Harry looked downright terrible. Yes, he was showing Severus the tricks his owl could do, but he looked defeated.

"Those are very clever tricks," Severus said, trying to gauge Harry.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry muttered sorrowfully.

"What's wrong?" Severus said after a minute, slightly exasperated. He needed to get Harry to a point where he would volunteer what was wrong. Unfortunately, they seemed a long way off from that.

"It's nothing," Harry shrugged, letting Hedwig sit on his shoulder, and Harry turned to replace Hedwig on her perch.

"I highly doubt that," Severus replied. "Put your owl away and then come back here." Harry wordlessly did as he was told, and he stood nervously beside the couch, waiting for Severus to speak.

"What's bothering you?"

"It's fine, sir," Harry insisted. "You've done so much."

"No, I've only done what should have been done long ago," Severus said. "Now, come sit down and tell me what's really bothering you." Harry nodded, and sat on the edge of the sofa. "Well?" Severus prompted.

"It's just - " Harry began and cut off, looking up at Severus, who felt a stab of pain at the expression in his eyes. Lily's eyes. "It's just...what if Mr. Nott is right? What if I did deserve it?" Harry looked down, and Severus saw one lonely tear roll down his cheek.

"You didn't," Severus assured him, brushing the tear away. "Remember, you and I are the same. Whenever you find yourself in that trap of thoughts, remember that we are the same." He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. "You didn't deserve anything that happened to you at the hands of your relatives. Nott hates you for having brought about the fall of the Dark Lord. He is a very lonely man. I'm sorry you've ever had to meet him."

"Why is he lonely?" Harry asked.

"His wife died, and left him with a son," Severus answered. "He had no other friends. He's always been cruel, Harry, and he doesn't realize it, but his cruelty drives people away from him. He's cruel because he doesn't have friends, and he doesn't have friends because he's cruel." Harry looked thoughtfully at the ground. "There's something on your mind," Severus accused. "State it."

"Do you have any friends, sir?" he asked cautiously.

"A few, of sorts," he said. "There's Mr. Malfoy," he offered, after a moment. Harry nodded. "Your mother was a very good friend. She was the best friend I've ever had." Harry just looked up at him. "Hang on." Severus sighed, and got up, moving over to an old trunk where he began to burrow in for a few moments. Finally, he came back over to the couch and took his seat again next to Harry.

"This, Harry," Severus said, "is your mother." Harry gasped as he looked at the picture. A beautiful woman with long, streaming red hair gazed back at him, smiling and waving. Beside her stood a young man with black hair, who smiled softly at her.

"Hi, mom," Harry whispered, as he waved back a little.

"She can't hear you, Harry," Severus whispered back, not willing to break the reverence of the moment. "This is just how wizards keep pictures."

"Oh," Harry said, clearly disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Severus said. "This is the best I have of her. Would you like to keep it?" Sure, the picture meant a lot to him. It was the last thing he had of Lily before she died. It had been taken a few months before the announcement of her engagement to James. After her death, he locked all his memories in that trunk, and never looked at them. Surely it was a selfish thing to keep this picture of Lily for himself, where he refused to even look at it, when Harry, who had never even seen his mother, would desire it as much as he did, and use it more.

"You really don't have to," Harry said, blushing a bit, revealing just how much he really did want it.

"No, it's fine," Severus assured him. "As you saw, I keep it in a trunk. You have as much right to it as I do, more even. You're her own flesh and blood. I was - just a friend. Please. Keep it. Take good care of it." Severus closed Harry's hesitant fingers around the ornate frame.

"Thank you, sir," Harry gasped, tears filling his eyes, but Harry willed them not to fall.

"We should probably get you to bed, young man," Severus said, changing his tone to a very business-like one. Harry looked from the picture in his hands to Severus and then back to the picture. Once again, Severus could tell there was something on his mind. "What is it?"

"Nothing, sir," Harry said quickly. Silently, Severus used a quick form of Legillimens to brush over the foremost thoughts in Harry's mind.

