Harry awoke to the sound of raised voices. Or rather, one raised voice, he realized, as he picked out the tones of Snape’s deep baritone. Getting out of bed, he hesitated. It might not be safe to be seen. Quickly, Harry rummaged in his trunk for his invisibility cloak, slipped it on, and crept cautiously out of his room and down the stairs, wand in hand.

“I did what needed to be done,” Snape’s voice echoed.

“Be that as it may, Severus, at his relative’s, Harry has the protection of blood wards.”

“Had,” Snape retorted. “Those wards fell when they abandoned him on my doorstep.”

Harry peeked through the crack between the bookshelf and the wall. Snape was kneeling in front of the fireplace. The professor’s back blocked Harry’s view of the wizard with whom Snape spoke.

“Hmm...” the warbling voice replied. “How did the Dursley’s react to your visit?”

Harry paused. Was that Dumbledore speaking?

Snape snorted is disgust. “They denied everything at first. Then they blamed the boy.”

“Do I want to know what you did to them?”

Harry leaned in closer. He heard a mixture of exasperation and resignation in the other wizard’s tired but familiar voice.

“Nothing less than they deserved,” replied the potions master. “I used a reverse chronos charm in conjunction with a three-way equivalence spell.”

There was a long pause. Harry held his breath. Finally, the other man spoke. “A reflection of their treatment of Harry, then, distributed thricefold.”

Under cover of the other wizard’s voice—he was almost sure it was Dumbledore—Harry pushed the bookshelf open wider. Stepping sideways, his guess was confirmed; he could see the headmaster’s wizened old face in the greenish flames.

“And what are the conditions under which the curse will break?” Dumbledore asked.

“The curse will expire,” Snape said curtly, “after an equal amount of time has passed since they took the boy in.”

“Nearly sixteen years from now then,” Dumbledore observed.

Harry froze with realization. Snape had cursed his relatives for harming him. Snape, the man who had hated him for longer than Harry could remember, had come to his defence.

“Indeed,” Snape replied. “There is only one other way the curse will cease. If one of them feels genuine remorse, then the curse will be broken for that individual.”

Harry watched, stunned into inaction, as Dumbledore stroked his beard while perched in the flames. “And how likely is that?”

“Not very, from what I’ve seen,” Snape remarked. “The cousin is still young. I would say he has the best chance of realizing the error of his and his parents’ prejudiced ways. But that is no longer my concern.”

Harry felt the tension in the room inexplicably rise. He stepped out from beneath his invisibility cloak. It was not his wish to eavesdrop unseen. Just as he planned to announce himself, Snape’s words stilled him.

“My concern relates to what happens next to Potter. Do you truly believe I am unfit to be his guardian? Or are your objections based upon your plans for him?”

“Severus, my dear boy...”

“Do not insult me, Albus. Answer the question.”

“I do not underestimate your ability to do anything you set your mind to. I am sure you would be more than an ample guardian to Harry. However,” Dumbledore said, raising a handmade of ash to stop Snape from interrupting him, “we must consider the greater good. Potter’s role in this war cannot be underestimated. The prophesy says...”

“To hell with the prophesy!” Snape interrupted, shouting in the same tone that had awoken Harry in the first place. “You will not play Potter like some chess piece in whatever elaborate game you’ve schemed up. I won’t allow it.”

“Won’t you, Severus?” Dumbledore said in a deceptively calm voice. “You gave me your word.”

“I gave you my word to keep Lily’s son safe! And I have kept that promise since the boy set foot in Hogwarts. I will not have you...

“Severus, listen...”

“No, you listen!” Severus bellowed. “Lily appointed me his guardian, and as such...” Snape stopped mid-sentence. In the next instant, he whirled around, his eyes pinning Harry in place, his face darkening.

“Potter! Go to your room.”

Harry shook his head, his own anger flaring. “Why? So you can decide my future without me? Weren’t you the one who told me I was in control of my life? That I had a choice?”

“Potter...” Snape warned.

“You said I had to earn your trust. Well you need to earn mine, too, professor.”

Snape took a deep breath. “I am asking you to return to your room. I will come discuss this with you after the headmaster and I have finished our conversation. I assure you that no decisions will be made without your input.”

Harry hesitated. The word trust hung unspoken in the charged air between them. Could he trust Snape? Did he really have a choice? After long moments of gazing into the unyielding obsidian eyes that watched his every move, Harry nodded. Reluctantly, he turned on his heel and trudged back upstairs, shutting the bedroom door behind him before flopping down on the bed to wait for Snape.

Snape’s spine crawled with apprehension as he climbed the steps to Potter’s room. Of course the boy would be angry, but that was the least of his concerns. He was walking a tight rope between remaining in Dumbledore’s good graces and protecting Lily’s son. He’d made promises to both, and for the first time, those promises had become incompatible.

“Potter,” Snape said as he first knocked on, and then opened, the bedroom door.

The boy watched him closely. He looked both sullen and expectant.

Snape swung a lank of hair from his face and stepped farther into the room. He pulled the chair out from the desk, turned it around, and straddled it. Gazing at the boy, he said, “It seems we have a problem.”

“When don’t we,” Potter muttered.

Snape almost smiled but restrained himself. “The headmaster does not believe my residence is a fit place for you to stay.”

Potter looked up, his eyes shadowed with distrust and suspicion. Sighing while avoiding Snape’s gaze, he said, “So, I have to go back then. To the Dursleys.”

“No.”

“No?” Potter said, looking up.

