The first thing that Harry noticed, as he slowly came awake, was the late afternoon light filtering through his eyelids. He was confused: daylight never entered his cupboard. Then he noticed he lay on something soft and warm. That was odd; he distinctly remembered being thrown into the cupboard onto his trunk, which was anything but warm and soft.

Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked quickly as he began to recognise the infirmary at Hogwarts – albeit a bit blurry. Before he could reach for them, a potion stained hand in a black sleeve handed him his frames and he reflexively shoved them on his face, blinking his eyes quickly to shed the sleep sand out of them.

Looking to his right he was astonished to see Professor Snape sitting there gazing at him, as if Harry was an interesting potion ingredient, with a slight uplift to his lips on one side. It wasn’t quite a sneer, and it wasn’t quite a smile. Harry was confused.

“Finally awake, Potter,” stated the silky voice. “I’m sure it will interest you to know it is nearly dinnertime and you’ve been here for two days, in a healing sleep.”

“Professor,” Harry acknowledged quietly. He looked around the room some more. “Erm, sir? Why am I here?” While he could recollect being thrown into the cupboard, he had a hazy understanding of what went on before. He remembered the house-elf coming and dropping the violet pudding, but everything after that was a blur – until he was thrown in the closet.

Severus steepled his hands as his black gaze studied Harry. “Apparently, after your little bout of underage magic, your uncle decided to retaliate physically against you; repealing the blood wards around the house in the process as your aunt declined to intervene. This alerted the headmaster and he sent me to pick you up before more damage could occur,” he stated calmly, still studying the boy in front of him.

“The wards failed?” Harry asked a bit dazed.

Snape shrugged a bit. “Apparently.” He changed the topic. “How are you feeling, Potter?”

“Erm – fine, sir?” Even if he did feel sore in some places, he wasn’t about to admit that to the one man guaranteed to sneer at him for it.

“Madam Pomfrey will be gratified.” He set aside his journal and leaned in a bit towards the Gryffindor; interested to see the boy was still wary of him as he leaned back away from his professor. “She and I spent quite some time the other night healing you. By the way, Potter, just out of curiosity – what bit of magic did you do?”

Harry coloured at the question, looking down at his hands folded in his lap, although Severus noted the knuckles were white with tension. “I didn’t sir – it wasn’t me, I swear it!” he hastened to explain at his professor’s raised eyebrow, which he had just caught as he looked up. “It was a – a – a…” He screwed up his face as he tried to remember. “He called himself a house-elf, sir, named… Dobby?”

“A house-elf named Dobby?” Snape asked with a certain scorn in his voice. Harry curled back on himself, nodding his head vigorously, as he pulled his knees up in an unconscious protective stance. Snape saw the move for what it was, but chose not to comment at this time, however he did settle himself back in his chair and noticed the boy visibly relaxed a bit as he did so. He would have to be careful in the future until Harry began to trust him more.

“Y-y-y-yes, sir,” the boy stammered. “He said he came to warn me to stay away from Hogwarts this year, that something bad would happen to me if I came back.” He frowned to himself as he remembered the argument he’d had with the strange little creature. “When I refused, he caused my aunt’s pudding to land on top of her dinner guests. Then he just disappeared with a snap of his fingers, making it look like I did it!” Harry looked over at his professor to see if the man even believed his story and was astonished to see that, for once, the professor was not sneering at him. “They’re funny little creatures, aren’t they, sir? I’d never seen one before – never even knew they existed…” he commented half to himself, half to his professor.

Severus had to control himself to not laugh outright at the vision the fallen pudding evoked. However, he knew this particular elf, and he wondered why he had taken it upon himself to risk the wrath of Lucius Malfoy to warn Potter. Something was up with Malfoy – but finding out could wait. “And that is when your uncle retaliated?”

Harry, if it was even humanly possible, shrank into himself even further, wrapping his thin arms around his stick legs and resting his cheek on top of his knobbly knees as he swiftly remembered the beating. “Yes, sir,” came the timid reply.

“Hmph.” Severus scrutinized the skinny boy for another moment before seeming to come to a decision. “Madam Pomfrey will be by in a moment for one last check on you, then you are to join me in my office for dinner. We will go over what will happen to you for the rest of the summer at that point.”