"Could it be that you would like your own room now?" Severus suggested, after viewing the impressions. "Now that you have Hedwig, and your mother's image, I don't think it's such a bad idea." Harry smiled slowly at the picture he still held in a death grip. "Come here, I still have your room ready for you."

Severus led Harry into an additional room. It was plain, but well-furnished. There was a comfortable bed, a desk and chair, wardrobe, dresser, and night stand. In the dark, Harry couldn't tell any coloring in the room, but he felt the soft carpet under his feet. Severus summoned his clothes, and left him to change for bed.

"I'll be back in a few moments," Severus said. He had been trying to perform little bits of magic here and there in front of Harry. Just to get him accustomed to the idea. True to his word, Severus was back, and Harry crawled into bed, clutching the photograph to himself.

"Here, I'll put it on your nightstand," Severus said, gently taking the frame and setting it up where Harry could easily see his mother's smiling face. "She'll be looking over you. You don't have to worry." Severus laid his hand on Harry's head. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Professor," Harry murmured.

.oO-Oo.

In the morning, Harry woke with a start. He realized immediately that he was alone, and in a strange room. Panicky, he threw the covers off of himself. He felt his heart fill with dread when he heard a crash, and knew exactly what it was.

The photograph from last night. He'd caught it on the covers and it had fallen to the floor, the frame shattering in a thousand pieces. Heedless of his bare feet, Harry slipped off his bed and knelt next to the shards of frame, and picked the picture from the mess. His mother was still smiling and waving to him. It drove the idea home that she in fact couldn't see or hear him. If she could, she wouldn't be smiling and waving at her klutz of a son who had broken one of Professor Snape's most prized possessions.

It hadn't taken him twelve hours and already it was broken. The feelings welling up inside him were many and strong. Not the least of which was terror. He was scared of what would happen to him now that he messed up. He knew that Professor Snape had promised not to beat him, but maybe this was enough to make him pull back from his promise. After all, he hadn't been careful enough.

Why hadn't Professor Snape listened when he had said that he shouldn't have it? Harry knew something like this was going to happen. It always did. He was always breaking things by being clumsy. Well, that if not when Dudley would trip him or something and he'd break it that way. But no, this was entirely his fault. There wasn't any Dudley to blame this time, even in his mind.

Quickly, he shoved the frame, the broken shards of glass, and the photograph under the bed. The only thing to do was to hope that Professor Snape never found out. And from that moment, Harry felt a black shroud of guilt and fear cover him, because of that secret.

Out on the dining room table, Harry found a note similar to yesterday's.

Dear Harry,

I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to go over yesterday's lessons. If you care to, you can read your first lessons in potions and herbology today. Do not try anything it says to do. Also, do not be upset if you can't finish it. I want you to take a break after lunch, since I'm sure you'll be working on your school all morning, and play with Nitty for a couple of hours. Remember that with Nitty, Hedwig, and the picture of your mother, you're never really alone.

Professor Snape

Harry winced at the last sentence. He didn't want to think about that picture, because it was quickly becoming quite a sore spot for him. He always destroyed the prettiest things. His mother's picture had been beautiful, and now he wouldn't let it watch over him anymore. How could she stand to watch him? Of course he knew it was just a picture. But how could his mother in heaven stand to watch him? He shook those thoughts from his head. It hurt too much. He might as well start reading his potions book.

.oO-Oo.

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office. He had a stack of letters on his desk, correspondence, with some unknown party. The letters were clearly old. Half were Muggle post and the other half was wizard post. But a spell had been cast on those letters so that no one but Albus could see the words.

Albus sorted through them, reading parts of some, setting others aside without a second glance. He looked old and tired, the usual grin and twinkle gone. How many people knew that he wore that mask? His position in life wasn't the easy one he tried to put on. Sure, most people knew he didn't play an easy role. But did anyone know the tole his decisions took on him?

He popped a lemon drop into his mouth. Well, that wasn't a mask, at least. He really did have a passion for his lemon drops.

Severus would never understand. Albus laid his elbows on the desk and ran his hands over his face. Severus. He missed the man. Contrary to what he would have the man believe, he actually didn't want to hurt him. But he couldn't afford to have Severus meddling where he didn't belong.

