Leaning back into the armchair, Harry let the conversation wash over him, catching only the occasional snippets of what McGonagall and Dumbledore were saying.

"...they're all in place. We know that they're monitoring the floo network and will be alerted to his presence as soon as he sets off on his way back to his relatives. Then, when they cast the monitoring spells they'll see how weak the wards are, and they're certainly well primed to expect that much..."

The Deputy-head's tense reply was too quiet for Harry to catch.

"...the watch Minerva...it's all planned."

"And his relatives?"

"Each of them is wearing a portkey which will bring them here when the wards are breached..."

"And if a Death-Eater manages to grasp Harry or one of the muggles as they're leaving? The portkeys won't be halted by the Hogwarts wards, they could end up transporting the danger here!"

"Each portkey is designed to solely transport it's bearer." The headmaster leaned forward slightly on his chair, his long white beard ruffling against his chest. "Minerva, I'm depending upon your support in all of this. As soon as the wards at Privet Drive are breached I will apparate there. Hogwarts will need you to be in charge during my absence, and to lead any contingency planning which might arise. And, in actual fact, I was about to request your help with a particular aspect of our preparations."

Reaching into a pocket in his robes he withdrew a rolled up sheet of parchment which he smoothed out on his desk in front of them both.

Harry closed his eyes tightly for a second. Contingency plans. Is Dumbledore less certain about what's going to happen than he's making out?

Whatever was written on the parchment clearly meant something to both of them, as McGonagall read it carefully.

"Would you be so kind?" Dumbledore asked softly, his keen blue eyes looking at her solemnly from behind his spectacles.

The deputy headmistress nodded unhappily, a slight frown on her lips. "Very well. I will do as you ask. Be safe, both of you." With one last look at Harry, she headed back to the floo.

Dumbledore stared at the fireplace for a moment or two after she had gone and then stood up slowly. Taking a silver thimble from his pocket he touched it with the tip of his wand and watched it turn a vivid shade of blue. He tucked the item back into his pocket.

"Harry, it's time," he said calmly.

Harry stumbled to his feet.

He looked so very young, to the headmaster's compassionate old eyes.

Dumbledore sighed."Harry." His kindly blue eyes met the boy's troubled emerald gaze. The child seemed dazed, almost lost within himself somehow."It is not lost upon me that you are reluctant to return to your relatives, however briefly. The fact that you are able to act in spite of this, that you are willing to face and deal resolutely with an uncomfortable situation only adds to your courageous nature. I am very proud of you, and assure you that I will make full use of the opportunity you are creating for us."

Harry just stared at him blankly.

He took a handful of floo-powder from the pot which the Headmaster held out to him. "I guess this is it then," he said expressionlessly.

The old wizard nodded and guided him towards the fireplace with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Taking a deep breath Harry threw the powder and stepped in to meet his fate.

Returning to his desk Dumbledore sat motionless, his sharp mind whirling as he went over different considerations, time and time again. There was nothing else he could do now, but wait; it was out of his hands.

The door was thrown open with a tremendous crash, causing a chorus of grumbles to break out as several of the portraits swayed dangerously on the wall.

"Ah Severus," Dumbledore seemed unfazed by the Potion-Master's stormy entrance. "Come in," he added rather unnecessary.

Slamming the door behind him, Severus crossed the room in six long strides to stand directly in front of the headmaster. His pale, sallow face had two red spots high upon his cheekbones and his eyes were narrowed into furious slits.

"I never believed that there was anything you could do which could possibly cause me to lose all my respect for you in one fell swoop," he said hoarsely, looking the older wizard directly in the eye. "How wrong was I."

Dumbledore met his glare with composure. "So you've heard. How-"

"Lucius." Severus spat the name out accusingly. "He sent me warning that the Dark Lord will soon demand an explanation as to why 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' is back at his relatives, in spite of what I had informed him."

"Severus-" Dumbledore's voice was calm, as if he was untroubled by the Potion-Masters rage.

"You had no right! No right at all! He refused to go back there, he was adamant about it, but you wouldn't accept that would you? "

"Harry made his decision," Dumbledore said quietly.

"No! You made his decision, you exploited our altercation so you could contrive your blasted trap, with him as the bait. Have you no shame, Albus? What you've done is manipulative and deceitful beyond measure."

"Says the Slytherin." Dumbledore gave a half-smile, his pale blue eyes somewhat gentle.

"There is nothing Slytherin about your plan," Severus seethed. "It is crude and inept! Do you not carefor the boy at all? He was supposed to be spending the holiday with me, not going back there. You have deliberately placed him in jeopardy, and to what end? So that you can feel better about your stupidity, the fact that you won't be here when we really have need of you?"

"I didn't force him to agree to anything," Dumbledore retorted more crisply."He is fully aware of what he is doing; I have been open with him about the entire plan, but then I would also disagree about which one of us is being disingenuous."

