Chapter 2

The Watcher

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Harry walked numbly back to Number Four, his pace brisk and unfaltering. He ought to have known that something like this would happen if he dared to leave the house; and yet, perhaps it had been for the best that it did...

Was there anything to be believed about what Malfoy had told him? Was it even possible that he was contemplating such a notion? He arrived at the house and headed straight for the back garden, bewildered and unable to formulate a plan. He had always been one to act quickly; only a year ago, he might have made a break for Hogwarts and worried about the consequences later. However, considering the source of his information, and the consequences of his rash actions the year prior, he knew that he needed a moment to contemplate the possible outcomes of his actions before he committed to them.

Harry could hardly believe the difficult situation he was now facing. He knew that if he were at Hogwarts, the best plan would have been to consult any trusted adult. However, here in this muggle neighborhood, he had few options. Should he go to Mrs. Figg, urge her to contact Dumbledore? And even if he did, would Dumbledore allow him to leave Privet Drive, or think it a trap? He had said there was protection on the Dursleys' home... would that be sufficient to ward off whatever Malfoy was trying to warn him about?

Harry looked around, still half-expecting to see an Order member striding towards him at any moment. It occurred to him how odd it was that whoever was supposed to be on duty had done nothing the moment Malfoy had appeared- wasn't he exactly the type of person that they should be looking out for? It seemed not only irresponsible, but positively negligent. Here Harry was, at a complete loss for what to do, and someone in the area was failing to perform the one job they'd been given for the day.

It was maddening. If Harry couldn't be involved in the Order, he should at least by protected by it.

A wave of resentment came over Harry. These were the exact situations in which he was expected to stay calm in. "Keep your head"—that's what Lupin had been writing him all summer.

This was a time when he was supposed to sit back and let the adults handle everything, listen to instructions, and do what he was told. But where were the adults in times like these? Well, Harry didn't know, did he? And why? Because no one ever told him anything! No one ever bothered to let him know what was going on, tell him what to do in these situations, or inform him of the steps they were taking. Harry was tempted to do something rash and impulsive just to irritate them, to punish them, to prove his point… or… just to get them to show up.

An idea suddenly came to Harry. An idea that would get him what he wanted, but not hurt. And if it didn't work, then he would at least know that he was on his own, and then he could try and figure out what to do next.

Harry spun around, and threw his arms into the air.

"Hello?" he called, looking around expectantly for some sign that he was not alone. "Is anyone there?"

Still, no answer. Harry huffed in irritation, and continued complain—although it was now aimed more at himself than any mysterious unseen being. "What am I supposed to do? I had better get some answers, and I had better get them soon, because if I don't—"

A warm hand clamped down over his mouth; at least, he thought it was a hand. His eyes darted around frantically. The trouble was that he couldn't see anyone around him, though he felt a body pressed up against him, holding his arms at his side. He squirmed, trying to wiggle his fingers into his pocket to grab his wand. He couldn't reach it. Panic began to overwhelm him, but he quickly became aware of his captor as a familiar low voice spoke in his ear.

"If I let go of you, you will promise not to utter a single sound."

The voice was dangerous, and the words formed as though they'd been spoken through clenched teeth. Harry broke into an almost instantaneous cold-sweat; if he hadn't been nervous before, he certainly was now.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"You will go into the house, and I will follow. Then—" the voice became deeper and more threatening. "We will have a little chat."

Though he was perfectly dry, Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in a pail of ice-cold water. His stomach did somersaults as he realized to whom the voice belonged. He walked, legs slightly trembling, into the house, and was displeased to find the Dursleys gathered in the sitting room. They looked at him dumbly for a moment, and Harry knew his guard had arrived when their faces paled slightly.

Harry didn't have to turn around to know that Severus Snape was standing there, now completely visible. And he was indeed; Snape stepped around Harry towards the Dursleys.

