Harry stood stiffly between Professors Snape and Flitwick, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He neither acknowledged nor replied when addressed, pointedly ignoring everyone in the room.

“I know how difficult this must be for you, my boy,” the Headmaster rambled, his rich voice tinged with kindness and regret. “But you mustn’t despair. . . .”

The old wizard had been prattling on for several minutes but Harry had tuned him out as soon as he began to talk. It was a familiar situation. Uncle Vernon had always been fond of long, disparaging lectures. Harry had learned from an early age how to ignore adults and withdraw inside himself, letting the words wash over him without meaning. He remained still and expressionless, his thoughts elsewhere. Mostly, he thought about Professor Snape’s promise: a broken promise now.

He said I wouldn’t have to go back there. He promised. Why does everybody lie?I believed him. . .I really thought he meant it. Maybe he changed his mind. I was too much trouble – a nuisance. He’s probably glad to be rid of me now.

A heavy silence in the room brought him back to the present and he realized that Dumbledore had stopped talking. Harry knew they were all looking at him. Normally, being the object of so many adults’ attention would have embarrassed him, but he was too depressed to care now. There was a movement in front of him, and the portly figure of his Herbology Professor stepped before him. He glanced up to see her round face tight with sorrow.

“Take care of yourself, Harry,” Professor Sprout sighed. “You’ll be back at Hogwarts with us in no time!” She surprised him by pulling him into an awkward, rather fierce hug. Harry stiffened at the contact but didn’t pull away. In class, he had always been a bit intimidated by the brusquely cheerful professor, but she had been kind to him while he recovered in the Infirmary, and he had grown used to her somewhat blustery manner. He thought he heard her sniffle a bit as she released him and moved away.

“Harry.” His Head of House placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly. With her other hand, she gently lifted his chin and looked into his impassive face. Bright blue eyes behind the gold spectacles studied him shrewdly. “Do not worry, my boy. You will be well looked after – I can promise you. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you need anything – anything at all.” She also embraced him, tugging him against her and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. When she whispered in his ear, Harry was too startled to react. “Things aren’t always as they seem, Harry. Have faith in Professor Snape.”

Before he could decipher her odd words, Professor McGonagall stepped back and shimmering purple robes took her place. A wrinkled, aging hand settled on his shoulder and Harry reacted for the first time. He recoiled and shifted a step back, shaking the hand from his shoulder and keeping his eyes on the floor. His anger and disappointment was so intense he dared not look at the Headmaster. He heard the old wizard sigh. “In time, I’m sure you will see that this is all for the best, Harry.”

Bitterness left a sour taste in Harry’s mouth. Best? Best for who? Not me, that’s for sure.

“If the mawkish goodbyes are concluded, Headmaster, I would like to get on with this. I do have other important matters to attend to,” Snape drawled insolently. “Come, Potter.” He grasped Harry’s elbow and towed him briskly over to the hearth. Professor Flitwick followed them. “I’ll take the boy first,” Snape told the Charms Professor, and snatched up a handful of powder from an open jar.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Flitwick assured him calmly.

Snape stepped into the fireplace, pulling Harry in next to him. He pulled the dejected boy close, put a firm arm around him, tossed down the powder and snapped “Figg Home.”

----- ----- -----

If not for the Potions Master’s firm grip, Harry would have pitched from the fireplace onto his face. Pulling away from the man’s grasp, he coughed, rubbing the soot and ash from his eyes. I hate floo travel! he decided. He felt a ripple of air wash over him, and glanced down to see the soot on his clothes vanish.

“Give me your glasses,” Snape said quietly.

Harry pulled off his glasses and blinked as Professor Snape waved his wand, then gently positioned the now clean lenses on Harry’s face.

“Ah, Professor!” a familiar voice simpered. “I was told to expect you. I’ve already got the kettle on!”