"And just what is that supposed to imply?" Severus demanded.

Dumbledore studied him with a cool, penetrating gaze."I believe that if you were truly candid you would own that you're not actually angry with me. If you're feeling guilty about the way you treated him, address it," he added softly, "don't project it elsewhere."

"Dear Merlin, keep this up, and I swear I'll grow to relish my latest task," Severus snarled, his fists clenched tightly by his sides.

For a moment Severus thought that he might have actually succeeded in wounding the Headmaster's thick skin from the brief look which flitted across the old wizard's face, but it soon vanished leaving his usual placidity, albeit that for once he looked everyone of his one hundred and twelve years.

Severus broke the thick, heavy silence that followed. "If that grotesque muggle should kill him-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Dumbledore interrupted sharply, without a hint of any previous vulnerability. "He has a port-key. He can return here instantaneously, whenever he feels the need."

"And you really think he'll use it? You naïve, old fool," Severus whispered incredulously. "You really have no idea, do you? You told him this madness is crucial and he's a bloody Gryffindor for Merlin's sake! That brute nearly killed him over the summer; what if he knocks him unconscious again? How is he expected to save himself then?"

"We only need him there for a very short period..." The Headmaster now sounded defensive.

Severus stared at him balefully. "We have no idea how long he'll be there, as we have no idea when the Dark Lord will attack. Besides, it makes little difference as his Uncle is there now andHarry is there now."

He let a sudden exasperated breath out. "Wonderful. I'm being called, I can't imagine why." Severus turned towards the fireplace, intending to head back to his rooms in preparation to depart.

Dumbledore jumped up in alarm. "Severus wait; you don't intend to actually go?

Severus' only response was a pointed look.

"Please don't."

"And what if I hadn't found out? Would you have even told me what was going on when I was called, or watched me set off blind?"

"I was planning on asking you to check the wards at the Parsons' and Kirby," Dumbledore admitted quietly.

"A pretext so I couldn't attend, how perfect." Severus' voice was low. "Not quite as effective, now that I know, I'm sure you'll understand."

He had barely taken a step towards the fireplace when Dumbledore blocked his path.

"You realise that if go you'll be caught in the midst of the wand-fire; we won't be able to distinguish you from the other Death-Eaters!"

"That means little; I intend to be at the forefront when we go in there, so that I can get him out if anything has gone wrong," he replied in a hard, clipped tone as he leaned past the Headmaster for the floo-powder.

Dumbledore reached out and stilled his hand.

"Severus, don't punish me by putting yourself in danger needlessly."

Severus snorted and jerked his arm away roughly.

"As soon as I've ascertained that he has managed to leave I'll do my best to expedite myself from the situation," he said dismissively. "As you can see, I am not a child, and can make decisions without being maneuvered by your artifices."

"Severus." Dumbledore looked at him pleadingly. "Please. You could say that I insisted upon you carrying out duties for me, that you couldn't possibly slip away without my notice; or at the very least don't go without a plan to protect yourself. "

The younger wizard's stony countenance didn't soften at all, even as he deigned to consider the Headmaster's suggestions.

"Fine!" he said at last. "As soon as I'm satisfied, I'll reveal my identify by misjudging a blasting hex and bringing down a section of the ceiling; you can provide me with an excuse to leave. See you do a better job of it than Moody."

Severus threw the powder in ready to depart, but paused momentarily before stepping into the flames to add a final parting shot. "If it does all go wrong and Harry should die there today, I will never forgive you," he promised ominously, then he called out his destination and was gone.

*Twenty minutes earlier*

"Mrs Figg." Harry nodded at his elderly squib neighbour as he stepped out of her fireplace, inadvertently bringing a pile of ashes with him onto her faded lavender rug.

"Harry," she said in an echo, looking a little nervous from what Harry could see.

Has Dumbledore told her what's going on? For all I know he's told everyone, making all the preparations days in advance on the off chance that I'd change my mind.Irrationally, Harry felt annoyed. It's just as well that Dumbledore did make the arrangements, he reminded himself. Anyway, none of this is his fault.

And yet, Harry wasn't able to shake off a smouldering sense of resentment at being back at Privet Drive, knowing how his Uncle would react. Yes it was necessary; yes it was crucial, but right now he found it harder and harder to care about any of that as he inwardly railed against the series of events which resulted in him being about to walk into such a god-awful situation. More than anything he was furious with himself, for messing everything up so spectacularly.

If only I'd handled things differently... Well I know I'd still have to come back here, there's no getting away from that, but somehow it would have been more bearable if it could have been under different circumstances. If I could have talked to Severus about it... perhaps he'd have given me some ideas for getting through this in one piece, or at least wished me well. But he couldn't even be bothered to see me off. Not that I can blame him, after everything that's happened; he's got some pretty good reasons for hating me.

Aware that he'd been frozen on one spot for quite some time, Harry steered himself to move.

