street at the end of the way. The crowds were in full swing for the middle of a summer day and yet, the dark master easily shifted through the passersby, neither stumbling nor hitting anyone. Harry trotted less successfully in his wake.
Maybe now that Voldemort's gone, he's going to try to lose me in Muggle London, came the cynical thought as yet another rushing businessman brushed his tender arm.
"Where in London are we?" He asked; his queasiness and the phantom pain in his forearm made the question come out petulantly. Snape's brow rose as he glanced down at the shorter wizard.
"I've been quite lenient today, Mr. Potter, considering your circumstances and the no doubt added stress, but must I really address with you once more the issue of respectful titles?" Severus sighed, "Does it particularly matter our precise location? You need clothes. We are going to get you clothes, end of story. Leave the whereabouts to me." Severus' long strides carried him through the tight spaces. Harry jogged to keep up with him. "Besides," he added, a sly smirk twisting his features into amusement, "You'll follow me regardless."
Severus cut into a store set well away from the main road. Harry stopped short, his hand itching towards his wand. Just when he'd imagined they might get on at least civilly, the greasy bat reemerged. He bit the side of his tongue and followed, determined to at least hold up his end of the truce whether or not Snape did. As they entered, Harry could not help his lip curling in distaste over the exorbitant amount of lady's shoes. A particular pair of pointy heeled death traps caught his eye. "Why on Earth would a woman submit herself to such torture?" Snape, unsurprisingly, ignored him and carried on towards the back of the deep store.
Harry huffed as they passed various under things and night clothes. One mannequin, dressed head to toe in clothes that would put Malfoy's preppy-ness to shame, made him shiver in revulsion and fear. He hoped Snape didn't expect him to dress like that because there was no way and hell he was making himself look like some pureblooded, snot nosed menace. "My clothes aren't that bad," Harry argued, although even he recognized his tone lacked conviction.
"And by what standards have you drawn that glorious judgment?" Severus asked incredulously as he headed toward the stairs. He quickly, without appearing to be in any hurry, ascended the stairs, forcing Harry to run to keep up with him. At the top, Severus surreptitiously rated the boy's breathing before continuing to the back of the store's fourth floor.
"Why do you insist on running everywhere?" Harry demanded as he conquered the final landing. The brisk jog to the store tacked on to the jaunt up the stairs had left his heart beating heavily and his breath nearly un-maskable. It wasn't so much that the climb had worn him out, but the compounded stress, the test back at Prince Manor, and the exercise were taking their tole. He noted his abused arm seemed to be sweating.
"Can't keep up with an old man, Potter?" A smirk overtook the dark man's face. "I took the liberty of sending your approximate measurements to my tailor," Severus explained. "He has selected and altered a few Muggle items for you. We will make sure they fit reasonably well; Professor McGonagall or Madame Pince can do any further alterations on most of the clothing." Severus' eyes darted to Harry's arm as he turned to lead Harry the rest of the way.
"What happened in that chamber," Harry broached, his hand reflexively covering his arm, "Is that normal for wandless magic?"
Severus took another curve in the bland hallway, "It depends on the type of innate magic belonging to the caster with contingencies upon the actual spell being used. Most wizards cannot accomplish more than the basic spell here or there, and fewer still can do so regularly." He stopped short and placed a hand upon an unobtrusive door's knob, "Succinctly, Mr. Potter, when it comes to any wandless sort, nothing, anything, and everything is considered normal."
Harry didn't have time to ask another question before they were entering a side room near the end of the shopping floor. As soon as Severus stepped through, he was attacked.
"Ah, Mr Snape," a sprightly, old man greeted, shaking Severus' hand heartily. "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon. When you called, I was practically beside myself with glee." He turned to Harry, "And this must the fine young scholar selected to be your intern. Harry Potter, yes?" The muggle held his gnarled hand out to Harry who shook it readily as he tried to place the other man's accent.
"Yes, sir," he smiled. Severus placed a friendly hand on Harry's shoulder that sent shivers down his spine.
"Harry will be interning with me, learning my grandfather's trade, for the next few years. Unfortunately, during his flight, his luggage was either stolen or misplaced. That is why I called you for a new wardrobe."
