It had happened suddenly. Uncle Vernon had been drinking, and it was a rainy night. He'd taken a curve too fast. Aunt Petunia had been flung halfway out of the vehicle, her head cracking unpleasantly against a sign post. Uncle Vernon had sustained blunt force trauma and died on the way to the hospital. The first Harry and Dudley knew of it was when a police officer knocked on the door, the loud noise terrifying Harry into hiding under the sofa. Dudley had answered it, pulling the door open cautiously, and sinking to the floor as the news properly struck him.

Now, both boys were at Aunt Marge's. She'd told the police that she would take them in for the time being, but that "other arrangements must be made soon, I can't waste my time looking after a couple brats! Dudley, maybe, but not that rat he calls a cousin!" The police officer, more stone-faced than Harry thought was possible, had agreed that they would endeavour to find other guardians.

Aunt Marge hated Harry. He was small and scrawny and reminded her of a rat. "The runt of the litter," she liked to spit in his direction, particularly after she'd had a few too many. The news of her brother dying filled her with a brief sadness, before she returned to praising Dudley for the slightest movement and aiming stray, vicious kicks at Harry while forcing him to take care of her many, brutish dogs. In the two days he spent with her, he collected a handful of bites, a terrifyingly large collection of scratches, and more cuffs to the head than he could count.

Despite her lavish treatment of him, Dudley didn't look much better. When Aunt Marge went to bed at night, Dudley would creep down into the kitchen, where Harry was forced to remain in a corner, and sit by him, knees hunched to his chest. Dudley couldn't sleep at night, either, although Harry knew it was for different reasons. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia may have loved their "ickle Duddykins," but Aunt Petunia loved him in ways that weren't particularly appropriate to a ten-year-old. Or a six-year-old, which was when she'd started coaxing Dudley into her bedroom in the middle of the afternoon, when Uncle Vernon was at work. Harry had watched from the doorway with too-large eyes until Aunt Petunia noticed and threw a shoe at his head. It left a nasty purple splotch on the side of his forehead, one that Uncle Vernon increased when he came home.

The police officer came back on the third day, accompanied by a tall, severe-looking man with a large, hooked nose and a curtain of greasy black hair. The man sneered continually at Harry and Dudley while the police officer explained that a distant cousin had been found, and that Mr. Snape had agreed to take charge of both boys. There was an odd, fixed look to the policeman's face that Harry didn't care for, but couldn't put his finger on why. Not that it mattered, because in the space of an hour, both he and Dudley were sat in the back of a run-down black car, headed straight for the neighbourhood known as Spinner's End.

Sometimes Severus Snape hated his employer. This would be one of those times, he thought with a scowl as he readjusted his mirror and glanced in the backseat at his two new wards. The contrast between them was startling. One tiny and dark-haired, one overweight and blond. The blond boy-Dudley, was it?-would have to be put on a diet immediately. Potter-Harry, he forced himself to say-needed proper feeding. He wondered why the brat was so thin. Was he that picky? Well, he'd learn, Severus decided as he put his blinker on and switched lanes, resisting the urge to say many colourful profane words at the idiot next to him who had tried to cut him off. There would be no pickiness or fastidiousness over food in the Snape household. If he didn't eat properly, he wouldn't eat. A few days of the unpleasant-tasting nutritional potions that Severus kept the Hogwarts Hospital Wing stocked with would ensure even the most spoilt child would eat like a normal human.

He knew virtually nothing about his new charges. Albus had simply told him that Harry Potter's guardians had died in an unfortunate accident, and he had no one else to see to the boy. He hadn't been aware the brat came with a friend until the police had told him about Dudley Dursley, Potter's cousin. And then what could he say? Of course he had to take the second child in for the summer, as well.

At least it would only be for the summer, he thought darkly, pulling into his slightly ramshackle driveway and cutting off the engine. Albus had promised to have better guardians lined up for both Potter and his cousin, and Severus intended to ensure the Headmaster lived up to that promise. He had no desire to take care of two bratty children for the rest of his life. Not to mention what would happen when he needed to return to his teaching position. Potter had only just turned ten, and Dudley was in all likelihood, a complete Muggle. There were spells and potions, of course, that could enable a Muggle to see Hogwarts, but with any luck, Severus would feed and shelter them for the next few weeks and then pass them on to someone new with a cheerful heart.

"All right, out," he sneered at the two boys who sat motionless in the back, peering out each side with vague interest. Neither child seemed particularly grieved at the realisation that they'd lost their parents/guardians, but perhaps it was a delayed thing. He shepherded the two into his house, resisting the urge to hex one of the neighbours who kept peering curiously, if a bit short-sightedly, at him. He had no doubt this news would be all over the neighbourhood within the hour. Lovely.

"Sit," he barked out at the two, who sat obediently on the sofa next to each other. Such a contrast, he thought again, staring at the two. Dudley met his gaze boldly, unafraid, while Harry stared constantly at the floor. Thinks he's better, does he? Severus internally snarled. Figures. I'll get that out of him in the last weeks of the summer no matter what I have to do. Wretched child, just like his father!

"I have a few things to tell you," he began, perching awkwardly on an armchair across from the two. "One-I am not actually your cousin, distant or otherwise. Two-my employer shall be coming here shortly to explain matters in a way better than I can. Three-You will be under my care for the rest of the summer, and the rest of the summer only. I have no desire to babysit children, but the Headmaster-my employer-thought it prudent otherwise. You will follow my rules, behave like good children, and I will do my best to ensure you are not kidnapped, murdered, or locked in the cellar." He thought he saw Harry's face whiten at his last words, but decided he must be mistaken.

A knock sounded on the door and he rose gratefully.

"There's my employer now," Severus announced. "His name is Albus Dumbledore. Be respectful, or you shall feel my wrath." Both boys nodded, and Severus escaped to the front hallway with what felt suspiciously like relief.

Harry's head was swimming by the time Mr. Dumbledore left and they were alone, once again, with Professor Snape, as he preferred to be called. An evil wizard, a magic school, the fact that he had magic and wasn't just a disgusting freak...it all swirled around in his mind until he thought he might sick up on his shoes. It didn't make sense. But he couldn't see why Professor Snape and Mr. Dumbledore would lie to him. Not with Dudley there, too. People might lie to him-and did, all the time!-but they didn't lie to Dudley. His cousin looked every bit as baffled as he was, which was a comfort.

Professor Snape had left them with a giant list of rules. Don't leave the house without permission. Don't run in the house. Don't talk back, always speak respectfully and speak when spoken to. Be in bed by nine o'clock. Be up and at the breakfast table by eight o'clock, or you shan't have any. Same for lunch at noon, and dinner at six. Do your summer work, do your assigned chores, or you'll be sorry. Don't enter any closed room without permission and definitely don't attempt to enter through any locked door. Practise proper hygiene (here, Professor Snape's eyes had flicked disdainfully toward Harry's untidy hair, dirty face, and rumpled clothes, and he'd felt his face burn in shame. Aunt Marge hadn't let him, but of course, he couldn't tell his temporary guardian that!). They had free time for a few hours each afternoon, and an hour in the morning. Harry didn't know what he would do then. Perhaps read the books Professor Snape had recommended for him, with another sneer. Books on "magic" and "the history of the wizarding world." They sounded interesting, even if only from a fantastical perspective.

One thing was certain, both Harry and Dudley thought, as they washed up for dinner. No matter how strict Professor Snape was, he had to be better than the Dursleys.