Harry had only vague memories of living somewhere different than Home. He could remember a thin, angry woman with an unkind and shrill voice. He could remember a fat blonde man who always yelled. He could remember a child who would pull his hair. He had feelings of deep unhappiness when he thought of his time before Home, although he could not remember any specific details explaining where those unhappy feelings came from. He remembered angry words, but not what the words were. He could remember feeling sad, but not the reason for the sadness.

He had been three years old when the Ministry had taken him away from the angry yelling people. His caretakers had told him the story enough times that he could tell it himself as if it came from his memory and not a story told to him by others. The Ministry, he knew, wanted to protect him and keep him happy. They had built him a special place, his Home, where he would grow up happy with all the things he needed. The Ministry built Home just for Harry. His caretakers praised the Ministry for their love and devotion of Harry, and Harry idolized the wonderful people his caretakers spoke of with such admiration.

Home was made up of four large rooms and two smaller ones. Of the larger rooms was a bedroom, with a comfortable bed large enough for five Harry’s and a closet full of clothes. Another was a schoolroom, where his caretakers taught him math and reading. He had two playrooms, which were called ‘Inside’ and ‘Outside’. Inside was full of toys and games, and Outside had large toys he could climb on, sand to build in, and a slide. He had a special room where he ate his meals, and another room called his ‘Quiet Room’. The Quiet Room had a large couch and shelves lined with books and quiet games. Quiet Room was Harry’s favorite.

Every day, one of his five caretakers would wake him with a cheerful greeting. Harry loved it when Julie woke him, as she always sat on the bed and stroked his hair singing him a special good morning song. Julie was a tall blonde woman, with a kind face and sparkly blue eyes. Her voice was calming and sweet, reminding Harry of a song bird.

After getting dressed he would eat breakfast in the smaller eating room. Harry would sit at the table and tell his caretaker what he wanted to eat, and the food would appear moments later right in front of him. Harry never questioned where the food came from. It had always shown up this way. After breakfast he would play in the Outside room, then his caretaker would call him for learning time. Harry enjoyed learning time, especially with his caretaker Mitchell who would always read him stories and could make funny voices for each of the characters. Mitchell was tall, broad, and dark haired, with dark eyes that crinkled when he smiled. His laugh was loud and jovial, and Harry couldn’t help but giggle whenever he heard Mitchell’s infectious laugh. Harry learned all the basic things a child should know, and his caretakers also gave him basic instruction in magical theory. His caretakers were all able to perform magic and Harry delighted in watching them use their wands to fetch books from a shelf, banish the used dishes from the table, or make his stuffed animals dance around the room. They all assured him that he could do magic when he was older, but Harry was impatient to try. He had only one rule at Home, and that was to never touch a wand. When he was five years old he had tried to take Mitchell’s wand while the man was reading a story. Mitchell had shocked him by grabbing his wrist and slapping his hand hard, sternly scolding him for breaking the rule. Harry had never been punished by any of his caretakers before, and it had taken Mitchell over an hour to calm the boy’s crying. Harry had never touched a wand after that.

After learning time Harry had lunch, played more, had a second learning session, dinner, more play, and bed. Each day the same, although the caretakers would rotate around. He had a morning caretaker and a night caretaker, and they would change shifts after his second learning session. Julie and Mitchell were Harry’s favorites, but Brandon, Sarah, and Hannah were nice too. It was important that Harry liked his caretakers, he was told. Sometimes one of his caretakers would leave one day and not come back. Julie and Mitchell had never left him, not since he got to Home. When one of the caretakers would not come back, Julie or Mitchell would bring a new one with them to meet Harry when they came to Home. They would ask Harry if he liked the new caretaker after spending the day together. If Harry said no, he never saw the new caretaker again. If Harry said yes, then the caretaker would be added to the rotation. That was how he got Brandon, Sarah, and Hannah. His caretakers told him that they were there to keep him happy and healthy. If one of Harry’s toys broke, they fixed it. If he had a nightmare, they would hold him until he fell back asleep. If Harry did not want to have a learning session, they would play with him instead. If Harry didn’t like his food, they would bring him something else. Harry just had to ask and his caretakers would give. He did not consider this to be strange, he had lived this way since he could remember. For five years he had lived at Home. On his last birthday, when he turned 8, all of his caretakers came to Home at the same time and they had a party. Sometimes Harry would ask his caretakers where they were when they were not at Home with Harry. They would always pat his head and praise his inquisitiveness, but had never answered his question. Sometimes Harry would ask why the Ministry had built Home for him. They would smile and call him ‘such a curious child!’ and distract him with a toy.