“No. I gave you my word that you would not be returning there; blood wards or no blood wards. We will make other arrangements.” Potter stared at him with such a desire to believe what he was saying that Snape had to look away. With his gaze focused elsewhere, he said, “Where do you wish to spend the rest of your summer?”

“At the Burrow,” the boy responded without hesitation.

“And if that cannot be arranged?”

“Why can’t it be?” Potter demanded.

Snape looked back at the determined teen who seemed ready to fight for his rights.

“Calm yourself, Potter,” Snape said, “I merely said if it could not be arranged.”

“Oh,” Potter said, thinking. “Well, er, where does Lupin live?”

“Lupin is a werewolf, Potter. He is hardly fit to look after you.”

From Potter’s expression, Snape could see that the boy wanted to argue the point about needing to be looked after.

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “You are an underage wizard. You also happen to have a large price on your head. Did you think we’d let you wander London on your own until classes begin?”

Potter looked away, unhappy with his circumstances.

“In any case,” Snape continued, “Werewolf Lupin lives at Grimmauld place when he is not otherwise... afflicted.”

Potter grimaced. Snape suspected it was too soon after his godfather’s death for the boy to want anything to do with that place.

“What about the Granger’s?” Potter asked.

“As in Hermione Granger?” Snape inquired incredulously.

“Well,” Harry said, “I know they are Muggles, but it’s the last place the Death Eaters would look. They think I am being well guarded by Wizards. They wouldn’t think to look in the Muggle world.” Potter paused, looking expectantly at Snape.

Snape scratched his chin absentmindedly. “I must admit, the idea does have some merit.”

Potter remained still and watchful, waiting, Snape supposed, for the rug to be pulled out from under him.

“Regarding your removal, Potter, I must confess that I do not like it. However, the headmaster has a valid point. If the Dark Lord ever discovered that you and I had a...” Snape hesitated—relationship was too strong of a word, “an association with one another...”

“We’d both be dead,” Potter said.

“Correct,” Snape returned. “It seems we have another problem as well. We believe that the Dark Lord suspects that you are no longer residing with your relatives.”

“And what does that mean?” Potter inquired.

“It means the Dark Lord will be looking for you. I will lay a false trail, of course, but we need to be on our guard all the same.”

Potter nodded. Seeming to accept the inevitable, he asked: “When will you know where the headmaster will send me?”

Snape looked sharply at Potter. “It is not entirely his decision. I am your guardian and he cannot overrule me. He can only try to persuade me that his way of thinking is superior to my own.”

Potter pulled his knees up to his chest and stared over his linked hands at Snape. “Where do you think I should stay?”

“Right where you are,” Snape replied. “You attract trouble like Veelas attract Wizards.” Snape paused, studying the sceptical expression on the boy’s face. “However, if I cannot keep my eye on you here, I would prefer someplace that kept you in line.”

“The Weasleys?” Potter asked hopefully.

“While I have no doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are more than willing to take you in, Potter, the Weasley children’s penchant for rule breaking predisposes me to find them an unsuitable arrangement at present.”

 Clearly disappointed, Potter looked away.

“I believe,” Snape said in a more subdued voice, “that Miss Granger would have an adequate appreciation for the problem at hand. I sense that she would also temper your impulsiveness and invite you to think about the consequences of your actions before you act.”

At Potter’s frown, Snape knew he was correct in his assumptions.

“Very well, then,” Snape said, getting to his feet. “If you are amenable to spending the rest of the summer with the Grangers, I will work with the headmaster to obtain their agreement and construct the appropriate wards.”

“Sir?” Potter said.

Snape paused, standing beside the chair, his hand resting on the top of it as he had been about to push it back under the desk.

“Thank you for not making me go back to the Dursleys.”

Snape nodded. Seeing that Potter had something else on his mind, he waited.

“May I ask, what sort of curse did you place on them?”

Snape sighed. He had a feeling this would come up sooner or later. Sitting back down on the chair, he inquired, “How much of my conversation with the headmaster did you overhear?”

“Not enough to understand what you did, sir.”

That was a very Slytherin response, Snape thought. He cleared his throat. “The curse was designed to make the Dursleys experience every injustice they forced you to endure, starting from yesterday afternoon and extending back in time—or forward in time from their perspective—until the day they took you in.”

Potter stared at him, stunned incomprehension on his face. Finally, he stammered, “What does that mean?”

“It means that if your uncle broke your nose, he will feel the blow and suffer the damage. If you knew it was coming, he’d feel the fear you felt prior to being attacked. If your aunt didn’t feed you, no matter how much food she puts on her plate, it will disappear, and she will suffer your every hunger pain. If your cousin humiliated or taunted you, he will experience the same.”

Potter looked gobsmacked.

Snape didn’t bother to add that if his aunt made Potter go hungry, the ‘thricefold’ quality of the spell would ensure that the entire family went without food for as long as Harry did. From the looks of it, Vernon and Dudley Dursley could afford to lose some weight, but that was hardly the point. Injustices did not happen in a vacuum. Everyone in the family knew how the Potter boy was treated, and they either chose to ignore it, or they actively participated in it. Now they would suffer the consequences of each other’s actions on the boy as well.

“So, er,” Harry faltered. “They will experience their treatment of me for the next sixteen years?”

“Do you think that is unfair?” Snape inquired silkily.

“Well, it’s just... that’s a long time.”

“No longer than you had to endure,” Snape said.

“Wow,” Potter said, still looking shocked. “So, is there any way they can break the spell?”

“Only if they show true remorse,” Snape replied, repeating what he’d said earlier that day. “Do you think that’s likely?”

Potter shook his head as if to try and snap himself back to reality. “I don’t know. They’ll probably end up blaming me and hating me even more.”