‘Good-morning Severus,’ Dumbledore said, entering the potion master’s quarters with a smile.

Snape looked up from his work. He hadn’t slept in two days, spending most of the day teaching and all night trying to come up with a solution to the small problem that for the last forty-eight hours had been teething, and very loudly. It had been three days since Harry had aged from fifteen to eighteen months, but since then, despite taking him through the photo-album several times, Snape had been unable to get the boy to age anymore.

‘Good-morning,’ Snape said curtly.

‘Are we any further with …’

‘No.’

‘And my suggestion about the …’

‘No,’ Snape said again. ‘It had no effect.’

‘I see.’ Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. ‘Where is Harry?’ he asked.

‘Asleep,’ Snape said. He knew that Madame Pomfrey had advised him not to let Harry sleep beyond eight o’ clock, but he was not teaching till late that afternoon and had decided that he needed the morning to work further on a cure.

Dumbledore decided not to mention that it wasn’t the wisest thing to allow Harry to sleep all morning. He could see that Snape hadn’t slept for several days. He could also see the frustration in his black eyes; not being able to solve the riddle of Harry’s transformation was obviously getting to him. Severus Snape had been the same ever since he had first come to Hogwarts as a slightly awkward but determined eleven year old. If there was something that he couldn’t do he couldn’t rest till he had. Luckily for Harry, he had never so far failed his mentor.

‘Right,’ Dumbledore said. ‘I think I’ll go and see how he is, if that’s alright by you?’

‘Fine,’ Severus said.

‘And I’ll keep an eye on him for you whilst you go to the hall and get some breakfast.’

Snape raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t argue with Dumbledore. He could last a long time without sleep and food, he’d done so on many, many occasions, but trying to argue with Dumbledore when he was on one of his missions was beyond useless. He replaced his quill in its inkpot and got up from his stool to go to the hall.

‘If he cries then give him this,’ Snape said wearily. He handed the amused headmaster a rubber star which he had charmed to make to teething toy for Harry.

‘Thank-you Severus,’ Dumbledore said, his pale blue eyes twinkling. He made his way over to Harry’s cot.

‘Good-morning Harry,’ he said gently, reaching into the cot and lifting him up.

Harry’s eyes blinked a few times before they opened. It took him several seconds before he figured out exactly where he was. He looked at the bearded man suspiciously. This wasn’t Snape. He looked wildly round for the batman.

‘It’s alright, Harry,’ Dumbledore said, ‘Severus has gone to get some breakfast. I’m Albus Dumbledore, do you remember me?’

Harry wrinkled his nose slightly distastefully. He didn’t like being picked up by Albus when he was expecting Snape. He stuck out his tongue and blew some bubbles into the long white beard.

‘Snape,’ Harry chanted, ‘Snape, Snape.’

‘Professor Snape will return soon, Harry,’ Dumbledore said. ‘Now, first things first, where exactly does Severus keep the nappies?’

Twenty minutes later and Harry was changed, dressed and sat in his high chair crunching a piece of toast very viciously because it felt good against his aching gums. He had discovered that the bearded man – Balbus – was actually very funny. He had kept him amused on the changing mat and getting dressed. He had gotten Cheep-Cheep to sing a song about a farmer and a den, and the other stuffed toys had all joined in, holding hands and moving in a circle around Cheep-Cheep while he picked a wife. Harry had been very surprised that his favourite toy had chosen the deep blue and purple birdy with the pink ribbon round her neck and not him, but then he had been busy being cleaned by Balbus at the time.

‘Good-boy Harry,’ Dumbledore said, smiling at the way the toddler attacked his breakfast with gusto.

‘Good-boy,’ echoed Harry, pleased at the praise. Snape might be his favourite big person but he was definitely not generous with his praise; not generous at all.