"I am Professor Snape," he said, extending his hand. "A teacher at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon didn't shake hands; he only glared at him. Snape pulled his hand away; he appeared totally unmoved by the cold reception. Harry's Uncle Vernon stood; the way he puffed out his chest made it seem as though he were trying to intimidate the dark Potions Master, but Harry knew this was impossible.

With his beady eyes darting around quickly and his cheeks puffing in and out, Vernon looked very much as though he would like to physically throw Snape from the house. All he managed, though, due to Snape's terrifying presence, was a very snappish, "Yes?"

Snape's eyebrows lifted; he clearly hadn't been expecting such a reply. He quickly met Vernon's rude disposition, however, by narrowing his eyes and glaring down at him.

"I need a word with Potter, privately. So if you could excuse yourselves," said Snape abruptly, motioning towards the door.

"This is my house," Vernon started, a defiant scowl spread across his overlarge face. "I'll not be excusing myself from my own room."

Snape raised an eyebrow and responded articulately, "It really wasn't a request."

Dudley was slowly edging out of the room, noticeably trembling as he did so.

Snape looked in annoyance at the large boy cowering in fear, and then went on. "Mind you, you haven't much choice in the matter. The only choice you do have is whether or not to do so on your own terms."

Harry would have thought this appallingly rude if it had not been for the fact that these were the Dursleys. Vernon's face was turning a deep shade of magenta, and Petunia's thin lips were pursed so tightly that they almost looked permanently stuck together. Snape's subtle threat, however, seemed to overpower their desire to do anything more than glare nastily back at him.

Within mere minutes, Harry and Snape were alone. As Harry looked up into the stormy face of his Professor, he realized that he much preferred the company of the Dursleys.

Snape closed the door to the parlor with a harsh flick of his wand, and proceeded to close the blinds on the windows. He flourished his wand several times; Harry could only assume he was placing silencing charms on the room. He had obviously meant "privately" when he'd said it.

When he seemed satisfied that there would be no uninvited guests eavesdropping on the conversation, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a chair. Harry did as he was told.

"Well, Potter, are you satisfied?" Snape inquired icily, folding long arms and staring down at the boy through narrowed eyes. Harry stayed silent.

"You haven't any idea how much trouble this has caused, do you?" he asked with a sneer, shaking his head. "You couldn't have waited for me to call another Order member to your aid."

Still, Harry did not speak. He was both afraid and infuriated, and did not trust himself to respond.

"No, I'd thought not," continued Snape, paying little attention to Harry's lack of response. "Did it occur to you that there might be a reason no one had yet arrived? That is the problem with you, Potter. In your ignorance, you fail to see any reasoning other than your own."

Harry was literally biting his tongue; the pain was a reminder not to rise to Snape's bait. He had tried to see other reasoning; he'd stayed where he was, hadn't he? In fact, Harry felt he'd been quite clever to force someone to come to him, rather than wait around like a sitting duck.

"You may not be concerned with this, Potter," Snape continued spitefully. "Undoubtedly you feel you're worth the risk…" His lip curled unpleasantly as he gave Harry a contemptuous once-over. "But you put the entire Order, and especially my position, at stake. Should the Dark Lord find out that you are being guarded at all times, he will use that to his advantage, especially," Snape paused for emphasis, "if he finds out that Dumbledore trusts me with you. Right now, all he knows about you, in relation to me, is that I am your teacher. The Headmaster and I have purposely led him to believe that Dumbledore trusts no one with you, least of all myself," Snape finished.

Had someone else been lecturing him, these words might have made Harry feel guilty. However, he refused to allow Snape to affect any of his emotions. There was only one small voice in the back of his head that responded to the Professor's goading.

If you had considered the risks you were taking before, it said, then Sirius might not have died…

Harry's lips pressed together unconsciously, and he shook the former thought from his head. He would not allow Snape to make him feel this way; many of the things that had gone wrong the prior year were just as much Snape's fault as Harry's.