And so had Harry lived for many years, doted on every minute of every day in the same large square building. He was peaceful and happy, well cared for and loved by his caretakers.

Unbeknownst to the happy child, the Ministry had not built Home just for him. And Harry and his caretakers were the only ones to refer to it as ‘Home’. To everyone else, it was the ‘National Harry Potter Exhibit and Museum’.

While Harry had been told many stories throughout his young life, the story of his personal history was never revealed to him. When Harry was born the magical world was in a state of fear and panic. An evil wizard by the name of Voldemort had gathered followers and was daily rising in power and influence, his main tools of trade being torture and murder. Voldemort had targeted Harry for death when he was just 18 months old, and in the attack that followed Harry’s parents were killed. For reasons unknown to the magical community, Harry had survived the killing curse aimed at him by Voldemort. The spell had backfired and destroyed Voldemort instead. Harry became known as ‘The Boy Who Lived’, the only person ever known to have survived the killing curse, and his defeat of the dark wizard was celebrated for weeks after the event. There was not a wizard or witch in England who didn’t know his name, and Harry became a celebrity before he could talk. Immediately following the death of his parents he was sent to live with his Aunt and Uncle until the Ministry removed him from their care two years later and placed him in a facility where he would be cared for around the clock. A large two story building was devoted to Harry, the upstairs portion containing objects from his childhood and details of his defeat of Voldemort. Tour guides lead the public through various rooms outlining Harry’s first eighteen months of life and the rise and fall of Voldemort, including a recreation of Harry’s destroyed childhood bedroom. The downstairs housed Harry himself, and every day people flocked to the museum to get a look at the celebrity child. The walls from the inside of Harry’s Home appeared solid, but in reality were spelled so that people could crowd in the space outside to view Harry as he went about his day. Harry was blissfully unaware that at any given time there were dozens of adults and children staring at him through the walls as he learned and played. The only spaces where he was not watched were his Quiet room and the dining room.

Days turned to weeks turned to years, and the popularity of The Boy Who Lived waned as the world moved on from the war. The Ministry had earned a small fortune charging people to enter the museum, but as attendance dropped it became clear that a decision must be made on what to do with the child. Shortly after his 8th birthday, the staff of five caretakers was lessened to three. Harry noticed the change, but was unaffected by it. He still had Julie and Mitchell and was fond of Hannah, and so continued about his days in Home satisfied with his caretaker’s explanation that the other caretakers had left so that the remaining group could spend more time with him. A few months later, Hannah was removed from the facility. And shortly after that, Julie tearfully said her goodbyes. Harry was upset by Julie’s leaving and wailed for her return in the days after her departure, but Mitchell did his best to distract him. Mitchell now stayed with him every day from breakfast to bed time, and Harry was so fearful that Mitchell would leave as well that he clung to the man like a leech.

The Ministry made the decision to close the museum a week after Harry’s 9th birthday. They called on the Headmaster of a wizarding school, a powerful wizard named Albus Dumbledore, to arrange for the boy’s care. Dumbledore had been named Harry’s liaison in the wizarding world in the last will and testament left behind by Harry’s parents, a fact that the Ministry had ignored until now. Dumbledore had fought for Harry when the museum had first opened, but the Ministry had stubbornly refused to honor his wishes to release Harry from being an entertainment attraction. Unable to sway the government officials, Dumbledore had eventually stopped trying to remove Harry from the facility. He was sent quarterly updates on Harry’s progress as he grew but the man refused to visit the museum, stating that watching a child grow as if he were a zoo attraction was inhumane and distasteful. Nobody was allowed to enter the rooms that housed the boy except for the caretakers.

Dumbledore gave a public outcry when the decision to close the museum was made, demonizing the Ministry’s decision to raise a boy in such an unorthodox way and the irreparable damage they had likely done to his character. Dumbledore demanded the Ministry make a public apology and introduced a law that would make such child exploitation illegal. The law passed unanimously, the court officials meeting together to discuss the details the same day that Mitchell sat Harry down to explain what was happening.

Harry had been scared and confused when Mitchell told him that he would be leaving Home.

“But where will I go?” Harry had cried, burying his face in Mitchell’s shoulder.

“There is a man named Professor Dumbledore who found a new caretaker for you, little guy.” Mitchell had said softly, patting Harry on the back to try and calm him down. “He will be your guardian now, and will take good care of you.”

“But why can’t my new caretaker come to Home like you do?” Harry had sniffed, asking the question for the fourth time.

Mitchell sighed, “Harry, I know this is very hard for you. Nobody will live in Home anymore, it is being closed. You will have a new home with your new guardian. It will be different, and maybe a little scary at first so you will have to be brave, but I know you will be happy there just like you are here.” Harry shook his head and disbelief and continued to cry.

