Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his head hanging down. He knew he was going to be in big trouble for using magic- again- after he’d already been warned with stinging letter from the Ministry a few weeks before. 

He hadn't really meant to use magic, but he also knew that when he let his emotions get out of control, sometimes things just...happened. To be honest, he didn't really feel that badly about the destruction he'd caused to the downstairs after a fight with Dudley got ugly. Part of him felt justified, but another part of him felt extremely guilty, mostly because he didn't want to let Dumbledore down. He hadn’t meant to blast the living room to pieces, per se, but he also hadn’t made much of an effort to control things once they'd gotten out of hand. 

As the living room fell to pieces, Harry ran upstairs to his bedroom and locked the door behind him. He waited what seemed like an eternity for someone to come upstairs so the drama could continue, but instead it sounded like something else was going on down below.  He didn’t have to strain very hard to hear Vernon yelling at what seemed to be someone from the Ministry, who must have come to intervene on Harry’s behalf.  Harry held his breath and put his ear to the door, hoping to figure out what was going on.

“Do you see what he has done! That mangy ingrate has destroyed my home!!” Uncle Vernon was in a real rage, and his anger was clearly visible to anyone standing in the room as his bloated face turned from its normal blotchy pink to a nearly purple color. “After all we’ve done for him, putting a roof over his head, feeding him, looking after him all of these years. He’s a delinquent!”

“Yes, Mr. Dursley, you don’t have to convince me, I am quite aware of Mr. Potter’s inadequacies.”

Harry froze, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up straight as his heart began to pound. He recognized the low silky voice immediately. No, he would not be lucky enough to be hauled off by a member of the Ministry, unfortunately for Harry, the voice he was hearing downstairs was none other than his dreaded Potions Master, Professor Snape.

“Allow me to apologize for Mr. Potter’s behavior, and assure you that he will not be causing you any further problems. I will be happy to take care of this mess, and unless you have any reservations, I will be taking your nephew back with me so that he may be properly…dealt with, for his infractions.”

“Yes, well, we hope he will be sorted out straight away” came the high pitched squeal of Petunia Dursley. “Frankly, we couldn’t care less if we never had to see him again.”

“Nothing but trouble, this one,” chimed in Vernon. “You can take him, no skin off my nose.”

Petunia nodded with enthusiasm as Snape pulled his wand out of his sleeve, and with a quick flick of his wrist, put everything back in order.

“Well then, if you don’t mind, I will just collect Mr. Potter and we will be on our way.” And with that, Snape headed up the stairs, smirking to himself as he thought about what would lie ahead for the famous Boy Who Lived.

Harry could hear the slow deliberate steps as Snape made his way up the stairs. He glanced at the window wondering if he could possibly make it to the ground in one piece, but by the time he'd thought about it Snape was already standing outside his room.

The doorknob didn’t even turn, but the door flew open to reveal a very unhappy Professor Snape. He waited a moment for the excuses to begin, but Harry sat silently on his bed, perhaps recognizing that his fate was sealed.

“Well? You’re in a world of trouble now, Potter, I hope you know that” Snape said, the bedroom door slamming closed behind him. He contained the urge to give the boy a good smack right there, knowing full well he deserved it.

Harry said nothing, he just bent his head down and looked at his feet. He knew he was in trouble, and there was no use fighting against it.

“Right.  Well, silence suits me just fine, so feel free to stay that way,” Snape said in a low voice as he grabbed the boy’s upper arm. “Brace yourself, Potter, and do try not to vomit.”

Harry hardly had a moment to think about what Snape had said before the two of them apparated out of Little Winging and into an unfamiliar dark street.  Harry stumbled and nearly fell to the ground, but Snape kept a firm grip on his arm, albeit at a distance in case Harry happened to get sick. After a few seconds, Harry righted himself while Snape looked on cautiously, and once he was sure Potter was not going to pass out or throw up, the two of them began to walk.

“Where are we? Where are we going?” Harry asked in a shaky voice, slightly more unnerved now that he was alone with Snape in a dark and shady looking neighborhood. His mind began to swim with all kinds of possibilities as to what Snape would and could do to him. He was starting to wish he’d put up more of a fight back at the Durselys, or at least tried to explain that the whole destruction-by-magic thing wasn’t his fault.

“Be quiet. I’ll explain everything shortly, now keep walking” and with that, Harry and Snape continued down the dark, deserted streets until they came to a large house at the end of an empty cul-de-sac. With a quick wave of his wand and a brief incantation, the front door opened and the two walked inside. Or rather, Snape walked inside dragging a reluctant Harry who was sure if he entered the house he would never see the light of day ever again.

Snape took Harry into living room, where he immediately walked over to the fireplace and lit a fire. As light filled the room, Harry saw that the living room was quite large, with a sprawling oriental rug, leather couches, and several dusty portraits hanging on the walls. Harry hovered just inside the doorway, letting his head hang down and wrapping both of his arms around him, partly for warmth, but mostly out of fear. He started to shiver just a bit and his lower lip trembled when he thought about the possibility that he would never see Hogwarts or his friends ever again.

Snape's voice resounded in the large room, “Sit down, Potter, and try to keep the pathetic Oliver Twist orphan posturing to a minimum.  While I’m less than thrilled to have had to waste an evening fetching a delinquent wizard child from a bunch of Muggles, I can assure you that you have much more to worry about than dealing with me at this moment. I’m sure you are aware, that after several clear warnings from the Ministry, you have once again violated the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and this time you are facing more than an angry letter.”

