Author's Note: Okay guys, first things first… THANK YOU for the reviews. I also tender my whole hearted apology for my mistake in the first chapter. I am now all too aware, due to the numerous reviews pointing it out to me VERY clearly, Harry does not have a Firebolt (yet) but is still a Nimbus 2000 rider. Any future reference to his broom will be the Nimbus 2000 or simply his broomstick (in bold and maybe capitals). Thanks. Conangse.
In silence, Harry and Snape walked out of the Driveway of Number 4 and along Privet Drive, Snape in front, setting a swift pace, and Harry in the rear, the trunk, cauldron and Nimbus 2000 sandwiched between them, Hedwig stowed in her cage within the cauldron. A chill summer breeze that cut into the air buffeted the objects causing them to dangle like washing hung on a line.
"Put on a jumper, Potter." Snape did not turn.
"I'm not cold."
"Put one on," said Snape, adding sarcastically, "I'm sure Harry Potter wouldn't want to get sick."
Snape was not happy: he had already gone against one of the main aims of the Order, to keep Potter with his relatives, where he would still be protected by the ancient magic his mother had shielded him with. He was now walking through a muggle suburb with the son of his hated enemy and he did not know what to do. He could hardly turn back and restore Potter to the Dursley's and so was drawn between two equally weighted options: Spinner's End or Hogwarts. Snape continued to think on the matter. At least he had the luxury of time.
There was a crashing ka-plunk behind him and Snape snapped around. Harry had broken the trunk's enchantment. On his touch, the trunk had fallen from the air spilling its contents over the pavement and into the road: the clasp had broken. Snape merely stared coldly at Harry. Did the boy have no common sense? Did he not know to grasp the handle? Did he not think?
Harry grabbed a jumper from the mishmash of assorted school gear, clothes and personal belongings that was now spread in the gutter. He pulled it over his head angrily. It was grey, Dudley's and particularly worn, there was a patch on the sleeve and dirt down the front. Snape sneered in minor repulsion at Harry's choice. Evidently Harry struggled as much to care for his things, as his hair. Snape took in the rest of Harry's ensemble: Pyjama bottoms in blue and white stripes and a mismatched pyjama top in green, the collar of which half stood out of the scoop necked jumper. On his feet was a broken down pair of trainers, the sole of one hanging limply off of the vamp, creating a flapping sound on every alternate step. His shoe laces had been snapped and re-tied.
Snape did not even have to say anything. Harry immediately started to repack his trunk stuffing the items in haphazardly while shooting resentful glances at Snape, who he knew could easily repack his case with a flick of the wrist. Harry would not allow himself to ask. He could manage perfectly well on his own and he did not need Professor Snape's help for anything. He would have been fine if Snape had not arrived. He would have been happy and perfectly safe with the Weasleys to spend the remainder of the holidays with Ron.
Snape pointed his wand at Harry. "Reparo" The clasp was fixed. "Carry it."
Snape resumed the swift pace of the walk. The flapping of Harry's sole created a strange rhythm, as the weight of the oversized case caused him to slop to the right. He gritted his teeth as the skin on his hands was rubbed and pulled downward by the weight of the trunk, making them ache. They continued in this manner for 30 minutes moving out of suburbia and into the borders of an extensive park, the assembled statuary of which overlooked a playing field. A faint wispy mist was beginning to form across the grass, distorting the markings of the pitch.
"Where are we going?" asked Harry, while shifting the trunk to his other hand for the 6th time, a process he had been doing at increasing intervals as the minutes had worn on.
"Where are we going, Sir," Snape corrected.
"Where are we going, Sir?" said Harry petulantly. This was rapidly becoming very old. It was the early morning, he was tired, his friends had been dismissed and he was marching on a road to no where with a man who he hated and who he was hated by. It was getting colder by the minute. Still, thought Harry, the mornings were always fresh.
There was silence for a beat. Snape had no answer for Harry as he didn't know where they were going himself. However even he had to acknowledge that they couldn't walk interminably.
"We are going to find a fireplace," Snape said with a finality that belied his uncertainty.
"Why? … … … sir."