Dumbledore was watching Harry thoughtfully. He knew as he looked into his emerald eyes that the elder Harry was in there somewhere. They were tinged with an understanding far beyond his years. The teenage Harry’s eyes were always fascinating to those who looked at them. Not only were they the absolute mirror to Harry’s soul, scarcely able to conceal the emotions that he was experiencing at that particular time, but they also had a hint of knowing that could be the result only of the experiences Harry had had in his short fifteen years. They had looked into the gaze of the greatest evil that had ever lived, and they had borne witness to the death of Cedric Diggory which had left them with traces of knowledge that could never be erased. Dumbledore knew from experience that to look into the eyes a dying man (or woman) was something that would transform the soul forever; it was that which gave the recipient the ability to see what others couldn’t – such as the mournful kestrels, descendants of the black horse which rode with the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

Harry’s eyes still bore such residue, and it was this that convinced Dumbledore that the spell which had transformed him could be reversed and that Harry would not grow up for a second time without the knowledge that had made him the teenager he was the first. Still there seemed to be some way to go. He knew that Severus was spending every spare moment on the problem, but Dumbledore had the feeling that he was failing to gain enough space from his books to engage with the things that really made black magic thrive – the person it was exacted upon and everything that went with them.

‘Harry?’ Dumbledore said quietly. Harry looked at Dumbledore. His low, serious tone jarred with something inside him and he gave him his full attention.

‘Balbus?’

‘Harry, I want you to help Professor Snape in any way that you can. You have been the victim of a very advanced form of black magic and it is going to be as much up to you as Professor Snape to try and conquer it.’

Harry nodded. He didn’t understand much of what the bearded man was saying but he knew that it was important. He looked at him solemnly, ‘Me help.’

‘Good-boy Harry,’ Dumbledore said smiling, ‘now how about another game of the Farmer’s in his Den?’

Harry clapped his hands together. ‘Me pway!’ he said jubilantly.

When Snape returned from breakfast he surveyed the mess of toys which surrounded Dumbledore and Harry with a sardonic eye.

‘Having fun?’ he said.

‘Snape!’ Harry said happily. He hoisted himself up using the edge of the toy-box as a lever and half-toddled, half-ran towards Snape with his arms outstretched.

Snape looked almost alarmed as the small boy ran to greet him. He was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the way that Potter was beginning to show him affection. The night before when he had (eventually) gotten him to bed he had even caught him blowing him a kiss. It was unnerving. Snape was far happier when he was being difficult, he knew how to handle a difficult Potter. Luckily, Harry fell over onto his backside before he reached Snape.

Harry scowled, sitting there for a few moments; he thought he had mastered this walking business and he felt frustrated that he hadn’t been able to reach his target. Still, not wanting to be beaten by his wobbly feet he got to up once again and toddled more slowly in Snape’s direction.

‘Up, up,’ he said.

‘Potter, you’re not a baby, you don’t need to be carried,’ Snape said irritably.

‘I think he simply wants to be picked up to say hello,’ Dumbledore said, noting the toddler’s crestfallen expression.

‘He’s fine where he is,’ Snape said. ‘He will never learn to walk if he is picked up at the drop of a hat.’

Harry frowned, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Snape never picked him up unless it was unavoidable. He sat down suddenly where he was, nestling Cheep-Cheep in his arms – at least he didn’t object to being cuddled.

Dumbledore sighed but he didn’t push it. Snape needed to go at his own pace with Harry, if he was forced then it would be worse for both of them.

‘Severus, there is something that I wish to speak to you about.’

Snape looked at Dumbledore suspiciously, ‘Well headmaster …?’

‘It’s about Draco.’

‘What about him?’ Snape said shortly.

‘I hear that he is not to play in the Quidditch match a week on Saturday?’

‘That was the punishment I decided upon,’ Snape said curtly.

‘A fair one I’m sure,’ Dumbledore said evenly, ‘but interestingly I had an owl from the school governors yesterday informing me that both Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge would be in attendance at all collective school events for the foreseeable future.’ Dumbledore’s eyes flashed with fire, ‘After what they describe as the “tragic accident” at the Triwizard tournament. When you issued the punishment to Draco, Severus, did you realise that his father was to attend?’

‘No, he has informed me since. Naturally he asked me to reconsider.’

‘And?’

‘And naturally I declined such an impudent request.’

Snape was aware that his answer had sounded defensive, but then he could feel Dumbledore watching him very carefully.

‘I see.’ Dumbledore paused for a few moments trying to weigh something up. ‘Do you think that wise?’