I'm on my own again, that's all. I'll be fine. I have to be.

"Uh, thanks for letting me come through," he gestured vaguely towards the floo.

"If there's anything I can do..."

"I'm fine, thanks," Harry replied automatically. "I'd better go..."

Arabella Figg watched as Harry let himself out of her house and shook her head slowly. She couldn't fathom what was going on any more. She trusted Albus whole-heartedly, but there was no way that this would end well. Although she'd never been told the precise details of what had happened earlier in the Summer it was clear that Vernon Dursley had snapped in the worst possible way. And now Harry is back on Privet Drive? It simply doesn't bear thinking about.

Letting himself out of the front door, Harry felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding. His breath caught in his throat from the frigid morning air and he hugged the heavy winter coat to his torso. Shivering, he walked the short distance towards his relatives' home. Coming to a complete stand-still in front of the Dursleys' gate he took a moment to try to calm down; his heart was pounding as though he'd been running, rather than simply strolling along the road. For a second he tried to focus upon his breathing, watching the condensation appear in front of him in the cold morning air.

At that moment Harry wanted nothing more than to turn back the way he'd come; never to return here again. Clutching the plastic wrist watch compulsively, he reassured himself that he had easy access to the portkey which would be his lifeline in all of this, then he patted the pocket which contained his wand. He was as ready as he would ever be; he was a Gryffindor and the time for bravery had arrived.

Taking a deep breath he unlatched the gate and walked up the drive, reaching quickly for the doorbell before fear could overtake him and change his mind. For the second that Harry was stood there waiting on the doorstep it seemed as though time stood still; the sense of Déjà vu was all-encompassing as he took in the frost on the grass, the icy rivulets frozen solid on the gatepost and the winter sun low in the cloudy, still sky.

How could I have ever believed things would work out any differently? It's fated that I come back here, even if it's more than I can stand.

His heart rate increased exponentially and every nerve in his body was tingling. As the door began to open, Harry chocked back a terrified swallow before he heard the voice he knew too well, ringing with the hostility he was accustomed to.

"What in the hell are you doing here, Boy?"

His uncle's massive frame towered over him in the doorway, glaring at him in disbelief and no small degree of menace as he took a step towards him. Instinctively, Harry backed away, stumbling backwards a couple steps before Vernon's huge, beefy hand reached out and grabbed him roughly by the collar; manhandling him past the front door and away from the prying eyes of their neighbours.

"You've got some bloody nerve." White spittle sprayed on Harry as Vernon loomed over him, his sweaty, red face just inches away from him.

Harry breath was stilted, a huge lump obstructing his windpipe as he remembered what was coming.

"I...I..." Fear caught the words in his throat and he ducked sharply to one side, avoiding the enormous fist which just grazed the side of his face.

"Dad?" There was the sound of footsteps at the top of the stairs and Harry became aware that Dudley was hesitating on the landing, probably waiting to see if it was safe for him to come any closer.

Vernon didn't allow his glower to waver from his nephew.

He looks as though he's going to explode, Harry thought, backing away.

"You good-for-nothing little freak, How DARE you come back here after you set THAT MONSTER on me?" Vernon bellowed, his face scarlet with rage as he reached forward grabbing hold of Harry by the neck once more.

"I didn't, I got him to stop," Harry protested weakly, after all Vernon had been hurt for his sake, that much was true, and in any case thinking about Sirius was still too painful and confusing for him to speak with any confidence. Any explanations were pointless in any case; Vernon clearly wasn't in a listening mood; his pudgy hands tightened around Harry's windpipe causing him to choke and splutter.

"Vernon? Wha-" Petunia appeared in the kitchen doorway wiping her hands on her floral apron. Her eyes widened as she recognised her nephew.

"You!" she said seeming to be shocked into silence.

Vernon's grip had slackened at the interruption and Harry hastily stepped aside rubbing his neck thankfully as he looked towards his aunt.

He coughed a couple times, trying to clear his throat and decide what to say next. Of all his family Petunia had always been the most level-headed. She didn't like him, that was a given, but it had been Vernon who'd loathed him the most, and Dudley had simply grown up mimicking his father's violence and hostility. Sometimes Harry had wondered if his aunt remembered his mother and felt something for him, although he knew this was based more on wishful thinking than any firm evidence. After all, she hadn't done anything to stop Vernon over the Summer, and things had been about as bad they could have been.

"Aunt Petunia," he said tentatively.

Like a whirlwind of emotion had been unleashed she rushed towards him and slapped him hard across the face.

"You've got a nerve, showing your face here after everything that happened!" she cried furiously. "Did you really think you'd be welcome back here?"

Harry had instinctively turned his head in line with her slap, but the rest of him seemed to be rooted to the floor.

In spite of everything, all he could register at that moment was that his aunt had never hit him before; for the first time she had crossed that line and although in the scheme of things it was grossly insignificant: a little slap that would barely sting for more than a few minutes, somehow it still mattered.

