The two wizards left Hedwig sleeping and broke camp early the next morning. Once they had swept away any evidence of their presence, they shifted into hawk form and  headed west into the village.  Harry had not seen anything of the village last time he had come here, whisked away by Portkey to become a prisoner in the graveyard beyond the manor house.  Now, as Freedom, he had literally a hawk's eyeview of the sleepy hamlet. 

There could not have been more than perhaps four hundred inhabitants all told. The village was small, a place where everyone knew everyone else, their grandparents and great-grandparents had been born, raised, and died there.  The village was what some would term quaint, with small houses sporting tiled roofs and made of brick or occasionally stone.  There was a common green where people could walk among small trees and bushes and feed ducks in a man-made pond.  There was a little supermarket, a post office,  the Hanged Man pub, a bed and breakfast, and a bookshop.  A petrol station and a garage was just on the outskirts of the village proper, back in the days of horse and carriages there had been a blacksmith shop.  Hard by that was the local police station, which boasted a total of seven policemen and one sergeant. 

On a knoll overlooking the village was the once proud Riddle House, set back on a rolling sweep of lawn that must have been gorgeous in its heyday.  Now however, it was overgrown and weed ridden.  The flowerbeds were overrun with dandelions and the hedges overgrown.  The house itself was rundown, ivy and creepers practically covered over the magnificent stone face, some of the windows were cracked and boarded up and the tiles upon the slate roof were missing.  Once it must have been a grand old house, in the old Georgian style, but now it was nothing more than derelict ruin. 

Dumbledore had told Severus and Harry that the Riddle House had an unsavory reputation due to the triple murder that had happened over fifty years ago.   The owner of the Riddle estate, his wife, and his grown son had been found murdered in the drawing room by their maid.  The gardener, Frank Bryce, had first been accused of the murder, but was later cleared and the killer had never been found, according to Muggle records. The Riddles had, of course, been killed by Voldemort. Since then the house had changed hands numerous times and was claimed to be haunted and had a "bad aura" about it.  Dumbledore suspected that Voldemort had hidden a Horcrux there because it was an important family dwelling, and Voldemort liked to pretend he was a legitimate son of the Riddle family, instead of a castoff bastard who had never been acknowledged by his father.

Harry might have felt a bit sorry for Voldemort if the wizard had not been an incurable sociopath, but knowing what he did about him, any compassion he might have harbored died after Dumbledore had told him how Tom had come to Little Hangleton at fifteen and murdered his father and grandparents in cold blood, and had even set up the young Frank Bryce to take the blame.  Fifty years later, he had then killed Frank as well, for chancing to overhear a conversation between him and Wormtail.  And he displayed as much remorse over it as one would for swatting a fly.

The two hawks landed upon the rooftree and after peering inside and outside the grounds to ensure that no prying eyes could see them, flew down behind a large hydrangea bush in the back of the house and changed back into their human shapes.  This time Severus was wearing Muggle attire, dark trousers and a lightweight shirt of dark green and black trainers, Harry had already put on Muggle clothing this morning, and so did not need to change his attire. 

He looked up at Severus curiously and asked, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"When you changed this morning, you had on your usual black robes.  But when you changed back now, you're wearing Muggle clothes.  How did you change clothes at the same time?"

"I simply thought of how I wished to look and when I shifted, my clothes became the ones you see," Severus replied.

"Oh.  I wonder if I could do that? It sounds neat." Harry said excitedly.

Severus held up a hand.  "Harry, you can experiment with your Animagus form later.  Right now our main priority is to find that which is hidden."  The Potions Master had decided that the less they mentioned the word "Horcrux" the better, just in case someone was listening magically to their conversation.  Better safe than sorry.

"Right.  Didn't mean to get sidetracked.  How shall we get in?"

"By the back door," Severus said. He walked quickly up to what had probably been a servant entrance at one time and muttered a charm to detect any harmful spells upon the entrance.  It revealed nothing, and so he set his hand to the doorknob and turned it. 

"Locked." He concentrated, and a blue glow covered his hand and the next sound that was heard was a sharp snick! And the door opened.

"I didn't know you could do wandless magic!"

Severus smirked.  "Another odd talent I possess.  It has saved my life on numerous occasions.  Come, Harry.  Time's wasting."