Harry turned to stare dumbly at his old babysitter, Arabella Figg. A quick glance around confirmed that they now stood in his neighbor’s tiny kitchen. The old woman beamed at him, apparently unsurprised to see wizards step out of her fireplace. “Mrs. Figg?” Harry coughed again.

“Could we have a glass of water for the boy?” Snape spoke in a bored tone.

“Yes, yes – of course, poor thing!” the old woman bustled to the sink and fetched a glass. Harry gaped at her in confusion. “Dusty business, floo travel. Must remember to keep yer mouth closed, child!” she admonished, handing him the glass. “Now, let me just see to that tea,” she babbled happily.

“That would be very kind of you,” Professor Snape said quietly. He watched her turn to the stove, then stepped up close behind her. Harry saw his wand flicker discretely as the wizard murmured something under his breath. Without warning, the old woman stiffened and fell back into Snape’s waiting arms. Harry gawked as the professor carefully lowered the woman into the nearest chair and lay her head down on the table.

“What. . .what did you do to her?!” Harry squeaked.

“Just a sleeping spell,” Snape answered calmly. “She’ll be fine. It’s best she not witness certain events, and this is safer that Oblivating her later.”

The fireplace flared green and Professor Flitwick stepped out gracefully. He glanced once at Mrs. Figg’s unconscious form and nodded at Snape. “I best go ahead and clear the way. Give me about ten minutes.” He bustled out the back door, closing it behind him.

Snape sat at the table and eyed Harry’s shocked and confused face. “Sit down, child. We have a lot to discuss and not much time.”

Harry obeyed, stammering “What. . .what are we doing here?”

“It’s the only fireplace in the area connected to the floo network,” Snape replied calmly.

“But…but Mrs. Figg’s a Muggle… how?...”

“She’s a Squib, actually,” Snape replied. “The Headmaster placed her here when he left you with the Dursleys, in order to keep an eye out for you.”

Harry stared at the sleeping Mrs. Figg in shock. “Dumbledore placed her? . . .but. . .she used to babysit me!”

“Harry, listen carefully,” Snape’s solemn tone wrenched Harry’s attention away from the old woman. “It was Professor Dumbledore’s decision to send you back to your relatives,” Snape’s expression was grave and unexpectedly troubled. “The other Professors and I do not agree with his decision. We don’t believe you should return to them, and we’ve made other arrangements for you. . .if you are agreeable.”

Harry realized he was gawking and closed his mouth with a snap. He tried to make sense of what the professor was saying. “What. . .what arrangements?”

“I would like to take you away from here. . .to keep you safe until the fall semester starts.”

Harry blinked. “Away? But – where would I go?”

“To a secure place, far from here. . .no one but the four of us – Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and myself – will know where you are.”

Harry frowned in bewilderment. “You mean. . .I don’t have to go back to the Dursleys?”

“No, Harry. . .you don’t have to go back to them. If you agree, you will stay with me. I will look after you for the rest of the summer.”

Harry’s heart turned over and his stomach twisted. He fought back the burn of tears that threatened behind his eyes. “You. . .do you mean it? You want to . . .uhm. . .look after me?”

“If you will let me, Harry. Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” Snape stared at him, his dark eyes burning with an unnamed emotion.

“Why?” Harry blurted out the question without thinking. He blushed with embarrassment but didn’t take his eyes off the man’s austere face.

Snape’s steady gaze softened and his mouth twitched. “Because you deserve better,” he said softly. “Because you never should have been left in the hands of such monsters.”

“But. . why you?” Harry persisted. He knew what he wanted the man to say, but he didn’t dare to believe. . .

“Because I want to,” Snape answered bluntly. “Because I want to take care of you.”

Harry’s heart was beating so hard he thought it would leap right out of his chest. Is it true? Does he mean it? Or is it just another lie? To cover his confusion and fear, he grasped at the forgotten glass before him on the table with trembling hands and sipped the cool water.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, Harry,” Snape explained gravely. “You must understand, if we do this, we will be going against the Headmaster’s orders. He doesn’t know about this. . .we had to keep it from him. I couldn’t tell you before, for fear he might discover our plans. That’s why I pretended to go along with him…why I pretended to dislike you again – so Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t suspect me.”

