Dudley had been sent to bed an hour previously and Petunia had been pretending to read some trashy novel that her book club was currently discussing. After what seemed like a long time, Vernon announced that he was going to bed as well. He liked for them to go to bed together and was trying to stay up but he had to be at work very early in the morning. Vernon paused at the stairs and looked at his wife as though to ask if she was coming but she ignored him and forced her eyes to skim the words without really seeing them. Dudley had been sent to bed an hour previously and Petunia had been pretending to read some trashy novel that her book club was currently discussing. After what seemed like a long time, Vernon announced that he was going to bed as well. He liked for them to go to bed together and was trying to stay up but he had to be at work very early in the morning. Vernon paused at the stairs and looked at his wife as though to ask if she was coming but she ignored him and forced her eyes to skim the words without really taking them in. He climbed heavily up the stairs and only when she heard the door to their bedroom close did she set her book down and heave a great sigh.

It was July thirtieth and it was the last day she was to have her nephew under her roof. Relief flooded her at the thought that this time tomorrow the cupboard under the stairs would return to being just a spare storage space. She had been made to feel guilty repeatedly by Albus for her feelings of resentment for what he had asked her to do. She was doing a good thing for the wizarding world, didn't she see that? To which she could only think to remind him that the wizarding world hadn't particularly wanted her when she was interested and now she had her own life in the MUGGLE world.

Or she had until the baby had been dropped off on her doorstep eleven years ago. Everything had been about him since then. Albus had delivered him personally to Petunia, knocking on the door in the middle of the night. She had been up; carefully taking down the Halloween decorations - really, was there anything tackier than decorations left up past the celebratory date? - and had answered the door before the knocking had grown too disruptive.

She had been sad to hear about her sister, of course, and felt sorry for the tiny baby with Lily's big green eyes. She had been jealous of her sister, yes, but she hadn't wished her dead. She wasn't a monster. At least not back then. Before he even broached the subject, she understood that he wanted her to take the child and she had been prepared to agree. Vernon would agree, she assured Albus, given that there was enough compensation to cover the boy's expenses. And they couldn't tell him about the magic, naturally. Yes, they had the spare bedroom that was currently used as a home office - that no one ever put to use - and she could set up a crib in there quickly enough. She might have to drop some of her community activities to care for two children, but that was all right.

She hadn't been entirely prepared for what Albus had told her next.

She wasn't to be kind to the boy and she wasn't to treat him as her own. We need a warrior, he explained to a confused Petunia, Voldemort isn't gone forever and what we need is a machine able to withstand the realities of war. Petunia hadn't been sure she understood. She knew nothing about war and nothing about soldiers. She knew about little boys and babies and husbands and cooking. Albus had assured her that it would only be until he was eleven. Then . . . alternative arrangements would be made.

Albus had given her some basic instructions before he left. Let the boy self-soothe, don't pick him up overly much, and don't call him by his given name. Too easy to form an attachment that way, he explained. It might stress individuality overmuch to the boy. When he was preparing to leave, he had turned to her with a sad smile and said, "Petunia, I understand you might think this is cruel. But he'll grow up to save hundreds of thousands of lives. He'll never know what he's missing unless you dangle it in front of him."

And then he'd left her alone with her nephew and a multitude of explanations to give in the morning. She had done as he instructed. For the first few years of his life, she didn't call him anything, and when it became necessary she would only bark 'Potter' or 'Boy.' Vernon was less kind and would usually resort to name calling, especially after that first bout of accidental magic when further explanations had become necessary. Albus had written following this first incident which had been a harmless enough display in which her drooping plants which she had been cursing to herself had suddenly bloomed brilliantly to the delight of the toddler who had been following her shyly. She'd resisted the urge to smile at him and scoop him up like she did her Dudders. Instead she'd shooed him away and looked around nervously to make sure no one had noticed.

Albus had written that such displays could not be tolerated. Magical discipline was extremely important and he must learn to control it. Petunia had reluctantly expressed her 'concerns' to Vernon. What if the boy were to hurt one of them? She could see Vernon turning this over in his mind all day, growing more and more paranoid, and that night had been the first time he'd hit her nephew.

