The sun was rising over Privet drive as Snape Apperated with a pop onto the dun colored pavement. He caught a glimpse of Arabella Figg at the window of her little house and gave her a quick sneer; he had always found her a very silly and light minded woman.

The air smelled like grass clippings and wet newsprint. He had worn Muggle dress, a pair of black dress slacks, white shirt and black wool jumper. He had the needed documents in a slim briefcase he’d transfigured for himself. His wand was tucked up his sleeve; he would take no chances, even safe in the comforting monotony of suburbia.

The house was a neat brown structure, with a nicely manicured lawn and carefully boring flowerbeds. He walked up the dew slicked steps and gave a single powerful knock. A rumbling was heard from within the house, and a moment later the largest man Snape had ever seen (barring Hagrid) pulled the door open and stared down at him with undisguised hostility.

“What’d’ya want, then? It’s seven bloody AM on a Sunday.”

“Mr. Dursley, I am Severus Snape, and I must talk to you about your nephew.”

The door stayed closed. “Are you one of them?”

“If by them, you mean a wizard then yes, I am. It’s a rather pressing issue and if I could step inside for a moment--”

Dursley shook his great head. “Oh, no. The last time one of you people came inside, my son got viciously attacked. A wonder he wasn’t killed. How do I know you won’t do the same?”

Snape gave the man his most feral grin. “Continue to test my patience and I shall relieve your suspense at once.”

The door swung open, Dursley not being an idiot, and Snape found himself in the most neutral living room he had ever seen. So much beige in one place, he reflected, made him feel rather like a bug in a child’s sandbox. Dursley’s wife came down the stairs in a hideous puce bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers, her hair done up in a multitude of curlers, which gave her the look of a rather startled hedgehog. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and she gave a little scream.

“You! You were Lily’s little friend. Cerberus, wasn’t it?”

“Severus. Yes, Petunia, I remember you well. Glad you see you have not changed.”

She bristled. “Why are you here? Has the boy done something?”

“That very much depends on your definition of ‘done something’. I’ve come to speak to you about the possibility of transferring guardianship.”

Vernon gave Snape a speculative glance. “To whom? One of your sort, I expect.”

“Well, yes. I assure you, the boy would be well treated. I would personally oversee--”

“Why now?” Dursley spoke up again. His jowls were quivering just a little with some kind of emotion. For a second, he wondered if he had had the wrong impression of the family-- was Dursley upset at the thought of losing his nephew?

Fortunately, the question resolved itself almost immediately.

“Why not twelve years ago? Couldn’t you people have done this before? Because, you know, we‘ve incurred rather a lot of trouble caring for him over the years. Raising a child isn’t cheap, is it, dearest?” He addressed this last to Petunia, whose beady eyes were glinting with greed.

“Of course not, precious. Just the food must have cost us, what, hundreds of pounds a year. Not to mention clothing, doctor visits, things for school… Thousands, all told. Not that we minded, of course.”

Snape watched with a detached sort of contempt. Disgusting. These awful Muggles wanted to-- to sell the boy, as though he were a prize pig or a wheel of Stilton. He was half tempted to transfigure them into toadstools or flobberworms, but that would not have gotten the papers signed. Unfortunately.

What to do? Threats have their virtues, though not without equal drawbacks. Perhaps a little intimidation? No, these people were far too stupid, he wasn’t going to waste perfectly good spleen on these morons.

As though in answer to his quandary, the perfect solution popped into his head. He almost smiled, but held himself in stern check.

“Of course, madam. I imagine a little gift could be arranged…to ease the burden of your loss, of course. If you’d be so kind as to wait for just a moment?”

Snape Apperated to the very edge of Hogwarts and, nearly running to his office, quickly fire called Minerva. She had in her position a certain collection of magical objects, which she used to teach her more advanced students, and which she had carefully charmed to counter the very nature of the thing. After promising her the moon, stars, and several especially time consuming potions, she gave it to him, curious but trusting Snape enough not to ask. He removed the charm with the spell she’d hastily given him and transfigured an official looking bag for the ‘gift’.

He was back in fifteen minutes, appearing in the beige room just as a carbon copy of the man was coming down the stairs.

“Who’s that, Mum? Is he some kind of salesman?”

Snape turned and gave the boy his patented stare, and watched with pleasure as he was reduced to a quaking bowl of suet pudding, which he did rather resemble anyway.

Snape handed the heavy muslin sack to Dursley, all the while fighting the urge to grin like a wolf. Dursley’s piggish eyes lit up, and he spilled the sack into his lap with a whoop of glee.

“Petunia, get your coat. We’re off to buy that vacation home!”

