Harry was near to biting his nails in a frenzy when he walked into the library two days later for his next session. Smidgen had told him that this time he would be facing one of his biggest fears, his uncle, Vernon Dursley. Normally, Harry tried to downplay the devastating effect Vernon had had upon his life, but there were times, like now, when he had to admit that even dead, the man still scared him.

For so long during his childhood and early adolescence, Vernon's shadow had loomed over him, more concrete and tangible than even Voldemort's, truth be told. Voldemort was like the bogeyman, he terrified you and he had cost Harry his mother and stepfather, but he was not the monster Harry had to live with day in and day out growing up. That special place had been reserved for Vernon alone, who had delighted in making his freak nephew's life a misery.

Harry would have been content to put off confronting his terror of Vernon Dursley forever, but the wise shimmerling said his fear was best faced and gotten over with. :The longer you hide and tremble like a leafskimmer in your uncle's shadow, child, the longer you will keep having nightmares. I know this is difficult, facing one's fears is never easy, it is almost always something we would avoid, but these fears are poisoning your spirit, Harry, like iron poisons the blood of the fae. You are sick, as I was sick when the lurk attacked me, and in order to help you get well, you must face your fear. Stare it in the face, know it for what it is, and its power is broken. That is a truth all my kind know.:

His breath hitched in his throat as he entered the library, for once the room felt close and dim, and he was not happy to be here. Smidgen awaited him upon the arm of the sofa, her wings had slowly regained their former luster, and she was sitting up alertly, looking like a statue of those ancient Egyptian temple cats, if said cats were black and had butterfly wings.

:You are tense tonight.: she observed calmly, as he sat down on the sofa stiffly. :This session bothers you.:

He raised an eyebrow. "Bothers me? Understatement of the year, dreamweaver. I wish my dad would Obliviate my memories of Uncle vernon from my mind, then we wouldn't have to do this."

Smidgen shook her head in reproof. :You speak of permanently altering one's memories, do you not? Such is forbidden among the fae, an invasion of self and privacy that is tantamount to a rape of the mind. An evil practice and not one which will help you, young Snape.:

"I think it would help me just fine," he grumbled rebelliously.

:Trust me, it would not. Memory wiping leaves a wound upon your spirit that even time cannot heal. It is never a solution to a problem.:

"But Smidgen, Aurors use Memory Charms all the time to make Muggles forget they saw us doing magic or whatever. You're saying they're evil?"

:Harry, sometimes the greatest evil is done unintentionally, by those seeking to do good. I have seen it many times in the World Beyond and in my realm as well. You have too, for did you not tell me your great white wizard, Albus Dumbledore, put you in great danger while saying it was for your own good?:

"Yeah, I guess so. He seemed to think it was important I stay with the Dursleys, even though he knew what my uncle was like. I still don't understand it. I always thought he was my friend, least it seemed like that way, at school. He always . . .well . . .stuck up for me." Harry recalled the flying car incident at the beginning of his second year, when Severus had been so furious he had wanted Harry to be expelled for nearly revealing their world to Muggles and almost dying crashing into the Whomping Willow.

Smidgen cocked her head, picking up on the memory effortlessly, it was very clear and sharp and fairly shouted ‘notice me!' to her telepathic senses. :Your Headmaster, a responsible adult, supported your reckless decision, one that nearly got you and your friend killed, and overrode your father, who wished to teach you a lesson? Does that not strike you as a bit odd?:

"Uh, I didn't know that Severus was my dad back then, Smidgen. Nobody did. So he didn't have the authority to punish me like that."

:No? He was your teacher, your welfare his responsibility. It is the duty of all teachers to make sure no harm comes to those in their care. And to reprimand a student if he endangers himself, which you did. What punishment did you receive for pulling that piece of reckless insanity?:

Harry thought. "Uh . . .I think Ron and I got a detention from McGonagall and Ron's mum sent him a Howler. And that was it."