He looked her straight in the eyes. "Not welcome," he replied trying his best to keep his voice level. "We all know that I was never welcome here. I'm here because I have to be."

His uncle grabbed him again. "No you bleeding don't and what's more I won't stand for it. You're going to leave THIS SECOND, d'you hear me?"

Harry squirmed away from him, breaking free of his grasp.

"I can't," he said backing away again from his uncle, wincing as he backed into a coat-stand and knocked against an already sore point on his back.

"You bloody will if you know what's good for you!" Vernon promised him. "You're going to walk out that door and never come back, boy. UNDERSTAND?"

"But that's why I'm here!" Harry cried, breathing shallowly and cringing away from his uncle. "So I won't ever need to come back again!"

Petunia caught hold of her husband's arm; she looked at Harry suspiciously.

"What are you talking about?"

Time for some fast talking, Harry decided.

"You know why I came here in the beginning, when I was a baby?"

"They said we had to take you in," Petunia said her lip curling.

"When my parent's died, my mum left wards- a kind of protection which would keep me safe if I stayed here. Dumbledore- My headmaster- he's changing them," Harry invented, "moving them to my school. I only need to be here this one last time while he makes the arrangements and then everything'll be fine: you'll never see me again."

Harry hoped that what he was saying was tempting them.

"You won't ever come back again after this?" Vernon repeated, his voice still threatening, but more controlled than it had been a minute before.

"I wouldn't be able to even if I wanted to," Harry said wildly, "the wards wouldn't let me." Dimly Severus' words came back to him, about how people would say whatever their interrogator wanted to hear when they were threatened by violence. At that moment he would have sworn blind that he was going to live in amidst a herd of Hippogriffs, if he'd thought it would make a convincing story.

"That Freak headmaster of yours- he'd better not be coming here to do any of the moving!"

"He won't," Harry reassured his uncle, "the magic doesn't work like that, he needs to, uh, draw the wards towards him at the school, you see."

God knows how he'd react if he realised the house was about to be overrun with masses of wizards, when the idea of Dumbledore arriving sends him into orbit! For a moment, Harry wondered what would happen when their portkeys reacted and he used his watch; the four of them were going to end up at Hogwarts in Dumbledore's study together. Vernon would go mad, he knew. But at Hogwarts he wasn't alone and he could use his magic to defend himself. He tried not to think about it too much, it wasn't like he could do anything about it at the moment anyway.

"How long do we have to have you stay for?" Vernon asked his voice heavy with resignation, as if he'd been told something awful rather than simply having heard that his nephew would be staying temporarily.

"A couple nights," Harry replied, hoping fervently that it wouldn't end up being any longer than that; he was under no illusions that his presence wouldn't be tolerated on any more than an extremely short term basis.

"Fine," Vernon said exhaling hard. "You've got two nights and that's it! But you're to stay out of my way and do what your aunt tells you, and don't you dare go upsetting Dudley if you know what's good for you. You so much as step out of line and I'll knock you into the middle of next week, you see if I don't!"

It wasn't very pleasant, but Harry let the threat wash over him.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do," he said quietly.

"Damn right you will," Vernon said unpleasantly, puffing his chest out. "Or I'll have you up against that wall so fast your feet won't touch the ground!"

I'd hex him before it gets that far, Harry promised himself as he watched his uncle storm upstairs, although really, he knew that couldn't be an option. He could just imagine the chaos it would cause if a bunch of ministry officials bore down on him for under-age magic in the middle of Voldemort's attack.

Dudley seemed to have deduced that there was no eminent danger and began to trundle down the stairs like a little elephant. Harry stiffened slightly as he passed him, he really couldn't bear it if his cousin chose this moment to pick a fight, but Dudley pointedly ignored him as he wandered into the lounge and the next moment the TV was blaring out.

Which left Harry and his aunt in the hall-way. She had said little during the last part of the conversation although she had been watching and listening carefully.

"I am really sorry... you know... about this summer," Harry said sincerely; he honestly wished that none of it had happened.

His aunt scoffed. "Sorry my foot. You'd like me to believe that. But you lot, you're all the same. Vile scum, the lot of you."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "How can you even say that?" he asked. "You knew my mother-"

"She died because of what she was! Nothing good comes of your kind, only misery."

There was a long pause as they both stared at each other.

It isn't true, Harry thought bleakly. Magic is part of what makes me who I am, just as it made my Mum and Dad who they were. Just because evil wizards exist doesn't make magic itself wrong.

Eventually his aunt gave a sniff and crocked her head towards the kitchen, her tightly styled hair not moving so much as a millimetre, as she indicated that she wished to speak to Harry where they wouldn't be overheard.

She waited until Harry had closed the door behind them to speak again.

"Tell me what's really going on," she said, pursing her lips tightly together.

"I told you the wards-" Harry's voice faltered at her grim expression.