Harry popped his head up and looked at the teacher in front of him. “Why, sir?”

This stopped Snape as he rose from his chair. “Why?” He looked bemusedly down at the boy.

“Why you, sir? Why not Professor Dumbledore?” Harry clarified his question.

“Because, as it currently stands, I am the only one staying in the castle who can keep a proper eye on you. And before you ask,” he raised a hand to stop Potter who had opened his mouth, “with the wards down at your relatives’ abode, the castle is currently the only place that is safe enough to protect you.” Harry shut his mouth with an audible snap, but his eyes got large as he noticed the amused look his professor gave him as the older man vanished the chair and reading lamp.

“Ah, right on time, Poppy.” Harry turned to see Madam Pomfrey bustling over, wand at the ready. “Potter, I will expect you in my office in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.” With a courteous nod to the Medi-witch, he turned, letting his robes billow behind him as his long strides took him quickly from the infirmary. Harry leaned forward on his bed to watch him walk away.

“Wish I knew how he manages that little trick…” he murmured as Pomfrey came to stand beside him, and pushed him back on the pillows.

“Don’t we all!” she said sotto-voce. “All right, Mr Potter, lay back so I can get some readings on you… very good… yes, yes… that is fine. Up you get now, how is your head feeling? You had a nasty slice and concussion.” Harry sat back up against the pillows as he felt his head with his hands.

“Fine, Ma’am.” It was still sore, but he didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary in the ward. He spent enough time there during the school year; he didn’t need to spend his summer hols there as well!

“Good.” She summoned some bottles to the table beside her. “Drink these, please.” She smiled at Harry’s grimace of distaste as he quickly downed the potions, one by one. She handed one last, very large bottle to him and his eyes got huge as he stared at it, a visible lump jumping in his throat. “No, Mr Potter, you do not need to down the whole thing,” she chuckled. “Just a tablespoon full with each meal until it is finished – it does best when mixed with pumpkin juice,” she confided conspiratorially. Harry gave a huge sigh of relief and nodded at her explanation.

“Now, let’s get you into some clothes.” She waved her wand, transfiguring his pyjamas into a pair of denims and a t-shirt while two pieces of tissue became a pair of trainers. Harry pulled these on and, thanking the witch profusely, headed out the infirmary doors at a run – he only had five minutes to make it to Snape’s office.

****

Arriving out of breath, Harry steeled his nerves with a few deep breaths to calm down before he knocked on the office door and pushed it open when he heard the muffled “Enter.” Harry really wasn’t thrilled to be back in the man’s office. He had spent enough detentions this past year with him, and the dungeons always felt creepy to him.

“Take a seat, Potter,” commanded his professor. Harry hoisted himself onto the hard wooden chair in front of the desk, dangling his feet. He quickly hooked them around the chair legs so they wouldn’t swing, and gazed at the man who had the reputation of being the meanest teacher in the school, and who had shown his clear contempt for Harry during the past year. He had, however, saved Harry at least twice now, and this just left him confused about the wizard. As a result, he tried to carefully school his expression to one of wary anticipation. If he had to spend the rest of the summer with the wizard – he wasn’t going start things off wrong by provoking him now!

Severus finished up his writing, placing the quill in the pen stand and capping his inkwell before pushing the papers aside and taking a long look at his charge seated in front of him. He saw a small-for-his-age boy who appeared barely nine years of age instead of nearly twelve. Underweight, terrified of his fate and yet a glint of Gryffindor bravado shone in his green eyes. He was twisting his hands in his lap and had bitten his lower lip to keep it from trembling, but he met Snape’s eyes straight on. Severus grudgingly approved of that. It would not do to have the boy cowering the entire summer.

“Before we head into my quarters for dinner, I thought we should go over the specifics of your remaining summer weeks,” he began.

“Yes, sir?”

Severus reached for a blank piece of parchment and a never-out quill, which he set to dictation mode. “Let’s start with basics,” he said as the quill began to write on its own accord, taking notes. “Albus has transferred your guardianship to me for the time being. As such, it is my responsibility to you to make sure you are well fed,” he began ticking off the points on his fingers as he paced in front of the desk, “cared for, provided for, and I carry the overall responsibility for any disciplinary action that may need to be taken. Do you understand?” He halted and faced Harry, arms crossed on his chest.