Harry stared at him anxiously and gulped. “Will you get in trouble for helping me?”

Professor Snape shook his head. . .then did something Harry never dreamed he’d ever see the surly Potions Professor do. Snape’s mouth quirked into a mischievous smirk and he winked. “Only if I get caught.”

Harry mouth fell open again and he nearly dropped his water glass.

“There isn’t time to explain all of the details right now. We must move quickly. I’ll answer any questions you have later, I promise. For now, I need to know if you agree. . .if you are willing to place yourself in my care.”

Harry hesitated. He couldn’t believe this was happening.

“It’s only for a few weeks. . .if you change your mind, we will make other arrangements,” Snape added a bit stiffly. “If you decide later that you’re unhappy with the situation, I expect one of the other . . .”

“Yes!” Harry interrupted him.

Snape studied him with an uneasy scowl. “Are you sure? I know this is rather sudden. . .”

“I’m sure!” Harry assured him shyly. “If you want to. . .I do too.”

Snape’s tense face relaxed and Harry thought he looked almost happy. . .which, for the gruff professor, was a strange and rather startling expression.

“Excellent.” Snape rose and motioned for Harry to follow him into the living room. “We must take you to the Dursleys first.” At Harry’s dismayed expression, he patted his shoulder reassuringly. “The Headmaster is expecting me to return you there. We must trick him into believing that I have. Don’t worry - Professor Flitwick has gone ahead to ensure the Muggles will not interfere. Once we are there, we must take certain steps so that the Headmaster will believe we left you there. Then you and I will be on our way.”

He guided a reluctant Harry out onto the front walk. Harry closed Mrs. Figg’s front door and turned back, startled to discover that the Potions Master’s black robes had abruptly changed into Muggle clothes. He gaped at Snape, stunned by the change. The wizard looked amazingly different in dark slacks and a casual grey shirt. His long hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck and a jaunty black ivy cap shaded his sallow face. Snape glanced down at Harry and smirked at his expression.

“Why so surprised, Mr. Potter?” he sneered, “You grew up with Muggles. . .one would think you’d never seen Muggle attire before.”

He led Harry down the street, his dark eyes sweeping the area guardedly. Harry paced along beside him, his eyes drawn to Number Four with growing dread. When they reached the walkway that led to his relatives’ house, Harry paused, fighting down an abrupt wave of panic. Seeing him hesitate, Snape moved closer and surprised Harry by slipping an arm loosely around his shoulders.

“Don’t fear. They won’t hurt you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to speak to them. . .or even look at them if you don’t wish to. All we have to do is walk inside and go up to your room. This will only take a few minutes. Then it will all be over.” He gazed down at Harry, his black eyes glittering. “Trust me, Harry.”

Harry gulped, gathered his flagging courage and nodded. There’s nothing to be afraid of, he told himself sternly. Snape’s here…he won’t let them hurt me.

----- ----- -----

Harry sat on his bed, staring around at his old room. Nothing had changed in the week he had been gone. The sheets on the bed were still stained and dingy. . .the bars were still on the window. . .the empty wardrobe was open, a few loose hangers in a tangled pile on the floor. . .even the empty soup can, now black with mold, remained on the floor by the pet door. The only difference was the room’s barrenness. . . all of Harry’s belongings were still in the shrunken trunk in Snape’s pocket. The bedroom door with its array of locks was not closed. When Snape had gone back downstairs to help Professor Flitwick, he had left it standing open. Harry was grateful he had, for he knew if the door were closed, he’d feel trapped. . .as if nothing had changed – as if the past week had never occurred, and he was once more locked in his private hell with no escape.

