Harry was back home, or as close as he had ever had to a home. He couldn’t really recall the specific details of how he had come home, or what had happened when he had first walked back into the house. What he did know for sure was that he was back in the tight confines of his cupboard.
It wasn’t that he hated the cupboard, because really he didn’t hate it at all. What he did hate was how it was used against him. So often his relatives took advantage of the opportunity to cram him into that small place for no particular reason at all. It wouldn’t be so bad if they had told him how long he was going to stay in the cupboard. Perhaps an hour or two would have been enough to get whatever point they had across. But things never were like that at all. Instead of an hour or two he would spend whole days in the cupboard only being allowed out because Petunia didn’t want a stain in her house.
He reached into his robe, which oddly enough he was still wearing, and meant to pull out his moon tear from beneath his collar. His fingers clutched at air. He felt for the chain which had been about his neck. Nothing. It was not there. Perhaps, Harry thought, he had shoved the tear into his pocket and forgotten about it. Maybe it was just sitting there with the wizard card that Snape had given him.
He reached into the right pocket of his trousers first. There was a bit of lint that he pulled out with his fingertips, but nothing else. He reached into the left pocket. Please, let it be there. He found the card, but the tear was gone. He felt his heart sink. He had lost it.
Harry took a deep breath and took out his wizard card. He squinted at it in the dim light that the vent provided. All he had to do was speak the words that Snape had given him and he could leave this place. He froze as he heard a thick noise, like an animalistic squeal of joy. He shoved his card back into his pocket and tried to look out the vent holes. He could make out Dudley’s massive form, and he was clutching something in his fist. Harry’s eyes caught the glint of silver, and he heard himself whisper “Oh no.”
Harry pressed his body to the door of the cupboard and felt his breath hitch in his chest. That was his tear! Dudley had it! Harry must’ve dropped it when he came into the house! He watched as Dudley put the chain loosely around his finger and began to twirl the stone around like a plane propeller. He bit his tongue to keep quiet; if Dudley knew that he wanted the stone that would only give him cause to try and ruin it. Maybe Dudley would get bored of it rather quickly and he could get it back somehow.
Nearly a day later Aunt Petunia had let him out of the cupboard. She had fed him some bread and warm apple juice and then allowed him to use the bathroom. Afterward she had given him an assignment with a sharp warning. “Dudley’s room needs picking up, and I expect you to do a good job. If you cause any trouble, any at all, then right back in you’ll go. Do you understand?”
Harry simply stared at her blankly for a moment. She thought about grabbing him by the arm and giving him a good shake, but instead she just rolled her eyes at him and mumbled something that was unintelligible.
It wasn’t that Harry was trying to ignore her out of spite. His attention was focused on one thing. His moon tear. From the sound of things his cousin was upstairs, and it was a good bet that his tear was up there with him.
Harry went up the stairs as calmly as he could manage so that he would not draw attention to himself. There was a rough pounding noise on the floor. It almost sounded like someone was jumping around in Dudley’s bedroom. Harry could hear Dudley shouting in a combination of excitement and anger. He must’ve been playing some new video game his mother had given him, and from the intensity of his shouts he was losing the game.
Harry crept to Dudley’s bedroom door to find that it was cracked open just a bit, and from the little viewpoint he could see Dudley smashing hard on new controller buttons. Dudley stomped a large foot down on the floor when smashing the buttons down really hard didn’t seem to work. Harry might have laughed at him for being so absurd, but instead he gently pushed the door open a little wider to be able to see.
He scanned the room. Toys, games and clothes were scattered everywhere. He didn’t see the tear, so maybe it wasn’t up here. Or maybe Dudley had in stashed in his pocket still. Harry made a fist, raised it to the door and let it fall. It wasn’t exactly a knock, and the door opened a little wider in response.
“What do you want, Potter?” Harry looked up at his cousin. Dudley had paused the game to see who was intruding in his room.
“Aunt Petunia asked me to help you clean up the room,” Harry answered quickly. Dudley appeared to be sweating from his exertions while playing the video game. Only he could play something that required no effort at all and have to take rest periods in order to catch his breath every ten minutes.
Dudley narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Well, don’t just stand there! Get on with it, and don’t get in the way of my screen or I’ll make you regret it.”
Harry nodded and entered the room. He wrinkled his nose; it smelled like a locker room in Dudley’s room. Harry realized that it wasn’t the room that smelled, because he had always had to keep the room very clean; he realized, with a shudder, that the smell was coming from his cousin. Onion soup. He tried not to think about it for fear that he would cause himself to gag. No wonder Petunia hadn’t wanted to come in and clean up after Dudley.
