Harry looked down at the field from high atop his broomstick with the wind blowing through his hair. He spied someone far down on the ground, waving at him. Without a second thought, Harry plunged down towards the ground as fast as he could. Usually, he could slow down at the last moment, but now he was going too fast, the ground was speeding up to him.

"Umph!" Harry hit the ground and rolled a few times before ending in a sprawl of limbs and broomstick. "Ow," he groaned sitting.

"What was that?" he heard a chuckle behind him. "You’ve got to stop being so clumsy, son, or you’ll break your neck. Your mother already thinks Quidditch is too dangerous."

Harry felt strong hands grip him and pull him to his feet. Harry turned around and found himself looking into the grinning face of his father, James. The man’s dark hair was blowing in the wind, and Harry couldn’t help but grin back, knowing his own hair looked just as messy.

"Dad, what are you doing here? You’ve come to school in the middle of the semester?"

"Just checking up on you," James draped an arm over Harry’s shoulders and pulled his son roughly against his chest in a playful manner. "Seeing that you’re my son, I expect you to be up to all sorts of trouble."

"You sound like Snape," Harry grimaced teasingly.

James gave him a light smack upside the head. "Don’t insult your father!"

Harry grinned again. They walked in silence for a few seconds, enjoying the warm sunlight. Harry began to feel stiff from his fall and rubbed his arm.

"What’s wrong?" James was concerned.

"I’m kind of achy from practice," Harry shrugged. "Nothing bad – just sore, I guess." They had reached one of the practice tents, and James pulled him inside.

"All right, son, sit down, and let me see your arms," James helped Harry take off his arm guards.

As Harry sat down, James began massaging his son’s arm, stretching it from the shoulder until Harry sighed with relief and comfort as the stiffness eased away. Then James moved on to the other arm, commenting,

"I’m not sure I liked the way you went after the Snitch in the last match. You need to stop getting distracted by the other players, and pay attention to catching the Snitch. It’s the other players’ job to keep anything from hitting you. Nice save on that dive, though. You had the whole stadium holding their breath."

Harry tried to reply, but he couldn’t seem to speak. The tent was getting very dark, and Harry no longer was sitting in a chair, but lying on some kind of cot. James was continuing to stretch his muscles, moving on to Harry’s knees and ankles, pulling and twisting. It felt so good, but Harry couldn’t open his eyes or muster the will to move. In a tired hazy, he lay there as James pushed his knees to one side and stretched out his back before pulling his limbs straight again. Lastly, James pulled the covers up over him, and Harry rolled on his side, very warm and comfortable.

"Thanks, Dad," he mumbled before falling asleep again.

Snape froze at the end of the bed and looked back at the slumbering brat. What had Potter just called him? The boy must really be out of it – lost in some pathetic dream where his father was fawning all over him.

The boy had not seemed to wake up at all while Snape had stretched his muscles, and that was the way Snape wanted it. He didn’t really want to touch James Potter’s son in the first place, but he couldn’t imagine listening to the boy’s whining about stiff muscles tomorrow. Yes, Potter was dreaming because the boy wouldn’t dare call him that wretched name awake, would he?

Well, hopefully the brat wouldn’t remember it in the morning. Any of it.

------

The light in the room woke Harry up the next morning. For a few moments, he blinked uncertainly, wondering where he was. He felt great, better than he had felt in a long time. The last few days seemed a blur, and he tried to collect his thoughts together. He had been so tired then, and had – had caught fire? That sounded stupid, but he remembered being on fire and yelling at Snape, but Snape had helped him someway. Then Harry had been sad, or upset – he couldn’t remember. The most vivid thing he could remember was his dream with his father. It was almost enough to make him try to fall back asleep just to hear James’ voice again, to remember the way he had hugged Harry, and tried to relieve his son’s discomfort.

"Mr. Potter," a tiny voice sat from the floor.

Harry looked down off the high bed and saw a house elf peering up at him.

"Mr. Potter," the house elf repeated, "Master Snape is asking that you takes a bath and gets ready and goes down from breakfast right away. I is to make sure you obeys."

Harry scowled, but got out of bed. So much for returning to his dreams. "Tell him I’ll be down as soon as I can. But the bathroom – it’s not going to attack me, is it? Because if it is, I’m not going in there, and you can tell Master Snape that."