He carefully stepped across the threshold of the Riddle House and Harry followed.

Both wizards cast light spells to see inside the gloomy interior, which was thick with layers of dust.  Mouse droppings littered the floor and dead insects lay in the dust and along the walls.  There was a smell of rotten decaying matter in the air, it made Harry sneeze and wrinkle his nose.

"Ugh! What died?" he blurted before he could think better of it.

Severus rolled his eyes.  "This is no time for humor, Potter," he rebuked.  Harry noticed that when he was angry, Severus reverted to calling Harry by his last name. 

"I wasn't trying to be funny, sir.  It just . . .smells gross in here and . . .it came out wrong, what I meant," Harry floundered, then he shut up figuring it was safer to be silent than to continue making an ass of himself.

"Hush your babbling, Potter," ordered his guardian, walking lightly through the dust, moving so silently and gracefully that the dust hardly stirred.

In contrast, Harry sounded like a herd of erumphants, clomping and throwing up great puffs of dust, try though he did to be quiet.  He had the tip of his wand lit and wondered if he should take out his Sneak-o-scope and see if there were any dark wizards in residence.  He had just reached into the pocket of his jacket when suddenly a strange swishing and wailing was heard.

Both Snape and Harry froze, every nerve in their body tingling in atavistic fear.

"Uh . . .Sev? Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Severus replied in a bare whisper. 

"What . . .do you think it was? It sounded like . . ."

"The wind," Snape said, too quickly and dismissively. "Just the wind howling through the chinks in the windowpane. "

"That didn't sound like the wind to me," Harry said uneasily.

Severus did not reply.  "This room must have been a kitchen of sorts or servant's quarters.  I'm hoping this hallway will lead us to the more lived in sections of the house, like the drawing room and the-"

He never finished his sentence.  

An unearthly shrieking and howling filled the whole house, sounding like a thousand damned souls screaming in agony.  An arctic wind blasted them as they attempted to walk from the kitchen into the hallway leading to the drawing room.

Harry felt frozen to the marrow and looked down to see if ice had formed upon his fingers, for it had suddenly become deathly cold.  He could practically see his breath in the frigid air.  "Severus!" he hissed, shivering violently in his summer attire.  "What's happening? Is it some kind of defensive curse?"

Severus shook his head.  "No.  I do not believe Voldemort set this in motion.  My spell would have detected it." He had to nearly shout to be heard above the din. "I think this is the doing of a poltergeist."

"A poltergeist? Like Peeves?"

"A bit more vengeful than that." Severus grimaced and dashed the hair away from his eyes.

He walked into what he assumed had once been the drawing room and was immediately blasted by a gale-forced wind that made his teeth chatter.  The chandelier above rattled violently and the howling increased.  Severus winced as his sensitive eardrums were assaulted by gut-wrenching screeching.  He flinched and took a step back, nearly banging into his ward, who clung to his arm, holding his glasses on with his other hand.

"Sev, why do I get the feeling that we're not wanted here?"

"Because, little boy, you are not!" yelled a sepulchral voice, and the air spun in a mini whirlwind in front of them before resolving into a tall man dressed in a suit and tie, looking about sixty or so with salt and pepper hair and a goatee.  His shirt was stained with blood and his eyes glowed a sickly green.

"Mr. Riddle senior, I presume?" Severus queried.

"Correct.  I am Arthur Thomas Riddle, who once owned this manor and the grounds it rests upon. How dare you bloody wizards invade my home again? Am I never to have any peace, even in death?"

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but there came yet another stirring of wind and dust and two more spirits materialized in the air. One was of a slender woman dressed in a frilly top and skirt with a jacket her hair cut short about her head and her expression was more of sorrow than anger.  She appeared to be nearly the same age as her husband.  The other was a taller man, looking to be about thirty-five, dark-haired and handsome, wearing a sport coat and navy trousers, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the two wizards. 

"Can you not go away and leave us be?" moaned the woman.  "Have we not suffered enough? Because of the manner of our deaths, we are trapped here, bound to this half-life until our vengeance is satisfied."

"Vengeance?" Harry blurted.