"Can't trust anyone these days," the man tutted, eyeing up Harry as if confirming the measurements Snape had given him. "Even the bloody airlines have forgotten the value of customer service. Next thing you know, we'll be no better off than those Yanks across the pond."
"He's from Chicago, Mr. Potter." Harry looked up at Snape, brows furrowed. Suddenly, the hand attached to his shoulder propelled him forward and into the waiting arms of the tailor and his measuring tape.
Severus smirked at the boy's horrified reaction to the sheer volume of clothing to try on and sat back to wait, unaware of the eyes watching him through the back windows from the building across the avenue.
-~PULSE~-
"Who's the boy with him? His son?" Tobias asked, a wistful smile forming upon his face.
Lucius sneered, "That boy is Harry Potter. It is because of him that Severus was driven even further from you."
Tobias frowned, "How so?"
"Back in school, Severus had a thing for a muggle born, Lily Evans," Tobias nodded, remembering the girl Severus befriended. "The boy," Lucius continued, "is her brat and the figurehead of the group against our Lord."
"You mean your Lord," Tobias corrected, still staring out the window through the looking lens Lucius had provided him.
Lucius waved him off, "Either way, when I approached Severus with a possible way to awaken you, he dismissed me in favor of looking after Potter. He said he had no time for old men in hospitals." The blond moved away from the window, grimacing at the distinct lack of anything to look at in the room, filled as it was by extreme…muggle-ness.
Tobias watched the man his son had grown into with clear eyes. "I should still like to speak with him."
Lucius sighed, turning back to the older man with a face painted with commiseration, "You are a wanted man in the eyes of the ministry. Severus would turn you in; he could never forgive you for murdering those two wizards."
Tobias' head snapped to Lucius, the window iced over and cracked, "I am not responsible for those two men!"
Lucius shushed him and looked around for witnesses both along the street below and through the little window in the door. He placed his palms flat on his chest, "I know that, but the Ministry believes otherwise, and they've all but brainwashed your son." He placed a calming palm on Tobias' shoulder, "For your own safety, you must trust me."
Tobias looked through the frosty glass in regretful acceptance and nodded. "If we do this, brainwashed or not, no harm must come to Severus."
Lucius nodded immediately, "Once we bring back the Dark Lord and have tipped over the ministry, we will work on bringing your son back to you."
Tobias nodded to himself and turned to face Lucius, "You want to pulse? Well, preppy, let's get started." The older man flashed an insincere, bitter grin and clapped the blond wizard on the shoulder, preparing himself for a bumpy ride.
Lucius smiled, putting the Cheshire cat to shame. "Excellent."
-~PULSE~-
Harry emerged from the dressing room in a smart pair of black slacks and a pale grey button down. The salesman descended upon him and tugged at different areas of the fabric.
"Severus," he announced, "Your approximations were spot on." He turned to Harry, "You, my boy, have excellent proportions.
"I think my selections will suit all of your needs quite finely."
Severus stood and approached the old man, "I thank you for your time." He looked over Harry, "Did you have a jacket for this outfit?"
The tailor smiled, showing off his aged teeth, "Of course, I have the box here." He retrieved one of a small stack of boxes and handed it to Harry.
"You will have the rest of the boxes sent to my address?"
"Of course." Snape and the tailor grasped hands. "Will you join me in my office before you take your leave, I wish to verify the location." Severus nodded and followed the other man.
"Wait here, Potter," he commanded. Harry nodded, far more concerned with the nice jacket and whether or not he looked like a rich ponce in the new clothes.
-~PULSE~-
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice," Severus spoke first once the door was firmly shut.
The tailor's smile dropped, and he retrieved a pack of cloves from his pocket and lit one, seemingly fascinated for a moment by the swirly smoke that emanated from the brown wrap. "Anything for an old friend of the family," he grasped his own left shoulder with his right hand. Severus nodded once in return, watching with wary eyes as the man took a sip of his steaming coffee.
"Have you heard my father's gone missing?" Severus inquired, his voice masked of all emotion.