Dumbledore had arranged for Harry to be taken in by a young potions professor, Severus Snape. There were many challenges ahead for a young boy being thrust back into normal life after being catered to for so long. Dumbledore had received countless messages from wizarding families across the country offering to take in Harry once the announcement of the museum’s closure was made, but Dumbledore rejected all of them. His main concern was Harry growing up normally from this point on, and continuing to be pampered due to his celebrity would not be good for the boy. He needed boundaries, something he had never had before, and someone who would not be blinded by his celebrity status to mold the boy into a normal child. Dumbledore knew that Snape would be strict but fair, and would see a boy in need of guidance rather than the champion who defeated the Dark Lord.

Snape had been less than thrilled at being chosen for the position, but had eventually acknowledged the logic behind it. It had taken Dumbledore two weeks to convince the man to agree to the task. Snape had outright refused when first presented with the idea, but countless hours of discussion had led to an agreement.

And so it was that on the same day the Child Exploitation Act was signed into law, the same day Mitchell had sat Harry down and told him of the move, Snape was begrudgingly cleaning the spare bedroom in his house in preparation of Harry’s arrival the next day.

The morning of Harry’s departure from the only life he could remember, he had taken Mitchell’s hand and walked out of a door that had appeared quite suddenly in the dining room. Harry had been shocked to find that Home was surrounded by more walls. The spell had been removed from the walls so that Harry would not be able to see back into the rooms, a change that Mitchell himself had demanded before leaving with Harry. Mitchell had led Harry up a long flight of stairs, through an immense empty room, and out of the double doors into the outside world. Harry had not seen daylight in six years and cried out when the natural light hit his eyes. Mitchell immediately handed him a pair of dark sunglasses, which Harry had taken thankfully. Three steps away from the building, Harry suddenly frozen and gripped Mitchell’s hand tighter, too scared to continue walking. Mitchell smiled kindly at him, then bent and scooped the boy into his arms, hugging him tightly. Mitchell continued on slowly, following the winding path to the exit, whispering assurances in Harry’s ear. He stopped suddenly. He had turned a corner and found that the area outside the exit gate was crammed full of journalists and photographers, who began shouting the moment the two came into view and sticking their cameras between the gaps in the fencing. Harry had tried to look up from Mitchell’s shoulder to see what the commotion was, but Mitchell had placed a hand firmly on the back of his head and kept him in place, keeping the boy’s face away from the curious photographers. Mitchell backed away from the gate and went in the opposite direction, stopping in a grassy area away from the view of the media. Setting Harry down in the grass, Mitchell took out his wand and spoke a spell. A silver shadowy fox flew from his wand, and Mitchell muttered to it softly so that Harry was unable to hear what was said. The fox ran off, bounding through the air, and Mitchell sat in the grass next to Harry with a small smile.

“Well, kid, looks like we’re going to spend a bit of time right here.” Mitchell told him, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“What was all that noise, Mitchell?” Harry asked curiously, not taking his eyes off the soft grass in front of him. He reached a hand out and touched it tentatively, then ran his fingers slowly across the ground feeling the blades tickle his palm.

“Oh, just a lot of people that wanted to tell you hello.” Mitchell said casually, “I didn’t think you were ready to meet so many people at once, though.”

Harry wrinkled his nose and nodded his head in agreement.

Harry looked up then, staring at the sky above him and watching the clouds move lazily along. He tilted his head back so far he lost his balance and fell backwards, causing Mitchell to burst into laughter. Normally Harry couldn’t resist laughing along with him, but not today.

Mitchell stopped laughing quickly and looked at Harry sadly.

“Hey, cheer up kid. This will be a good thing!” Mitchell said, trying to shake the boy’s mood. “Nobody should have to spend all their time inside anyway. Doesn’t it feel nice to be outside? With your new guardian you will be able to go outside all the time!”

Harry frowned at this. “I had Outside at Home,” he argued, giving Mitchell a sideways look.

Mitchell opened his mouth to reply, but just then an envelope appeared, floating directly in front of him. Mitchell grabbed it immediately and tore it open.

“Good, they’ve lifted the anti-apparation wards.” Harry heard him mutter.

Mitchell stood up quickly, reaching a hand down for Harry. “Come on, kid, we’ve gotta move fast! I’m going to show you some great magic!”

Harry perked up at this. He loved watching his caretakers do magic.

“What kind of magic?” Harry asked curiously, taking Mitchell’s hand and allowing himself to be hoisted off the ground.

“Apparation!” Mitchell told him, the excitement in his voice obviously meant for Harry’s benefit. “We’re going to disappear from here and reappear somewhere different!”