Harry wondered what the two professors were doing downstairs. When they had entered, Snape had guided Harry straight up the stairs without pausing. Harry had briefly glimpsed his Aunt and Uncle on the lounge settee, their backs to the hallway. Professor Flitwick had been standing before them, his wand in hand and his face grimly focused. His mouth moved, although Harry hadn’t heard his words, and his wand danced in a complicated, arcane pattern. Then the scene passed out of sight as Snape had lead him to Dudley’s second bedroom. Harry wondered where Dudley was. He hadn’t seen his cousin downstairs, but he only saw a small part of the lounge and he supposed Dudley might have been in there, hidden from his view from the stairs.

I wish they’d hurry up! I wish we could get out of here!

Harry listened carefully, but no noises drifted up from downstairs. The house was eerily quiet.

I wonder where Snape is taking me? He said it was far away.

Harry didn’t really care where they were going. . .along as it was far from the Dursleys. He still couldn’t believe what was happening. Snape was taking him away! Snape wanted to take care of him! Harry was going to live with him for the rest of the summer!

Harry winced, thinking of his friend’s reaction. The hot-tempered redhead would never understand how Harry might want to live with the fearsome Potions Professor. Ron had parents who loved him and a big family. He could never understand what Harry’s life was really like. Hermione might. . .she was a girl, and girls seemed to understand stuff like that. But Ron never would. He wouldn’t know what it meant to Harry to have somebody want him. . . to want to take care of him. . .even if it was their most hated professor.

I wonder what it will be like, living with Snape. . . will he be strict, like at school? Will he make me spend all my time doing homework and studying? Will he make me scrub cauldrons and peel newts eyes all summer?

Harry grimaced but decided it didn’t matter. He’d rather scrub cauldrons for Snape than work like a slave for the Dursleys. At least Snape would feed him. And he wouldn’t thrash Harry. . .at least he didn’t think Snape would do that.

I just won’t give him any reason to punish me. I’ll be really good and do whatever he says and I won’t make him mad.Harry wondered again where they would be living. Will we live in a wizarding house or a Muggle one?

Harry couldn’t imagine Snape living like a Muggle. The tall, imposing wizard was just so. . .so wizardly! He couldn’t really imagine Snape living anywhere except the dungeons at Hogwarts.We’ll probably live in the dungeon of some deserted castle or old keep. Or maybe we’ll live in a cave.

An image of a dank, bat-filled cavern popped into Harry’s head and he snickered. He knew some of the students at Hogwarts believed Professor Snape was a vampire and turned into a bat at night. Harry thought they were stupid. He had spent plenty of time in Snape’s quarters and knew the professor lived a perfectly mundane, if somewhat reclusive life. He slept in an ordinary bedroom. He ate at an ordinary table. He didn’t keep creepy potions ingredients in his lounge, or brew poisons in his kitchen. . .and he certainly wasn’t a vampire. But even Harry couldn’t imagine the sinister professor living someplace like Privet Drive, with neighbors, and neat rows of houses all alike.

He tried to picture Professor Snape brewing in his Aunt’s bright, spotless kitchen. . . sprawled in his uncle’s recliner in front of the telly. . .washing a car or pushing a mower across the lawn, dressed in his long black robes. The images were so ludicrous, Harry couldn’t help giggling.

“I’m glad to see you can retain a sense of humor about all of this.”

Snape’s voice startled Harry so badly he nearly fell off the bed. He looked up to see both Snape and Flitwick staring at him in mild amusement, and couldn’t stop the blush that heated his cheeks. “Are we leaving now?” Harry asked hopefully.

“In a moment. First, Professor Flitwick needs to scan you for tracking spells.”

“Tracking spells?”