"Yes, vengeance!" snapped Tom Riddle, senior.  "For the bastard that came and killed us while we were discussing our taxes, who claimed he was my son by that pitiful witch Merope Gaunt! He called himself Ton Marvolo Riddle."

"That wasn't a lie, it was the truth," Severus countered. 

Tom senior's eyes blazed with unholy eldritch light.  "Oh, I know, wizard! Death grants you certain . . .insights, shall we say.  I know that the boy who came here that day in July was my bastard son, which I was tricked into siring by that miserable witch Merope Gaunt! And he then proceeded to murder me and my parents for never acknowledging him and to keep his secret as a half-breed unknown! I, who was enslaved by witchery, who did not even know the bitch was pregnant when I left! For that sin of abandonment, as he put it, I was killed by his hand."

"He used some odd spell," said Tom's mother, who was called Caroline. "A green light shot out of his wand and he killed first my son, and then my husband in front of me.  And then he turned to me and said that because I had sired a wicked bounder who had seduced his mother, I was to die too. And then he killed me."

"But afterwards, he found a pistol in my desk drawer in the study and shot us with it and then left it there beside us," the elder Riddle continued.  "It was all so sudden, clearly the boy was deranged."

"Oh, he was deranged, all right," Severus agreed.  "A thread of insanity runs in the Gaunt line."

"Bad breeding," sniffed Caroline. 

"Even so, you do not belong here, wizard!" shouted Tom senior.  "None of your kind have the right to set foot here after what that one did.  Now-GET OUT!"

He howled that last word with enough force to make Severus and Harry stagger backwards and the frigid wind returned.  The moth eaten drapes at the windows blew about and the couch and love seat trembled and slammed into the opposite wall.

"Wait!" Harry yelled.  "We've come here to try and find an object to defeat Voldemort!  He's our enemy!"

Severus chanted a Shield Spell, just to be safe, in case things started flying around, for there were piles of debris lying about in the corners of the room.

"No more magic!" bellowed Arthur, and the feeling of depression and anger permeating the room suddenly increased, slamming into both wizards with the force of an express train. 

Harry gasped, clutching his head. 

"Occlude, Harry!" Severus snapped, his own Occlumency shields snapping into place.

"No more magic in our home-EVER!" wailed Caroline, her shriek rising into an ear-splitting register.

"Owww!" Harry yelled, clutching his head.

Furious, Severus shouted, "Stop it! He's just a child, you have no reason to harm him in your bloody vendetta!"

"You are wizards-like he was! That is reason enough! Now leave this place and never return!" cried Tom senior.

"Imbecile! Yes, we are wizards, but we are as different from your wicked son as night from day.  We are fighting against him, do you not understand? Now cease this assault immediately.  Our magic is for our own protection . . .we could not hurt you even if we so wished . . .since you are dead!"

Abruptly, the winds and the awful howling ceased.

"What do you mean, you are here to defeat him?" demanded Arthur Riddle.

"Lies, Father! You cannot trust wizards!" snarled his son.

But the master of the manor held up a hand imperiously, and his son subsided.  "Tell me!"

"Just what he said," Harry spoke up suddenly.  "We're here to find an object Voldemort might have hidden here."

Tom sneered, but Harry went on gamely.  "Look, sir, we're really sorry that you were killed and all.  He killed my parents too and almost killed me too when I was a baby. He used the Killing Curse on them and on me."

"Why aren't you dead then?" demanded Tom angrily.

Harry shrugged.  "The spell he used backfired ‘cause my mother put a protection on me.  But he didn't die forever ‘cause he split his soul with a spell of dark magic."

"Split his soul?" Caroline gaped.  "How awful!"

"Yeah, tell me about it.  And that's why we're here, to find the object he stuffed part of his soul into and destroy it.  Once we have all the pieces destroyed, he'll die a final death."

"And rot in hell where he belongs!" growled Arthur.

Both Harry and Severus nodded. 

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" asked Tom suspiciously.  "He came here before and refused to leave despite all we did.  How do we know he didn't send you to get this object?"

"You can sense auras, right?" Severus demanded abruptly. 

"Yes.  All ghosts can," admitted the elder Riddle man reluctantly.

"Then look at ours and you will see we bear no dark taint." Severus invited.  After Voldemort's death, the Dark Mark had gone dormant, and so he was not afraid of any lingering taint of darkness.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and Harry felt a tingling brushing him.  An instant later it was gone.