The house elf looked appalled at Harry’s gumption, but nodded understanding. "No, bathroom will not attack Mr. Potter at all. He will go in, yes?"

Harry approached the bathroom cautiously. He grabbed the broad, wooden hairbrush from the bureau on the way in and held the brush up like a cricket bat. If anything so much as twitched, he would smash it to pieces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so Harry turned on the faucets and undressed, keeping the brush ready in one hand in case of trouble.

Once in the bath, Harry kept an eye on the soap and bathbrush as he reached for the washcloth. Nothing moved, and Harry finally relaxed in the tub. Twenty minutes later, dressed in the clothes that had been laid out on the made bed and unscathed by the bathroom, Harry ran a hand through his hair in attempts to make it lie flat. The haircut he had received two days helped his hair look a bit tidier, but it still stuck up.

Harry hurried down to the dining room, ignoring the portraits that yelled at him to stop running and to brush his hair. Snape was already seated at the table and frowned as Harry rushed in.

"Mr. Potter, I do not allow running inside the manor. Next time you will enter a room quietly. Please have a seat as your breakfast is getting cold."

Harry was pleased to see that he got toast, eggs, and raspberry jam along with a large bowl of porridge. He had not realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite, and then he dug into the food with gusto.

"Potter!" Snape snapped his fingers together angrily.

Harry glanced up and said around a mouthful eggs, "What?"

"Has no one had time to teach you manners?" Snape growled. "Don’t talk with your mouth full! Sit up straight, napkin goes in your lap, take smaller bites, and eat slowly."

Harry glared at him. "I’m hungry, and you never criticized my eating manners at school."

"At school, you were surrounded by hundred of students. I couldn’t see you properly from the teachers’ table."

"Yet, you were always sneering at me from there, giving me mean looks," Harry grumbled.

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and he flicked his wand at Harry. Velvet ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped themselves around Harry’s shoulders and upper arms, tying him to the back of the chair. Harry tried to lean forward, but the ropes held him tight.

"Maybe that will help you sit up straight," Snape noted as he returned to his cup of tea.

Harry reached for his fork. His fingertips barely touched it, but he couldn’t pick it up. Snape sighed and gave his wand another flick, which scooted Harry’s chair closer to the table. It was awkward eating with his shoulders tied back, but Harry managed not to spill any food. Once he was done eating, Snape made the ropes disappeared, and Harry drank a cup of tea unrestrained.

"Now, Potter," Snape reached for a stack of papers and looked sternly at Harry, "to business."

"Business?" Harry repeated, confused.

"Yes, an owl brought these this morning. They’re papers for temporary guardianship papers for me to sign, making me guardian over you until the end of the summer."

Harry choked on his tea and started coughing. Snape rolled his eyes while Harry coughed violently into his hand.

"Guardianship? (cough) But (cough) why you?"

"I don’t know how much you think you know about the real world, Potter, but I’m guessing that between your relatives’ home and school, you have little idea about how things really work. You may think you’re all grown-up, but you do not come of wizarding age for another year, and wizarding law states that all underage wizards must be under a guardian’s supervision. You left your aunt and uncle’s home, so you cannot claim them as guardians. However, I cannot take control without your signature. For wizards over thirteen, the law requires that the ward consent to a change in guardians."

"What about emancipation?" Harry asked. "I read something once about older teenagers being emancipated if they were responsible enough to take care of themselves on their own."

Snape opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head. "No, Potter, I’m even going to dignify that with a response."

"Three years ago, I left their house and stayed at Diagon Alley until school started," Harry protested.

"That was a special case. The Minister of Magic had to make all kinds of exceptions because he thought you would be safer in Diagon Alley with an escaped prisoner on the loose. The year before, they transferred temporary guardianship to the Weasleys. I declare, you’ve given the Ministry more to do in the last five years than they ever had before. Besides, both times the summer was almost over, and now it’s just beginning. You have two choices now. Either you sign this contract giving me guardianship, or you go back to your relatives."

Harry looked at him suspiciously. "Why would you want guardianship? I agree to this, and you’ll probably lock me up or use me as a potions experiment. What did Dumbledore say?"

