I sprinted from the castle, still wondering about the boy’s accidental magic. Going on instinct, I apparated to the first place that’d come to mind, Spinner’s End.

“Harry?” I called throughout the house. I thought I heard a scuffle at the top of the stairs. There he was, huddled on the splintery, dry-rotted floor in that dratted corner. I’d have to put something there so he’d not be able to punish himself at every erroneous misdeed.

“Child, come out of there.” When he didn’t, I went around the side of him to get a good look. In a frenzy, he appeared to be near panic-induced convulsions.

“Did you scare yourself that much, then?” I chuckled. “You’ve apparated before, child. You didn’t splinch something, now, did you?”

He drew a great, rickety breath, and began babbling, “I didn’t . . . I don’t . . . I’m sorry, s-sir. I wasn’t . . .” Then sobs overtook him.

“Hush, now, Harry. Come out of the corner,” I insisted, gently as I could. He scooted himself into the room woozily, then tightened his grasp around his shins ‘til white shone in the tiny knuckles. Pushing his forehead into knobby knees, his weeping slowed to whimpers.

I fetched a glass of cool water and a cloth, and he stared up at me like I’d brought a great bag of galleons. Coughing and sputtering as he gulped the water, his eyes brimmed with salty, unspilt tears and copious questions.

“Go ahead, child. Ask your questions,” I bade.

“Really, sir? I’m allowed?”

“You are always allowed to ask questions of me, Harry. Did those blasted muggles disallow it?”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered pitifully, before summoning the courage to ask what was on his mind. After a steadying breath, he said swiftly, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

I certainly hadn’t expected that one! Was I being nice? I guessed if he thought I was, that was a good sign. Maybe I wasn’t going to turn out a terrible caretaker in the end. ‘I’ll show Dumbledore I can do this!’

“Because you deserve to be treated nicely,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Next question.”

A cockeyed grin flickered across his face before the green pools turned stormy. His next query was carried on tones no more forceful than a midsummer breeze.

“Do I get to stay with you?” he breathed.

“Yes!” I hadn’t meant to shout, but I did, and after the initial startle that shot him backward, he lunged at me. I found myself captured in the grandest hug I’d ever experienced. Tentatively, I returned the embrace, whispering, “No one nor nothing will take you away from me. This is your home now, child. I am your rightful guardian in the wizarding world, being your godfather.”

He leant away from me abruptly, looking up into my eyes for the first time. “You’re my godfather?”

Had I not even told him that? ‘Idiot!’

“Yes, I am your mother’s choice for godfather and guardian over you. I would have taken you from your appalling relatives sooner, but no-one realized I’d been named and, well, it is complicated. Suffice it to say you are staying put . . . as long as that’s your wish.”

He squeezed me again, nearly knocking the breath out of me. “It is!” he chirped gleefully. “It is, godfather!”

At that moment the fear returned, and he settled quickly, moving away from me slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have said that without permission. I apologize, sir.”

Before I could utter another word, Dumbledore apparated into the room.

“Brilliant Harry, just brilliant! Never have I seen such potent accidental magic. Have you, Severus?”

My eyes were only for the boy. He was backing away, apprehension seeping from his very aura.

……………………………………………………………

He was here! I was already in trouble with my Snape, and the man I hurt was here too. I didn’t know what to do, so I slid back as far as I could until the wall smacked my back. Master Dumblesdore was talking and I was straining to pay attention, to sort it out, but there was a mad whooshing sound in my ears, or in the room; I couldn’t decipher which. I only knew I was shaking and jerking about something fierce, and the air surrounding me seemed a thousand ravens taken to flight. The rush grew ever louder, and I stumbled backward. The wall had vanished itself! I found myself in a new room, his bedroom. As the wall re-appeared, I only became slightly more worried that I’d invaded his chambers sans permission; how could I possibly get into any more trouble than I’s already in?

I heard footsteps nearing the door to this, my Snape’s bedchamber, when my fingertips prickled and the door slammed shut, apparently locking itself in the process. He’d think I did it! Surely he’d send me away now. But maybe, just maybe, if I could get up, open the door, apologize, and accept my punishment from the both of them like the good boy I’d always wanted to be . . . It was worth a try. I pushed my teeth together and hit my head a few times to stop the tears, then forced myself to stand tall and open the door. My Snape looked very angry; indeed, I hadn’t seen him this angry in a while. Master Dumblesdore looked sad. Maybe he didn’t like doling out harsh punishments like the one I deserved.