The old man sighed, "I had. The entire mess is quite unfortunate and dangerous all the more to happen so close to our time of the year." He took a long drag. Severus batted the smoke away from his face. "As of yet, we have no leads to the culprits. What about you wizard boys, are there any clues we might have missed."
"Without knowing exactly what you know, it would be hard to say what you missed. The aurors did, however, release to Dumbledore a magic scan of the area." Severus pulsed, his lips pursed in consternation. "Someone had been pulsing."
The old man's face morphed in distress. He nodded in resignation to the growing situation, "Then there is little else that could have happened. "Your father has awakened and in doing so has broken our most sacred law. The lives of those three wizards cannot be let go without payment, Severus." His age worn hand came upon Severus' shoulder heavily, "If he contacts you, do not hesitate in handing him over to us."
Severus started, shaking the hand from his shoulder, "It cannot have been his fault. He would never have murdered those men unless they attacked him first. He knows your laws are important for all who pulse." His lip curled as his anger grew, "Those men were Death Eaters, probably lackeys of the Malfoys. They could have kidnapped him for all you know, and you want to treat the man as an escaped criminal?"
The muggle's visage turned harsh, the small wisps of smoke from the cigarette disappeared and the coffee on his desk froze, "You will leave that deduction for us to decide, Mr. Snape. If he contacts you, it is imperative you bring him to us." His voice turned deadly quiet, "Do not disappoint me."
Severus' fingertips itched and burned, he snarled to himself. "Thank you for the clothes," he acknowledged through gritted teeth and turned from the man to collect his apprentice.
-~PULSE~-
"So where to now?" Harry asked tiredly, ready for their bizarre outing to be concluded. He noticed his master's mood was dramatically darker upon leaving the tailor's audience. He wondered what could have happened behind those doors to upset the man so.
Severus looked over to the teen speculatively, still debating how to approach the subject of the headmaster's demand without the boy running and screaming his teacher wanted to teach him dark magic. His tailor would no doubt find fault with him not requesting permission to teach the boy their dark art, but he'd never heeded their authority before, why should he change? "We have a few more stops, two are in Diagon Alley. Would you prefer to eat now or later?"
Harry's eyes showed his surprise at the considerate inquiry. He absentmindedly scratched his stomach, regretting his decision to skip breakfast but not wanting to admit it. "I don't guess it really matters. Will the next two stops take long?" Severus shook his head no. "Then maybe we could eat afterwards?"
-~PULSE~-
Harry was quickly beginning to realize, side-along apparition would never be comfortable with Snape. Once again, his bodily reactions forced him to double over and take a moment lest he spill the fictional breakfast he'd had that morning.
"Really, Potter?" Snape sneered. "Dementors and torture chambers do nothing to you, but a little side-along's twisted your cookies?"
"It's not as if," he gasped, "it's the most pleasant thing to get used to." He rubbed away the small bead of sweat that had collected on his wrist.
Snape tilted his head in concession and walked into the Leaky Cauldron.
"Sir," Harry called the man's attention, "What's up with my arm? Will it keep sweating like this?"
Snape waved a quick, wordless evanesco and scourgify, "It should stop in a few hours.
"Our first destination will be Madame Malkin's; hopefully with our stops today, we can exterminate you of your general ragamuffin appearance."
"We can only hope," Harry muttered under his breath.
Harry ignored the stares most of the patrons gave the odd pair. Harry thought back, it was unlikely there'd been any sort of press release as to their "punishment;" he simply doubted there'd been time.
Severus tapped the entrance's bricks and motioned for Harry to keep up as he, without further delay, entered the alley. Harry let the back exit from the Leaky Cauldron swing closed and hurried after the potions master.
Madame Malkin's was only a short jaunt from the entrance, a prime position in Diagon Alley which allowed the little robe store to flourish into the main provider of quality robes at prices acceptable to most of the wizarding population. So, when Snape told Harry they were shopping for robes, he was not surprised that that was where they were headed to get them.
Harry entered behind his Master and followed the taller man to the counter near the rear of the store.
"Professor," the stubby seamstress looked surprised but greeted him all the same; greeted him, that is, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes and a tightening of her wand hand, "What can I do for you today?"