Albus knew the philosophies that drove Severus. Despite his time as a Death Eater, and despite his tolerance of those who disagreed with him, Severus did possess a very strong belief in the black and white of morality sometimes. It was a bit odd, seeing his time as a spy, but Albus suspected that his narrow-mindedness probably came from his experiences. Severus had had a lot of difficult experiences, and he probably needed something to cling to in his own personal storm.

Albus' own philosophies were much different. Severus looked after the individual, and Albus tried to look after the cause. Sometimes, in a war, terrible terrible things had to be done. Sometimes, in order to protect the many, a few had to suffer. Severus would never understand this. Albus knew it.

Everything he had done, against Voldemort, for the Light, for the Order, Albus felt justified in. He admitted to himself that he didn't like most of what he had been done. But he felt he had no other choice. He had to have done those things, or Voldemort would have won. And if Voldemort had won, what then? The terrible things that would have happened then would have been unimaginable.

If Severus knew everything he had done, the man would never forgive him. Which was why he needed to keep everything a secret. He couldn't afford to lose his spy. He had already lost his friend.

.oO-Oo.

Thankfully, the lingering pain of the Cruciatus had been minimal. It hadn't been too bad to get up in the morning and teach. He'd been through worse. So he had made it through the day, teaching those dunderheads. And now he was walking back to his chambers, hoping that everything was alright with Harry.

There were things that needed to be done. He wasn't sure how he would explain this to Harry, but he had to somehow. Lately, the thought of the Dursleys had been returning to his mind quite frequently. He had to do something about them, and he knew that no one was going to help him with this. He had promised to see them punished for their actions, and he intended to keep that promise.

"Harry?" he called as soon as he finished closing the chamber door behind him. There was no answer, but Severus looked into the sitting room and saw Harry focused on one of his text books. "That will be enough studying for one day," Severus said, no getting Harry's attention.

"Hello, sir," Harry said nervously. Severus wasn't sure why he was nervous, but decided to let it pass. "I haven't finished my herbology yet."

"That's fine. Did you finish potions?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. And did you play with Nitty like I told you to?"

"Yes, sir. We played Exploding Snap again."

"A good choice," Severus said approvingly, figuring he should say something encouraging at the volunteered information. "I need to go out and take care of some business."

"Alright, sir," Harry said, confused.

"It concerns you, so I thought you should know something of what I'm doing," he continued. "I will be going back to the Dursleys - alone -" he emphasized at the panicked look that crossed Harry's face, "to see to it that they are suitably dealt with. I am not going to give you back. That thought is the farthest from my mind right now."

"You - you don't have to do that," Harry said even more nervously now.

"Yes, I do," Severus contradicted, "but that's not the point."

"Please don't hurt them!" Harry suddenly pleaded. Severus raised an eyebrow curiously.

"And why ever not?"

"Well, because - because -," Harry stammered, "because if you hurt them, then why would you be any better than they are?" Severus nodded thoughtfully.

"Justice needs to happen though," Severus said. "I am glad that you do not seek revenge. But you need to understand, if nothing else, the extent of what they did. You don't understand. You can't. But what they did was very serious and very wrong. And there needs to be no chance that they can ever do it again."

"They won't," Harry promised. "They would only do it to freaks! They've never hurt Dudley."

"Hush," Severus interrupted. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, they have hurt Dudley." Severus said the name with extreme distaste. "They have trained him to be cruel and judgmental, prejudiced and selfish. I don't believe for a minute that they would beat or starve Dudley," although, he thought, perhaps a little less food wouldn't hurt the boy any, "but that doesn't mean they haven't hurt him."

"So...what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," Severus admitted, "but if it makes it any easier on you, I promise I won't land myself in prison over it. I feel I should speak to them before I do too much."

"Alright," Harry reluctantly agreed.

"Then I will be on my way," Severus said. "I don't know how long it will take. You can put your books away and do something fun, if you like." With that, Severus left his chambers, to disapparate outside Hogwarts.

.oO-Oo.