Harry beamed and Mitchell pulled the boy close, wrapping his arms around the boy’s shoulders.

“It’s going to feel a little wild!” Mitchell warned Harry. “Close your eyes if it’s too much!” Harry nodded his agreement, and with a loud pop the two disappeared.

Harry felt as if he was being turned inside out, and he shut his eyes tight against the dizzying madness as the world rushed by at impossible speeds. In a few short seconds the two landed on solid ground, Mitchell tightening his grip on Harry’s shoulders as the boy stumbled at the sudden landing. Harry took a deep breath and opened his eyes, studying the new location.

They were in a front garden surrounded by a high brick fence with a simple brown house behind them. He shrunk back against Mitchell, his eyes wide. Mitchell bent down and lifted the boy in his arms again, squeezing him in comfort. Harry buried his face into the man’s shoulders.

Harry heard the front door to the house open and footsteps making their way towards them. Harry shut his eyes tightly, holding desperately to Mitchell.

“Good day, Mitchell,” a voice said. “Thank you for bringing the boy.”

“Hello, Severus!” Mitchell replied cheerfully, giving Harry another reassuring squeeze as he held him. “I apologize for being late, the media caught wind that our departure was today, it appears.”

“Yes, Albus mentioned,” came the reply.

Mitchell bent down to put Harry back on the ground, but Harry wrapped his legs around Mitchell’s middle and refused to be deposited.

“Come now, Harry.” Mitchell soothed, “Say hello to your guardian.”

Harry shook his head vehemently, keeping his face buried in the man’s shoulder.

His new guardian was silent as Mitchell tried to reason with Harry, but the boy was stubbornly refusing to be put down. Harry did not speak a word, merely shaking his head violently at all of Mitchell’s reasoning. After several minutes of this, Mitchell looked to Snape pleadingly. Sighing loudly, Snape stepped forward and grabbed hold of Harry, yanking him away from Mitchell in one swift motion. Harry immediately shrieked and kicked, demanding to be put down. Snape set him on the ground and wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him against his torso and locking him into place as the boy fought madly to get back to Mitchell.

Mitchell crouched down just far enough away to avoid being kicked, and gave Harry a sad grin.

“I’ll miss you, kid,” he said, and Harry stopped fighting when he noticed the tears in the man’s eyes. “It’s been fun, but it’s time for you to be a real kid now, yeah?” Mitchell reached out a hand and ruffled Harry’s hair.

“Goodbye, Harry,” he said, raising his hand in farewell. And with a pop, Mitchell disappeared. Harry screamed, a desperate painful scream, then collapsed on the ground. Snape caught him, and silently thankful that the boy was no longer kicking, carried him into the house.

---

Harry was sitting silently on a couch in the sitting room, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them, scowling across the room at his new guardian. Snape was tall, thin, and very pale. His strikingly gaunt face made him look a bit scary, with its sharp features and crooked nose. He had shoulder length jet black hair and his eyes were the darkest things that Harry had ever seen. There was no sparkly kindness in those eyes, like in the eyes of his caretakers.

Harry had refused to speak a word since being unceremoniously plopped onto the cushions. Snape had attempted to speak to him, but had eventually given up and opened a book instead. The two had been sitting there for an hour, Harry silently scowling and Snape silently reading. Unfortunately for Harry, his bladder was less stubborn than his mind was.

He cleared his throat. “I need the loo,” he said, the tone coming out as more of a demand than a statement. Snape slowly lowered his book and raised an eyebrow at the boy.

“Excuse me?”

“The loo.” Harry repeated, jiggling his foot a bit in his need to go. “Where is it?”

A look of annoyance passed over the man’s face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, than thought better of it and stood instead.

“This way,” Snape said, walking out of the room without a second glance at Harry.

Harry unwrapped his arms from his legs and stood stiffly, stretching his back before trotting after his new guardian.

He was led out of the sitting room and into a short hallway, where a stairway on the left led up to the landing of the second floor. There were several doors on this floor, all of them shut, and Snape opened the first door on the right gesturing Harry into it.

“This is your bedroom.” The man said simply. “The bathroom is just there, the door beside the window.”

He stepped aside to allow the boy entrance, and Harry peeked curiously into the room. It was very simple, with a small single bed pushed up against one wall, a long dresser below the window, and a small desk and chair off to the side. Harry made his way across the room and into the bathroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

When he emerged two minutes later, he found Snape still in the doorway. The man’s arms were crossed and his face set in an angry scowl.

Harry scowled back at him, crossing his own arms and leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“Come here.” Snape demanded, pointing at the space directly in front of him.