"He is the one that suggested it," Snape answered calmly. "He’s busy with the Order of the Phoenix and wants to know that you will be safe until the school year starts."

"And staying with you is safe now?" Harry retorted, mocking Snape’s cold tone. "Why doesn’t Dumbledore just tie me up and deliver me to Voldemort to make it easy? Or how about take me to a Death Eaters meeting so they can do away with me without any problems? He thinks that staying with you, you the evil Death Eater turned potions master turned spy, is the best choice for me –"

Snape pointed his wand at Harry. "Silencio."

Harry found he had no voice – his mouth was open and he was still trying to shout, but no sound came out.

"Ah," Snape smiled with satisfaction, "peace at last. Now, Potter, suppose I tell you what would happen with me over this summer should you stay here. Any objects? No, I thought not."

If looks could kill, Snape would fall into his cup of tea, dead in an instant from Harry’s furious glare.

"You may consider yourself all adult, but I’m here to tell you that I won’t put up with any cheek or attitude from you. You have two choices – stay or go to your relatives, and shouting won’t change the fact that you can’t do anything else. I am less than thrilled at the idea of you as a summer guest, but I don’t expect anyone to cater to my wishes. You are welcomed to read the over the contract if you like, but I will tell you that it merely states that I will be acting as guardian to you until September 1st, and that I am responsible for your wellbeing, your physical health, your mental state (what’s left of it), and anything else that needs to be taken care of."

Harry tried to speak before remembering that he couldn’t. He raised a hand to his throat, and Snape sighed.

"All right, but if you start yelling, you won’t speak for the rest of the day. Finite Incantium."

Harry loudly cleared his throat. "If I sign this, what about at school? I mean, who’s in charge when I’m there?"

"As in the past, the school acts as locos parentis – in place of the parents – for you while you’re there. Come September 1st, this contract will be void and worthless."

Harry glanced over the papers, but most of it was in lawyer jargon that he could barely read, let alone understand. He swallowed hard. "If I do this, then what? How do I know you won’t do something evil and underhanded – like give me to the Malfoys or lock me in a dungeon somewhere?"

"Potter, if I really wanted to harm you, I would have done it five years ago and saved myself all these years of teaching you and listening to your inane prattle. If I wanted to see you killed, I’d simply open the front door and let you waltz right out, unprotected and unguarded. A Death Eater would find you in a matter of minutes, the Dark Lord would kill you slowly and reward the Death Eater for your capture, and I could return to my breakfast without interruption. Is that what you want?"

"No, but you’re . . ." Harry trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Probably so, but you don’t have any other choice than your relatives."

"Are the last few days what it’s going to be like here?" Harry gave Snape a searching look.

The man nodded. "Yes, but hopefully without the fire or the tearful drama. I’ve drawn up a schedule for you to follow, but we’ll look at that after you sign."

"Schedule?" Harry was suspicious.

"First things first. Are you signing or not, because I do have work to do?" Snape held out a quill.

Harry could see the ink on the tip. Should he sign? There was no use going back to the Dursleys – he’d never make any progress there. He did want to find those timeturners or the Necklace of Timord. But Snape as a guardian? Harry felt his stomach roll over uneasily. Who knew what kind of power Snape might have as a guardian? With no one around to stop him, Snape could do anything – anything he wanted while Harry was defenseless without a wand.

However, if Harry found those timeturners or the Necklace, he would be changing history for the past two years. When he got back, the contract wouldn’t exist. He might even be living with Sirius somewhere and having a blast for the summer.

Harry took the feathery quill and lowered the tip towards the paper. He halted and looked back at Snape. "But what if I try to leave or you go into a rage? I don’t want –"

"Potter, just sign the contract," Snape motioned to the papers impatiently. "We could go on all day about what-ifs. As long as nothing too strange or out-of-the-ordinary happens, I’m sure you’ll be alive and well for the start of school."

"How sure?" Harry asked, still wavering.

"84 percent," Snape replied without hesitation.

That was hardly comforting, but Harry knew it was the best that he would get. He looked at the bottom of the contract. There were two lines. Severus Augustus Snape was written on the top line. Taking a deep breath, Harry scribbled Harry James Potter on the second line. Snape touched the papers with his wand, and they all disappeared.