“We believe the Headmaster may have taken steps to ascertain your location at all times,” Flitwick replied, moving into the room and motioning for Harry to stand up. Harry stood uncomfortably while the tiny professor circled him, holding his wand a few inches from his skin and waving it up and down his body. Harry was reminded of a program he once glimpsed on Dudley’s telly where airline passengers were checked for concealed weapons, by security guards who scanned them with an electronic rod of some kind. He remembered with some amusement that the Muggle guards called the rods ‘wands’.

“Why would Professor Dumbledore put a tracking spell on me?”

“Most likely a safety measure,” Flitwick answered absently, his attention on his scan.

Safety? Huh! Lot of good it did.

Harry pushed these thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about Professor Dumbledore right now. The Headmaster’s insistence that Harry return to the Dursleys had hurt more than Harry wanted to admit, and he wasn’t ready to confront those feelings just yet.

“Hmm. . .as I suspected.” Flitwick paused, his wand pointing at Harry’s heart.

Snape moved to his side with a deep scowl. “Can it be removed?”

“Yes, but I prefer to transfer it. Hand me that pillow, would you Professor?” Flitwick took the pillow Snape handed him. He chanted softly in Latin for several minutes, then touched Harry’s chest with the tip of his wand. To Harry’s alarm, Flitwick lifted his wand and a golden strand of light clung to the tip, sliding out of Harry’s chest like a glowing thread. It reminded Harry of memory strands, but this strand was about a half-meter long and much thicker . When the end snapped away from his body, wriggling on the end of the wand like a scalded snake, Flitwick pressed the wand into the pillow and muttered something. A brief blue light flared, then the strand disappeared, leaving a weird afterglow in Harry’s stunned vision.

Flitwick placed the pillow on Harry’s bed. “If I simply removed it, the Headmaster might notice it was gone. This way, if he should check, the locater will indicate that Harry is in his room,” he explained. He looked solemnly at Harry. “Harry, it’s imperative that you do not use your wand until you return to school. All wands are registered with the Ministry. If you were to use yours – even by accident – not only would the Ministry know, but you could be tracked by its signature. I think it is possible that the Headmaster may have similar methods for tracking your wand signature. I recommend you give your wand to Professor Snape for safe-keeping. You aren’t allowed to use it during the summer anyway, and it would be best to take precautions against any slip ups.”

Harry nodded and glanced up at the Potions Master. “It’s in my trunk.”

“I’ll get it from you later,” Snape quirked an eyebrow at Flitwick. “Anything else?”

“We should be done here,” Flitwick replied. “We’ll use invisibility spells to get back to Arabella’s. . .Minerva will meet us there.”

“Good. Come, Harry. Time to go.” Snape lead Harry back down the stairs. This time Harry made no attempt to look into the lounge, or locate the Dursleys. He never wanted to see them again.

At the front door, Professor Flitwick waved his wand at Harry. He felt an odd tingle spread over his body but saw no change. Flitwick grinned at him. “We can see ourselves and each other. . .but no one else can see us.”

Snape opened the door and led the way back down the street to Mrs. Figg’s house. Glancing about to make certain no Muggles were watching, they re-entered the house and found Professor McGonagall sitting in the lounge.

“Everything under control?” Snape asked sharply.

“Yes,” Minerva answered with a wry smile. “The Headmaster was ‘unexpectedly’ called away to the Ministry. My contact there will keep him busy for at least an hour. We found two monitoring devices in Albus’ office. One seems to be tied to Harry’s wand. . .I managed to discretely disable it – I don’t think he will be able to tell. The other was a magical map that labels Harry’s current location.”

“The tracking spell,” Flitwick glanced at Snape.

“It indicated ‘#4 Privet Drive’ when I left the office. Pomona is still there. She’s watching it to see if it changes. If it does, we’ll have to find a way to deceive it.”

“It should already be neutralized, but it’s best to make certain,” Flitwick agreed. “Speaking of which, I should check each of us for similar spells.”

“You think Albus has tracking spells on Staff as well?” Minerva looked offended.