"School robes," Severus answered shortly. He'd never really cared for the witch; every year when he was a student, she'd always commented on the negative aspects of his appearance. She wasn't overtly mean about it, but instead, spoke to him in such a way as if she was doing him an extreme service by calling attention to his various shortcomings. Once, just before his sixth year, he'd gone off on the lady, shouting for the whole store to hear that he was definitely aware he was far too skinny, should get more sun, and should, at the very least change shampoos (since his current one obviously wasn't working). The Madame scolded him for his impolite attitude, pulled him down by him by the scruff of the neck, and tossed him from her shop, ordering him not to come back until he'd learned some matters.
Only a few words from his grandfather had gotten him his robes for the upcoming year and the privilege of gracing her store once more. Once he graduated, he avoided her shop altogether.
Until now that was. Now, his apprentice, he could hardly think the word without a sneer, needed robes, and he was thus required to furnish the boy with them.
Quite obviously, the universe was out to get him by creating new and unusual ways of torment now that the Dark Lord was gone and could not dole out his portion of crucios.
"Aren't you a bit old for them, Professor?" she asked obtusely.
"They're for Potter, here," he nodded his head to Harry.
Madame Malkin looked past the Hogwarts Professor for the first time since he'd entered the shop. Her face alit upon seeing Harry.
"Mr. Potter, how wonderful it is to see you again. What can I do for you today?" Harry was awed by the difference between when she asked him from when she asked Professor Snape. He went to answer but was cut off.
"Are you daft woman?" Severus asked smoothly, perturbed, though not surprised, that he was being ignored in favor of Harry. "I just mentioned he needed school robes. Perhaps you've forgotten during the past few seconds?"
She glared at the potions master but didn't respond. "So, school robes, Mr. Potter?" She confirmed cheerily, "Seems all you young boys grow like weeds at this age. Would you like me to put in a charm to allow the material to extend a few centimeters?"
"That will not be necessary, Madame," Severus responded for Harry once more, earning a scowl from the teenager. "He will be getting the Class A line. It is my understanding the charms do not stick or combine well to that particular set of material and features."
Her lips pinched, "Quite right." She turned to Harry, "Is that acceptable to you, Mr. Potter; the Class A is a bit more pricey than the standard Class S most students go with."
Harry looked between the two adults in bewilderment. He'd never even heard of different classes of school robes. He assumed, as a uniform, they were all…uniform.
"I…I guess if Professor Snape says the Class A, I'll get those."
Madame Malkin huffed but turned to get her spelled measuring tape nonetheless.
The robes would be ready within the week; apparently the Class A also took longer to make. Harry stayed near the racks of premade items while the Professor sorted out payment. He wasn't comfortable with someone else, much less Snape, paying for him. He watched the potions master lean over and say something Harry couldn't hear to the seamstress. She looked shocked and her gaze shifted between them several times before she nodded, shaking her head as she made further notes upon her parchment.
Severus, giving nothing away by the means of posture or facial expression, signed a draft note and ushered his apprentice from the store.
Harry smiled as they exited the crowded shop and stepped into the bustle of Diagon Alley, "So we're done with clothing, right?" He was relieved, having changed and tried on more things than he usually did in several weeks and it wasn't even lunch time.
"We have one more stop. You will need robes that are not part of your uniform." Harry visibly deflated.
"Why didn't we just get them there?" he asked.
"Because I do not wish to give her any more business than absolutely necessary," Severus explained evenly. "Unfortunately, Hogwart's has signed an agreement with her to require students to purchase their uniforms from her store. Even more unfortunately, apprentices fall under that requirement as well. That is also why she tried to discourage you from buying the Class A. They are harder to make and she doesn't actually get anymore profit from them because of the way the subsidies Hogwarts pays her works."
"Is that why you wanted them?" Harry asked. At Snape's raised brow he hurried to explain, "I noticed you didn't seem to like her much. Is this, like, your way of getting a jab in on her?"
Severus snorted humorlessly, "I don't like a lot of people, Potter. The robes we ordered are simply better robes. There are protection enchantments embedded into the material, which is also of a finer weave, that make the robes worth more."