Harry was dumbstruck for a moment. Snape was his permanent guardian? And he just told him what rules Snape had to abide by for Harry? No one had ever laid out this information for him before. “Erm… I think so. You can’t be any worse than the Dursleys…” Harry offered quietly, looking down at his hands, tangled in his lap.

“I should hope I am better!” Snape snorted. “Do you have any questions?”

Harry wriggled a bit on his chair; he did have a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. Best to get it done with now. “What kind of ‘disciplinary action’ sir?” he whispered.

Snape raised his eyebrows at that. “It depends on the infraction, Potter. Knowing you, most of the punishments will be of the sort you get during detentions during the school term.” The small boy sighed in relief. “However, if you place yourself in mortal danger, I reserve the right to use corporal punishment. This would involve my hand meeting your bare behind for a minimum of five spanks. That is the only place that would get smacked. I do not believe in beatings for the sole reason of hurting a child, Mr Potter. It is to be used as a deterrent and a reminder only – not as a reason to abuse. I prefer not to use that method – but you do need to know that, should you endanger yourself, that would be the consequence. Is this acceptable?”

Harry looked surprised; Snape was asking him? What bizarre world had he entered into? “Erm… yes, sir. Thank you, for letting me know?”

Snape sighed. “Potter, contrary to popular opinion, I do not delight in abusing children – I do believe in making sure that they are aware of the consequences of their actions.”

Harry found himself having a bit of a revelation. “You mean like in class, when you are so strict – it’s because of the potions, isn’t it? They could be really harmful?” he asked the stern man in front of him.

“Exactly so, Potter. Last term, your potions were simple affairs – if one blew up, it was not truly life threatening – but safety habits need to be learned now so that as you progress, you will be able to handle the more potent potions where a slip-up could mean loss of limb or even life. Is this clear, now?” Harry nodded his head vigorously. A lot of things were clearer now – although he still thought the professor was a bit too strict, and should’ve explained it more in the beginning of term.

“Let’s hope so, Mr Potter. After dinner we will go through your clothing and school supplies and determine what I need to get you…”

“I’m fine sir, I don’t need anything,” Harry jumped in with a look of trepidation in his eyes as his head snapped up and he watched the man pace again in front of him. He didn’t need Snape to see his cousin’s hand-me-downs, adding more fuel to the fire of Snape’s reasons to ridicule and sneer at Harry. Besides, he never wanted to be indebted to the man; he had his own money to get supplies.

“I shall be the judge of that, Potter,” he snapped out and Harry flinched a bit at the severity of Snape’s voice. Severus modulated his tone when he noticed the involuntary movement. “I understand that you feel that you can take care of yourself, and have done so for the last year, at least.” He stopped his pacing and faced the boy, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring down his nose at him, as he sat on the front edge of his desk. “However, as your guardian, I am supposed to see to those needs. It is part of my responsibility to you to make sure you are outfitted adequately. Now, have you finished your summer work yet?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sir,” he admitted truthfully as he knew there was no way he could get away with a falsehood with Snape. He was convinced, after several incidents during the previous term, that the wizard could read minds. “Uncle Vernon locked all my books up in my trunk with my wand and school clothes and I wasn’t allowed to go near it.”

Snape nodded at the confession; it verified what he had already deduced was the answer. Arabella’s journals had arrived while Harry was still unconscious and healing in the infirmary, and he had barely begun perusing them; but already he knew that Dursley was not a fit guardian for anyone, much less the saviour of the wizarding world. The man was unnaturally lucky that Potter’s accidental magic hadn’t blown up in his face during the beatings. And Dumbledore would have to answer a lot of questions in the future. However, he needed to get the boy sorted out first. “Well, as part of your responsibilities as my ward, I will be setting a study schedule for you and I will be checking your work as you go. After we check your trunk, we will go to Diagon Alley in the morning for your supplies and next year’s books so that you can get a head start. Now, follow me.” He rose from the edge of his desk and made his way to a portrait hanging in the back of his office of a severe medieval gentleman surrounded by two snakes.

“Salazar,” he greeted the portrait. The snakes hissed at Severus and Harry’s green eyes grew sharp as he heard them.