Albus wrote with suggestions weekly. Chores, he said, were character building and might help with physical prowess. She assigned a multitude of them, more than he could hope to get done in a day, and then sent him to bed without supper for not completing them. Albus had suggested that she use a reward system for everything including food. Very small and bland meals such as bread and water unless he pleased her. She would watch him carefully, willing him to do something she knew would please the old man but he usually didn't.

Around the age of five, Dudley had begun to pick up on his parents' attitude toward his cousin and mimicked it. He would push Harry down and call him names. Petunia had very nearly drawn the line. The next time she had seen Albus, she had told him about this newest development. Albus hadn't seemed particularly concerned. It was good for the boy to learn about adversaries.

Petunia had put her hands on her hips and nearly shouted, "Pray tell why my son has to be his adversary? He's five."

"Everyone must do their part. Things will run their course. You're almost halfway through. You've done a wonderful job, Petunia. Like your sister, you see the value of sacrifice."

"You're not hearing me," she said slowly, "I will not raise my son to be a bully."

Albus had waved her off, "It's normal for this age. He'll outgrow it soon enough."

Shortly after that, Albus had begun sending them a monthly stipend. A very generous one that made Vernon's eyes get slightly buggy and even made him a little more generous toward the boy. Petunia had received a letter not long after insisting personal possessions be kept to a bare minimum. It seemed the worse she treated the child, the more the monthly stipend grew. And it had gotten easier after a while to be cruel.

The reason why it had gotten easier disturbed her. She hated him. Heaven help her, she hated that little boy for what he had turned her house into. Vernon wasn't a violent man, he really wasn't, and she didn't practically force children into slave labor. They just weren't those kinds of people. Really they weren't.

She pulled a letter out of the drawer in the coffee table that she had received a week earlier and read it over:

Mrs. Dursley -

I plan to retrieve one Mr. Potter on July 31st at 1:00 PM sharp. Please have him prepared to leave. It will not be necessary for him to bring anything with him as his immediate needs will be provided for.

S. Snape

She traced that name with her finger and sighed. She remembered him and he supposed he would remember her. For the life of her, she couldn't understand how he planned on doing this for the next six years considering how infatuated he had been with her sister. He didn't know, though. Didn't know how disarming it could be when the boy suddenly looked up and it was Lily's eyes giving you that look as though you had just drowned her favorite puppy right in front of her. He would learn quickly enough, though.

There was only one thing left to do, of course; the 'grand finale' you could say that would take place in the morning. Albus wanted to make sure the boy had no mixed feelings about his time at the Dursleys. Petunia hated that she had gotten good at orchestrating the boy's misery, but she already knew what she would do. She hadn't even needed Albus to give her any ideas.

On her way to the stairs to finally go to bed, she paused at the cupboard. She very carefully unlatched the lock and opened the door, trying not to make a sound. It was very dark in there and the air smelled stale. She got on her knees and scooted into the small space, looking at the small figure lying on the bed, stomach down. Petunia moved to brush away a fringe of his hair and even in his sleep he instinctively moved away from her.

"Harry," she breathed, defiantly. What would Albus do to her? It was the last night and she wasn't really afraid. She felt free. Not her responsibility anymore. Things could go back to the way they had been before. She didn't even really remember what that meant.

His eyes flickered open, looking panicked for a moment, and then simply locking on her face. If this was extremely unusual, his face didn't give it away. His aunt behaved erratically. He had accepted this a long time ago. They gazed at each other silently. There was really nothing to say.

As a rule, Severus disliked children. He disliked the disheveled, grubby little things that were sorted into his house every year. He disliked the way they wrote too big on their parchment and how they were so easily moved to tears at the slightest provocation. He disliked how they didn't clean their cauldrons completely and left remnants of their last potion which mixed with their new potion and inevitably caused explosions, noxious gas, or pyrotechnic displays. He tolerated first and second year students because they would grow to be a more reasonable age. That and because Dumbledore had shot down his suggestion that they hire assistant professors for the grunt work of teaching the younger students.