"Well?" Severus asked dryly.

"You are telling the truth." The elder Riddle admitted. "They are not filled with darkness as was my . . .grandson and the one who accompanied him."

"Wormtail!" Harry scowled.

"Do you recall anything that happened after you were killed?" Severus asked.  "Did you notice anything unusual?"

Neither of the men said anything, but Caroline Riddle spoke up.  "I . . .I did see something right before I  . . .was murdered.  He . . .Voldemort . . .did an odd thing with his . . .stick . . .he claimed he needed some kind of energy from my dead son and husband . . .I think he took it from them to do whatever he was going to do . . .he had an old gold ring . . ."She frowned.  "It's so hard to remember . . .but I think he put the ring in a box and hid it."

"Do you remember where?" Snape demanded sharply.

"I . . .it was so long ago . . ."

"Try and remember! It's important!"

Caroline dithered and Severus fought to keep from screaming.  He wondered irritably if she had been this absentminded in real life. 

Five minutes went by, but it felt like an eternity. 

"If you can't remember . . .you will never have your vengeance and never rest in peace," gritted the Potions Master.

"Think, Caro!" urged her husband.

Caroline sighed.  "Really now! All I wanted was to forget that awful day.  And now you want me to remember something that happened just after I died!  Because he hid the box only after he had killed me and it's really fuzzy."

"Try, Mother!"

They waited some more, until Caroline said, "I think . . .he place it behind a brick in the fireplace.  Only I can't really recall which one . . ."

Harry groaned. 

"It's a start." Severus said.  He walked over to the fireplace and began tapping the bricks with his wand. 

After about seven minutes he heard a hollow sound behind the sixth brick in the tenth row from the top.  "Ah! I think I've found the secret hiding place."

"Where?" Harry asked, coming over.

"Here, I think." Severus pulled on his Curse Blocking gloves, they were black leather stamped with red sigils all over them. Then he pressed the brick that had sounded hollow and it swung out, revealing a small hole.  Inside was a narrow wooden box with a lock upon it.

"You found it, Sev!" exclaimed his ward and forgetting about possible danger, reached out to touch the box.

Severus smacked his hand down. 

"Ouch! Hey! What was that for?" Harry cried angrily, rubbing his stinging hand.

"Idiot boy! Do you want to end up lit on fire or a babbling drooling dunderhead for the rest of your life?" snapped the Potions Master. "Never ever touch a cursed object, or one you even suspect is cursed, bare handed.  Put your gloves on."

"Oh.  Right." Harry said lamely, feeling like the world's biggest dumbass for forgetting that.  He quickly drew on his gloves.  "Now can I touch the box?"

"You may, but do not attempt to open it." Severus cautioned.

Harry ran his finger along the box, which was a fine dark maple with a snake carved into it.  It looked and felt perfectly ordinary.

"Enough.  Let me cast some spells that shall reveal whether or not it has magic defending it." Severus tapped the box with his wand and began to mutter several detection spells.

After a moment he paused and looked at his apprentice.  "There are no curses implanted in the wood.  The lock, however, does contain a poisonous substance. "

"Can you dispel it?"

"Perhaps." Severus concentrated, and suddenly a needle popped out of the lock. "Careful, Harry.  That poison is probably the worst I have ever known. Nightdusk venom.  It will kill you in seconds. And there is no known antidote, not even a bezoar." He quickly chanted a stronger unlocking spell but it fizzled and died. 

"Huh? What happened?"

"The box is warded against unlocking charms. So that means I'm going to open the box another way."

"How?"

"With a set of these." Severus pulled out a pair of small thin lockpicks.

"You know how to pick locks?"

"Not very well, though I can do it." Severus removed the box and brought it into the light. 

The ghosts remained silent, hovering in the air, and watching the proceedings.

Severus set the box on the table and began to work, slowly inserting the pick inbetween  the lock and the poisoned needle.  Harry remained riveted, not daring to move, hardly even to breathe, as his mentor deftly jiggled the slender wires in the lock.

It took Snape nearly ten minutes, his sense of touch was off due to the gloves, to jimmy the lock on box.  There was a soft snick! He silently withdrew the pick.  "Back away," he ordered his apprentice.

