In the morning, when he woke for the fourth day with only water in his stomach, but for a few scavenged peels, the thought of the second dog bowl sounded almost tempting. Almost. But he wasn't going to touch it.

Harry had slept badly, curled into as small a ball as he could manage where the back fence met the lee of the shed, knees tucked up to chest and arms hugging them tight. His left arm still hurt like it was burned, and the fingers on that hand were swollen and purple, like his ankle, and he couldn't bend them. His head hurt, too, and he had wished he could just go indoors for a little while and get warm. But the night had passed, with no sign anyone even remembered he was out here.

When the sun rose, he hobbled over to the two bowls to sip at the water he'd squeezed from his shirt the night before. Ants had crawled into the second bowl and covered the brown paste in a swarm of black. He looked away quickly, trying not to hurl. The little bit of water he'd saved did not sit well in his stomach, or not well enough. He was hungry, and tired and more alone than he had ever felt in his life.

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Late that afternoon, at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk and peered over the rim of his glasses at his newest staff acquisition. Severus Snape peered back at him with nothing less than a scowl. He tended to rely heavily on that expression when he was unsure of something. Or frustrated. Or bored.

"You are the newest member of an elite group," Dumbledore told him. "The staff here is beyond compare, and I daresay you will fit right in, in that regard. I very much appreciate you accepting the position as Potions Master here."

"Of course, Headmaster," Severus replied, keeping his tone even. He had no choice, really. Despite being cleared of all charges years ago, he was still distrusted by so many, too many, and a hard time finding work that utilized his skills. He could sell potions of his own creation, and had a little business doing just that, in truth, but it was not terribly lucrative at this juncture, and would not be until he'd made more of a name for himself. A name he could create at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore smiled. "Call me Albus, please. You will have your own suite of rooms, of course, and access to whatever house elves you require. The grounds are open to you, as are all castle facilities. As we have discussed, you will be responsible for the Head of House duties for Slytherin, and I imagine you will not find those too taxing. There is a schedule for weekend duty during the school term, and you may work with your colleagues to find how best to implement that." The Headmaster paused, and his blue eyes twinkled brightly behind his specs.

Severus suppressed a sigh. He knew the man too well; twinkles of that kind never boded anything good. "Yes?"

With a fond smile, Dumbledore continued, "You will find I ask little in return for your compensation, save a well-run classroom, with well-stuffed student minds, the safety of all the castle's occupants . . . and one other small thing."

Severus' scowl deepened. Here they came to it at last. This "one small thing" was likely to be the utter bane of his existence. Well, if it came to be too much, he would refuse. After a pause in which he steeled himself, he said, "What is it then, Albus?"

"Harry Potter."

"What?" Severus shook his head, bewildered. "What are you talking about? What do I have to do with him? He can't be more than six or seven years old now. Not a student."

"He has just turned seven, Severus, yes." In truth, Severus knew exactly how old the Potter boy was, could calculate it down to the hour if need be. He'd had to, in the maddening months between his one short encounter with Lily and her subsequent whirlwind marriage to that idiot, James. But no matter how he counted or calculated, the numbers always came up the same. The whelp was James', not his.

The Headmaster was continuing, "And he is living with his relatives, Lily's Muggle sister, her husband and their son." Dumbledore paused again. "Do you know them?"

"Barely," Severus admitted. "I don't believe they were suited to our world."

"No, quite right, quite right. It's all well, though, for I have in place a couple of the Old Crowd who keep an eye out for any suspicious activity in the neighborhood. They let me know how the boy is doing."

"This is all very interesting," Severus said with a sneer and tented his hands before his face. "But do you think we might get to the 'one little thing' you ask of me?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Dumbledore took up a piece of candy from the perpetually filled dish on his desk and sucked on it a moment. "Every summer, the watchers I have in place are not available for a week or two, sometimes longer. I ask only that the current junior staff member checks up on Harry, make sure the wards I set in place are active, and that he is well."

"You want me to check on Harry Potter."

"Yes."

"And make sure he is well."

"Yes." Dumbledore gave him a warm smile.

Severus did not return it. He sighed instead, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "And what shall I do, say, if he is not 'well' or the wards have been breached?"

"I leave that to your discretion, my boy."

"Very well," he said with another dramatic sigh. "When is this gap in the boy's guard duty due to commence?"

"Tomorrow." At the younger man's expression, he continued hastily, "You shouldn't need to check on him every day, Severus. Once or twice a week should suffice."

"Not a great deal of notice, even so."

"I understand. By the end of the week, though. Please."

He had not seen the child since he was more than a babe in arms, hadn't wanted to. The stab of jealousy on their first brief encounters, when he'd taken in the shock of James' black hair over Lily's wondrous green eyes, had been almost more than he could bear. It should have been his child. He should have been with Lily, not that . . . that arrogant fool! He reined in his temper automatically, and gave Albus a short nod. "Of course. I'll see him by the end of the week."