She shook her head as she rested her hands on her hips. "I don't believe you. If that is what they are doing why didn't they do it years ago? They knew you were one of them, yet they still foistered you off on us, to keep you safe. You safe!" She scoffed. "What about us? None of you even thought about how we felt about you staying here did you?"

"I could hardly miss it," Harry replied bitterly. "Anyway it's not my fault, I didn't choose to be put here, any more than I chose to be who I am."

"No you were born different," she said dourly. "Even as a baby we knew you were unnatural; doing all those freaky things. It would have been better for everyone if you'd never been born; all you ever brought was trouble. Can you really blame us for not wanting you? All we wanted was a normal life, we could have been so happy."

Harry stared at her and couldn't help but respond. "So why didn't you give me away to someone else to look after?" he asked, hating the plaintive note which entered his voice. "I could have grown up with someone who cared about me, or at least didn't hate me the way you did."

"We wanted to," his Aunt looked at him disdainfully. "Oh how we wanted to. That 'Dumbledore' of yours came to visit just after you came here. He told me you had to stay here for the safety of all of us, because of Lily's protections." His Aunt edged closer to Harry. "He can't move them can he? And even assuming that he could, what'll happen to the rest of us when you're gone?"

It was a good question; Harry couldn't imagine that there would be much of number 4 Privet Drive standing after the confrontation which was due to take place.

"You'll be fine," Harry said shortly. "Dumbledore'll look after you."

She stared at him intently. "You don't even care, do you, you don't give a damn? After everything you've had from us. Taking food out of our son's mouth, clothes off his back, his room to sleep in!"

Harry'd had enough. The idea of him taking food out of his fat cousin's mouth was ludicrous to say the least. "You got paid for it though didn't you?" he challenged. "It's not as though I made you go short."

"You ungrateful little swine!" Petunia cried. "After everything we've done for you!"

Ungrateful? By what twisted logic was I ever ungrateful?

"You treated me like shit!" Harry exploded. "I had to stay out of your sight the whole time I was here when I wasn't working, so that you never saw me!"

"You …You spent your whole time sneaking around the house, upsetting Dudley, stealing from us all, cursing at Vernon!"

"I was hungry. You kept me locked up, barely fed me and you wonder why I went to the kitchen when I got a chance?"

"Always moaning about being hungry," Petunia replied. "Grasping for more and more, all the time, it never occurred to you to be thankful for anything."

This was so patently untrue that Harry couldn't stop himself protesting. "I thanked you for things!"

"You didn't mean it! You spent your time sulking about doing a few chores, mouthing off, taking Dudley's things. You didn't appreciate the life we gave you. "

Because I was utterly miserable! Harry thought internally, his mouth agog. He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. There was no point in them even discussing the past when his Aunt's memories were so completely distorted.

"What I told you earlier is the truth," he said flatly. "I'm here temporarily but I'll soon be gone and you won't ever have to worry about me coming back. As far as I'm concerned I'm going to keep my head down and do whatever I can not to rock the boat while I'm here. So... I'll help if you want me to, chores or whatever. Just let me know what you want doing and I'll get started right away." He looked at his Aunt awkwardly.

"The only thing I want you to do is get out of our sight," she hissed. "And stay there until it's time for you to go."

"...get out of our sight...until it's time for you to go."

"...walk out that door and never come back..."

"I hate you for what you've done... Now get out. Go to your dormitory- in Gryffindor..."

It seemed he had quite a knack of drawing that response from people.

Harry nodded silently and left the kitchen, keeping his movements as calm and deliberate as he could make them. Shutting the kitchen door behind him, he paused, wondering where they would be least annoyed by his presence. He couldn't stay in the kitchen, Dudley was in the lounge, and he'd have to be at his wits end before he'd suffer the humiliation of going back in his cupboard. So that left his old bedroom. He headed up the stairs where he saw it had been transformed predictably back into Dudley's second bedroom; they'd clearly never anticipated seeing him again, let alone that he might ever come back to this room. The bed was gone and in it's place there were boxes of computer games, scalextric, a Nintendo console and stacks of CD and DVDs.

Harry glanced at the discarded items apprehensively. If Dudley is anything like he used to be he'll hate the fact that I'm staying let that I'm anywhere near his things. Deciding not to touch anything, or to even to dare sitting at the desk where old magazines and books were piled high, Harry allowed himself to slump to the floor and tried to find a comfortable way of leaning against the wall. He was shaking slightly from the worry of it all, although he knew that he should be feeling pleased that he'd escaped unscathed for the time-being, and been given the opportunity of hiding away from his relatives. Strangely though, he found himself missing the endless chores he used to do, work would have kept me busy, stopped me thinking so hard. Instead, Harry hugged his knees to his chest and simply waited for what was to come.

For a long timeless period Harry sat stock still, listening to the sound of his Aunt moving about in the kitchen below, the TV blaring out and the occasional sound of his Uncle stomping around his bedroom; it sounded as though he was chucking things about in a temper.

