And so after Blurry brought a take-away snack, we started home. How did he know I was hungry? ‘It’s been a while. Probably hungry himself! As if anyone’d care if you wanted to eat!’ That sounded like Dudley! I tried to tell my fat cousin he was wrong . . . my Snape did care; he had to, didn’t he? But the shouts and whistling whispers in my head ebbed and flowed; I scarcely noticed we were treading steps until I fell, again.

‘Stupid sod!’ But my Snape did not even miss a pace; he had me right back up beside him before a lazy eye could blnik! I knocked my head about a couple of times to still the screaming; after that I could concentrate a bit again.

Took me a while to steady after he appated holding my shoulders. Even though I was still feeling a mite queasy, I ate all what was put before me. Hadn’t eaten all my breakfast and I suffered for it, didn’t I? He sent me to bed looking bewilderingly discomfited.

After readying myself, I popped open the little casement, hoping soothing midnight sounds would lull my shakes. I tossed about for a fair bit, wondering what was bothering my godfather. Could he be angry with me? What did Professor McGonagall tell him? Or was he trying to figure out what to do with me once autumn term started?

The Dursleys! Oh no, oh no, oh no! Didn’t think he’d send me back with them. ‘He won’t, he won’t, he won’t!’ Suddenly I heaved out of bed and leapt up to the window sill. Rocking back and forth so violently I knew I must be bruising my back, I tried to distract myself from the inside world of Number Four. As I dueled with the past, I heard crying far away? Was it me?

I curled up, preoccupied with this new question. The last thought that registered before fragranced, in-between swimming dreams ensnared me was, ‘If that is me, why is my mouth stuck shut?’

I awakened precious few hours later, cold and knotted from sleeping as a common rat. ‘Twas the time of morning colors were barely seeping through the misty grey; the safest time, light enough not to be frightening, but before everyone woke and rutted about.

I knew I’d been lazy long enough. It did not escape me the night before that the little house was grimy as could be. I began again with the surfaces, then floors. I decided the rugs and fireplace could wait. I’d just started on the bath when my Snape nearly tripped over me, needing the loo. He looked still half sleeping, and I scrambled out quick as lightening, giving my apologies. ‘Should have done the fireplace first and given him time to get up and about properly!’

I waited with my cleaning things in the shadows that topped the staircase. I noticed the walls needed washing up here. Should have done that before as well.

He left the lavatory and stopped short as he looked at me. I couldn’t stop it; I flinched quite noticeably and sank twitchingly back into the corner.

“Harry . . .” He gave a long sigh and a pause as his hands scrubbed his face and tousled his dark hair. Would this be it? Would I be told to leave? I held my breath until he began again.

“Child, put those things away, clean up a bit, and come talk with me in the parlor.”

He slid past me down the stairs; I waited a moment before making the trip to the broom cupboard. It wouldn’t do to appear to be following him.

After I washed, I nearly flew into a frenzy; I didn’t know what to wear! He’d said we were to burn my old clothing, but we hadn’t yet . . . and if he was getting rid of me . . .

No, I would not think that. If it happened, it happened. He’d probably allow me to keep the new clothes anyway, would he not? What would godfather do with a bureau full of little children’s castoffs?

I dressed in those wonderful, perfectly fitting dress clothes and promptly tripped, as adults would say, arse over tit, down the stairs.

……………………………

Yet again, he was hurt but neglected to make a sound. Indeed, the child seemed much more worried about the mussed clothing than his bleeding chin. We took care of that quickly enough, and were in the sitting room for a conversation I should have had with him that first morning.

“Harry, listen carefully. You do not have to clean any more.”

One would’ve thought any child, especially a boy, would be clapping chubby hands delightedly at such news. However, Harry most certainly did not have hands that were chubby, and he did not seem pleased with the declaration. And again, he refused to look at me, which never failed to prove immeasurably irritating!

“Look at me, b –” Ah! Caught myself. But a close inspection revealed he’d already heard what I was about to say. Bloody hell.

“Harry –” No acknowledgement, only itchy fingers picking at peeling, sore cuticles. “Harry, look at me.”

He did, in a way; gazed in my general direction while tensing and leaning as far away from me as possible would perhaps provide a better snapshot. Feuding with the choleric kindling settling in my solar-plexis, I struggled to proceed calmly. But where to go?

“Do you want to clean the house, child?” Would he be truthful, or try to appease me? I’d just set myself up for another bout of frustration, if I knew him half as well as I feared . . .

“I’ll do anything asked of me, sir,” he replied quietly, but lacking whinging urgency. That was passable.

“I have not asked you to clean the house child, and before you tell me you are sorry, I would like you to know there is nothing to be sorry for whatsoever. You’ve done a remarkable job with this old hovel, but with magic the tasks shall be quicker and simpler. Would you like to help as I cast the spells?” How I hoped the lure of magic would draw him away from this anxiety!

It took him a silent moment to grasp this offer.

Suddenly, he excitedly exclaimed, “Yes! Yes, please, sir!”

Did I dare correct him? I did.

“Yes, please, godfather, Harry.” As he screwed up his face in worry, I cut him off, blurting, “And no ‘I’m sorrys’ allowed, Mister Potter!”

Merlin be damned if I didn’t grin like a schoolboy; well, like the non-greasy, anti-Slytherin brand of schoolboy.

His subsequent expression could have lit up the Great Hall on a moonless night.

“Yes, please, sir – er – godfather! Yes, please, godfather!”