Severus made sure he apparated into a little used alley, and walked to Private Drive from there. He was more troubled about this visit than he was angry actually, which he was grateful for. The less temper he had to reign in, the better. The more rational he was, the less chance of Azkaban. He was troubled because he wasn't sure what he was going to say. He wanted to be the one to defend Harry, but he didn't want to overstep his legal boundaries.

He knew that by the end of this visit, either he or the Dursleys would be in custody of the wizarding law. Yes, he was risking his job at Hogwarts by doing this, but as long as he wasn't the one in custody for doing something totally irrational, he thought he could at least fight the dismissal.

Severus knocked on the front door, and assumed a neutral stance. Momentarily, Petunia opened the door. Her eyes widened when she saw Severus standing there.

"And?" she asked after a short pause.

"I am here to discuss the matter of Harry Potter," he said. "I trust you have a moment?" He scowled at her, but he tried to keep his voice even and calm.

"If you want to bring him back here, I'm afraid that's not happening," Petunia responded.

"I - will - never - do - that," Severus hissed, now angry, pronouncing each word quietly and carefully. "Now, let me in, woman!" Without waiting for her consent, he opened the door and stepped into the house.

"And I suppose you want tea as well?" Petunia spat.

"Absolutely not," Severus said quickly. "Do not mistake this for a social call. I am here strictly on legal matters." Severus sat down at the table, and gestured for Petunia to do the same. "Where is your animal of a husband?"

"Vernon," Petunia said, emphasis on the name, "is upstairs." She called to him, and he came down the stairs where he saw Severus.

"And what does he want?" Vernon demanded, addressing Petunia.

"I am here to ask you some questions regarding Harry Potter," he said. He didn't want to give away too much about his plans about bringing them into custody yet. Vernon sighed heavily, and sat down at the table as well.

"If you're going to ask about the freak, get on with it," he growled. Severus slammed his palm on the table, causing both of them to jump.

"I will not have you calling him that!" Severus hissed. "He has a name. Use it. Now. Where is your son?"

"In his room, playing video games," Vernon replied.

"Good, he can stay there," Severus said, taking his wand out and casting a silencing charm around them. He suspected this conversation could get loud. "Do you realize what you've done to your son by this whole situation?"

"Do you realize what you freaks have done to our son by thrusting that...boy on us?" Vernon responded.

"What do you think we've done?" Severus asked tiredly. He hated the thought of listening to their twisted thoughts, but it would certainly be helpful to know what they were thinking.

"He's been exposed to all your freakish tricks!" Vernon screamed.

"And what do you think about what he's been exposed to at your hands?"

"What do you mean to imply?"

"Do you think that exposing a child, any child, to watching another human being starved, beaten, and raped is acceptable behavior?"

"Considering the circumstances, it was fine," Vernon growled. Severus nodded, still trying to figure out what he wanted to ask. He felt waves of anger wash over him, but he breathed in and out for a minute, and felt it recede. Suddenly, he felt much calmer, saddened, but calmer.

"Why?" he asked quietly, after a moment. He didn't get an answer. "Why did you do it?"

"Look, Snape, we didn't have a choice!" Petunia interrupted. Severus arched his eyebrow higher than he had ever done before.

"And what do you mean by that?" he said, almost laughing. The thought of them not having a choice was ludicrous. Maybe they were more unbalanced than he had previously believed? Petunia and Vernon looked at him curiously. "You don't deny that you staved, beat, and raped him. What do you mean, you didn't have a choice?" Severus' gaze bored into Petunia. "Everyone - always - has a choice." He had rebuilt his life on that principle, and believed it with every fiber of his being. Yes, he had made the wrong choice more times than he could count, but he wasn't about to blame his mistakes on not having a choice. But of course the Dursleys weren't big enough to take responsibility for their own actions. Well, Vernon was certainly big enough...

"You don't know, do you?" she whispered.

"Obviously not, or I wouldn't be asking you," he drawled.

"You won't believe it, unless I show you," she said. "Let me get something, and then I'll be back."

"Alright," Severus agreed. "But I'll know if you leave the house or call anyone, so don't try anything." He had put charms on the house which let him know the activities of the two parties he was interested in. Wordlessly, Petunia rose and left the room. Vernon and Severus refused to look at each other, in the meantime. In a few minutes, Petunia came back with papers in her hands.