The sound of approaching footsteps shook Harry from his stupor and his hand immediately grasped the watch on his wrist. The next moment his door was thrown open and his cousin was stood staring at him.

Harry swallowed trying to get a grip on his nerves again. "Dudley," he said tensely.

Ignoring his greeting Dudley barely glanced at his cousin as he passed him and purposefully began to pile up all his old toys and games. Having gathered up a great armful he strode out leaving the door open, but was back a couple minutes later for a second load. It was clear that he had no intention of leaving anything within Harry's reach, although whether this was because he was worried his cousin would damage his possessions or simply enjoy using them himself was unclear. Having cleared most of the room, with the exception of the books on the desk, he gave Harry one last look of intense dislike before shutting the door behind him.

Time crept on that afternoon. Around teatime Harry was uncomfortable enough to risk going to the bathroom; after drinking a little water from the tap and using the loo he was heading back to Dudley's second bedroom when he met his Aunt on the landing of the stairs.

"Here," she said, shoving a plate of food towards him in a disgruntled fashion. "Don't say we never give you anything."

Too surprised to thank her before she turned away, Harry took the meal back with him and returned to where he'd been sat before.

There were two crusty bread rolls on the plate, stuffed with wads of ham and thick slices of tomato. Harry couldn't help but think of all the times that he'd have been eager, practically desperate to be allowed a meal such as this. Right now, just looking at the food made him feel slightly nauseous, he was so on edge. He set the plate down beside him, hoping he'd feel more like it later. Stroking his wristwatch absent-mindedly he wished there was such thing as a time-turner which would allow him to fast forward through the next few days without him ever having to live them for himself.

A sudden clatter from downstairs was followed by a period of silence, broken only by the steady noise from the TV, and Harry's heart start to race once again.

It could be nothing, merely plates being noisily moved from a cupboard, but it could be something more sinister. His mouth grew dry as he crept to the top of the stairs, listening hard. Are they still here? Their portkeys are designed to activate as soon as anyone apparates in... Imagine if they were all whisked away and I just continued to sit here completely oblivious to all the Death-Eaters closing in around me... The idea didn't bear thinking about.

Inching his way downstairs, Harry listened carefully outside the kitchen door. He couldn't hear any voices... Slowly turning the door handle, with every sense tingling in anticipation, Harry prepared himself to set his portkey off at the first sign that anything had happened...

All three of the Dursleys looked up from the kitchen table where they were sat with the remains of a cooked meal in front of them.

"I-"

Vernon's eyes narrowed. "What do you want?"

"Uh, I just wanted a glass of water, if that's OK?"

Taking the stony silence for acceptance, Harry self-consciously helped himself to a glass from the cupboard and filled it up at the tap. Forcing himself to drink the cool liquid, he carefully washed and dried his glass before putting it back in the cupboard. Turning around, he saw that they were all staring at him.

He began to leave the room, and was at the doorway when his uncle spoke again.

"Boy."

Harry froze.

"I won't have you sat around doing nothing, thinking about freaky stuff all the time." He turned to his wife. "Give him some jobs to do."

Petunia stood up and rummaged in the cupboard under the sink.

"Here," she said holding out a pot, a cloth and a small furniture brush. "You can start by waxing the coffee table in the living room."

"And see you do a damn good job of it, d'you hear me?" Vernon said roughly.

Harry nodded. If it kept his uncle calm he would happily do whatever chores he was given.

Having set himself up in the lounge, an old newspaper under the legs of the table, in case any of the wax should fall onto the cream carpet, he rolled his sleeves up before using the cloth to apply a thin coat of wax across the table top. The instructions said to leave the wax to dry for between five and ten minutes. In the meantime he kept himself busy by tidying the stacks of magazines in the rack, there really wasn't all that much else he could do, his aunt was very house-proud

When the five minutes were up he began using the brush to polish the table, gratified to see that it was making a noticeable difference. Dudley walked in as he was working and sat down in one of the armchairs to watching him.

Harry had almost finished, when his cousin finally spoke.

"You're wearing my watch," he drawled.

His hand stilling, Harry turned to look at his cousin in disbelief.

"No. It's not yours, Dudley."

"It is," Dudley persisted. "You must have taken it from my room, before you left last time."

Harry just stared at him. Dudley did use to have a sports watch which had been a little bit similar to this one, although he'd chucked his one out when he'd been given the new one on his last birthday. Is he actually confused or does he just want this one because it's mine?

"Dudley. I swear, this isn't your watch. It was given to me by my Headmaster. It might look a little bit like your old watch but honestly it's not the same..."

Dudley stood up from his armchair and approached him, holding his hand out.

"Give me my watch, Harry."

Harry scooted around the coffee table.

"Dudley-"

"I said, give me my watch."

"Dudley, it's mine," Harry said desperately. "It was a gift. You can't-"

"Give it to me now, or I'll tell Dad you nicked it off me!"