"Don’t they have to be witnessed?" Harry ventured, remembering a Muggle movie he had seen once with some legal stuff in it.

"No, both the signatures have our magic in them," Snape reached for another paper on the table.

"So that’s it?" Harry said slowly. "I’m stuck here for the rest of the summer with you. What would happen if I ran out the door and off the property?"

"I would go after you and pull you back by the root of your hair," Snape said absentmindedly as he glanced over the new paper.

"No, I meant magically."

"Nothing, not until I put up the wards around the house and grounds."

"And then what would happen?" Harry pressed.

"Potter, stop asking so many questions. Why this, how that – you’re worse than a toddler."

Harry huffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. An awful thought crossed his mind – now that Snape was his guardian maybe he could make Harry obey and do what he said with magic. Simply say, "Behave," and Harry couldn’t misbehave. Like that version of Cinderella Harry had read years ago where the girl had to be obedient no matter what she was told to do.

Snape sighed. "Whatever you are thinking, I assure you that it cannot be as bad as you are imagining it. Now, look at this paper."

Harry deliberately looked away for a few seconds, just to test if he still had freewill. Nothing happened – he felt the same, so he glanced over the sheet and read 7:00 Wake up, bathe, dress, tidy up – 8:00 Breakfast – 8:30 Brisk walk . . .

"What kind of a schedule is this?" Harry demanded. "You want me to study and read and go to bed at ten everyday? It’s summertime!"

"I’m perfectly aware of what season it is," Snape began calmly, but Harry cut him off.

"No, I’m not agreeing to this. I’m on a schedule all year at school."

"Which you manage to break numerous times."

"I answer to ringing bells for nine months," Harry persisted. "Go to class, go to eat, go to bed, go to detention. I’m not doing that schedule."

"Potter, this is not up for debate."

"I know what will happen," Harry shot back. "I won’t be able to follow that schedule perfectly, and you’ll sneer at me all summer, saying how I can’t obey the rules and how like my father I am and how you can’t believe you have to put up with such despicable students. So I’m saying no now."

Harry sat there, arms still crossed and fuming. He was not letting Snape boss him around all summer and then get to do it in the school year as well.

Snape’s eyes glinted dangerously. "Potter," he said severely, "you’ve been yelling at me all morning, and I’ve had it with your attitude. Take a timeout, and go stand in the corner until you’ve calmed down."

The color drained from Harry’s face as he stared open-mouthed at Snape. The man was not serious.

"Now, Potter!" Snape ordered. "Go put your nose in the corner until I tell you to come back. Go – do not make me tell you again, or you’ll take a smarting behind with you."

Furious, Harry stood up and yanked his chair back. He stomped loudly to the one empty corner in the room and stood in it, seething with anger and muttering, "Ugly, sodding –"

"No talking while you’re in the corner," Snape commanded. "I’m not putting up with childish tantrums all summer. So help me, you’ll learn to control yourself by September if it’s the last thing I do. Now, you stand there for a while and think about how to control your temper."

Harry wanted nothing more than to stalk back to the table and punch Snape right in the nose. Breathing through clenched teeth, Harry ball his hands into fists and glared at the brown wooden walls of the corner. He was not enduring this for the next seven weeks. Seven weeks? Was it really that long? That was forty-nine days, forty-nine days stuck with Snape and that blasted schedule. The man was going to pay.

Twenty minutes later, Harry felt more bored than he had ever been in his life. His legs were getting tired of standing, doing nothing. Death by boredom – that sounded fun. Harry tried his very hardest to stay mad at Snape, but the time spent at Snapdragon Manor seemed to eat away at his loathing for the man. Harry no longer felt uncontrollable rage at his potions master. Instead, Snape had made him feel like a naughty child who needed to be minded and cared for, not to be trusted alone or unsupervised. The fact that Harry was standing in the corner at the moment did not help lessen this feeling. Harry was ready and willing to go back to the table and show Snape that he could act like an adult.

He could hear Snape taking a second cup of tea. One of the house elves came in to clear the table.