……………………………

He wasn’t angry I’d not said it right the first time! Of course he wasn’t; how much kindness had he shown me? I’d have to remember that every time the bad thoughts come calling.

He was sure right about magic! The cleaning took only minutes! He started where I’d left off – the loo. I moved the soap and tattered curtain so the spells could be properly aimed. Scourgify was a miracle, if I’d ever seen one! I wondered if I’d be able to do that one day. Would I get a stick, a wand, like his? Could I use his?

While he was cleaning, he said repair-oh to different things that were broken and they fixed themselves right up! Before he cleaned the fireplace, he bade me fetch Dudley’s old hand-me-downs. He helped me make a fire the regular way, only he called it ‘muggle.’ We did use conjured logs, though. Then I got to toss the stinky rags into the fire and move them around with a poker.

I felt strangely new as I watched my former uniform disintegrate into ash. I needed so desperately to ask him the burning question. ‘Now’s as good a time as any.’ I swallowed hard to avoid asking permission to ask a question; I remembered how upset he’d gotten at that last time.

“Sir? er – I mean, godfather?”

……………………………

Very good. Speaking up of his own accord had to be a step in the right direction.

“Yes, Harry,” I answered expectantly.

“Does this, I mean, does this mean I get to s . . .” He trailed off, mumbling into the spitting cinder.

“Turn toward me and repeat, more clearly this time.”

“Yes, sir. ‘m sorry, sir. Godfather. Er, it’s just that, does this mean I get to stay with you . . . for - forever and ever?”

He did look up at me then, and I did my level best not to curse and yell at him that we’d been over this. In the back of my mind, however, I knew that would only make him feel worse, and more insecure, and in turn compound the process to my utter frustration once more . . .

So I simply stated, “Yes, child, you’ll not be rid of me until you’ve become an adult yourself. Even then, I am certain I will harass you quite often.”

“Thank you, godfather . . . but what – what happens when you go back to work?” This was asked with much biting of lips.

“Of course, if I return to Hogwarts, you will stay with me in my chambers. I would arrange tutoring and childcare during the day when I would be teaching. However, we shall only do that if you are ready for it. I have other means to derive income.”

Again, the sun shone down on one formerly disgruntled potions master.

……………………………

We’d a simple breakfast, the toast with butter we both preferred, and then he trotted me off up the cobbly lane. I didn’t stumble once, but that was probably because he’d such a tight grip on my hand. When he turned to enter a small toy shop, my insides thrummed in anticipation!

A tiny bell tinkled overhead as we walked in, and all round us were the most bright, cheery toys I’d ever seen. Right in the middle was a grand, steam engine train set, coated with bright reds and golds. All manner of dolls and stuffed animals flanked one side, while trucks, cars, and army toys were at the other.

A shy-looking, mousy girl about the age of fifteen raced through a back doorway and returned with her mother, who was wiping her hands on an apron. She smelt of dishwater and bacon grease.

“Wot can I help yeh wif today then, dears?” she asked, half happy but half put-out a bit.

“We are in no need of assistance,” my Snape clipped, and the woman huffed off, admonishing her daughter to mind the shop well. The girl hoisted herself up on a small stool and stared at her hands. So she had to work on her holiday like me! Or, like I used to have to. I felt suddenly sorry for her, and very spoilt at the same time.

Godfather gave a sharp grunt, and ordered me to look about at the toys. Everything was so shiny and so new! The smell of plastics and resin seared my nose. I didn’t dare touch anything, although a silky stuffed bear sorely wanted my attention. If I could hold it, take it home and sleep with it, how wonderful it would be! It was so kind of my Snape to let me look at all these things. A stolen glance back at him told me he was ill at ease here, and impatient.

I returned to him and raised my hand for him to lead me out again, but he nearly shouted at me, “Well, pick something out, then!”

Oh! I got to choose a toy! How wonderful! But why? I didn’t deserve it! ‘Filthy little beggar. Bad boys get nothing, nothing at all!’ Aunt Petunia hissed in my ear.

I searched for the item that cost the least. Everything here was unbelievably expensive! Why, the bear I liked cost more than the entire outfit I was wearing. And I didn’t need it; I had a soft, cozy blanket, a real bed, and even a goose-down pillow to curl up with in the nighttime. Finally, I saw bins of little toys near the register; they cost less than one pound. I picked out a knobbly wooden top and handed it over, my heart pounding with fear I’d be struck, that this was a trick.

“Is that all you want?”

“Yes, sir. You – you don’t have to get me anything, godfather. I really enjoyed looking at all the toys, and I don’t need anything.” Telling this to the floor was infinitely easier than looking in his pinched, tight face.

“Harry,” he knelt down to me, “If I had to, I probably would not. Tell me this: just what will you do to keep yourself occupied all day, hm?”

Oh, so that was why we were here. I couldn’t clean anymore, and he didn’t want me underfoot.

“I could p-play in the front yard, sir. Or if I’m not allowed out, I could make up stories in my head. I can sit still and stay out of trouble, sir,” I promised vehemently.

His expression changed. “You like stories, then?”

“Oh, yes, s —. Yes, godfather!”

“How did you spend your time at your rotten relatives’ house when you were not working?” Seemingly, he was holding his breath. There was only one right answer to this one. Could I guess it?

“I was reading, sir.” That pleased him! “I love to read, godfather! It’s my favorite thing, really.”

He bought the top from the poor, forlorn girl, and handed me the tiny paper sack. I had to run to keep up as we sprinted off to the book seller.