I can't give him a portkey to Hogwarts, Harry thought in panic.

"Dudley-"

"DAD!"

Vernon's loud footsteps were heard overhead before they began to heavily descend the stairs.

"Dudley, don't do this," Harry pleaded as his uncle burst into the room.

"Dad, he took my watch!" Dudley whined.

Harry felt like burying his head in his hands.

Vernon glanced at the wristwatch on Harry's skinny wrist. He didn't recognise it, but then he didn't keep track of his son's possessions. Dudley certainly deserves it more than that little freak anyway.

"Give him the watch, boy," he growled.

Harry'd never wanted to draw his wand more. As it was his hand itched.

"The watch, now!"

Harry met his uncle's eyes for a moment and that was all it took. He paled and began to undo the watch strap with hurried, clumsy fingers. It was that or draw his wand. He didn't have any choice. Hopefully Dudley would get bored of it, like most of the possessions he hankered after only to cast away a short while later.

Dudley snatched the wristwatch away from his cousin. His eyes were full of malice as he ran a finger over the dial.

"Neat," he said examining his acquisition. Utterly indifferent to Harry's discomfort he slipped the watch into his pocket. "I'm off out, then."

"See you later, son," Vernon said without so much as shifting his glare from Harry.

One quick Accio, that's all it would take...

"Bye Harry!" Dudley said with a huge grin plastered on his face.

One quick Accio, followed by a Stinging Hex right in the middle of his stupid, bloody face...

As Dudley headed for the front door he could hear his father angrily berating his cousin. Satisfied, he headed out, feeling that all was right in the world. Harry'd been put back in his place. Life was sweet.

That night Harry knew he couldn't risk falling asleep. Perhaps it was just as well that the bed had been taken out of Dudley's second bedroom to allow more space for his junk.

Slouched against the wall, Harry felt despondent. He couldn't stop berating himself for giving Dudley the port-key, and yet he didn't really see how else he could have handled the situation.

I'll have to get it back, that's all, he decided. When Dudley's back from seeing his mates, or whatever he's doing, I'll have to persuade him. Somehow.

At half past eleven Harry heard a key turning in the lock. His aunt and uncle had already gone to bed, so he crept downstairs once more.

"Dudley," he whispered in the darkness, unwilling to disturb his relatives any more than he could avoid.

Dudley groped in the dark for the light switch and turned it on.

He seemed to have been drinking Harry thought, if his unsteady stance was anything to go by.

"Little – cousin - Harry!" Dudley said, nearly falling over as he kicked off one of his trainers.

"Dudley, will you give me the watch back?" Harry asked in a low voice. "It's not worth anything truly it's not, but it was a gift. It had sentimental value. If you could give it back to me I promise I'll get you another one. A better one, more expensive. Or give you the money even."

Dudley's eyes lit up greedily. "How much?" he demanded as he shrugged off his jacket. "How much money will you give me for it?"

Harry shrugged, he had no idea how much a designer watch cost.

"I don't know. Two hundred pounds?" he guessed.

"Go on then. Give me the money," Dudley said with a grin.

"I, uh, don't have it on me. But I promise I have got the money, in Gringott's-that's a wizard bank. I'll send it to you. Honestly I will."

"Yeah right," his cousin said disbelievingly, walking past Harry into the kitchen.

"Please." Harry followed him desperately. " I will give you the money, honestly I will. Just give me the watch back."

Dudley opened a cupboard and the fridge before delving into the bread-bin.

"Haven't got it."

"What?" Gritting his teeth Harry tried to keep calm. "Just tell me what you've done with it."

"You want the watch back?" Dudley said lazily as he made himself a messy sandwich full of cheese, ham and mayonnaise.

Harry nodded.

"Well you can't have it; I chucked it," Dudley said with his mouth full. "I was going to sell it, but neither Piers or Malcolm wanted it."

"You binned it?" Harry said in shock. "You- Where? Which bin did you put it in?"

Dudley shrugged. "I chucked it over a fence, when we were walking along. Somewhere between the park and the shop." He took another enormous bite of his sandwich whilst he watched his cousin's face fall. "Opps," he said sarcastically.

"You idiot," Harry whispered.

God. Anyone could find it and end up at Hogwarts! To say nothing of the fact that I need it!

Dudley's hand, greasy with mayonnaise shot out pushing Harry into the work-surface.

"Don't. You. Call. Me. Names!" He punctuated each word with a prod from a fat finger.

Rattled, Harry edged away.

Closing his eyes briefly, he tried to calm his sense of panic.

"Dudley. I need you to go and fetch the watch back for me-"

Picking up his sandwich again, Dudley took another bite.

"You've got to be joking. I don't know where it is and even if I did I wouldn't get if for you."

Harry had to resist the urge to reach for his wand.