‘Headmaster,’ Snape said impatiently, ‘Mr Malfoy needs to learn that his actions have consequences. He accepts my decision.’

‘And Lucius …?’

‘Lucius will also accept my decision.’

‘I was thinking more of the consequences for Draco.’

‘That is between Mr Malfoy and his father. He has been instructed to inform Lucius that he has been banned from the game for his so-far poor performance in most of his subjects. That is what he will do and Lucius will believe it.’

‘You are encouraging Draco to lie to his father?’

Snape pursed his thin, pale lips, the teeth behind them setting themselves together. ‘Would you rather he told the truth?’ he said, forcing the words to remain polite.

Dumbledore sighed. ‘Severus, I am well aware of the corner that Draco would be in was his father to find out the truth. However, I am uncomfortable with putting him in such a predicament. If Lucius were to find out that his son had allowed such magic to fall into the hands of the Order then the consequences would be great.’

‘I am well aware of that headmaster. I have taken measures for such an eventuality. However, in regards to the Quidditch match, I will not lift the ban simply to prevent Draco from facing the displeasure of his father.’

Dumbledore knew that Severus’s word would be final on the subject. He could also sense, however, the undercurrent of regret. Had the Professor known that Lucius was to attend the match prior issuing Draco’s punishment Dumbledore doubted that he would have chosen it. Draco, though Snape would never admit it (probably even to himself), was one of the only people Snape had ever deigned to care about. It was not difficult for Dumbledore to understand why. Snape himself had been pressured into joining the Death Eaters at the impressionable age of seventeen by Lucius Malfoy. Though it was unsaid, both Dumbledore and Snape knew that the day would come that history would repeat itself with Draco, and when it did they were hoping that, as Snape had done (eventually at least), Draco would be prepared to take the mark but pledge his allegiance to the Order.

‘Very well,’ Dumbledore said. It wasn’t up to him to intervene. Draco was Snape’s responsibility – they had both agreed on that seventeen years ago. Harry, however, was a different matter. ‘Now, to Harry. I think that it’s time that you both had a break from these quarters. The walls and books are clouding your judgement.’

Snape bristled.

‘It’s not a criticism,’ Dumbeldore went on quickly, ‘but I think that you will able to gain more perspective on the problem if you were to spend sometime away from the castle. Perhaps you could take Harry out?’

Snape looked horrified. ‘Headmaster, you cannot seriously expect me to take Potter out in public?’

‘Why not Severus? As far as the world is concerned Harry is just another baby. His scar can easily be concealed and if you dress correctly and restrict yourself to muggle London then no-one will be any the wiser.’

Snape cast his eyes doubtfully to Harry. At that moment he was flapping his arms like they were wings and nodding his head like a demented pixie.

‘I’m sure I could be better employed elsewhere …’ Snape ventured.

‘Nonsense! Anyway, the break will do you good. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Take him to the park – the fresh air will help you to sleep.’

Snape felt his face redden slightly. He suddenly felt like he was the child. ‘Headmaster …’

‘I will not hear another word about it Severus,’ Dumbledore said more firmly. You have only one class this afternoon, Professor Sprout will cover it.’ He smiled at Harry. ‘You would like to go to the park Harry, wouldn’t you?’

‘Park?’ Harry repeated. He like the sound of that – at least it was different to ‘up the corridor’ or ‘into the playpen’ which was where he seemed to spend most of his time. He nodded his head. ‘Park!’ he repeated happily.

‘It’s settled then,’ Dumbledore said.

On Madame Pomfrey’s advice, Snape stopped off at the Burrow on his way to London to borrow a pushchair from Molly Weasley. He was now trying to get Harry to get into it. It was one that Arthur Weasley had procured for his muggle collection. He and Molly had used it to take both Ron and Ginny to the London zoo so that they could look at the non-magic animals. Molly had kept in the attic in case the need for it ever arose again, though Arthur kept assuring her that it wouldn’t –seven children were enough for anyone. In fact he often wondered why they hadn’t stopped after the twins.

‘You are getting into this contraption Potter, one way or another,’ Snape said, his patience beginning to wane.

‘NO,’ Harry said, running behind Molly’s legs. ‘NO, NO, NO.’