"So we can Flu," said Snape, exasperated by Potter's ignorance. He knew that Little Whinging was not a densely populated magical area, part of the reason the Dursley's residence was so suitable for protecting Potter was that, aside for the squib Mrs Figg, the nearest magical family were five miles away. There were few good wizards near, though there were few bad ones. He would have to go to the Dunitches. Their home was the nearest one connected to the flu network and although he had no particular connection to the family, dropping Albus's name was sure to illicit a positive response. He would have to get Potter and his belongings there before the town awoke. He would not enjoy having to explain to Muggle policemen why he was walking the streets with a pyjama clad adolescent and a miscellany of what would appear to them to be household equipment. It was going to be getting light soon.
"Wha-," started Harry, but he never got to finish asking what it was to Flu. The temperature had fallen further to unnatural levels, but that was not what had stopped Harry in his tracks. There was screaming. Pained screaming, splitting his skull. Harry fell to his knees, clasping his head in his hands, his breath turning to vapour before his face.
A grey cloaked Dementor glided silently towards them, fronds of mist spreading before it like a great white fungus. Snape raised his wand stepping back towards Harry using his free hand to grip him by the scruff of the neck, forcing him to his feet. He thrust Harry behind a statue. Blood was rushing into his head, white-noise deafening him. Immediately he tried to dreg from his mind his happy memories… His few happy memories... His happy memory.
"Expecto Patronum," bellowed Snape. Out from the wand's tip emerged a silver Doe, 4 and a half feet high. The Patronus charged towards the lone Dementor, whose sucking mouth pushed against the air in front of it like a child squashing its face against the glass of a car window. The Doe advanced further with its silver light growing in intensity. Searing a red half-life image of the Doe on Snape's retina, the Patronus gave a final sunburst of light repelling the Dementor from the park.
With Snape's happy feelings, the Patronus faded.
This was dangerous...Very dangerous. There were rouge Dementor's afoot, he had the sodding boy-who-lived with him and currently his nearest hope of a fireplace was 5 miles away, walkable if the road were secure but now…
"Potter," said Snape, turning to Harry. "Potter!" Snape received no response. From where he had shoved Harry he could see only a leg protruding, the broken shoe now immobile in the now balmy morning air. He stalked around the statue and saw Harry lying unconscious, sweat seeping out of his forehead to form pearly beads. Snape squatted down beside him, grasping Harry's forearm and dragging him to his feet. Harry's head lolled weakly onto its side. Snape took him to a bench near by positioning him on the bench so that his feet were raised above his head rested on the arm of the bench to increase the blood flow.
They had to reach safety. The longer Harry was exposed out here the greater danger he was in, and it was Snape who had exposed him to this danger. He had removed him from his home and if Potter were to die it was his neck on the line. A spell in Azkaban was not appealing. He had avoided it through his years as a death eater and was damned if he was going to be sent there now. No Potter would survive tonight and then he could be placed in the care of someone else.
Snape looked at the resources available to him. He had his wand and school boy magical equipment. However, Snape had not been a double agent without the ability to be innovative and resourceful. The Nimbus 2000 was possibly his greatest tool at the moment. He had never been a great flyer, one of his greatest resentments of both Potter Major and Potter Minor, but his skills would be sufficient for his purposes.
He turned to Harry's property, opening the trunk and retrieving a quill and some parchment. He scribbled a quick note and unhinged Hedwig's cage door, attaching the rolled parchment to the owl's leg while trying to avoid its beak when she saw Harry lying reclined, his skin resembling a waxed death mask.
"Tss," Snape hissed in pain as Hedwig's beak sank into his finger. "Take it to Dumbledore." He said releasing her into the air. Hedwig took flight, circling once before heading northwards to Hogwarts, her white body shrinking from sight until she was indistinguishable from the stars above.
"Reducio," said Snape pointing his wand at the luggage and shrinking it to pocked size which was where he stowed them. Only the Nimbus 2000 remained fully up to scale.
Snape turned once more to Harry, who still looked desperately ill. Some colour was coming back to his face but he had not regained consciousness. He came towards Potter, raising him onto his feet and taking him over to the broom. Holding Harry up with one arm, Snape held his free hand over the broom.
"Up," he commanded. The broom leapt upwards into his grip. He mounted it and lifted Harry to sit in front of him, supporting him with one hand while gripping the handle of the broom with the other. He kicked off the ground and soared into the air, over the statues and playing field, over Privet Drive and Little Whinging and towards Spinner's End.
At least that solves one dilemma; Spinner's End was inordinately closer than Hogwarts.
TBC