:That was it? Ai, young one, for doing as you did, were you a member of the Seelie Court, the Queen would have had your hide. For you put not only yourself in danger, but your people. You would have been under reparation geas for months, bound to serve those you wronged, until the Queen declared your debt paid. Did you not understand the seriousness of your actions?:

"Well...yes...I mean we almost got expelled, but we had no choice, we had to get to school, Smidgen!" Harry said defensively.

:Indeed, but was there NO other alternative? You could have told your friend's parents or asked another wizard for help, right? But you chose the forbidden and you nearly paid the consequences for it with your life. Wizard Severus was right to be so furious, and your Headmaster a fool to be so lenient. Or maybe not a fool . . .but one with a hidden agenda. One does not usually endanger the lives of apprentices unless there is reason.:

"Like what?" Harry asked, trying to steer the shimmerling away from the discussion of his poor choice in taking the Weasleys' Ford Anglia. It was in the past and while Harry knew he had been extremely stupid, he hated admitting it, though he was grateful Severus hadn't known he was Harry's father back then. Otherwise there would have been nothing to prevent him from facing the stern wizard's wrath. Harry wagered he would have been over his father's knee in a trice, probably getting walloped with the wooden spoon like Draco. Even though he knew it would have been deserved, the mere thought of being on the receiving end of such a punishment from Snape made him shudder in embarrassment. So he was quick to thank God for small favors.

:I do not know. You wizards are fond of secrets, much like one of the fae lords.: answered the shimmerling. :Now that you are calmer, shall we begin?:

Only then did Harry see that the shimmerling had deliberately delayed the lesson with the discussion on purpose, to give her charge time to relax before going into a trance and facing one of the worst inner demons of all.

He drew in a deep calming breath, trying to center himself, the way he did for meditation. Then he counted slowly to twenty, gazed into Smidgen's violet orbs, and entered the Realm of Dreams to confront the specter that had haunted him for thirteen years.

* * * * * *

* * * * * *

He was seven, and he was supposed to be making breakfast for the family, but Aunt Petunia had forgotten to get more eggs from the store, so they had to eat cold cereal and toast, and Vernon was furious.

"Why didn't you remind your aunt she needed to run to the supermarket, boy?" he bellowed, lifting Harry up and shaking him so hard his teeth chattered.

"I-I'm s-sorry!" he stuttered, lucky he was able to talk at all with the way his uncle was manhandling him.

"Sorry? Oh, now you're sorry, are you?" Vernon said softly. "Well, you're about to be even sorrier, boy!"

Normally, that tone would have made Harry cringe and tremble, knowing what was coming next. But on that day, the sudden injustice of getting blamed for his aunt's oversight sparked a defiant chord within him, and he had cried, "Why should I be blamed for something that isn't my fault, sir? It's no fair! Aunt Petunia does the shopping, not me."

That was all, but it was enough to send Vernon into a frothing temper. He cracked his nephew hard across the cheek, and a red handprint bloomed on the child's cheek like a brand.

"I'll teach you to backtalk me, you disrespectful little bugger!"

"No! Lemme go!"

For the first time ever, and the last, Harry fought against his punishment, struggling and kicking in the big man's grasp.

It was in vain, his slight frame and skinny stick-like arms were no match for the beefy man, and Vernon overpowered him easily, though the effort made him pant like a dog in heat.

In five minutes, Harry found himself bare-bottomed and bent over the kitchen table, Vernon's arm pinning him tightly, while his other hand wielded his monogrammed belt with terrific force.

He tried not to howl, but that too was futile, and soon his cries echoed, bitter and defiant, through the kitchen.

* * * * * *

"Remember, boy? Remember the way you begged me to stop? Please Uncle, no more! I'm sorry, Uncle! I'll never do it again!" mocked Vernon, sneering menacingly. "Shall I give you the same lesson again, nephew? Since you didn't seem to learn it the first time?"