"Yes, sir," Harry said respectfully, for once obeying his guardian without an argument. 

Snape waited until Harry was a good four feet away before easing the lid back on the box. 

There was a sudden glow of purple light.

Severus shut his eyes and turned away.

When he looked back, there was a large gold ring lying on a bed of crushed green velvet.  The ring was set with a large black stone, possibly onyx, etched with a glyph of a triangle containing a circle inside bisected vertically by what appeared to be a single line-the Peverell coat of arms. 

Harry released the breath he'd been holding.  "You did it, Sev!" he praised, stifling the urge to cheer like a Quidditch fanatic.

Severus nodded, not touching the ring in any way. "The box is open." He chanted a quick spell and saw that the ring carried some kind of dark curse upon it.  "Harry, fetch me the cauldron of silver lined with iron from my pack.  This ring bears a powerful curse and it's best if we destroy it immediately."

"Whose ring is it?"

"It belonged, from what I know of Voldemort's history, to Marvolo Gaunt, his maternal grandfather, it has been in the Gaunt family for centuries.  Voldemort stole it off of his uncle Morfin when he framed him for the murder of Marvolo."

All three Riddles howled in fury and gnashed their teeth.

"Destroy the wretched thing!" howled Caroline.

"That whole family was cursed, mad all of them!" sneered Arthur.

"They didn't even look normal-they were all horridly ugly with eyes that were facing opposite directions.  They lived on the opposite side of town in this ramshackle eyesore of a house-more like a shack-I used to ride past it some evenings on my way home from the Hanged Man." Tom senior said coldly.  "She used to be on the porch, of an evening, sweeping, and watching me with those evil eyes . . .like a spider waiting for me to fall into her web.  Nothing good ever came from that family!"

"And good came of yours?" sneered Severus.  "The Gaunts were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts."  Though they had been steeped in dark traditions and insane, the Potions Master felt compelled to defend them for some unknown reason.

"Descended from the devil is more like," grumbled Arthur.

Harry had found the cauldron by then and brought it over, along with the case where Severus had the Curse Dissolving potion.  "Should I light a fire?"

"No need.  We're not brewing, we are using," said the Potions Master.  He enlarged the kit and took out a single vial of the Curse Dissolving brew, opened it and poured it into the cauldron. 

Then together, Harry and he tipped the box containing the ring into the cauldron and then threw the box in afterwards, just in case.

The very acidic electric blue potion smoked and hissed and bubbled agitatedly as it devoured the cursed ring.

Both Harry and Severus winced and coughed as the potion turned black and emitted a foul odor and finally ceased bubbling some few minutes later.

"It is done," the Potions Master announced.

The spirits had clustered about the cauldron while the ring was being destroyed, unaffected by the odor, and now they gave a great collective shout, turned and bowed to the two wizards, and said, "We are partly free! There is a lightening of our curse that ties us here.  Find the other objects and destroy them and we shall be able to move on."

Severus banished the contents of the cauldron and replaced everything.  "That we shall try and do as swiftly as possible. We thank you for your assistance."

"Might we know your names?" inquired Caroline politely.

"Harry and Severus," replied Harry.

"Thank you, Harry and Severus, for trying to free us and rid the world of a menace," Mrs. Riddle said formally. "May God go with you."

Then they all vanished, and the temperature in the house suddenly returned to normal.

Harry looked at his mentor. "One down, Sev.  Where to next?"

"The house that Tom Riddle senior mentioned.  The Gaunt residence."

"Is that haunted, do you think?"

"I have no way of knowing until we get there.  But let us hurry." Severus looked out of the window.  "It's nearly sunset."

"We've been in here that long?" Harry cried.  "But how?"

"I do not know.  Hurry, Potter.  Time flys."

They walked out of the house the way they had come and once beyond the ruin, took to the skies in hawk shape.

* * * * * *

Hogwarts School

Headmaster's office:

Dumbledore sat at his fine mahogany desk, a bowl of lemon drops at hand, seemingly relaxing after processing all of the end of term grades, his eyes half-shut behind his spectacles.  To the casual observer, he would appear to be staring contemplatively down at his striped rainbow socks.