Harry had spied the straps. He wasn’t about to sit in something that might hold him like his highchair so that he couldn’t wander around. He needed all the practice at walking that he could get.’

‘Potter!’

Molly put her hand on Severus’s arm smiling. ‘Let me try,’ she said. She knelt down and took Harry’s hands in hers so that he had to look at her, restraining him gently as he tried to pull away. ‘Now listen to me, Harry,’ she said in a soothing tone, ‘you have to get into the pushchair if you want to go to the park. You can’t walk as fast as Professor Snape …’

‘Yes!’ Harry said pouting slightly.

‘I’m sure you are very good at walking,’ Molly said patiently, ‘but you’re not as fast as grown-ups. You can get out when you get there if you’re a good boy.’

‘No!’ Harry said, sticking his tongue out and giggling.

‘Put that away, young man,’ Molly said. ‘Now are you going to get into the pushchair or am I going to put you in there?’

‘No!’ said Harry again. It was one of the few words that he really liked. He couldn’t understand why the stupid grown-ups couldn’t understand that there was no way he was about to get into the pushchair. No meant no – Snape was always telling him that.

‘Harry, you are being naughty,’ Molly said a little more sternly. ‘If you get in on your own then you’ll be a very good boy for Professor Snape.

‘No, No, NO!’

‘Very well.’

Molly scooped Harry up unceremoniously and placed him in the pushchair. Harry wriggled and screamed but she took no notice of him, and with the deft hands of someone who had gone through the same thing with seven other children, fastened him securely in. Snape was grudgingly impressed. He knew that left to him it would have taken several attempts and a lot more ranting. Molly hadn’t even raised her voice. She stooped down to speak to Harry again, who was trying (very unsuccessfully) to manipulate the straps so they would open.

‘The straps are so you don’t fall out,’ she explained patiently as Harry squealed with frustration. ‘Now come on, there’s no need for all that racket. I thought you were a good boy.’

In frustration, Harry lashed out with one of his little fists and hit Molly in the face.

‘That was very naughty,’ Molly said calmly. ‘You do not hit.’

Harry, however, was in too much of a temper to take any notice of her warning. Pleased that he had gotten some sort of reaction he hit out again, this time catching her on the nose.

Molly took hold of Harry’s hand and gave him a firm tap on the back of it – not enough to hurt him, but enough to make him pout. ‘I said you don’t hit,’ she said. ‘Now you can stay in there until you learn to behave.’ She turned to Severus. ‘Don’t let him out until he’s stopped sulking,’ she said. ‘I know he’s only young, but he has to learn that he can’t always have his own way.’

Snape nodded – he had no intention of letting Potter out anyway, though he didn’t voice it to Molly.

Harry waved his arms around about, straining and shouting in frustration. He hadn’t like being smacked on the hand by the fire-hair woman. It made him feel naughty and he wanted to tell them that it was her that had been mean and not the other way around. Unfortunately he had a feeling in his stomach that she had been right, and this made him more frustrated.

‘There’s no use carrying on, Harry,’ Molly said calmly, ‘you brought it on yourself. Don’t worry,’ she said to Severus, ‘they’re always trying it on at this age – it’s the start of the “terrible twos”, he’ll grow out if it - eventually anyway. Now you better get going. Sorry I can’t come with you but I have to get the house straight, the in-laws are coming in the morning – you are so lucky not having to deal with then yourself. Terrible creatures, always sticking their oars in when it isn’t wanted; why they last time they came to visit it was a nightmare, the twins had …’

‘I can imagine,’ Snape interrupted, feeling that this story might go on for a while.

‘Oh,’ said Molly, ‘well, yes, I guess you better get this one off. Harry dear, please stop chewing the straps, you haven’t got enough teeth to chew a carrot let alone gnaw through several inches of reinforced plastic. Right, you know about child-to-adult apparition I presume? Yes? Okay, then I will say goodbye – don’t forget to keep that hat on his head, you don’t want anyone asking questions. Oh and keep him wrapped up warm, there’s always a chill in the air this time of year in London. Harry, be good wont you dear… ?’

