The boy fell as we walked up the stone steps to my cottage. I paused, waiting for the wailing, sniveling mess to come. But he just picked himself right back up and shot me a contemptuous glance. ‘Proud, arrogant, Gryffindor!’ I thought. But I must admit I was a bit impressed. I had seen less stoicism from old Crabbe during Death Eater meetings. ‘Comparing him to Crabbe, am I? James would be furious!’ I chuckled at the thought.

…………………………………………………………………………

I wiped the blood from my hands as the man laughed at me. I was sure he’d smack me, but he just kept walking. I made sure to soak up all the red with my shirt sleeves so it wouldn’t get on anything. He let us into the house and I stifled a cough. It was so dirty and dusty! Everything was caked with a layer of soot, like the fireplace had exploded. It looked as if no one had set foot in here for a long, long time.

It was dusk, and he lit some candles on the crooked, aged-wood mantle. He sneered at me, and then went up the stairs. I shut the cottage door and locked it, hoping that was the right thing to do. When he came back down, he almost seemed embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t want anyone to see his house so dirty; Aunt Petunia would have died from shame!

He had changed clothes, and was wearing something that looked like a ladies’ black dress over trousers. And he was wearing a long cloak, which I thought very strange for the summertime.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I knew it was a trick question. If he wanted me to eat, he would give me something.

“No, sir,” I croaked out. I hadn’t spoken for several hours, and I suddenly found my voice hoarse from all the dust.

“Well, then, follow me.”

He took off up the stairs again, muttering something under his breath. I followed him into a nice little bedroom that was miraculously clean. It also had a stone hearth and a small fireplace. There was a regular sized bed covered with soft cloth, and a wardrobe stood in the corner. I could see the waning moon from a small window; there was even a windowseat. I wondered why he’d brought me up here; he couldn’t possibly want me to clean this room first. The rest of the house needed it so badly!

“Put your things away and go to sleep.” He closed the door heavily and stomped away.

All my belongings fit into the bottom drawer of the armoire. I listened to be certain he wasn’t near, and then I dared to touch the covering on the bed. It felt like silk; like faerie wings and pixie dust. I pretended I was on an expedition and had just found the faerie queen’s kingdom. Any minute her court would come sailing in, dancing about on the cloud-like spun silk. They would all bow down, and she would see me, and make me a knight, and give me courageous jobs to do.

‘Stop daydreaming! You’re going to get caught!’ I thought, and sighed. I knew the bed was not for me. Perhaps the man would come in later and sleep in it. I looked round, and decided the best place to lie down was probably the corner. I took a lingering glance at the shy moon, put my head on the last stone of the fireplace, and went to sleep with my teeth clenched tightly together. Sometimes if I did that as I fell asleep, I wouldn’t cry out while nightmares fought through my dreams.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I offered the only two things I could think of; food and sleep. I hoped he would stay in his room all night; if he went wandering and nagging about I thought I might lose my mind. He was only a few years younger than my first years at the school, but he was so tiny. He looked no more than four or five. As I thought about it, I realized he’d only said two words throughout the entire ordeal.

Casting Engorgio on my pea-sized trunks, I tried to think of how I was going to occupy his time, day after day, for three months. What did children do? ‘Well, when I was a child I hid in the corner, tried to protect mother, and got the stuffing knocked out of me.’ I didn’t want that for Harry, no matter how much he reminded me of James. At Hogwarts, the children played Quidditch, and had pets and friends. Well, most of them had friends. I’d never done any of that, but most students did.

I didn’t have any friends then, and that hadn’t changed, so I knew I couldn’t introduce the boy to playmates. I didn’t fancy wild things running about, either. A broom was out of the question in a muggle neighborhood. ‘I’ll have to take him to the Hogwarts pitch,’ I decided. ‘I wonder if he likes to read? Lily loved to read . . .’ I forcibly turned my thoughts away from her, and set my mind to brewing Dreamless Sleep. After a strong dose, the dusky master bed swallowed me in slumber.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

I woke at first light, and heard roosters crowing in the distance. Cats were fighting in the tatty garden, and I listened to other unfamiliar morning sounds. After living in a crowded, middle class neighborhood in Surrey, this rural setting would take some acclimation.

I stretched and crept into the loo, praying I wouldn’t wake him up; I just couldn’t hold it any longer. I went to the kitchen to wash up, waiting for the water to turn from brown to clear. I settled for a pale yellow. I looked for some food to make for breakfast, but there wasn’t any.

He hadn’t left a list of chores for me, like Aunt Petunia always had, so I guessed where he’d want me to start. I found most everything I needed in the broom cupboard, and was suddenly very grateful I hadn’t been made to sleep there. It was covered in cobwebs and dead beetles.

I took a damp cloth and wiped down all the surfaces in the undersized parlor, washing the black dirt from the rag every few swipes. I rolled up the ancient, patterned rugs and scrubbed the floors. It was quite light out once I finished those tasks, and I hoped the man wouldn’t be cross with the little progress I’d made. I wondered if I’d learn his name today.

I took the rugs into the garden, kittens scurrying from underfoot, and beat them while the dust burnt my eyes. I was thankful there was a communal clothesline already strung between two sickly willow trees. The rugs were really quite heavy, and it took me a while to drag them back in after the strenuous task of cleaning them. Deciding I could do no more in the parlor, I moved on to the kitchen. I’d just finished wiping the counters when he came in, looking like he was still half asleep. We were both still wearing the clothes we’d had on the prior evening.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he shouted. Did this man ever speak without shouting?