Actually, he was ruminating on two things, the first being his imminent visit with Dursleys at King's Cross.  He had volunteered for that duty as a means to atone for his earlier oversight in allowing Harry to live for years as a neglected unloved child, assuming everything was all right until Severus pointed out the boy's depressed state and what had caused the majority of it.  I was a blind fool and Harry suffered for it, poor boy!  But no longer.  One day I must thank Severus for opening my eyes to the truth, however painful that was.

The Headmaster popped a lemon drop into his mouth and allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk upwards as he thought about the man whom he considered yet another "lost boy", who had nearly surrendered to darkness and depression as well.  But Severus had redeemed himself through his own stubborn refusal to be a pawn to anyone and his everlasting love for a woman that would never be his.

Dumbledore had cultivated Severus the spy-Severus Sharp-eyes, my watcher in the dark-was what he called the Potions Master to himself, but it was Severus the man who had connected with Harry as both hawk and child, saving the boy from the depths of despair, fulfilling the promise he had made long ago to Lily.

Snape's eyes, observant as that of his goshawk form, had seen what Dumbledore, in all of his wisdom, had missed, and had acted upon that revelation by making himself guardian and mentor to Harry.  Harry was lucky to have him.  And Severus was lucky to have Harry, for both needed each other desperately, even if neither would admit it aloud, the old wizard thought, though the bond was not something he could take credit for, he was simply happy it had occurred, and that history would not repeat itself.

He pondered whether things might have been different if he had been more aware when Tom Riddle was a student, might he have prevented the rise of Lord Voldemort? If I had acted upon my suspicions all those years ago, would he have ever become a power-hungry monster? Could he have somehow been turned from the darkness?  Severus thinks not.  He believes Tom was born with a twisted spirit, one lacking in remorse and conscienceless, what Muggles call a sociopath.  That nothing I tried to do would have made a difference, for such was his nature from the beginning.

Dumbledore had not wanted to believe that, one of his greatest flaws was seeing the world and people as he wished them to be and not as they truly were.  He tended to be complacent and look at things optimistically until forced to do otherwise.  But now looking back upon it . . .

Even as a child, Tom had been abnormal, skewed in the way he related to other people.  The matron's report from the orphanage had been disturbing, revealing that even at age eleven, Tom did not get along with other children, the staff and his peers feared him and he was a loner, preferring to be solitary.  Albus had thought at first that was because of Tom's bouts of accidental magic, that the other children shunned him, but it was not until he had seen the boy that he realized he was cunning, cold, a thief, a liar, and fond of collecting trophies, and already using his magic to harm people and animals.

Despite all the evidence, Dumbledore had been willing to give the orphan the benefit of the doubt, wishing the boy to not only live up to his tremendous potential as a wizard but to  guide that brilliant mind on the path to light and glory.

But all of his plans came to naught, as Tom refused to be guided, rebelling against all of Dumbledore's teachings and in the end succumbing to the lure of the dark, never to be redeemed. 

"You can spot a sociopath by the way he avoids others and animals especially fear and hate him," Severus had told him once.  "Had Voldemort been a dog or a cat, he would have been destroyed at birth for the abomination he is and thus saved the world a lot of suffering."

Dumbledore had to conclude that Severus had been right, Hagrid never trusted or liked Riddle, even as a student, and the half-giant liked nearly everyone.  And Tom had held himself aloof from everyone, even members of his own House, until he had finished school and began his campaign to rule the world.  Then and only then did he begin to use his considerable talents at manipulation to gather followers to him and offer them power if they would accept his new doctrine-that magic is might and the mighty shall rule, and all those who oppose Lord Voldemort shall die.

The Headmaster sighed and rubbed his eyes.  He could only hope that Severus and Harry would find all the Horcruxes and destroy them before Voldemort found a new body to inhabit.  And also that they might one day forgive him for his meddling and allow him to make amends.  Speaking of amends, Albus, you need to get to King's Cross before the Dursleys become too concerned over their nephew's absence, he reminded himself.

* * * * * *

King's Cross Station:

The old wizard, now glamoured to look like a Muggle reject from the 70's with a purple and gray pinstriped double-breasted jacket, matching trousers and lavender shirt complete with a purple carnation in the lapel, lavender shoes and a fez to top it off, stood in an alcove watching the people coming to and fro, trying to locate Harry's relatives.   At last he saw a man, woman, and child matching the description Harry had given him.