“I’m very sorry, Mister Professor Snape, sir, and Master Dumblesdore, sir,” I said, with my head slanted firmly toward their boots. I remembered my first day here, when I’d fallen and feared being slapped, as Master Dumblesdore started to laugh. I didn’t dare look up, and before I knew what was happening, I was trapped in his arms, being lifted off the ground. I cringed, but did not fight. If he was taking me now, I deserved it. Whatever he was doing, I knew I deserved the worst.

He leant me away from him so as to look at my face, and spoke as though he might be amused.

“Did you not hear what I said, little one?”

I couldn’t look at him as I apologized for yet another mistake I’d made in the past quarter of an hour.

“I tried, sir, but I couldn’t hear you. I’m sorry, sir!”

He chuckled again. ‘Chuckled?’

“No matter, Harry, no matter. I only said that your accidental magic was brilliant, very fearsome and strong. I feel privileged to have witnessed it, even though my backside does not share the opinion.”

And he chuckled again. I chanced a flickered glance in his direction, and then my Snape’s, and the old wizard looked, well, the opposite of angry, really. My Snape had the same sort of annoyed expression he usually wore affixed to his likeness.

“Master Dumblesdore, sir?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry,” my Snape – my godfather – corrected, in a compassionate voice.

“Now, now, Severus, I thought the moniker was rather kitchy.”

Godfather snorted at that one!

Headmaster Dumblesdore went on, “Yes, Harry?”

“So, you’re not hurt, sir?”

“No, child. How very kind of you to ask.”

“And you’re not – you’re not, er, angry with me, then, sir?” I must’ve been barking to ask that outright, but I had such a sense I’d not be in trouble by it.

“Of course not!” He bounced me around a bit, tickling my sides until giggles erupted, before he continued. “Harry, will you come with me to the kitchen a moment?”

Godfather looked livid, but he nodded when I looked for approval. Once there, the ancient Headmaster knelt in front of me, looking at me in the eyes.

“Do you truly wish to stay here, child? Many kind witches and wizards would love to take you into their families. Several have other children your age.”

What was he searching my face for? He wanted me to say I’d go, but why? I said nothing; I’d learned long before if your words wouldn’t be welcomed, it was best to keep them to yourself. But he still searched.

“Harry, do you want to stay with Severus?” A direct question. I couldn’t ignore it.

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

How could I answer that? I’d have to start somewhere.

“Because he took me from the Dursleys, and he’s lenient, and kind, and he’s my godfather, and my mother wanted me with him and please don’t make me go!” To my horror, my voice had risen to a wail again, and tears were seeping from my hooded lids. I gasped as the tall, dark figure of my guardian approached.

“You may leave, Albus,” he said, or, rather, commanded.

Dumblesdore struggled to get up as he began, “Severus, my boy, I was simply –”

“Goodbye, Albus!” my Snape roared.

With a pop, we were alone.

…………………………………………………………………

All of that headache, worry, all the tears, just so high and mighty Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Order of Merlin – First Class, can meddle even more profoundly in my life! ‘First class pain in my arse!’

As I was fuming, Harry slipped past me and padded up the steps. Merlin help damned Dumbledore if he’d stuck himself in that corner again.

He had. Damnit.

I heard him sniffling, and saw him stiffen as he realized my presence. He started banging his head against the bloody wall! It took a moment to sink in that that was, indeed, what he was doing. I picked him up and sat him on my lap in a rocking chair I transfigured to temporarily block the offending right angle of the room.

“Why were you hitting your head, foolish child?” I said that harshly, and he flinched. Damn, damn, damn!

“I’m sorry, sir! I was being bad and crying and hitting my head makes me stop but I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to and I’m ready for my punishment, sir.”

All this rubbish spilled out piteously as he wriggled to the floor and cast his eyes down. I chucked him lightly under the chin, tipping his view from floor to façade. Resolute, I was determined to stay calm and collected during this exchange.

“For what do you believe you’re about to be punished?”

He fussed and stuttered through a dozen or more supposedly heinous actions. ‘Does this child think everything he does is malefic?’

Once he finished, I simply expressed, “Harry, you’ll not be punished for any of that. Honestly, every young wizard has bouts of accidental magical mayhem.”

“Every young wizard has . . . do you mean to say . . . am I a wizard?” he shouted, then clapped his hands over his mouth.

I wondered bitterly over my amnesic, inconscient mind as of late. “Did I not even tell you that? You are, quite possibly, the most powerful wizarding child ever born.”

Poignantly noting he still had thin fingers pressed to seemingly errant lips I added, by way of an afterthought,

“Dear child, you’ll not be punished for shouting!”