Though it might not be a surprise that Severus disliked young children, many would find it surprising to know that he did like to teach and he enjoyed his older students. This might come as a surprise even to the said students that he liked as he had an odd way of showing it. That is, he didn't show it, not beyond the favoritism he extended as a courtesy even to the dreaded young brats in his house.

Therefore, it was two extremely uncomfortable fifth year students who sat before him despite the fact that they were newly appointed prefects and two of his most prized pupils. They both had nervous tells, he observed with amusement; the girl was chewing on her bottom lip and he was all but wringing his hands with anxiety. It was unusual for him to call upon students to see him privately unless they were in trouble. For other more mundane matters, he tended to address them as a group.
"Professor," the girl, Susan Abley, blurted out. Her desire to make a good impression outweighing her nerves, apparently, "I just wanted to say thank you for appointing me as prefect. My parents were so pleased. I'm going to do such a good job, sir."
She smiled timidly and the boy, one Samuel Burbank, managed to bob his head in agreement. He returned the smile thinly and replied, "I'm sure you will, Miss Abley."

He regarded the two of them and decided he'd made a good choice this year. Susan was the oldest of three girls, the other two were not yet attending Hogwarts, from a family pureblood enough that she wasn't targeted by her fellow Slytherins but close enough to their Muggleborn roots that they had not held too strongly with the Dark Lord. She talked about her sisters constantly and was older enough than them to have been a help when they were babies. Samuel was the eldest of four, two boys and two girls, with a single mother. His family was not pureblood. Their marriages more concerned themselves after money than blood. They had played a large part in the war, however, trafficking dark goods to the wizards and witches doing the bidding of the Dark Lord. Severus was always surprised how nervous the newest heir of that family was. Regardless, having a single mother meant that he was experienced enough caring for younger people.

See, Severus did not necessarily pick his prefects on the basis of good leadership skills and immaculate behavior, though those did have to factor in to an extent. He chose prefects who had a good track record with young students. Being a Slytherin, Severus had found a workaround to ensure that other than the actual teaching he rarely had to interact with his younger students. In his experience, his first and second year students tended to have fairly trivial problems, and, yes, he considered them beneath him. He would not spend his time listening to students complain that their roommate smelled badly or had read their precious owl from home or had, Merlin forbid, left them out of some trivial activity. He had spent his first year teaching listening to these problems and it had led to him being unkind to his students and these students had remembered his unkindness as they got older. Slytherins could hold a grudge.

Of course, there were certain things that his prefects were not equipped to handle and knew to report to him. Incidents that escalated to violence, signs of abuse at home, or flagrant disrespect for the prefects' authority were notable exceptions in which he would get involved. Still, there were entire glorious years when he didn't once have to deal with the problems of anyone below third year. It was a great workaround and Minerva could purse her lips all she wanted but there was nothing she could do about it since their prefects generally took to the responsibility well.

Now, if only there was a workaround for the eleven-year-old Potter brat. Yes, Potter, the reason they were here today. Alas, Miss Abley did not look capable of training a warrior for the light.

"I have called you two here to inform you that there has been an alteration to the duties for the prefects this year. Possibly next year as well. You may decline these responsibilities and I could find someone else to perform the job, but I hope you both will accept as I took great care in choosing you." They both straightened up considerably at the compliment and the Burbank boy stopped wringing his hands. He already knew that they would not decline. "I am endeavoring on a . . . research project that will take me out of the school for a majority of the time I am not teaching."

He had debated making it known, even to them, that he would be absent from the castle at times during the term. He didn't want his students to get the idea that they could slack off just because he wouldn't be there to look over their shoulders. He finally had deemed it necessary to give the prefects something by way of explanation.

"I will need you to attend to the third and fourth year students as well as mediate among your own year. You will give report to me weekly. It's a huge responsibility and I need to know it's something the two of you can handle. I cannot be concerned about what is happening in the castle while I'm working on my . . . project."

They wouldn't be able to do anything about the older students, of course; it was pushing it to even ask them to mediate among their own year. In his experience, however, his older students preferred to solve their own problems, anyway, and usually resented intervention. As long as he remained aware enough of what was going on with the older years and didn't allow things to get out of hand, it should be okay.