They were standing in front of an eatery and an arcade, the man was large and sported a walrus-like mustache and the woman was stringy with a pinched prune-like face.  The boy, Dudley, was pudgy and reminded Dumbledore of a hamster who had stuffed his cheek pouches too full. 

Vernon was glowering and muttering loudly, "Where is that boy? Does he think we've nothing better to do than to wait here all bloody afternoon for him? The cheek of that brat!"

"I don't understand it, Vern.  The train is never late and always on time.  We never had this trouble with my sister at school."

"Maybe the train crashed, Mum," put in Dudley, his manner suggesting he wouldn't care at all if that had happened.  "Maybe Harry's trapped underneath a tire and broke his leg! That'd be so wicked!"

To Albus's shock, neither parent bothered to reprimand the other boy for saying such nasty things about their nephew. 

Instead Vernon growled, "I don't care what happened, if he's not here in ten minutes he can just stay on the train and go live at that freaky school."

Dumbledore made his entrance then, stepping out from the alcove and walking casually towards the trio.  "Hello! Are you by chance waiting for Harry Potter?"

Vernon blinked at the smiling old man and snapped, "And if we are? You from that school of his?"

"I am.  My name is Headmaster Dumbledore , and I have come to try and clear up a few things."  Dumbledore held out a hand, but Vernon just looked at it and did not shake it.

Petunia gasped and went pale. 

Vernon was quite impatient.  "So what's the delay? The boy get expelled, the train got wrecked  . . ."

"No, no.  Thank Merlin! If we could find a quiet corner, I shall explain everything to you."

"Very well," Vernon agreed.  Then he poked the elderly wizard in the chest with one beefy forefinger.  "But none of your funny business or else I'll have the law on you!"

Before Albus could reply, Dudley broke in.  "Mum, I want to go play in the arcade, not talk about stupid old Harry. Can I go?"

"Very well, sweeting.  Here's some money," Petunia cooed sickeningly, and reached into her purse.

Dudley snatched it and waddled off to the brightly lit arcade as quickly as he could, huffing and puffing. Dumbledore frowned, finding Dudley's lack of interest over his cousin not to his liking.

The Dursleys followed Dumbledore to a small alcove inbetween some phone booths and Dumbledore cast a privacy spell so they could speak freely.  He cleared his throat.  "I have come to tell you that your nephew Harry will no longer be living with you."

"Oh? And how did that happen?" Vernon asked, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.

"It came to our attention that Harry was not happy at home, and was not being treated right, so one of my staff, Professor Severus Snape, offered to become Harry's guardian.  Harry consented and signed the papers and thus the guardianship passes from you to Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Petunia repeated, looking even more shocked.  "The same Snape that my sister used to play with when we were girls? The same Snape she went to school with? That Snape boy?"

"Why, yes.  Lily and Severus were friends as children.  I wasn't aware that you knew him as well, Petunia."

"Humph! He was the one who led my sister astray, Mr. Dumbledorf."

"Dumbledore," corrected Albus. "What do you mean-led her astray?"

"What I said! If not for him my sister would have never known about magic or wizards or anything to do with your crazy world and lived a normal life the way she ought to have."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.  "You do not understand.  Lily was born with magic, she could no more have given it up than a bird could give up flying."

"You're wrong, old man! She was normal before she met that scummy Snape boy!" shrilled Petunia angrily.  "Once she made friends with him, she changed.  She became a freak just like him and look what it got her.  Killed by some psycho and left me with her brat to raise these past fourteen years.  And he was as freaky as his parents! If Snape wanted the boy so much, why did he not take him from the beginning instead of sticking him with us?"

"That was not possible at the time, Petunia," Dumbledore said sternly.  "Don't blame Severus for any of this.  I had thought ties of blood the best and that you would raise Harry as your own, as his mother's last living kin. I had no idea that you hated magic-once you wrote to me and asked if you might come to school with Lily-so naturally I assumed-"

"That was a long time ago, old man!" Petunia cut him off, glaring at him fit to kill.  "I wished to be with my sister, not become one of you!  What has your precious magic ever done for me? Magic stole my sister from me, magic turned her into a freak and then it killed her.  Why would I want anything more to do with it? Then magic saddled me with her brat, who brought more trouble down on me.  It was because of him my poor Dudders nearly died that night last July!"