"Do you understand what would happen, Potter, if Malfoy were to tell the Dark Lord that he had witnessed me coming to your rescue, today?"

"Yes," Harry responded, even though he hadn't thought about it much at all.

"He might ask me to kill you, Potter," replied Snape as though he hadn't heard Harry's answer. "And though I would relish the opportunity," he continued snidely, "I doubt it would be well received by the Headmaster."

"So then I suppose you would have to spare me," Harry retorted.

"Yes, thereby condemning myself," agreed Snape. "I am certain you would enjoy that quite thoroughly. I do not, however, make these sacrifices for you, Potter. I will not."

"What for, then?"

"How exceedingly hubristic you can be, Potter. I do what Dumbledore asks of me, and my reasoning is no concern of yours."

"So what might you do, if you were asked to kill me?"

Snape looked down at him, eyes glinting indistinctly, expression inscrutable.

Harry wished he would answer, or look away. Something about the unreadable look on Snape's face was disquieting; Harry was unable to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes, behind the face that gave away nothing.

"Sometimes," Snape muttered at last, "I wonder if the reason you never use your head is that nothing is in it."

"Well, at least there's something in my heart," Harry replied quickly, uncharacteristically venomous. "Unlike yours. You've never loved a thing a day in your life."

The snarl that escaped Snape as he lunged forward several steps shocked Harry; he backed away, unintentionally falling into one of the Dursleys' plush recliners. He stared up at Snape as the man began to hiss his response.

"You think nothing of consideration for others, the rules and whom you affect by breaking them!" the dark man snapped, bringing his face close to Harry's own. "As long as things go the way you want them to, whom you hurt in the process does not matter to you. It is the same reckless ignorance that drove your Father and his idiot followers to death and despair. You have little concern, however, because you are Harry bloody Potter. I know—you lead such a difficult life, so you deserve the Order's undivided attention. You deserve to have people fawn over you and cater to your every need. You have spent so much time trying to get people to stop fussing over you, but now that they finally have, you want that back. You are like a petty schoolgirl fishing for compliments. You—"

"That's enough!" Harry snapped, getting to his feet. Snape's pale face was but inches from his own; Harry could see every hard line of his face pulled taught into a deadly glare. It did nothing to hold him back; his temper had reached its boiling point.

"I'm so sick of you acting like I'm so horrible, like I don't care for anyone but myself!" Harry shouted into his face. "You don't know how far from the truth that is! And as for getting on my case about breaking rules, I don't see where you have any room to talk! At least when I break them, it's usually for a good reason! But you! Should I really be listening to lectures about right and wrong from a Death Eater?"

The moment the words had escaped his lips, Harry knew he'd made a very big mistake. His eyes widened slightly, and he drew back, awaiting his Professor's reaction. Part of him was worried; after all, the doors were locked—he had nowhere to bolt if Snape responded to his defiance with the same amount of fury he had the previous year…

There were a few moments of deadly silence in which Snape seemed to be deciding exactly what to do; his teeth were clenched so tightly that Harry could hear them grinding together from inside his mouth.

"You really want to discuss the past, Potter?" Snape finally hissed spitefully. He didn't need to say any more to strike a nerve, and he knew it. A triumphant smirk crept onto his face.

Harry glared at him, dying to retort- he could point out the fact that the only reason his past had been so miserable was the lowlifes who had nothing better to make of themselves than gratuitous minions to Voldemort, desperate for some sense of power to compensate for their cowardice. He bit back on these words, however, and remained silent. He didn't think he could handle another one of the man's tirades, chalked full of insults to him and his family - or what would have been his family…

"That's what I thought," Snape said with a satisfied nod of his head. He swept his wand around the room and stepped towards the door.

"Someone will be here to collect you soon. Until then, stay here."

With one last dark glance at Harry, Snape disillusioned himself once again and disappeared from sight. The only sign that he had left was the banging of the door as it closed behind him.

xxx End Chapter xxx