"Read those," she said, "and tell us what choice we had." Skeptically, Severus reached out and took the papers she had. They were clearly wizarding parchment, which peaked his interest. He began reading the one on top. Glancing at the signature at the end, Severus knew that it was Dumbledore's writing.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley,

I regret that I left Mr. Potter on your doorstep without any explanation, and it has taken me this long to contact you. There are blood wards around your house which protect him from the Death Eaters, Voldemort's followers, due to his blood relation with you, Petunia. He must stay with you until he is 17, when the wards will fall.

Mr. Potter, in the meantime, has been the instrument of Voldemort's demise. No one knows how an infant could do such a thing, but he must be loyal to the side of the Light. I see only one way to ensure this. You must do your worst to him. You must show him no love what so ever.

He will be receiving a letter for Hogwarts school during the summer of his eleventh birthday. Once he does, and he attends, he will enter a different world, and he will see what love is then. This will ensure his loyalty.

For the greater good,

Albus Dumbledore

Severus couldn't believe what he was reading. But he continued on to the next paper in the stack. A Muggle sheet, written in ball point pen ink.

Dumbledore,

You can imagine our displeasure at finding a crying bundle in the morning. Your apologies are not required.

You have nothing to worry about when it comes to him getting too much love. It wasn't our choice to take the freak in. You forced it upon us. But to "do our worst?" We don't think that that is deserved or appropriate.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley

Finally, the third, and last sheet of paper.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley,

As much as it pains me to say this, you must do your worst to him. I have no ill intent towards the child, but I need to ensure his loyalty. I believe there is a Muggle saying, "Good cop, bad cop?"

This is a strict necessity to defeat Voldemort. Should he, and he will, raise to power again, it is in your best interests to cooperate with me. To ensure that you will, I will monitor your house, and if you are not doing a sufficient job, know that I can see to it your son is taken from you.

I do not want to do any of this. It is simply the surest way to save the wizard and Muggle worlds.

Albus Dumbledore

The rest of the stack was letters from Dumbledore to the Dursleys explaining that they were not doing enough, and re-emphasizing his earlier threat. Severus held the papers tightly, as if to convince himself they were real, and he ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought.

"So this is why?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Petunia said. "We would not have treated him kindly, even without this, and we don't try to pretend we would have. He likely would have gotten his cupboard, chores, and a certain lack of food, through forgetfulness, nothing more. We probably would have struck him. Your Dumbledore knows we are no friends of wizards, and this is exactly why! He threatens our son if we don't 'do our worst.' Tell me, Snape, what would you have chosen?"

"I see your dilemma," Severus said, "but that does not excuse your actions. There were those who could have helped you stand against Dumbledore. There are some things which cannot be justified, no matter what. I am going to bring you to the Ministry of Magic, and they will hold you there until we can bring your trial around." Severus trained his wand on both of them. "Don't even think of resisting." He canceled out the silencing charm. "Call your son, and we'll all go to the Ministry together."

.oO-Oo.

Much as he hated having the three Dursleys have any physical contact with him, it was necessary to apparate them to the Ministry. He was refusing to think of the revelation that Petunia had shown him. He put it in a little box and shoved it away for later. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. After all, Fudge wouldn't take kindly to him, a former Death Eater, (current, by some people's opinion), apparating into the middle of ministry with three Muggles, accusing them of abusing The Boy Who Lived.

After having his wand checked, and stating his business at the Ministry, they were directed to the part of the complex dealing with wizarding social services. Severus absolutely hated dealing with these imbeciles, but it was the only way to do it legally.

The Dursleys had been very silent throughout the proceedings, and even during the wait. Finally, a social worker addressed their case. Severus explained what was going on.

"These are very serious charges," she said slowly. "I trust you know what you are saying?"

"Yes, of course I do," Severus snapped. "Now get on with it."

"Do you know the current whereabouts of Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, he is currently at Hogwarts," Severus responded. Regrettably, that was a fair question, so he answered it fairly. He wasn't about to admit that he was taking care of Harry. The Ministry would likely demand a thorough search of his chambers, and demand to speak to Harry. Harry would never be able to handle their questioning, and the Ministry would not approve of his actions either.