“He placed one on me years ago,” Snape revealed grimly. “When I was spying for the Order, it was an understandable precaution, but I have since deactivated it, and taken steps to prevent anyone from placing another on me. I recommend in future, you have Filius check each of you on a regular basis. . .particularly if you plan to contact me.”

Harry stood by the doorway listening with astonishment to his Professors scheming. He could hardly believe they were going to such obvious lengths to hide him. With a guilty twinge, he hoped they wouldn’t get into trouble because of him.

“Speaking of contact,” McGonagall reached into her robes and withdrew something. She opened her hand to reveal three small medallions on silver chains. “I borrowed the idea from the ‘old gang’. . .” she smirked, handing a medallion to Snape and Flitwick. “There is one for each of us. They operate on the same basis – the four of us can use them for communication and they’re invisible to anyone not wearing one. Come here, Harry,” she motioned him over.

Harry moved before her. She stood and draped the chain over his head, the small pendant settling against his breastbone. He fingered the medallion studying the embossed flower on the front.

“I copied the design from this pendant,” said softly, showing him an identical medallion around her own neck. “It was a gift from your mother, Harry. That’s a Blood Lily – your mother’s favorite flower.”

Harry gasped, a thrill of delight running through his heart. He felt like he had received a gift from his own mother.

“It’s invisible and cannot be removed by any hands except your own,” McGonagall continued quietly. “Never take it off, Harry. If you are ever in any danger, our medallions will heat up. It acts like a locator, allowing us to Apparate to wherever you are.”

Harry turned the pendant over, noting two letters on the back. “What does L.G. stand for?” he asked.

Professor McGonagall chuckled and glanced at the other professors. “That was Professor Sprout’s idea. She thought our little band of insurgents ought to have some sort of secret name. I hope no one objects - we elected to call ourselves the Lily Guild.”

“Appropriate,” Flitwick grinned.

Snape just snorted, and turned his attention to Harry. “Give me your hand.” He pulled something from his pocket and fastened a slender bracelet around Harry’s left wrist. Harry stared at the narrow hide strip that fit snugly but comfortably against his thin wrist. It was a simple band, made from finely cured dragon hide, with no decoration except the distinctive mottled scales of brown and black. The only ornament was the small platinum clasp, shaped like a dragon’s head in profile, with one eye set with an oval-cut emerald of deep green. “This is a portkey.”

“What’s a portkey?” Harry wondered.

“It’s a magical device for emergency transport,” Snape explained with a sigh. “It’s set for a specific location and is triggered by a password. If anything should happen. . .if we should become separated, or come under attack, you only need to touch the stone and speak the password, and the portkey will transfer you instantly to our destination. If you have to use it, stay there until one of us comes to you! Don’t leave the house and don’t try to contact anyone! There is a house elf there who will take care of you until I arrive. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The password is ‘safe home’. Can you remember that, Harry?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry agreed solemnly. “Are we using the portkey to get there…to this safe home?”

“No,” Snape shook his head. “It’s use will produce a recognizable energy surge. . . a kind of echo, or magical residue. We don’t want to leave any evidence of our departure. We must take extreme precautions to ensure that we cannot be traced. For that reason, we won’t go directly to our destination. . .we’ll make several short journeys, using both magical and Muggles means of transport, so no one can track us or follow our magical signatures. Once we leave the house, you must not do any magic until we arrive. Only use the portkey in an emergency. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry nodded, a kernel of nervous excitement sparking in his stomach. It was all so solemn and dangerous and mysterious. . .he felt like he was in one of those spy movies Dudley used to watch on the telly.

“It’s important that no one recognize either of us, Harry, so we’ll need to be disguised. Professor Flitwick will charm glamours on both of us to start. We’ll utilize other methods later on.”

Flitwick moved in front of Harry with an encouraging smile. “This won’t hurt, Harry. It may tingle a bit.” He waved his wand and murmured something. Harry felt a strange shiver swept down from the top of his head to his feet, and he suppressed an impulse to giggle.