Harry’s scowl deepened, and he stood perfectly still, making no move to obey the order.

“Come here now.” Snape demanded again, glaring fiercely at the disobedient child in front of him.

Still Harry refused to move, and Snape abandoned his spot in the doorway and made his way across the room, his eyes flashing angrily.

His eyes widening, Harry spun around and retreated into the bathroom, slamming the door again and pushing the little button on the doorknob to lock it. He took a few steps back from the door until the backs of his knees bumped against the edge of the bathtub. Seconds later, the door jiggled as Snape attempted to open it. There was a brief moment of silence, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. The relief was short lived, however, as the doorknob suddenly jerked and the door swung open. Snape had Harry by the arm before the boy could even react, dragging him back into the bedroom and setting him roughly onto the small wooden chair at the desk.

He bent down low, so their faces were inches apart.

“Now, you listen to me,” Snape hissed, anger dripping from every word. Harry shrunk back at the tone. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that before.

“In this house you will not slam doors. You will not speak to me with disrespect and you absolutely will not disobey me when I tell you to do something. Is. That. Clear.”

Snape’s speech had Harry cowering in the chair, leaning back as far as he could in order to put distance between him and Snape.

“I expect an answer from you.” Snape told him icily, placing his hands on either armrest as if anticipating that Harry would run and wanting to block him in.

“Y-yes.” Harry stammered, his eyes wide.

“Good.” Snape nodded once and stood. Harry made to get up from the chair, but Snape stopped him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder and forcing him back down.

“You are familiar with rules, are you not?” Snape asked Harry, his voice firm but no longer angry.

“Don’t touch a wand.” Harry supplied instantly. He was familiar with the rule!

“Yes, that is one rule.” Snape replied, eyeing him. “What other rules did you have at your previous… home.”

Harry looked confused. “The rule is, don’t touch a wand,” he answered, looking curiously at the man in front of him.

“That was your only rule?” Snape asked him, disbelief in his voice. He brought his fingers to his forehead and massaged the headache that was growing there.

Harry nodded, then made to stand up again.

“Sit down, I have not given you permission to get up.” Snape snapped at him, closing his eyes against his growing headache.

Harry sat back down and looked at Snape angrily. “I do not want to sit here anymore.” Harry told him, annoyed. “I want to go play.”

Snape ignored the comment. “We will have a discussion about rules after dinner,” he decided, “and you will remain in that chair for the next ten minutes, silently, as punishment for your disrespect and door slamming.”

Snape removed his wand from within his black robes and gave it a quick wave. Harry’s chair rolled backwards into a corner, spinning slowly upon arriving so that Harry was facing the intersecting walls. Harry immediately pushed his feet against the wall, rolling the chair out of the corner. Before he could stand up, Snape pushed the chair back.

“Stop it!” Harry cried, pushing his feet against the wall to roll the chair backwards again. “I said I don’t want to sit here!”

“You do not have a choice in what you do when you are being punished.” Snape told him sternly, using his wand to push the chair back. “You will sit there silently for ten minutes as I’ve said, or keep up this fight and make it twenty. It is your choice.”

Harry weighed the options for a moment, then crossed his arms and sat rigidly in the chair.

Satisfied, Snape pocketed his wand and left the room briefly, returning less than a minute later with a shrunken trunk in his hand. He enlarged the trunk and placed it on the floor, then sat on the bed to wait out the rest of the boy’s punishment.

Snape called Harry out of the corner once the ten minutes had passed and Harry stood up quickly, the scowl still plastered on his face.

“Come here.” Snape demanded, pointing to the spot directly in front of him. This time Harry did come, although he stomped his feet the whole way across the room.

Snape narrowed his eyes, but ignored the stomping. “I have brought your things,” he said, gesturing to the large trunk on the floor. “You will spend the rest of the time before lunch putting your things away. I will come to get you when it is time to eat.” And with that, Snape swept out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Harry fumed as he stared at the trunk. Mitchell had warned him that his guardian would be much different than the caretakers he was used to, but Harry was not prepared for how different the man was. Harry had only been punished once that he could remember, for touching Mitchell’s wand, and he hadn’t liked it then just as he didn’t like it now. He had told Snape he did not want to sit in the chair. He had told Snape that he wanted to play. His caretakers would have let him play, they never would have made him sit in a chair like Snape did. They never made him do anything he didn’t want to do, not counting Mitchell taking him away from Home. He doubted that Snape would hold him for an hour like Mitchell had the first time he had been punished.

Sighing deeply, Harry opened the trunk on the floor. It was filled with his clothes and several of the toys from his Inside room and Quiet room. He reached in and pulled out one of his favorite toys, a small golden ball with fluttering wings that flew around the room for Harry to chase and catch. Julie had told him it was called a Snitch, and Harry had spent hours playing with it.