Snape put out a restraining hand. The Muggles had almost forgotten he was there in their haste to use the largesse they had received.

“Mr. Dursley, there is still the matter of your nephew’s guardianship. If you sign here?”

He gave the man the ballpoint pen he had brought in deference to Dursley’s sensibilities. Dursley barely even looked at him, simply scrawled a line which might have read “Vernon R. Dursley” if the reader were drunk and upside down.

Snape gathered the papers and watched the Muggles as they gathered the gold, still squealing with glee, running out the door still pajama clad. He heard the motor on their car start, and they pulled away in a roar of engine and a smell of burning rubber.

Snape wondered if they’d forgotten that it was all of seven thirty AM on a weekend, or if Muggle businesses stayed open all the time. He also wondered what they’d do when the gold they intended to use vanished in four hours or so. Leprechaun gold has a nasty tendency to do that.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Back at school, Snape checked on Potter. The lad was still curled up asleep in the fetal position, almost lost under the blanket. Snape had rarely seen another person sleep, and never a child. He was struck by the trusting, open quality of Potter’s face. His body had relaxed as he slept, indicative of the restorative quality of the potion. His breathing was regular and even, still very deep.

Snape wanted the boy asleep for as long as possible. Technically, Potter had no say over who his guardian was, but it would be better for everyone if he had at least an inkling this was going to happen.

At eight thirty he woke the boy. “Wake up, Mr. Potter, we need to have a little talk.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was an angry Harry Potter who flew down the corridor twenty minutes later. Snape followed close behind, not wishing Potter to do something stupid that might create a problem. He wore a calmly indifferent expression which foiled Potter’s adolescent rage .To borrow a Muggle phrase, Potter looked mad enough to spit ink. He had paused only long enough to allow Snape to transfigure his pajamas into trousers and a pullover. His slippers had become trainers.

The boy was forced to wait for Snape to say the password (“Bertie Bott”) and plunged headlong into the office, prepared to get to the bottom of the thing for once and all.

“Ah, Harry” said Dumbldore, twinkling with a vengeance “How are you doing today? I trust professor Snape has filled you in.”

Harry was almost too overcome with shock and upset to speak. “You know about this?”

“Of course. I approved it myself.”

“But why? He-- He’s-- he hates me and wants to see me dead.”

Snape opened his mouth to protest and saw Dumbledore make an nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Dumbeldore gave Harry a reassuring smile.

“Of course he doesn’t. He only wants what’s best for you, the same as the rest of us.”

“ You can’t mean it! How do you know he isn’t planning on handing me over to Voldemort?”

Snape finally stepped in. Pressing one hand to Potter’s bony shoulder, he put his mouth right to the boy’s ear and whispered “That is quite enough. Unless you’d like a repeat of last night-- and don’t think I won’t-- then you will stop yelling and behave yourself. We still have the issue of your disrespect in my office to address as well. I would remember that.”

Harry stopped at once. He’d frozen like a statue when Snape touched him-being touched made his skin crawl, always had. He made himself take a deep breath, slow his breathing, count to ten. His muscles untensed just a little.

Snape gave an approving nod the boy couldn’t see. Dumbledore watched the scene play out inscrutably, hands steepled under his chin.

“Anything else, Harry?”

“He, uh, punished me last night.”

“I authorized him to. He feels-- and I agree-- that perhaps a different track--”

“You told him he could smack me?”

Dumbeldore’s eyebrows lifted a quarter millimeter. “I authorized him to discipline you however he saw fit. In our world, Harry, physical chastisement is not at all uncommon. As you were Muggle raised, you are unlikely to have had much experience with this aspect of Wizarding culture, but, I assure you, I have total faith that his choice was sound.”

The fire flamed green and Minerva McGonagall popped out. Dumbledore had evidently told her what was to happen and why. She gave Snape a smile and immediately went to Harry’s side, murmured in his ear that the teachers, in deference to his grief, had excused his exams.

“Minerva, are you ready to do this?”

McGonagall nodded her head. Dumbledore walked around his desk and joined Snape in front of the hearth. They linked hands, and Dumbledore said formally

“Do you, Severus Snape, agree to house Harry James Potter until he is grown, and protect him, under pain of death?”

“I do.”

McGonagall raised her wand and a flash of green sealed the vow. It was done.

Snape walked his charge along the halls, much subdued. Potter wouldn’t look at him, shoulders hunched. A perfect teenage sulk, Snape thought, what a shame it’s wasted on me.

He led Potter to his office, and sat down in his chair.

“Now, Mr. Potter” Snape enunciated carefully, “We will address your poor behavior towards your elders these past few days.”