Snape apparated with Molly’s questions still ringing in his ears. Whilst he appreciated Molly’s help, he had to wonder at the way that she could speak for several minutes about something that could be dealt with in mere seconds.

He looked down at Harry. They had apparated in an old outbuilding at the edge of Hyde Park and Harry was looking around in fascination at the sudden change of scene. He seemed very excited considering that the walls of the bare building were covered with the green slime of years of neglect. Cobwebs hung from every nook and cranny in the gloomy room and the pungent smell of drains hung heavy in the air. It had been years since the building had been used by muggles and so wizarding folk used it as an apparating point. If any muggles were to come across it they would be unable to gain access and if they did would see a pack of ferocious rats that would make them go running.

‘Park?’ Harry said.

‘No Potter, not the park.’

When Snape and Harry had actually gotten out into the park, Harry had forgotten his previous sulk and was shrieking with excitement at the things that he saw as they walked (or rather as Snape pushed him) alongside the river that wound through the green park. The late autumn wind was shushing through the trees, blowing the red and amber leaves up at Harry as he tried to catch them in his fist.

‘Potter leave those alone, they’re dirty,’ Snape said irritably as Harry tried to stuff a handful into his mouth.’ Harry dropped the leaves instantly and turned to squeal at a flock of swans.

‘Pretty birdy,’ Harry said, swivelling around in his seat to talk to Snape. ‘Pretty Cheepy-Cheep.’

Snape looked dubiously down at Harry. His emerald eyes were filled with excitement. ‘It’s a swan, Potter,’ he said.

‘Pretty birdy,’ Harry insisted. He was thoroughly enjoying his visit to the park. He hadn’t been further than the Hogwarts castle since – well, since ever really. As Snape wheeled him around he had seen birds, people, other children (he was beginning to think he was the only one), ducks, dogs, bikes and lots of other things that Snape hadn’t told him about.

Snape looked around. He could tell that Harry was getting restless to be out. He hated to admit it but he’d actually been very well-behaved after the telling off he’d received at the Burrow and Snape thought he might reward him by allowing him to wander around for a bit. He bent down and faced Harry like he had seen Molly do.

‘Listen to me, Potter,’ he said. ‘I’m going to let you out now. We can sit here on this bench for a bit and watch the swans. But if you misbehave or run off then you will find yourself back in your pushchair quicker than you can say “birdy”, do you understand?’

Snape looked Harry directly in the eye as he spoke to him and it seemed to make an impression on him. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘me good.’

‘Very well then.’ Snape loosened the straps and lifted Potter out of his pushchair, placing him on the ground near the railings which guarded the river as he sat down on the bench. He took the loaf of bread that Molly had given him ‘to feed the ducks’ out of the baby-bag that also contained Harry’s nappies and a bottle. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to Harry.

Harry looked blankly at Snape. Did he really expect him to eat a loaf of bread when there were birdies to watch?

Snape felt himself colouring – why had he ever agreed to take Potter to the park in the first place? Dumbledore had tricked him as usual. Now he was going to have to demonstrate how Potter should feed the ducks - it was laughable.

Luckily, he was saved the humiliation by a passing woman who had a little girl with her who was older than Harry – perhaps three or four. The woman plonked herself down next to Snape. She had a large frame and the bench lurched slightly as she sat down. She hitched up her two-sizes-too-small floral pink dress that pinched in all the wrong places and adjusted the bright purple wool shawl that sat on her gigantic shoulders. On second glance Snape could see that she was expecting another child.

‘First time?’ she said nodding her head in Harry’s direction, she appeared slightly out of breath and her round cheeks were glowing with the cold wind. ‘Sarah will show the little fellow what to do. Here you are madam, help the lad to feed to them ducks there’s a good girl?’

‘Alright Ma,’ Sarah replied.

Snape looked Sarah over as she took a curious Harry’s hand and led him closer to the railings. The clothes she had on were too big and they looked worn as though they had been passed down from an elder sibling. Her shoes were scuffed and her socks were trailing round her ankles, but she had brilliantly mischievous sapphire eyes and clean, plaited long blonde hair and she looked happy. As she shot Snape a huge toothy grin, Snape automatically found himself smiling back, though he was aware that it came out more like a grimace.