"Of course, Professor Snape," Miss Abley responded enthusiastically.

"Only . . . " Mr. Burbank spoke for the first time, trailing off, gauging Severus' response. The professor simply raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue,
"That's an awful lot of work. Not that I'm lazy, of course, but I imagine we might need some special considerations. For example, it might be difficult to get all of our assignments done on time and . . . "

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the clumsy bribe. He'd get better at it, though. Miss Abley was looking at him, too; not agreeing with Samuel but obviously not opposed to the idea of getting something in return for her efforts. "Of course, I will inform your professors that they should try to accommodate you whenever possible."

He went over a few more details with the two students before sending them back to the dormitories. He hoped he was doing the right thing. Damn Albus Dumbledore all to hell for making this necessary. This had been the plan for years, of course, but the magnitude of the task had only occurred to him in the last year. The boy would be his responsibility for the next seven years. Perhaps even beyond that depending how long they had to prepare for the coming second war that Albus predicted.

For the last year, Severus had desperately tried to talk him out of this insane plan to make the perfect warrior. He'd given him many good reasons that he was the worst person for the job.

"I'll be too busy during the school year."

"Perhaps we can put you on a leave of absence for a couple of years while you get everything set up with Mr. Potter."

And spend every waking second with the Potter boy without the benefit of having a break to teach his classes? No, thank you.

"I've never trained anyone before. Surely an auror would be better equipped to do this sort of thing."

"I don't believe there would be anyone better equipped to teach him. After all, you went through a sort of training when you began spying for the Order."

It had mostly been on-the-job, frantically figuring out ways to avoid the Cruciatus curse.

"He's Lily's son." This one had been a desperate plea,

"How do you expect me to give him the kind of training you want him to have when he's Lily's son?"

"From what I understand, he looks much more like his father. Perhaps you should focus on that. Better yet, don't consider his family relations at all."

But he was a Slytherin. Blood was everything.

-

Harry woke up early. He rolled out of bed as that was the only way to get out without hitting his head on the ceiling of his cupboard. He didn't know how he would fit in here in a couple of years. Right now, though, he had to focus on getting through the day. It was a Saturday which meant Dudley was out of school. He needed a plan to avoid him. He peeked out of his cupboard into the living room. The television wasn't playing Saturday morning cartoons so he assumed it was still early enough to be safe. Right, he would sneak into the kitchen and nick some food and be out the front door before anyone else was even up.

He walked into the kitchen and his plan was instantly thwarted. It was a complete and utter mess. A mess in general was almost unheard of in Aunt Petunia's home but a mess of this magnitude spelled trouble. It was such a huge mess, in fact, that it was hard to take it all in at once. There were smashed plates and cups and the contents of the fridge had been scattered about the floor and even on the walls. For a wild moment, Harry thought they might have been robbed and went to check the front door which was still securely locked. When he walked back into the kitchen, puzzled, Uncle Vernon was standing in the middle of the mess.

He hadn't seemed to register what exactly had happened and was looking around in a kind of amazement, but his face was already turning purple as though in anticipation of him getting angry. Their eyes locked for a moment and it all seemed to come together for Vernon. "You."

Harry took a few clumsy steps backward and then turned around and ran to the front door. He fumbled with the locks and wasn't quick enough before his uncle caught up with him. Vernon grabbed Harry and literally lifted him off the ground so that they were face to face. "What are you trying to do to us, boy?"

When he let go, Harry tried to catch his balance but fell in a heap to the floor. Vernon kicked at him and made contact with his hip, causing an explosion of pain in that area. At least he was barefoot which was not always the case.

"Vernon." Petunia was standing in the hallway, her hair done up in curlers, her lips pressed into white thin lines.

Harry took the opportunity to scurry on all fours away from his uncle while he was distracted by his aunt. He ran to her, half hiding behind her. Sometimes she could be reasoned with when his uncle got like this. Sometimes she was just as likely to hit him. She turned to look at him and he said, quickly, while he had the chance, "I didn't. I swear, I didn't."