"Master Snape, I comes to clear the table," Harry heard the house elf squeaked. "Is you and Mr. Potter finished?"

"Yes, clear the plates, but leave the tea things," Snape directed.

"Is Mr. Potter needing anything?" the house elf timidly asked.

"Mr. Potter is standing in the corner until he can behave himself," Snape replied. "And knowing our young houseguest, he’ll be spending a lot of time there." Snape smirked when he saw Harry shifting, almost stomping his foot. "Yes, Nabby, I think it might even be a good idea to carve Mr. Potter’s name over that corner so he’ll know his place when he misbehaves."

"No, it’s not!" Harry insisted, still facing the corner. He expected Snape to order him to be quiet or tell Nabby to start carving because Potter would be living in that corner for the next seven weeks. However, all Snape said was,

"Are you ready to act your age, or do you need more time there?"

Harry whirled from the corner and walked back to the table. "I’ll act my age, though I still don’t want to follow a schedule."

"You would do well to get ahead on your studies. The Sixth year is quite challenging, and there is no reason you can’t start off the school year well prepared and well read."

"But Hermione –"

"Miss Granger has a talent for remembering books, but there’s no reason you can’t learn just as much. While she was reading or studying at night, I’m sure you were fooling around with Mr. Weasley or another one of your simple friends. I don’t see why you cannot return to school as ready as Miss Granger. Maybe then you can answer a few questions in class instead of pretending to be invisible."

Snape made sense, but Harry would rather sit and sulk than admit that the potions master might know what he was talking about.

"As for meals and bedtimes, do you really expect to grow taller as long as you pick at healthy food, load up on sugar, and never get any rest? I saw you yawning in class several times this past year, and once you nearly fell asleep. Am I right?"

"Well, sometimes I can’t sleep at night," Harry mumbled. "And I eat when I get hungry, and everyone at school gets to eat candy without professors griping at them."

"Who says I don’t gripe at other students for eating too much candy?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows. "If it were my choice, there would be no trips to Hogsmeade at all. And without extra sugar, you’ll soon adapt to going to sleep at a reasonable time and waking up early. It might even help your surly attitude. As for your schedule, I will post one copy in your bedroom and one in the library. It would behoove you to memorize the schedule as you will be accountable for sticking to it. We’ll talk more about the consequences of disobedience at lunch, and then you can get started on the essay I assigned the other day. Right now, I see that it’s almost nine and you’re supposed to be outside walking. Move!"

Somehow, Harry found himself wrapped in the green cloak and in the garden before he could object.

"Start down the path," Snape pointed down the gravel walk. "It’s a loop around the house. Even if you walk slowly, you’ll be back here in time for studying at ten-thirty. Stay on the gravel path."

Snape went back inside and slammed the door. Harry stared at the closed door in bewilderment. Three days at Snape’s home, and Harry had been spanked twice, caught fire, gotten a new guardian, been put on a strict schedule, and stood in the corner for half an hour. And now he still had to write that stupid essay. Unbelievable.

For all his snide remarks about being bothered by students and Harry especially, Snape was a very hands-on kind of person. Harry was certain that Snape was going to be quite up-close and personal with his new ward in the following weeks, not letting anything slip by. That certainty both worried and calmed Harry – the thought that someone might be there through good and bad, ready to handout rules and sarcasm at any given moment, never leaving Harry in any doubt as to how his behavior was seen by Snape and how the man planned to deal with him.

A few hundred feet down the garden, a bark path turned off the gravel and headed off into the woods, turning right while the gravel path veered left. Harry glanced back at the manor and then at both paths. To loop around the house, he would need to take the bark path. Besides, the gravel path stopped up ahead at a birdfeeder. Maybe if Snape got out of his potions lab once in a while, he would know how to navigate around his own property, Harry snidely thought as he meandered down the bark path. He grinned at the thought of Snape wandering aimlessly and lost over his own property, wondering how to get back to the house. Then Harry sobered as his thoughts drifted back to the conversation at the breakfast table.