*Master has a young one with him.*

*Issss he taking it home?*

Before Severus could even give the password, he heard a hissing from beside him and startled, looked down at his ward.

*My name issss Harry* he hissed. *What’ssss yourssss?*

The portrait answered instead of the snakes. * A ssspeaker! It hasss been a long time ssssince we have had a ssspeaker! I’m Sssalazar Sssslytherin, young ssssnake ssspeaker, and thessse are my familiarsss – Ssssthor and Ssssthan.*

“Potter,” Severus interrupted, his voice low and even, “when were you going to tell anyone that you are a Parselmouth?”

“A what, sir?” asked Harry, quite surprised at the question.

“A Parselmouth, Potter; you speak with snakes.”

“I know,” Harry said non-chalantly. “Wait, you mean it sounds different?” He looked incredulous.

“Didn’t you hear yourself just now? That was Parseltongue.”

“Really? It sounds just like English to me, professor. I talked to a snake in the zoo, once… but I bet loads of wizards can do it, can’t they?” He looked up at his professor, honestly puzzled by this new information.

“No, Potter, ‘loads of wizards’ can’t. It is a very rare talent. The Dark Lord had that ability, and Salazar Slytherin did as well.” He deliberately ignored the chuckling of the painting in front of him.

“Don’t scare him, Severus. ‘Tis a noble trait to have, young snake speaker,” the portrait chimed in, winking at Harry.

Severus sighed at the look of consternation on Harry’s face. “Come along, Potter, we will discuss this later. Right now it is time to eat.” He finally gave the painting the password, which he told Harry to memorize, and led Harry through the hole into a short passageway, lit by a few torches, that led to yet another door which opened onto his quarters.

Harry looked around at his professor’s quarters as Snape shut the panel behind him. It certainly did not look as he had imagined. He had figured, being in the dungeons and the fact that the man was so nasty, that the room would be dank and wet, with sparse furnishings and maybe some chains and manacles, like Filch, on the walls. At least that was the rumour according to the Gryffindor common room gossips – namely Fred and George - who delighted in scaring first-years with that speculation. He couldn’t wait to tell those two how wrong they were!

Instead, the walls were lined with dark, warm, mahogany bookcases in the main room; a couple of dark leather wingback chairs flanked a comfortable sofa with a low, highly polished coffee table, and faced the floo with matching ottomans. The main door was off to his left and to his right a corridor t-squared into the room and beyond that opening was the dining area with a round pedestal table and four chairs surrounding it. Steam from the food platters was rising from where they sat in the centre of the table.

Severus moved past Harry and led him to the table. As Harry took his seat, Severus served the boy half portions of the food, knowing he would be lucky to finish even that amount. Harry placed his potion bottle on the table after stirring in the required one tablespoon into his juice and, taking a deep breath before tasting the potion laced drink, was surprised that he could detect no change in taste when he took that first sip.

“Something surprise you, Potter?” Severus asked slyly as he served up his own portions of Shepherds pie and a salad.

“Just my juice, professor. I thought the taste would change when I added the potion… hold on…” He dipped a finger into the neck of the bottle and tasted a drop of the potion. He made a face at the taste, and gulped some more juice. “It tastes exactly the same as it has all year… someone’s been adding this to my juice all year?” He looked over at his professor, who just shrugged as he resumed eating. Harry narrowed his eyes in quiet accusation.

“You appeared here a bit undernourished; Poppy and I agreed to take matters into our own hands,” Severus finally explained. “You’re not the first student we’ve done that for,” he pointed out.

Harry wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that information. He took a few bites of pie as he mulled it over in his head. It was surprising to realise that someone had been watching out for him all year, and had been concerned enough to spike his juice with nutritive potion. A strange warm feeling glowed in his chest, as he understood the meaning of this for the first time: an adult actually cared about his well-being! Finally he looked up at the man and said a quiet “Thank you”.

“You’re welcome. Now eat up, that potion needs to have fuel to work with.” Harry obeyed the man, but still was unable to finish the portion he had been served; his stomach had shrunk too much during the time he had been at the Dursleys. Severus took note of the amount eaten and reassured the boy.

“Don’t worry, Potter. You’ll soon be eating regular portions. The potion will help in the meantime.” Harry just nodded his understanding and finished sipping his juice until it was gone.