“But, it wasn’t my fault! You don’t understand, I didn’t mean for any of it to happen!” Harry was beginning to get hysterical, when Snape came swooping toward him in flash, grabbing him by both of the shoulders and giving him a quick shake.

“Silence! This is not the first time you’ve flouted the rules, Potter, and I’m afraid that the Ministry’s tolerance has run out. Keep your tears for the judge, I’m wholly uninterested in your excuses.  Now, sit on this sofa while we wait for Dumbledore, he will decide where you will go while you await your trial.”

With that, Snape pushed Harry onto the sofa, while he stormed off into the kitchen to prepare himself a strong cup of tea. Before he left the room, he turned back around and looked Potter directly in the eyes, “Don’t even think about getting off the couch, Potter. If I have to chase you around anymore this evening, you will be very sorry indeed.”

Harry could hear Snape tinkering about in the kitchen, and part of him thought it might be worth trying to make a run for it. Another part of him knew that a successful escape was futile, and would probably just get him killed, or even tortured for days at the hands of his sadistic Potions master. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, and the only thing that kept him somewhat sane was the thought that Dumbledore might be coming to his rescue.

A few moments later, Snape came back into the living room with a tray filled with two teacups, a tea pot, some lemon and a bowl of sugar.  Harry’s eyes perked up for a moment, thinking maybe he would at least get a cup of tea. 

  “Don’t get any ideas Potter, this isn’t for you. I’m expecting the Headmaster to arrive at any moment now to collect you, so just behave yourself and sit quietly on the couch.”

Almost on cue, Dumbledore arrived through the fireplace with a small pop. Harry immediately felt a sense of relief, hoping at least now Snape couldn’t kill him.

Dumbledore smiled politely as he stepped out of the fire. “Harry, Severus, nice to see you both.”

“Headmaster,” Snape nodded, motioning toward the empty loveseat in front of the coffee table where he had placed the tea.  Harry looked up briefly at his headmaster, but felt so deeply ashamed that he couldn’t hold eye contact for more than a split second. He felt horrible that the headmaster had had to make this trip because he had gotten into trouble, again.

“Yes, well, I suppose we should get down to business then. Harry, are you alright, my boy? Are you injured or anything? It sounds like you had quite an eventful evening at the Dursley’s,” Dumbledore said, as he walked to the side of the couch where Harry was sitting and patted him on the shoulder.  Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up.

“I’m fine sir. I don’t know what happened exactly, I just…I just got angry and things started to happen.” Harry started to choke back tears, but found the strength to control himself when Dumbledore gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  Snape desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but decided it would be wiser to keep his disgust to himself for the time being.  

Dumbledore walked back to the loveseat and sat down with his tea.

“ Well, Harry, as you might have gathered, the unfortunate events of this evening came to the attention of the Ministry, and let us just say, they are not very pleased.  Normally this kind of repeated violation of the Decree for Underage Sorcery could lead to expulsion from Hogwarts, or even serving time in a juvenile detention center.”

At this point tears started to fall from Harry’s eyes freely, and just he couldn’t hold it in anymore. During this conversation, Snape managed to keep a straight face, but the whole time he was secretly relishing the thought of the brat being tossed into a borstal and forced to spend the next several years doing manual labor.

“Not to worry, Harry. I know that you are not willfully using magic against the rules, so I have talked with some people, and the Ministry has agreed to release you into my custody until a suitable time can be found to take you to trial, to explain the circumstances and work out a solution.”  Dumbledore put down his teacup, and looked at Harry, trying to judge his reaction.

“So, what will happen to me now?” Harry asked, wiping the tears off of his face with the back of his hand. “Am I going to go back to Hogwarts with you for the rest of the summer?”

“I’m afraid not, my dear boy, I have many pressing things to take care of before the term begins.  I will not be able to look after you properly, which is why I have asked Professor Snape to pick you up this evening.”

With that, Snape slammed his teacup down and looked up, sneering at the Headmaster.  “Excuse me, Headmaster, but where are you going with this?”

“Well, Severus, perhaps we can discuss this in more detail, but in short, I will need you to look after Harry for me.”

Snape stood up, fuming, and glaring at Dumbledore.  He quickly snapped his head around at Harry and pointed up, “Potter, you will go upstairs this instant. At the top of the stairs, take a left, and the first door on your right will be a guest room.  You will wash your face, brush your teeth, and go to bed.  IMMEDIATELY. I do not want to see or hear you for the rest of the evening. Is that clear?”

He turned back around to face Dumbledore, “The Headmaster and I need to have a discussion,” he added, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly, and with that Harry got up from the couch and scurried toward the stairs, hoping and praying that Snape would put up a good fight. He did not want to spend the summer with Snape anymore than Snape wanted him there.  He was desperately hoping that Dumbledore would have no choice but to take him back to Hogwarts and let him spend the summer hanging around Gryffindor tower until the rest of the students came back.

While Harry got ready for bed (he was surprised to see a comb, a toothbrush, and a pair of pajamas already sitting on the bed), downstairs the conversation continued. Harry couldn’t hear exactly what was going on, but it was clear it was a heated debate. He strained to stay awake, but before the long conversation came to an end, Harry fell asleep, the two distinct voices still carrying on in the living room.