"Petunia. I want - "

"Yes, I know, Vernon. I think you're right." To Harry she said, "I want you to get out of my house right now. I've tried to keep you here and you've made it all but impossible. I'm finished."

She went to turn away and he began, "Aunt Petunia . . . "

"No," she hissed, "If I had known they day you were dropped off on my porch like so much garbage, I would have never brought you into this household. Get out."

It hurt his feelings and he knew that was unforgivably pathetic. To want after her affection like some neglected puppy dog. It had been the only way he knew to survive, however, to imagine that she might feel something for him, anything at all. Her face was so cold and apathetic, however, he felt doubtful of this. She grabbed his arm and forcefully half-walked and half-dragged him to the front door, shoving him unceremoniously outside. The door snapped shut behind him and he heard the deadbolt engage.

He rang the doorbell. He knocked a couple of times. Then he decided to take a walk around the block and give them some time to cool off. He'd never been in so much trouble before. Of course, Vernon frequently said he wanted Harry out but Petunia always protested. When he arrived back at the house, the car was gone out of the driveway and the door was still locked. He checked the window to find that it was also locked. He was truthfully feeling a little bit scared but told himself that was stupid. They'd be back and they'd let him back in the house. He just had to wait.

It wasn't long before someone arrived. Not the Dursleys, but a tall, thin man wearing a black long-sleeved shirt and a black pair of slacks. His hair was black and oily and his pale skin looked strange against the bright day. Harry tried to ignore him but then the man started walking toward him and eventually stopped right in front of him, forcing Harry to look up.

"Mr. Potter."

"Er, hi." His aunt had told him as much as not to talk to strangers though it kind of fell under the rule that he wasn't to talk to anyone.

"I assume your aunt informed you of my impending arrival."

Harry just stared at him and wondered if he should run to a neighbor's house. None of the neighbors liked him though. A panicked thought struck him, a threat that had always loomed, "No. Are you here to take me away?"

"In a manner of speaking."

-

On the one hand, Dumbledore hadn't lied in saying that the boy bore a remarkable resemblance to his father. He had left out, however, that he had exactly his mother's eyes. Not just the color, but some of the facial expressions he made were classic Lily Evans. Severus sighed impatiently and looked around for Petunia. The house behind the boy was seemingly quiet.

When he told the boy that he would be coming with him, he looked as though he might cry. Had he mentioned he hated his young students? Apparently Petunia had not informed the boy of what would be happening today. He tried a different tact, "Why are you sitting on the porch if you're not waiting for someone?"

The boy hesitated and then said, "I locked myself out."

Severus climbed the steps past the child and unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. Potter was looking at him suspiciously but went into the house with an inordinate amount of gratitude evident in his face. They would need a quiet place to apparate from, anyway. On his way here, Severus had apparated behind a restaurant but a couple of teenagers had been nearby and had been giving him strange looks. He raised an eyebrow at the mess in the kitchen but didn't comment.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

The boy looked entirely despondent at the prospect but nodded his head glumly. "Can you . . . can you write a note to Aunt Petunia with your phone number or something? In case she changes her mind?"

Severus decided it would be easiest to play along and nodded. The boy went through a nearby drawer and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen. Severus scrawled a particularly nasty note to Petunia and placed it on the counter. He did not leave any contact information as the boy had requested. It was sheer luck that he hadn't had to see the woman today and hopefully he never would. After a moment's thought, he also went to the front door and spelled the lock to consume any key that was put into it. It was childish, but Petunia had that effect on him. Always had.

Severus walked back into the kitchen and commanded the boy to take hold of his arm. The apparation took them to a prearranged spot on the border of the Forbidden Forest and the rest of the Hogwarts grounds. It took great precision to apparate to that exact spot. When they arrived, he found the boy all but hyperventilating and he wondered with annoyance if Petunia had told him anything at all.

The boy stopped immediately when he spotted the castle. His eyes grew large and he stared in awe and the massive structure of which they were only viewing a small portion. Severus tapped his shoulder, causing the boy to jump and said sharply, "We're not going there. Not now. Follow me."

And they entered the Forbidden Forest.