Maybe living near Snape wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded. Snape seemed to keep himself to himself as far as Harry could see.

The next time Harry saw Snape was two days after the scones incident. Harry had woken up early and was watching the sunrise out of his bedroom window when he saw Snape leave the house. He looked odd, dressed not in robes or even in black, but in a grey sweatshirt and dark green shorts. As if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Snape suddenly looked up with a scowl.

It was pointless to pretend he hadn’t been watching, so Harry gave a small wave and gestured at the sunrise. Snape scowled further, turned his back on Harry and began jogging along the pavement towards the main road.

Harry settled back on the window-sill, returning his attention to the sunrise, and munched his breakfast of two pumpkin pasties and a chocolate chip muffin.

-

When he came down for the Dursley breakfast later, Petunia was planning her latest attempt to get into the neighbours’ good books.

“The scones weren’t good enough. Most of them took them but never even said thank you; that’s so rude.”

Pot, meet kettle, Harry thought.

“I don’t know what else to try … any ideas, Vernon?”

Uncle Vernon put down his newspaper, thinking. “What about the boy?”

“You think he sabotaged it?” Petunia whirled on Harry, eyes flashing, and Harry tried to quell his panic.

“I did exactly as you asked!” he said quickly. “I swear!”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Vernon said, to Harry’s relief. Petunia turned back to her husband. “We’re still in debt and I don’t have a job yet, and the boy costs money to have around. He should pull his weight. There must be people around here who need things doing; get the boy to do it. He can raise our standing in this place and make us some money at the same time.”

Harry dropped his spoon, unable to believe his ears. They were going to make him work? He was used to doing chores for the Dursleys—but for the whole street?

“What a good idea!” Petunia turned to Harry. “You can start today. Number Six’s car is filthy; go and offer to wash it for … hmm … what shall we say, Vernon?”

They debated price for a while. Once it was decided, Vernon went back to his paper.

-

An hour later, Harry rang on the doorbell of Number Six.

“Hello, Harry!” Bea Sinclair greeted him cheerfully. Harry heard two squeals of delight and her daughters, Kelly and Abby, came running down the hall.

“Harry, Harry!”

“Hiya, you two,” Harry said with a grin.

“Can we play hide and seek again? Please, please?”

“I’m sorry, not right now.” Harry turned back to Bea. “My aunt’s sent me out again …”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Now they want me to offer to do odd jobs. Um, for payment, that is. D’you need someone to wash the car?

“Oh … well, actually Mike was going to do it with the girls this afternoon. They love washing the car.”

“Oh.”

“But … I suppose you could do it now, if that will keep your aunt happy. How much are they asking?”

“A tenner.”

“Well, I’m sure we can manage that. The girls will probably still want to help—”

“Yes, please!” Kelly said behind her.

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said with a grin. “As long as my aunt gets the money.”

“Well, that’s settled. Come in while I find the sponges.”

Washing the car was actually pretty enjoyable, especially with the girls helping. Harry lifted them up one after the other so they could reach the top, and they had a water fight after he accidentally sprayed Abby with the hose. Finally, dripping wet and soapy, he proclaimed the car sparkling clean, and Bea invited him in to let his clothes dry and have a cuppa. And some of Mike’s scones, running with butter and with a huge dollop of jam. Harry couldn’t refuse.

Once he was dried out and full of cake, Bea pressed fifteen pounds into his hands.

“Um, Bea,” he said, “you’ve given me too much—”

“Aren’t you honest? I know. You keep the extra, it’s only fair—you’re the one who did the work after all.”

Harry grinned a slipped the extra into his back pocket. “Thanks.”

-

The next few days passed quite pleasantly, considering. Harry washed two more cars, cut three lawns, helped put up a set of shelves, spring cleaned a garage and babysat the Sinclair children for a few hours. The Dursleys were getting the money they expected, but Harry pocketed the extra change everyone wanted to give him. He was well fed and hydrated while he worked, though was careful not to eat or drink outside except water just in case one of his relatives saw.

Of course, Petunia, whilst glad that they were getting some extra cash, was puzzled how the neighbours still didn’t like them. Harry knew they all thought even less of them for effectively pimping him out, but Petunia didn’t seem to grasp that.

Two weeks after having moved in, Petunia decided there was nothing else for it.

“I will not take no for an answer,” she announced at lunchtime. It was only Harry listening, since Dudley was moping over his lack of food and Uncle Vernon was at a job interview. “I will go around the neighbourhood myself and I will get them to talk to me.” She gave Harry a glare. He figured she thought maybe the neighbours didn’t like her because he hadn’t given them a good impression. Thankfully the thought didn’t seem to have occurred that he had deliberately given them a bad one of them—if she had, he would not be breathing.

Harry stayed silent, and Petunia left the house. He finished his celery sticks in silence and returned to his room, where he watched his aunt from his bedroom window.

She didn’t seem to be making any progress, having spent several minutes trying to win over each neighbour in turn, and ending up with a door in the face. She looked more and more frustrated. She was now on Number Eight, and when that fell through, Harry knew she would be moving onto Snape’s house.

He almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

As she approached Snape’s door, Harry opened his window wider so he could hear clearly, then positioned himself behind the curtains so neither of them would be able to see he was eavesdropping.

She rang the doorbell, and Harry held his breath for a moment of silence. The door opened.

“What?” Snape snapped.

If Petunia was taken aback by the greeting, it didn’t show in her voice. “Hello there, I’m Petunia Dursley,” she said pleasantly. “I just moved in—”

“Go away.” The door slammed again. There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Er, hello?” Harry peeked to see that Aunt Petunia was speaking through the letter-box. “I just wondered if—”

The door opened again suddenly, and she nearly fell forwards. “Didn’t your nephew tell you that I don’t like to be disturbed?” Snape snarled.

“Er …” Aunt Petunia’s voice faltered. “He might have mentioned it …”

“You would do better to remember it. Bother me again and I promise you you will regret it. Now get off my property.”

Petunia did the sensible thing. She scurried away.