"Mr. Dursley? Mrs. Dursley? Do you have anything to say about these accusations?"

"I refuse to speak without my attorney!" Vernon exclaimed.

"Very well," the social worker said. "We will see to it that you get one. In the meantime, we ask that we hold you for further investigations."

"You can't put us in prison without a trial!"

"And we're not," the woman said patiently. "We will simply give you a room here until we can determine more. Young Mr. Dursley, we'll have to place you in a different institution. Hopefully all this will be settled soon."

.oO-Oo.

With Vernon and Petunia Dursley in Ministry custody, and Dudley placed in an orphanage temporarily, Severus thoughtfully bit his lip as he walked back to his chambers. He was shocked to see that Dumbledore had actually ordered such treatment of Harry. He knew he needed to address this with Dumbledore, and maybe while it was still fresh in his mind, he should. So as he reached out for his chamber doorknob, he changed his mind and continued past to the Headmaster's office.

.oO-Oo.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Albus said. Seeing as he had already been notified about the Dursleys being in Ministry custody, Albus had a pretty good idea who was knocking. And he was proved right, as Severus walked into his office. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Tell me you didn't," Severus said, his voice thick with accusation. "Tell me you were somehow under the Imperius, or someone had used polyjuice potion. Tell me you didn't order Harry's treatment!" Severus grabbed Dumbledore by the front of his robes, and pulled the older man into a standing position.

"I can't tell you that," Dumbledore sighed, working his robes out of Severus' death grip. "I don't expect you to understand. You live in a world of black and white. You see the individuals. You just aren't equipped to see the cause." Severus snorted at him.

"I believe the cause is made up of individuals," he sneered.

"Yes, yes," Albus said, "but just listen for a moment. The cause being made up of individuals is the exact reason why this must happen." Severus opened his mouth to argue, but Albus spoke over him. "I must secure Harry's loyalties. If things had gone according to plan," his voice held a certain note of accusation, "those loyalties would have been to me. Harry would have been loyal to me no matter what he may have been told about me, even by me. Due to you and Minerva, that has changed slightly. I'm not blind. I can see that his loyalties are to you, now.

"But I needed Harry's loyalties so that Voldemort will be defeated. What is the suffering of one compared with the suffering of the world?"

"His suffering is his world," Severus growled back. "Why would you think that Harry would join any other side? It's not exactly as if the Dark Lord has done anything to make Harry want to join him. Like not killing his parents, or something."

"Even if some of your Death Eaters are short-sighted enough to despise Harry, Voldemort won't be!" Albus said. "If Voldemort ever finds out the truth about Harry, he will do everything in his power to lure him into being his follower."

"They're not my Death Eaters," Severus said through clenched teeth. "What truth about Harry?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself," Albus admitted, with a shrug. "Suffice to say, that I have my theories."

"You know more than you let on, old man," Severus said.

"That is an accusation I can't respond to," Albus said. "If I say yes, then I am letting on. If I say no, then I could be equally not letting on."

"I don't expect you to respond," Severus said, and stalked out of the room.

Ah, the whole conversation had gone better than Albus had envisioned. But he knew he hadn't changed Severus' mind. Severus still saw the good of the individual as higher than the good of the masses. Neither one of them really understood the other. Severus couldn't see how Dumbledore's actions were justified, and Albus couldn't see how he could justify anything else.

In Albus' mind, he had two options. He could ensure Harry's loyalties lie with the light, even at the cost of Harry's security, and defeat Voldemort, or he could have seen to Harry's care, and played a huge gamble that Harry would go dark.

Of course, Severus had no suspicion about what Harry really was, and Albus cursed himself for even giving Severus an idea that there was something about Harry that he didn't know. Albus was certain that over time, and as Voldemort grew stronger, unless Harry was firstly, kept physically separated from him, and secondly, had extremely strong loyalties to the Light, Harry's will could be manipulated even.

Albus looked at his desk and sighed. What other choice could he have made?