“You stupid, stupid boy! Do you think I spend all night making potions to let you give the money to your father for drink?!” A high-pitched, strained, very angry voice reached Harry's ears through the fog as he passed through the edge of the globe.

A second later, he stumbled and tripped forward onto a rug. Mother and son had frozen, the woman with her arm outstretched, an accusing finger in the young boy's face. The boy himself, short with black hair, had one hand held to his cheek. The red streaks of fingermarks could be seen creeping out from round his own smaller ones. They were both silent, staring at Harry as he stood in the centre of their living room, wobbling slightly as he fought to both regain his balance and reach for his wand rather than crash to the floor. The woman had a look of shocked amazement plastered over her face. The boy seemed torn between sulking and confusion over the sudden appearance of the stranger.

Harry shuffled nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he stepped back slightly and tried a nervous grin.

“Um… hi,” he stammered. Silence. Harry ran a tongue around his suddenly dry lips and tried again. “Um… sorry to bother you.” He flashed another nervous grin at the woman. “Um, I'll, er, leave right now.” He took another step backwards. “If, um… you could tell me, that is, er, I mean, er, tell me…” there was a pregnant pause while Harry desperately searched for something that wouldn't sound too odd. “Tell me where I am?” he finished hopefully, peering at the woman. His panicked mind told him that was a dumb thing to say, while his smaller, still-thinking part reassured himself with numerous excuses as to why an almost-18-year-old might end up somewhere by accident. Like practicing apparition or something?

The small boy was looking up expectantly at his mother, still absentmindedly rubbing his smarting cheek with his hand. “No.” The woman answered shortly, her voice sullen. Her eyes narrowed slightly, “Who are you? What are you doing here?” her tone was suspicious and she had begun to advance on Harry.

Harry cast around wildly for something to say. Any excuse! His mind screamed at him. Anything. Apparition lesson. Bad portkey. Anything!! “Uh… um... I'm uh..” Harry paused, unsure of how much to give away. His eyes slid to the scrawny boy at her side. Suddenly realisation struck. “You're Snape?!” he half-yelled in his excitement. The young boy's eyes widened, his mouth slackening slightly as he looked back at Harry. Eileen stepped menacingly in front of her son, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed in front of her.

“How do you know my son?” She accused Harry. “What's he to you?”

Harry thought quickly. “I'm from the ministry.” He rushed out, “We're testing a new… uh… radar system to track miscreants.” he invented wildly.

Eileen turned from accusing Harry to her son so fast Harry thought he would have missed it had he blinked. “What have you done now, you little brat?” she caught his collar and shook him, “How dare you bring the ministry to our door? Defiling our good name!”

Harry gaped and quickly tried to amend his excuse. “But, uh, clearly it doesn't work right yet, Mrs. Snape. Uh, it shouldn't be tracking young children. We had…we had assumed the description it gave was for someone older.” He waved a dismissive hand in Snape's direction. “Obviously the whole system is wrong. It shouldn't have delivered me here. A complete mistake.” He stepped towards the door. “I'm so sorry for the mix up. If you'll excuse me.”

“No. Wait.” Eileen was thinking hard. If this man was from the ministry then perhaps he had been meant to find Tobias. Perhaps he would be willing to remove him. Or better. She would like to see Tobias writhing in front of some wizards, begging for mercy. Or maybe they would think he deserved prison. She had heard the dementors were worse than torture. Of course, if the man really had been misdirected to her son, then maybe she could encourage him to find a way for Severus to rise into power in the ministry. Or some other influential position.

His career, was, of course, many years ahead, but Eileen was nothing if not ambitious. She wanted power - having so little herself - and was prepared to push her son through any doorways - or windows for that matter - to get it.

So Eileen plastered a smile on her face. “Won’t you have a cup of tea? Mr. uh..?” she asked sweetly. “I would so love to hear more about this new radar method.”

“Uh. No, no. I really. I'm fine thanks.” Harry stuttered, starting again towards the door.

“Oh no. I really must insist. The pleasure is all mine!” Eileen, her smile stretched over her prominent cheekbones to show almost all her teeth, pushed Harry onto the nearest chair. She had a surprisingly strong grip and Harry winced.

“You take it black?” Harry blinked like a mouse caught in a snakes glare and swallowed uneasily, his mind retreating back to the last time he had been forced to accept tea.

“Uh. Ok.” He muttered weakly at Eileen's already retreating back. Does she poison her visitors? He thought, panicked.

Snape, who had barely taken his eyes off Harry since Harry had identified him, now rapidly covered the small distance to the chair. He twisted his hands and looked earnestly into Harry's face.

“Are you my uncle?” he whispered, “Please?” he added, quickly his gaze dropping to his feet, his small body tense. After a few moments of silence he glanced back up and Harry found the small pair of obsidian eyes, usually fixed upon him with hatred and scorn, filled with an uncertain hope as they bore into his own.