Harry tried to breathe shallow breaths through his mouth. He was glad that the air was not strong enough to taste, because otherwise he would have had to leave the room for air breaks. As he picked up the dirty laundry scattered around in the room, Harry looked for his tear. He picked up several dirty shirts and a few socks that were so stiff that they could have doubled as shoes in a pinch. He picked up a pair of Dudley’s trousers and heard a jingle. Dudley had resumed his game, so Harry was quite sure that he hadn’t heard anything. Besides if it was just money in the pocket Harry wasn’t interested anyway.
He stole a glance in Dudley’s direction and was glad to see his cousin was thoroughly absorbed in the game. His pudgy face was focused on the screen with the tip of his tongue just peeking out of his mouth. If Dudley wasn’t careful during his next tantrum, he might bite that piece of tongue right off; Harry really didn’t want to be around to see that. Dudley would probably try to pin the blame on him somehow. Quietly, Harry took the pile of clothes and padded out of the room.
At the edge of the stairs, where he was sure that Dudley would not hear or see him Harry felt in the pants pocket. Aha! That was it! He smiled and closed his fingers around the tear. Quickly he took it and placed it around his neck and under his robes.
“Potter!” Harry froze. That was Dudley’s voice from behind. Had he seen Harry take the stone? “You missed some!” Harry felt something hit his back. He turned to see Dudley’s boxer shorts had been what had hit him. Harry shuddered, he did not want to touch that. He heard the sound of Dudley waddling over to him. “What were you doing?”
Harry looked at Dudley blankly. “I dropped some of the clothes, that’s all.”
Dudley did not look convinced. “Was there money in my trousers?”
“No,” Harry answered honestly as he bent to pick up the clothes he had dropped on the floor. He didn’t pick up the underwear, and he was hoping that Dudley wouldn’t notice.
“Let me see!” Dudley shouted grabbing for Harry and the clothes in his arms. Surprised, Harry backpedaled. He felt the edge of the stairs as the floor dropped beneath him. He groped for his cousin in an attempt to stop himself from falling. Dudley made a shocked squawk as his own footing faltered. They were both going to fall now along with a tangle of dirty laundry.
Harry was surprised to find that aside from a sharp pain in his right leg he wasn’t badly hurt. He’d figured on at least a broken arm or a concussion. Perhaps he had gotten off with only a bad bruise.
“Are you all right?” Harry asked Dudley who was lying half on the leg that was giving Harry pain.
“Of course I’m not all right, Potter! I just fell down the stairs with you!”
Harry cried out as Dudley stood up and roughly jarred his hurting knee. He cradled the throbbing limb protectively. Now it seemed that it was indeed more than a bruise.
“Serves you right,” Dudley said. He pawed through the clothing that had made the trip down the stairs with them.
Harry heard Petunia shuffling about. The noise must’ve attracted her attention.
“What happened?”
“Potter, pushed me down the stairs,” Dudley answered in a whiny voice.
Seconds later Harry felt his ear burning. If Petunia pinched it any harder, it was going to begin to bleed before detaching from his head. “GET UP!” She screamed at him. Harry tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he put weight on his right leg it buckled beneath him and sent shards of pain shooting through his nerves. He felt Petunia grab him by the right arm and support some of the weight that his hurt knee would not. He limped as quickly as he could to the cupboard. As soon as he was inside, he dropped to the floor and waited for the pain in his knee to recede some.
Snape had no idea why he was doing this. Dumbledore had said that he was relieved of his burden. He had been relieved of Harry Potter. He didn’t have to give him another thought, and yet he couldn’t push the boy out of his thoughts. He had tried to . . . even reading about potions and planning lessons for the next term hadn’t been enough to distract him. Something about the boy was bothering him . . . almost like an itch. Was he worried? No. Heavens no! Snape did not worry about Harry Potter . . . his concern was more for the fate of Wizard Kind than for the boy.
With that in mind to steel his resolve Snape knocked on the muggle door and refused to acknowledge the garden that had been so displeasing on his last visit. He could hear shuffling from behind the door, and he wasn’t surprised when the large muggle man answered the door. The muggle blanched a little as he recognized Snape as well.
“You want to see the boy?” Vernon asked, rubbing his hands on his grey trousers.
“Yes,” Snape answered. He stepped forward and Vernon stepped aside to allow him to enter the house.
Vernon cleared his throat as they headed for the cupboard beneath the stairs once more.
“I assume that despite his time away from you, the boy is as clumsy as ever,” Snape drawled almost casually. Vernon adjusted his collar nervously, all of the sudden it seemed to have shrunk several sizes.
“Ah, well.” Vernon stopped fumbling for an excuse as he came to Potter’s door and unlocked it.