"Oh," Harry responded simply, thinking that was rather generous of Snape to pay extra for the better robes. He mentally placed a tally in the "Nice" column he was keeping in his head while he decided what he thought of their new situation.
He followed Snape closely, enjoying the fact that people automatically moved out of the way of the stoic man. He was getting better at walking in the open space their avoidance left behind the taller man. As they walked, his mind drifted to Hermione's words over being able to choose which subject one could learn from their master.
"Professor," Harry called. The older man grunted that he was paying attention. "Hermione mentioned that most of the teachers on staff have multiple masteries; are you like that, too?"
"Yes," Severus grunted. "It is convenient to earn multiples at a single time. Often learning an additional subject helps with the first. Why? Are you thinking of taking up more than one?" Severus smirked. "You'll never finish in two years if you do."
Harry did a double take, nearly running into a lamppost in the process, "You said the apprenticeship takes at least five years." He followed the potions master into an off shoot from the main alley.
Severus approached a door set back from the off shoot. "It's all very variable. Depending on your aptitude and dedication, it is conceivable that one could finish before then. However, the more complex the program, the longer you can expect it to take. The upper average is ten years. If it takes longer than that, the apprentice is most likely a lost cause."
Severus pulled the door. It stayed stationary. He looked up in consternation. "Not this bloody parlor trick again," he snarled to himself.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
Severus looked around swiftly. "Potter move aside." He pushed Harry into the wall behind his person and away from the door.
Harry took his wand from his back pocket. "What is it, Professor?"
"Quiet," Snape ordered. His healthy paranoia kicked into high gear. He focused himself; the colors and shadows contrasted from each other sharply and the bustling sounds clacked and pounded in sync with his heart. His eyes snapped to the shop opposite their destination.
The street wasn't as busy as the main alley, but there were still various patrons going to and from the different shops. Harry could not see anyone who might mean them harm. Death Eater activity had been quiet, for the most part, since the beginning of summer.
His master's form flinched and darted forward. A figure in unobtrusive brown robed figure stumbled from behind some rubbish bins in an opening between two shops on the opposite side of the street. Snape's black form dove just in time to escape a well aimed reducto.
The alley erupted in chaos, the dozen or so shoppers scrambled and collided in their rush to get back in doors.
Harry ducked back into the alcove of the robe shop Snape'd planned to enter. So far the attacker hadn't aimed for him, but he did not want to take any chances of a stray hex coming his way. He raised his own wand and took aim at the attacker.
The stinging hex grazed the brown clad wizard who tripped and fell in Harry's direction. He tumbled and rolled on the ground, further approaching the younger man.
"Potter, move!" Snape ordered as he picked himself up from the ground, but Harry'd inadvertently cornered himself. Harry fired his wand once more, but the attacker reached for Harry's arm before the hex could hit him and threw him off balance. Harry felt his feet being pulled from beneath him and the whole world shifted sideways.
His head smacked into the pavement, driving the corner of his eye glasses to scratch harshly against his temple. The attacker grabbed him by the throat, pulling him upward with adrenaline backed strength. Harry felt himself pulled against the man, a strong arm crossing against his throat and a wand pressing into his injured head.
"Stay bac-oomph-" The world closed in on Harry as the air was sucked and condensed around him. The attacker was catapulted behind him and into the shop. Bricks and debris scattered everywhere. Mortar rained down from above him as another force came from behind him, propelling him forward like a giant, invisible hand landing a heavy blow to the center of his back.
He landed on the street before him once more, his cheek connecting to the cobblestones with a resounding smack. He forced his head to snap up despite the way his vision swam in doing so.
Snape stood, panting heavily, a few meters from him, watching him with those eerily steady eyes. The master broke the trance first, blinking several times and approaching Harry's horizontal resting place. Snape reached down and pulled the younger boy upwards.
"Halt!" a voice from the alley's end ordered. Harry's wand flew into Snape's hand who then handed it off to Harry as he readied himself for another fight. The older man squinted and sighed, lowering his arm to the side and gesturing for Harry to do the same.
Auror Shacklebolt and his team approached the pair.
"Really, Severus," the dark auror smiled, "We need to stop running into each other at my crime scenes."