“All right there, Harry?”

Harry nodded and shuffled over to a large mirror by the foyer. He gaped in wonder at the image reflected there. A small boy with wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes stared back at him. He nearly flinched when a strange man stepped up behind him. . .until the brawny man with short-cropped blonde hair and matching blue eyes smirked at him in the mirror in a very familiar manner.

“Well, the change is certainly dramatic,” Snape’s wry voice rumbled from the stranger’s lips.

“I thought it best to effect a look as far from your real appearances as possible,” Flitwick smirked back at him.

“Very impressive!” Professor McGonagall made no attempt to hide her impish grin.

“As you change disguises, I suggest you maintain similar appearances so that casual observers will assume you are related. There will be less questions asked if you both bear a family resemblance,” Flitwick advised.

“That was my intent,” Snape sneered at his image and glanced down at Harry. “Time to go, boy. I want to be clear of this place before Albus returns from the Ministry.” He led them all out through the kitchen, where Mrs. Figg still lay slumped on the table, snoring contentedly.

“I’ll alter her memory when you have left,” Flitwick promised.

They trouped out into the tiny, overgrown back yard, where Professor McGonagall checked carefully for watching neighbors, then nodded at Snape. As Snape grasped his arm, Harry waved at Professor Flitwick and his Head of House. “Goodbye! Thanks for everything!”

“Be safe, Harry,” McGonagall murmured.

Harry felt a sharp tug behind his navel, and the world around him shattered into dark shards. He felt like he was being squeezed into a tiny ball, then the feeling was over as abruptly as it began. He staggered a bit, his feet trying to find balanced purchase on the asphalt suddenly beneath his feet. His vision swam for a moment, then settled. He was astonished to find himself in an alley, staring at a dirty brick wall. He felt Snape’s steadying hand leave his arm and he blinked up at the strange blonde man. “What was THAT?” he gasped.

“Apparition,” the un-Snape-like face smirked at him.

“What’s app…appa..?”

“Apparition - a common mode of wizard travel. In this case, I had to bring you with me - it’s called Side-Along Apparition,” Snape turned and strode away. “Come along, boy. We’ve much to do.”

Harry hurried after him, trying to comprehend the strange experience. They exited the alley into a wide, busy Muggle street. “Where are we?” he asked.

“Liverpool.” Snape gauged the crowds hurrying along Church Street and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him forward into the throng.

Harry scowled up at him, tugging unhappily at the wizard’s grip. “I’m not a little kid, you know! You don’t have to hold my hand!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” Snape snapped, refusing to let go. “Stop squirming and keep up.” He strode hastily down the busy street, dodging people, until Harry nearly had to run to keep pace with him. They reached the corner, then waited for the traffic light, Snape’s eyes searching the area, sharp and alert.

“Are we going to live here, in Liverpool?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“Then what are we doing here?”

“Shopping.”

Harry gaped at the man. Snape ignored him, pulling him into the crosswalk when the light changed. Harry glanced ahead, reading the sign over the huge shopping center in front of them. “Clayton Square? Why are we going here? What are we shopping for?”

“Clothing,” Snape hissed impatiently, nearly dragging him onto the sidewalk, his attention focused on a large store that faced the street.

“Marks and Spencer? You buy your clothes at Marks and Spencer??” Harry eyed the man dubiously. He had never been in the famous department store himself. He couldn’t imagine the Potions Professor even knowing about the Muggle store, much less buying clothes there.

“Not for me, you foolish boy!” Snape growled. “Must you ask so many questions?”

“Yes,” Harry admitted as the man hauled him through the wide doors.

“We’re buying clothes for you!” Snape said, scanning a department map and guiding Harry forward. “I’ll not have any child in my care appearing in such pathetic attire! It’s time we get you out of those ill-fitting rags your atrocious relatives dared to call clothing, and acquire some decent apparel for you!”