Harry felt his heart jump when he recognized the dry voice outside of his small prison. He would have stood up, but his leg was still very sore. It had been worth it to get the moon tear back though. He could feel its warmth beneath his robes even now. He blinked as the light from outside flooded the small enclosure and blinded him.
He felt a big hand close around his upper right arm and winced at the fierceness of the grip as he was yanked to his feet. As his body weight was forced onto his sore right knee he yelped and made an attempt to shift everything to the leg that didn’t hurt him.
Snape looked at Harry, who was breathing through his clenched teeth in an attempt to cope with a fair amount of fresh pain, and back to the fat muggle who was probably responsible for the boy’s current condition. “I wish to speak to the boy alone,” Snape said, shooting Vernon a glare.
“Of course,” Vernon stuttered quickly. He roughly guided Harry to a wall to lean against and left the two wizards alone.
Harry winced at first from the sharp burst of pain that shot up his leg, and then from the look on Professor Snape’s face. Snape’s lips were drawn to a taught line against his already tight face; he looked very displeased.
With a clumsy movement Harry adjusted his unstable position against the wall. He received more pain for his efforts, and he hissed unhappily through his teeth. After his pain had receded to a bearable level, he looked up at Snape to find that the man’s expression had changed. He was still unhappy but in a very different way. Harry was afraid to ask him what the matter was.
“I’m okay,” Harry said. He was being careful not to move in a way that would hurt, and making an effort not to speak through clenched teeth. He gave Snape a sickly little smile, which withered as the man narrowed his eyes and scanned him up and down. Snape’s eyes lingered on the leg that Harry was favoring.
“I’m sure,” Snape drawled. He made eye contact with Harry once more. “Bear your weight down on your other leg and prove it to me then, Potter.”
Harry looked at Snape, trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. That was silly though, Harry had never known Snape not to be serious. He took in a deep gulp of air and let his right foot touch the floor. As soon as he moved to apply a slight bit of pressure to shift his weight, his sore knee flared in protest. That had not been the wisest thing for him to try. Harry balanced on his left leg as his right throbbed painfully. He would not be trying that again anytime soon.
It looked like Harry was having a difficult time balancing on his good foot while trying to cope with another strong burst of pain, but Snape made no move to assist him. Instead he leaned his weight against the wall facing Harry and folded his arms into the black material of his robes.
“How were you injured, Potter?”
Harry swallowed and hesitated before answering. He thought about reaching into his robes for his moon tear, but the risk of losing his balance made him leave it alone. “I’d rather not explain, sir.”
Snape made a low noise in his throat that resembled a growl. “Spare me this game of evasion, Potter.”
Harry sighed. When he thought about things logically this really was very silly. He had fallen down a flight of stairs for a necklace-- no, for a rock! No doubt Snape would find that imbecilic. Harry could feel blood rushing up to heat his face; that combined with the throbbing in his knee it made him feel a little dizzy. This was not a good time to swoon with his injury.
“Potter?” Snape saw that after a brief flush, Potter had suddenly gone very pale. Quickly he stepped up beside the boy to help him to the floor if he needed to sit.
“Sir, I’m,” Harry began to weakly protest, but Snape quickly cut him off.
“If you say you’re fine, you will regret it. Sit on the floor for a moment and get your composure back.”
Harry was on the floor before he was really aware what was going on. He closed his eyes and took in a breath as he tried to ignore all the sensations attacking his body. After several seconds had passed, he opened his eyes and lifted a hand to rub his forehead. He pulled back when he saw that his hand was shaking.
“Perhaps you just need some air,” Snape said quietly.
Harry nodded in agreement, but the last thing that he wanted to do at the moment was try to move.
“Could you stand with some assistance?”
Harry quickly shook his head. He was in no shape to try and stand up again.
“Very well. There are other options.” Suddenly Harry knew what Snape meant. He was going to pick him up from the floor and carry him out of the house. As appealing as leaving was, he didn’t want to aggravate his knee anymore.
“Sir, please. I don’t think I can stand to move right now.”
“Nonsense, Potter. I will be considerate of your injury. You obviously need medical attention, and I doubt you will receive it should you remain here.”
Harry wasn’t going to struggle against Snape if he really was intent on picking him up, but that didn’t mean that he was going to make things very easy either. Harry leaned back into the wall he was sitting up against and allowed his weight to rely completely on the wall for support. As careful as Snape was when he lifted Harry from the floor, Harry could not help but gasp in pain.
“Try to relax,” Snape said firmly.
Harry almost laughed at that. *Relax? Hah! What a joke!* With fresh flickers of pain cycling through him by the second and his strong emotions raging through him, he could hardly bring himself to relax. He closed his eyes, buried his fingers into Snape’s robes and squeezed for all he was worth. Where he was going he didn’t know, and really he didn’t care.