There were butterflies in his stomach as he walked on, past the neat gardens and on into the green woods. How would he feel at the end of summer if he followed Snape’s schedules? Confident? Ready to take on classes and show Hermione up? He could imagine her face when he raised his hand first to answer a question and earned points for Gryffindor when he had the right answer. When she turned startled eyes on him, he would say casually, "What? Oh, yeah, I did a little light studying this summer, nothing too much, you know." And Ron would smirk because someone finally knew more about books than Hermione.

And what would Ron think about Snape as a guardian? Harry could picture Ron’s look of horror and disgust, then the overwhelming pity. "You poor bloke," Ron would shake his head, "seems like they’re doing all they can to bump you off. The whole summer with that greasy git? Does Dumbledore want you to have nervous breakdown or go balmy?"

He should owl Ron. Surely, Snape wouldn’t mind if he corresponded with his friends as long as Harry wasn’t planning on escaping. He would have to ask for permission, but he could imagine Snape’s reply: "You want to write your friends? Are you actually thinking that they are intelligent enough to read your letter and respond? You are delusional." Still, Snape would let him, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t make Harry go all summer without talking to his friends. The Dursleys would, but Snape wasn’t quite as evil as the Dursleys because he had helped Harry with the fireplace curse and the Dursleys would just lock him up. Maybe if he asked Snape with politeness and respect. The man’s words were always caustic, but he would probably agree eventually if somewhat reluctantly.

But no, timeturners first. Harry had prior plans that did not include studying all summer and owling friends. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on his earlier intentions. Snape must be putting something in his food.

The trail seemed to go on forever, around one bend and another. After a while Harry wondered if he should turn back or if it were quicker to keep going. He had no watch or anyway of keeping track of time. After trudging to the top of a hill and finding that the path just went down before going up another hill, Harry gave up and flung himself to sit by a tree. He leaned a back against the trunk and put a hand on each bent knee. He was a little tired from the trauma of the last few days. Why had Snape made him take such a long walk when Harry wasn’t fully recovered? Shouldn’t Snape have realized that he was still tired? Or was Snape hoping Harry would collapse on his walk?

Harry almost snorted at his own thoughts. He was wondering why Snape didn’t fuss over his ward’s delicate state? The same teacher who enjoyed seeing Harry suffer and squirm in class, happy to have him peeling something slimy and disgusting for hours? But it had been nice yesterday when Snape had acted so concerned but confident that he could help Harry. And the feel of the man’s hand on his forehead and taking his pulse – actually touching Harry and not drawing back with repulsion. Not many people ever wanted to make physical contact with him, acting as if he were dangerously contagious or about to explode. Even Madame Pomfrey made her inspections quick and with as little touch as possible.

In the shade of the tree, Harry closed his eyes and tried to remember his dream. He liked the way James had thrown his arm around his shoulders, pulling Harry against him hard, confident that Harry could take a little roughness. Some fathers were very physical with their children – hugs, wrestling, lights punches on the shoulder, tousling their hair, even tickling them until the children squealed for mercy. Harry had seen such parents with their children: holding them, cuddling them when they cried, laughing, talking about silly stuff, buying them treats, and threatening to punish them if they didn’t behave.

He would never have any of that, Harry realized, opening his eyes and plucking carelessly at a blade of grass. He would never have a mother to tuck him in at night or a father to lecture him about his attitude or praise him for raising his grades. Harry had hoped that he would not care about being an orphan as he grew older – that it would not matter so much that he was alone because adults were supposed to stand on their own two feet without any help. A part of him felt stupid and childish for wanting parents – most kids his age wanted to get away from their parents and live their own lives with freedom. Usually, Harry managed to convince himself that he was better off without parents to fuss and coddle him, considering that he didn’t like teachers to do that. But he knew that now more than ever, he wanted a family. Instead he had cold relatives and an irate potions master for a temporary guardian.

A twig snapped, and Harry glanced up. His heart started thudding frantically as he saw said irate potions master marching up the hill, his black robes billowing menacingly. The look on his face made one thing quite clear – Snape was not at all happy with his new ward.

Harry sprung to his feet. Should he rush down to meet Snape halfway or wait for Snape to get up to him? Go or stay, go or stay? Harry took a half step forward and then thought better of it. No reason to meet fury head-on.

As Snape drew close, Harry could see that the man had a copy of the schedule in one hand and his wand clutched tightly in the other. This was not looking good at all.