I jumped down from the chair I was standing on and backed away as far as I could from him. “I’m sorry, sir.” What else could I say?

……………...

‘Trying to get on my good side, is he? The little brown-noser! Just like the idiot marauders, as they called themselves, did with Dumbledore,’ I pieced together. It really did look remarkably better in the parlor, but the intent was the only matter of importance. He wasn’t going to turn the tables that easily, even if he did look like a pathetic little street urchin.

“Go wash up and put on your best clothes. We’re going out.” We needed to go to the market; I knew he’d be hungry eventually.

He scurried up the stairs while I ran fingers through my hair. ‘Lily always said long hair suited me well.’ Damnit! I hated that he was making me think so much of his mother! My deepest regret was losing her companionship. I never got to find out if there could have been something more between us; the lure of power consumed me instead.

I felt his gaze boring into my back, and I turned to see him huddled in the doorway. He still looked wretched; had he even listened to what I’d said?

“I told you to put on better clothes! Don’t you listen? And half your face is still black as soot! Go back upstairs, and don’t come down until you’ve obeyed!”

I waited, becoming more furious by the second. I tried to still myself by looking upon the garden I’d tended as a student, but it was overgrown with weeds; any decent plants had been eaten by vermin long ago.

Unwavering, I barreled up the stairs. The boy was curled up on the windowseat, daydreaming. I was about to yell at him again, but he startled. If he wouldn’t listen to my words, I’d just have to show him with actions. I tore open the top drawer of the bureau, then the next and the next. They were empty.

“Did you not obey my order to put your things awa — Oh.” There were a few things in the bottom drawer; rotten toys and dirty clothing.

I started again. “I told you to pack everything from your aunt and uncle’s house. You couldn’t even follow that direction?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t want to hear any paltry excuses. “Silence!” I demanded. At least he could obey a simple command like that.

I took out my wand and transfigured his clothing into something more suitable. He nearly had a conniption! I could have set the clothes on fire for his reaction. Muggleborns! Well, muggle-raised, but it was just as bad.

“It’s only a simple spell. Now go scrub your face!” I could have cast Scourgify, but I wasn’t going to coddle the sod.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Wow! That was just like magic! I worried over my face, though. The dirt he was referring to was actually a bruise. I scrubbed anyway, squeezing my eyes shut from the hurt. That only made things worse. I left my face damp so he could tell I’d tried; hopefully that would be enough. I inched back into the room, but he grabbed me by the arm like he had on the train. We went back into the bathroom and he scrubbed my face as well. I didn’t say anything; he’d be furious if I contradicted him or cried out. He stopped suddenly, and dropped the cloth on the floor. I bent down and picked it up, handing it back to him.

“How did that happen?” he asked, not shouting for the first time.

“I fell,” I immediately answered. That’s what I always said when someone asked about a bruise. I regretted it, though. I couldn’t get in trouble with Uncle Vernon for telling now, could I? But I couldn’t take it back and tell him I’d been lying.

“When you fell last night?” he pressed on.

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you hurt yourself anywhere else when you fell?”

I tentatively held out my hands. Would he hit them now he knew they were hurt? That’s what Uncle Vernon always did. The man didn’t do anything, though. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he left the tiny lavatory.

“Come,” he beckoned, and we trode up the uneven street again.

He left me in a small tailor’s shop, rattling off a long list to the bewildered old shopkeeper.

“Five dress shirts: three white, one black, one dark green. Five pairs trousers: three black, two grey. Seven sets undergarments and black socks. Two sets pajamas: whatever you’ve got on hand. Two sets play clothes. Any color except red.” And he walked out, the screen door banging behind him.

The tailor looked at me. He looked at me like he actually saw me. He had kind blue eyes, and he touched my battered face softly as he beckoned me to get on a stool.

“I’ll have to measure you, little one. Stand up straight and tall, now.”

He did everything with the utmost care, as if he knew I was hurting. When he was finished, he pulled me close to him, and asked very quietly, “How long you been livin’ with Snape there?”

So that was his name, Snape. “He just claimed me last night, sir.”

“So he’s not the one what did this to yeh?” he asked, pointing to my face.

“N—No, sir.”

“Well, if he do, yeh jus’ run on up here an’ I’ll see to it. I lives upstairs of a night.”

I know my eyes bugged out when he said that. No-one had said anything so wonderful to me in all my life.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you so, so much!”

He picked out some shirts and trousers for me to try on, but didn’t have as much on hand as Snape wanted. The man, Snape, returned, carrying a sack of groceries and a jug of milk.

The old man approached him, as if to shield me from him. “I’ve got three white shirts and two pairs black trousers on hand that fit him. One pair of pajamas that he’ll grow into after a bit, suitable play clothes, and all the socks and knickers yeh wanted.”

“Fine,” the dark man said, and proceeded to pay the shopkeeper an extraordinary amount of money. I wanted to slip under the carpet like a flea; how was I ever going to pay him back?

“Would you like the rest tailor made, or ordered from Manchester?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Whichever suits. Come, child,” he beckoned sharply.

I took the packages from the old man and smiled at him before running after Mr. Snape.