‘I’m Maura Pickles,’ the woman said, her pale blue eyes taking him in, ‘What’s your name?’

‘Er- Severus Snape,’ Snape said, immediately wishing that he had come up with a more suitable name.

‘That’s a funny one’ she said. ‘Where ‘r you from then? Poland is it? We ‘ave a lot of Poles down our street. Nice people though, always keep their windows spotless.’

‘Actually I’m from England, northern England, It’s just a name that’s been passed down through our family,’ Snape lied. He didn’t know why he was giving so much away to this woman, but there was something about her kind, twinkling eyes that inspired confidence.

‘Oh.’

Sarah was tearing big chunks off the bread and throwing them into the river, trying to show Harry what to do. He, on the other hand, kept grabbing bits of bread and throwing them at his feet, expecting the swans to come to him and stamping his foot in frustration when they didn’t.

‘What’s this one’s name?’ Maura said.

Harry turned round from what he was doing to speak directly to the big fat woman. ‘Potter,’ he said smiling, tapping himself on the chest.

‘Family name too is it?’ Maura said. She looked at Snape’s outdated and oversized pin-striped trousers with interest. They were mismatched by a blue flannel cardigan that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a geriatric and finished by a cream coloured shirt with a ruffled collar. There was definitely something strange about this family. But, then again, the high-rise that she lived in, in Bethnal Green was full of strange people so she was use to it. She smiled as the young lad threw some bread to the swans and then squealed with delight as they gobbled it up. She could tell that the pushchair was old and worn, but the boy was dressed in a very passable red and gold coat and trouser suit and he was obviously well-looked after - which was of course the most important thing.

‘His name is Harry,’ Snape said, finding that the name almost stuck in his throat.

‘Got any more then?’ Maura said. She offered Snape a stick of chewing gum which he, very politely, declined.

‘No,’ Snape said. He decided not to get into how Harry wasn’t his to being with.

‘I’ve got seven, soon to be eight’ she said patting her belly. ‘The other blighters are all at school. Believe me the sooner you can get ‘em carted off there the better – they’re into everything – but this one,’ she pointed at Sarah, ‘Good as gold. She could stay with me forever. Still he don’t look too bad. If you’ve only one I bet you ‘ave more time to get him on the straight an’ narror.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Snape said dubiosuly.

As if to prove the point Harry, fed up of sharing his bread with the other little girl, chose this moment to snatch it away and squeeze through the too-narrow bars to get closer to the ducks. Snape was on his feet immediately and had grabbed his jacket before he’d ever even got a step.

‘No you don’t Harry,’ he said. He bent over the low railings and hoisted him up. ‘Back in your pushchair I think.’

‘No,’ said Harry crying. ‘No!’

‘Sound like he’s tired to me,’ Maura said. ‘Best put ‘im down and give ‘im a bottle and he’ll be asleep a quick as you like.’

‘No!’ said Harry, his face screwing up, upon hearing the word ‘tired’, ‘Pway.’

‘Pushchair,’ Snape said firmly. He fastened a struggling Harry in and then went into the baby bag for the bottle. He discreetly clicked his fingers to warm it up and then put it in reach of Potter, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to resist it forever. He then chatted amicably to the muggle lady for a while about her soon-to-be-eight children (six boys, one girl and one on the way) and listened to the advice she gave him about Harry – everything from potty training to curing nightmares. Some of Maura’s methods seemed slightly strange to Severus (particularly the one about dipping a ‘dummy’ in gin), but a lot of it was helpful. It seemed that taking care of a baby was a similar experience both for muggles and wizards.

Meanwhile Harry had given into temptation and taken the bottle. He was now fast asleep, tired out by the fresh air that he had had.

‘Look at that,’ Maura said. ‘What did I tell you? The little mite was dog-tired. Mind he don’t sleep too long though, you’ll be wanting some yourself tonight - If you’ll pardon me for saying so you look like you need it. Anyway, it was nice talking to you.’ She stood up sighing. ‘Come on Sarah, we best get going if we’re going to have anything to give the old man and the boys when they gets home baying for their dinners. Maybe we’ll see you again? We’re in here this time most weeks.’