Pushing the trunk out of the way, Harry released the ball and joyfully began playing, forgetting the unpleasantness from earlier.

Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea when Severus stormed into the kitchen.

“Tea, Severus?” Dumbledore asked politely, tipping his cup in the direction of the tea kettle on the table.
Severus collapsed into a chair next to Dumbledore and ran his hands down his face. He didn’t question why Dumbledore was sitting unannounced in his kitchen, merely accepting the fact.
Dumbledore took the motion as a yes, pouring tea into a cup and placing it in front of the younger man.

“Sugar?” Dumbledore questioned, lifting the sugar bowl.
Snape shook his head and took the tea cup gratefully, taking a long drink.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Surely there aren’t problems with the boy already, Severus? He has been here barely an hour.”

“Yes, and in that time he has been nothing but sullen, disrespectful, and disobedient.” Snape growled, slamming the cup down. Tea sloshed out of the side, splashing the table. Grumbling, Snape pulled out his wand and cleaned up the mess with a swift flick of his wrist.

“We discussed this, Severus.” Dumbledore said calmly. “Harry has had his every whim fulfilled nearly all his life. He is not familiar with what normal acceptable behavior is for a child. To him, his behavior is nothing more or less than what he has always done. You must teach him, with firm but fair guidance.”
Severus took another long drink of tea, and Dumbledore filled his cup for him again.

“Albus, I have already had to punish him. If his behavior in the last hour is any indication of what I can expect in the future weeks, I…” Snape trailed off, unable to find words for his frustration.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve punished him already, Severus? Do you not feel that a bit of leniency is warranted in the beginning, especially on his first day with you?”

Snape glared across the table, running his fingers along the handle of his tea cup. “If I am lenient with him now, it will only make the job harder in the future. He must realize immediately that there are expectations for him here. I have little patience for disobedient children, Albus.”

Dumbledore inclined his head in acceptance. “I see the wisdom in your words, Severus, and I respect your decision. Forgive the soft heart of an old man.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he took a sip of his tea. Setting the cup down, Dumbledore steepled his fingers beneath his chin and gave Snape a searching gaze. “I wonder, however… I wonder if it may be more prudent to allow the child a chance before punishing him. He can’t be aware that his behavior is not acceptable to you, he knows nothing else. Perhaps you should talk to him first, allow him the opportunity to correct it?”
Snape considered this, swirling the tea in his cup before taking another long drink.

“He did mention that the only rule he knows is not to touch a wand.” Snape said slowly, his brow wrinkled in concentration. “It appears he really had no other expectations for his behavior.”

“It seems a bit harsh to punish him for things he wasn’t aware of.” Dumbledore said, rather bluntly.

Snape nodded once, his brow still wrinkled as he considered the issue before them. “Albus, I have never been known for giving chances to students.”

Dumbledore smiled at that. “Indeed, you do have a rather harsh reputation, I believe. Harry is not a student, though, Severus. You are his guardian, not his teacher.”

Snape stood up, placing his cup into the sink. “I will attempt it.” He said with a sigh.

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud banging sound from upstairs, and a harsh cry from Harry. Snape turned immediately towards the noise, making his way for the stairs.

“I’ll just see myself out then, Severus!” Dumbledore called after him. “I will visit soon to check on you and Harry.”
Severus waved a hand in absentminded reply and continued his way up the stairs, following the sound of Harry’s cries.
He threw open the door and found Harry lying on the floor, holding his ankle and crying loudly. He was annoyed to notice that Harry’s trunk was still completely full despite having been upstairs alone for twenty minutes. Bending down without a word, Snape lowered Harry’s sock to examine the ankle. A faint pink mark showed the boy had likely banged it on something, but his examination showed no serious damage.

“What happened?” Snape asked, assured that the boy was not grievously injured.

“I was p-playing with my s-snitch, and I h-hit my ankle on the b-bed!” Harry wailed, pushing Snape’s probing hands away and clutching at his ankle again.

“Your ankle is not broken, fractured, swollen, or even bruised.” Snape responded with a roll of his eyes. “Your reaction seems highly dramatic, given the circumstances.”

Harry’s wails subsided somewhat, and he gave Severus a hurt look. His caretakers always swept him into their arms and held him until he felt better whenever he got hurt. Julie had even invented a special song that she would sing to him whenever he was injured in some way. Harry did not imagine that Snape had a song like Julie’s.

“I am more concerned with your full trunk than I am with your ankle.” Snape continued, standing up and shooting Harry a disapproving look. “Did I not tell you to put your things away?”