"You are wrong.  Harry was not to blame for the dementors attacking your son." Dumbledore defended quietly.  He had no idea that Petunia's resentment of magic ran so deeply.  Had I known, I would have listened to Minerva . . .But alas, now is too late for regrets . . ."And remember, Petunia, if not for Harry, your son would have died.  Harry saved his life, at great risk to his own, I might add."

"True," Petunia's mouth became even more pinched at that admission.  "But Dudley would have never been in such a position were it not for your freaky magic!  Magic is the ruination of my family and I am glad I do not have to put up with it, or him, any longer!"

"Petunia's right.  That boy has brought us nothing but headaches and stomach ulcers since we took him in.  He's nothing but trouble, always has been," Vernon added spitefully.  "He's cost me a promotion at work, made the neighbors gossip about us, nothing has gone right since you dumped him on our doorstep."

Dumbledore's mouth thinned.  "I hardly think it is fair, Mr. Dursley, to blame all of your problems upon one small boy."

"No? Then you're more of a fool than you look," sneered Vernon.

Now Dumbledore started to become angry at the tub of lard's presumption and blind prejudice  against a boy that had done nothing save been born with an extraordinary gift.

"I am sorry you feel that way, but I would have thought compassion for a helpless baby would enable you to look past your misgivings and treat Harry with love and kindness.  I see now that I was mistaken." His eyes flashed chained lightning.  "You have the worst prejudices of any Muggle I have ever met and it is to your shame that you took them out on an innocent child, one who merely wanted to be loved and protected and to have a family like everyone else."

"He should have found a different family then!" spat Vernon.  "One willing to put up with freaks."

"Oh, indeed?" Albus struggled to hold on to his temper.  "You, sir, are for lack of a better term, a despicable pudding, an ignorant lout, who should not ever have had the raising of a sensitive child like Harry.  Did I have time, I would press charges upon you for neglect and cruelty of a minor."

"How dare you threaten us, you pompous old windbag?" Vernon shouted, going red.  "I'd like to see you try!"

"That was not a threat. It was a promise. I find your whole attitude reprehensible and since it was I who left Harry with you, I must bear the responsibility for it and rectify it."

He drew himself up to his full height, no longer a doddering old gaffer in a purple pinstriped suit, but an imposing sorcerer out of legend, magic crackling about him in a corona of reddish-gold light.

The Dursleys trembled and shrank away, clinging to each other like terrified children, but for once Albus did not relent.  He pointed his wand and intoned, "For your ill-treatment of Harry Potter, I hearby sentence you to a period of reflection in dreams for three years.  Every night you will become Harry in your dreams and feel what it was like for your nephew, growing up in your house, being treated like an unwanted burden, lonely, depressed, unloved.  Thus will you learn the error of your ways.  Further, you will be unable to speak anything but praise for Harry, to offset the slander and lies you told people about him being criminally inclined."

Then he chanted rapidly in Latin and both the Reflection Charm and the Honey Tongue charm were cast upon them.  The Dursleys' eyes went slack for a minute then the Headmaster put the tip of his wand against their temples and Obliviated them.  He cast the same barrage of spells on Dudley as he did on the others once the boy returned a few minutes later.

Blinking owlishly, the threesome stared at Dumbledore. 

"Excuse us, sir, but we have to be getting home," mumbled Vernon. 

"Just so, fellow! Carry on then.  Toodles!" Dumbledore waved at them until they were out of sight. He hoped that he had done the right thing and they would learn from their mistakes and feel remorse for what they had done.

Dumbledore departed in a flicker of light, feeling slightly less guilty now than he did this morning.  Making things even with the Dursleys had assuaged some of the guilt he still felt for being so blind.  He appeared back in his office and immediately removed the glamour. 

He bit back a chuckle when he recalled the horrified look upon Vernon's obese face. Severus was right.  A little honest-to-goodness retribution does feel good every once in awhile.

Then the Headmaster settled back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and proceeded to eat a handful of lemondrops, his blue eyes twinkling in infernal amusement.