Snape smiled a non-committal smile. He wouldn’t mind seeing the lady and her little girl again, but he didn’t think it would be wise to allow Harry to become known to anyone. Not when it was likely he would be older than Sarah the next time they met.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he said.

It was half-an-hour before Harry woke up grizzly, his nappy wet and his ears itching from the bobble-hat that Molly had tied firmly to his head. For once he was grateful that he was in the pushchair because the last thing he felt like doing was walking around anywhere. He pointed at his nappy, ‘Coldy,’ he said miserably, his bottom lip beginning to tremble.

‘Alright Potter, settle down. We’ll go back now.’ They had been in the park for nearly two hours and Snape had decided that that was enough for the time being. He looked around to see if there was anyone near the outbuilding. Luckily it appeared deserted. Harry was kicking his legs slightly.

‘Up,’ he said desperately. ‘Up.’

‘Not yet Potter,’ Snape said, ‘when we get back to Hogwarts.’

Harry pouted. Snape didn’t seem to realise that his legs were aching from sitting in the pushchair for that long. He kicked his legs more, pedalling them against the chair furiously.

‘Potter, settle down! I said you can get out when we get back.’

Snape was looking straight ahead, keeping an eye out for muggles. He didn’t notice the big black dog bound up to Harry. Harry froze. The dog was face to face with him, his yellow eyes looking at him curiously and his sharp teeth bared like a monster’s. Harry let out a blood-curdling scream.

‘Potter I told you to settle down,’ Snape snapped. Looking down, however, he was confronted by a huge black dog. He reached down, and uttering an unfastening spell wrenched Harry from the chair and up into his arms without a moment’s hesitation.

Harry cried into Snape’s shoulder, covering his face as though this would stop the big dog from seeing him. ‘Shush Potter,’ Snape said automatically, jiggling the frightened Harry about a bit. He looked down at the dog which was snarling at him, immediately recognising the red glint that passed through the sharp black pupils. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘What do we have here then? Fancied a little walk did you Sirius?’

The dog went for his Snape’s ankles just as one of the park-keepers caught up with him. He had been chasing the unusually evasive dog for at least half and hour.

‘No you don’t,’ the man said gruffly, grabbing Sirius by the scruff of the neck. ‘Sorry mister. I’ve been chasing this one all round the park. Hope he didn’t frighten the little one?’

Snape thought quickly. ‘Sirius, down boy,’ he said as the Sirius leapt up at the keeper. Sirius growled in Snape’s direction, incredulity apparent in his face even as a dog. ‘Sirius,’ Snape repeated, ‘get down or the man is going to take you away.’

‘Is this your dog?’ the caretaker said suspiciously.

‘Yes, sorry. He’s a bit excitable,’ Snape said to a huge snort from the dog.

‘All dogs have to be on a lead in the park,’ the man went on, ‘this ain’t bleeding Peckham you know. This one’s been scaring the ducks and the kiddies.’

‘Sorry,’ Snape said patiently, ‘I didn’t realise that. He got away from us over by the river. I’ll make sure he has one on in future.’

The man reached into his pocket and took out a length of rope. ‘No ‘arm done I suppose. You can ‘ave this for now. Shall I put it on ‘im or does he bite?’

Snape raised an eyebrow sardonically. ‘By all means,’ he said, ignoring the way that Sirius barked loudly at him.

‘If he was mine I’d give ‘im a good hammering for running off, or at least a boot up the backside. It’s the only way they learn innit?’

Snape almost smiled at the outrage that passed over Sirius’s face - almost. ‘I’ll bare that in mind,’ he said lightly. He took the rein off the man and fastened it to the pushchair, then replaced Harry, who, after the initial shock, was now looking more curiously at the big black dog that Snape seemed to be taking home.

‘Good day to you,’ Snape said.

The unlikely three made their way back to the building to apparate. Sirius was hanging his head with the humiliation of being fastened to the pushchair and thinking of ways in which he could get his revenge on Snape (and how he was ever going to live it down). He couldn’t help thinking, though, that the baby was strangely-familiar. Harry, in turn, was watching the black dog thoughtfully, trying to place why he looked familiar.

Instead of Hogwarts a triumphant Snape took them both directly to Grimmauld Place.