“B-but I w-wanted to p-play!” Harry exclaimed, defending himself through his tears. “I t-told you th-that I wanted to p-play!”

“And I told you to put your things away.” Snape said sternly, ignoring the tears. “Lunch will be ready in ten minutes. You can join me when your task is finished.” Snape turned to leave, then stopped and slowly turned around again, focusing his attention back to Harry. “When I give you a task, such as putting your things away, I expect you to complete it immediately.” He stopped then, appearing to search for his words. “Playing with a toy rather than doing a task you were told to do is not acceptable. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, wiping at the tears that were still falling. He didn’t understand though, not really. Why shouldn’t he be able to play when he wanted?

Snape’s lips pursed together, and he appeared to take a deep breath. His tone much more strained, he addressed the boy again. “Additionally, when asked a question you are expected to respond verbally, not with nods and shrugs.”

“Okay.” Harry said quietly, looking at his hands. After being yelled at by Snape earlier, Harry found he didn’t have the bravery to argue even though he strongly disagreed with what Snape was telling him.
Without another word Snape swept out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Harry’s tears stopped when Snape left. Snape had barely acknowledged his hurt ankle and that made Harry angry. He continued lying on the floor for several more minutes, considering the situation. He had to admit that the pain in his ankle, although sharp when it first happened, had not hurt much after a minute. Harry wiped the last of the tears from his face and got to his feet, stomping his foot once on the floor in his anger. Snape was not nice like his caretakers. Snape was mean, the meanest person that Harry had ever met. Why did it matter when Harry played? And why did it matter if Harry wanted to nod? This man had too many rules. Harry’s tears started again, but not from his ankle. He missed his Home.
Harry stomped over to his trunk and was dismayed at how much was inside of it. He couldn’t possibly put all these things away in the ten minutes before lunch! His caretakers never made him put things away. His rooms were always cleaned for him, Harry had never thought as to how it happened. He lifted a shirt from the pile of clothes and moved towards the dresser, opening a drawer and pushing it inside. That wasn’t too hard. Moving back to the trunk, Harry lifted several shirts at once and crammed them into the drawer with the first one. It didn’t look neat like his drawers at Home did, but they were where they belonged at least. Harry continued shoving clothes haphazardly in various drawers until his stomach gave a low grumble and he abandoned his task without a second thought, moving out of the room and down the stairs. He followed the sound of clinking silverware into the kitchen and found Snape sitting at a table eating some type of pasta. Snape raised an eyebrow upon seeing Harry enter.

“You’ve finished putting your things away already?” Snape questioned him, his eyes narrowing a bit in disbelief.

“No.” Harry answered easily. “I’m hungry.”

Harry moved towards the table but Snape stood up quickly and blocked his way.
“You were told, quite clearly, that your lunch would be waiting for you after you put your things away. Go upstairs and finish. Now.” Snape pointed in the direction of the stairs, and when Harry didn’t move on his own Snape grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, sending him back in the direction of the stairs with a light push on his back.
Harry’s lower lip quivered as he slowly made his way back to his new room. It would take him ages to finish putting things away and he was hungry now.
Twenty minutes later Snape entered the room again just as Harry was placing the last of his toys on a shelf above his desk. Harry spun around when he heard Snape clear his throat and narrowed his eyes at the man.

“I’ve finished. I want to eat now.” Harry stated firmly, giving the man a dreadful look as if daring him to refuse again. His bravado had grown with his empty stomach.

“You could have eaten twenty minutes ago if you had put your things away when I told you to.” Snape responded simply, ignoring the look and gesturing Harry to follow him down the stairs. Harry trailed behind, the glare plastered on his face.
Harry sat at the table immediately upon entering the kitchen and told Snape, “I would like a cheese sandwich and some melon.” He sat with an expectant look on his face, waiting for the food to appear. Snape pushed a plate of the same pasta he had been eating earlier in front of the boy.

“Lunch is alfredo today.” Snape told him, placing a fork next to Harry’s hand.

Harry looked at the plate of pasta in front of him, then up at Snape with a look of bewilderment. “At… at Home they give me the food I ask for.” Harry said quietly, looking at the pasta as if it were poisoned.

Snape rolled his eyes. “In this house, you will eat what you are given. Today it is alfredo, or nothing at all, I will leave the choice up to you.”

Tears escaped Harry’s eyes as he mournfully took the fork and ate a small bite. It didn’t taste bad, in fact Harry rather liked alfredo. But he didn’t want it today. Today he wanted a cheese sandwich. If the events of the day were anything to go by, Harry knew that he had little choice in the matter. Snape had yet to cave in to any of Harry’s whining so far. And he was awfully hungry.
Snape sat at the table next to Harry reading a newspaper, his jaw clenching as he tried to ignore the boy’s periodic sniffs and sobs as he cried his way through lunch.

---

Snape led Harry into the sitting room after lunch and sat him down on the same couch the boy had occupied upon first arriving. He placed a chair in front of the couch and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, studying Harry for a moment.

“Let’s try this talk again, shall we?” Snape asked, a slight edge to his tone.
Harry stared stubbornly at the floor, his jaw clenched in annoyance.

“It is considered rude not to look at someone while they are speaking to you.” Snape said pointedly.

“I don’t want to.” Harry responded flatly.

Snape inhaled heavily through his nose, closed his eyes for a moment, then reached out and lifted Harry’s chin with two fingers. Harry’s green eyes met Snape’s dark ones for a few seconds before Harry jerked his head away and returned his gaze to the floor.
Snape leaned back in his chair and studied the boy, deciding to let the matter drop for the moment.

“It was explained to you why you are here?” Snape asked him, drumming his fingers on the arm rest of the chair.

“Yes. Mitchell said that a man named Dumboodur made me come here.”

“Professor Dumbledore arranged for you to stay here, yes. Is that all you were told?”

Harry’s eyes filled with tears for the countless time that day as he responded.
“Mitchell said… he said that nobody could live at Home anymore. He said it was g-going away.”
Snape didn’t respond right away, watching as the boy wrung his hands together. Harry lifted one hand, aggressively swiping the tears from his eyes.

“It will be much different here than what you are used to.” Snape told Harry, using his wand to procure a handkerchief and handing it to him.

“I noticed that.” Harry snapped.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “That tone is disrespectful,” he warned.
When Harry didn’t respond except to glare angrily at the floor, Snape continued.
“The Ministry of Magic’s decision to close your former home was not…”
But Harry’s head had snapped up and he interrupted Snape in a voice dripping with anger.

“You take that back! That’s a lie! The Ministry cares about me. The Ministry wants me to be happy! They would never close my Home! They would never send me here!”

Harry stood up abruptly, and with impressive reflexes Snape leaned forward to grip the boy by the arm and prevent him from leaving. Harry screeched in anger, using his free arm to lash out at Snape. Harry’s fist collided with Snape’s face right at the base of the man’s eye, and Snape released Harry in surprise at the blow. Before he could stop him again, Harry had run from the room.
Recovering his senses quickly, Snape caught up with Harry before he made it to the staircase. Harry cried out in surprise as Snape took hold of one of his ears firmly, pulling him back to the sitting room. Harry struggled as best he could with his ear caught in Snape’s grip.

“Let me go! Let me go!” He shrieked, using his hands to try and break Snape’s hold on his ear.
Snape released Harry’s ear and gripped him by both shoulders instead. Giving the boy a little shake, Snape crouched down so he was eye level with Harry. The man’s face was pinched with fury and when Harry saw the look on his face his own anger vanished. His eyes filling with tears, Harry gave out a loud sob and practically leapt into Snape’s lap. Snape was so taken aback by the action that he nearly fell over, using an arm to steady himself on the floor and the other to steady the boy who was now clinging to him.

Harry buried his face into Snape’s shoulder, his cries growing in intensity until the heartbreaking noise seemed to echo around the entire room. This day had been too much. He missed Home. He missed Mitchell and Julie. He didn’t like this change. He didn’t like Snape or the things he said. Emotions swirled in his brain… anger, fear, hurt, confusion, sadness. Harry felt each of them strongly, and each emotion seemed to be battling in his mind for dominance. It was exhausting.
Snape hadn’t said a word as Harry cried out his sorrow. After several minutes Snape had moved from the crouched position he was in and sat on the couch, carrying the distraught child with him. He didn’t hug the boy, nor whisper assurances. He didn’t pat his back or stroke his hair. He merely sat there with Harry clinging to him, allowing the boy the release of emotions he clearly needed.
After a while Harry’s cries lessened and Snape handed him another handkerchief. Harry blew his nose and dabbed his eyes, keeping one arm firmly wrapped around Snape’s torso.
When his cries had been reduced to the occasional sniffle, Snape lifted the boy by his underarms and deposited him into this own seat on the couch. The man’s face no longer looked furious, Harry noticed. In fact, Snape looked nearly as exhausted as Harry felt.
They sat there together for a short time until Snape broke the silence.

“You owe me an apology.”

Harry didn’t argue. He had never hit anyone in his life and felt wretched for it.

“M’sorry.” Harry mumbled, and Snape nodded once.

“Come. I will show you around the house.”