"Listen-"

"No you listen," Dudley raised his voice aggressively. "I won't be ordered around by you, you little freak. Dad's right you've got a front daring to come back here after everything that happened!"

"I didn't want any of that to happen!" Harry cried.

"But it always does! Stuff always happens around you! You always mess everything up!" Dudley pushed Harry hard, sending him back into the work surface, so that he landed with the full force of his body upon his bruised spine.

Dudley chortled unpleasantly at the yelp which escaped Harry.

"What a scrawny wuss you are Harry."

Harry's patience was all but gone. "You fucking touch me again-"

"And you'll what?" Dudley asked scornfully, grabbing a handful of Harry's hair and giving him a little shake. "You're on your own, no one to take up for you now, is there?"

Scrambling away from his cousin Harry dashed around the kitchen table, but Dudley gave it an almighty push towards him from the other other side.

"What in the blazes are you doing?" Vernon roared, bursting into the kitchen, his huge form clad in massive blue striped pyjamas. "By God, you've had it now boy, I swear I'm going to knock some sense into you if it's the last thing I do." He clenched his fists as he approached his nephew.

Backed into a corner, confronted by two matching scowls of deep loathing, Harry pulled his wand out, not really intending to use it as anything more than a threat in order to protect himself.

"Back off," he told them in a slightly shaky voice. "Or I'll hex you. You say I'm evil, that I ruin everything, well perhaps I actually will if you come any closer."

Dudley had retreated backwards at the first sight of the wand but Vernon was unmoved.

"You're not going to do anything with that," he snorted. "You're not allowed. You'd be in trouble. Maybe even kicked out of that 'school' of yours."

Harry gulped, still pointing his wand at his uncle. If only expulsion was the worst of my worries.

"I'll do it," he swore. "I think it might just be worth it."

Vernon trundled towards him confidently. "You won't. You little-"

A sharp crash just to the right of Harry's head distracted him- Dudley had lobbed his plate towards him from the back of the room.

"Get him, dad!"

Like a clumsy bear Vernon cannoned into him from the left, knocking Harry off balance so that he fell heavily the opposite way with a sickening crack as his wand broke in a flurry of golden sparks and hisses.

Harry stared at the two pieces of his wand, forgetting his uncle, forgetting Dudley, forgetting his bruises and all the inconsequential insults, forgetting to breath even. It was as if someone had cut off one of his limbs. Part of himself was damaged, ruined forever.

They can't repair wands, they're never the same again, he remembered, thinking of Ron's distress when his wand had snapped.

My wand chose me. It was my wand. The brother wand to Voldemort's. Powerful. Special. Irreplaceable.

Feeling as though he was moving in slow motion he knelt down and picked up the two pieces, and cradled them in his hand; they felt slightly warm to his touch.

Fuck Voldemort, a bloody muggle can get the better of me and destroy my wand- destroy my chance of ever being able to fight him successfully- slim though it always was.

And then Harry lost it.

The sheer magnitude of his grief took both his Uncle and Cousin by surprise; he'd borne broken bones without more than a whimper, but seeing his ruined wand, he sobbed as though the world was ending.

Dudley began to feel unnerved by the emotional display.

Snotty nosed and distraught, Harry looked up. "What the fuck else can you do to me? You have no idea, no idea what you've just done."

Taken back, but never one to stay silent for long Vernon blustered,"Shut up, Boy, or I'll really give you something to cry about."

Wild eyed, practically unhinged, Harry leapt to his feet and hit out at him hard, connecting with the side of Vernon's face. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to hurt his Uncle, to injure him. His anger was blind, and in that moment he didn't care about whether he got hurt as well, as long as he gave as good as he got. He threw himself into his Uncle who dragged him down with him, crashing to the ground, when all of a sudden he was shocked back into sense.

In the period which followed Harry would wonder whether the sparks from his wand had somehow acted as a prompt for what came next, or whether the timing had simply been a coincidence.

One moment they were brawling upon the kitchen floor and the next his Uncle had disappeared and Harry could see from the corner of his eye that Dudley was gone too.

The portkeys! In the midst of that split-second Harry realised exactly what their disappearance meant and the danger he was in. Alone, wandless, a sitting target for the Death-Eaters who were coming. And there's no way back to Hogwarts.

And just as quickly as those thoughts flitted through his head, realisation struck him, the other port-key, Connor, my escape route. And it all seemed to fit perfectly, My chance to go to Ireland: to find Sirius. Just when I've burnt all my bridges and made Severus hate me; I don't really want to go back to Hogwarts after what happened, even if I could.

Instinctively his hand reached for the locket, long forgotten around his neck, and without any conscious reflection, there was no time for that, he pried open the locket and felt the familiar, nauseating tug of the port-key around his abdomen.

An instant later all hell broke lose as Voldemort and his Death-Eaters stormed the house.

Crashing into the kitchen, just ahead of his companions, Severus found the room empty. His sharp eyes immediately noticed the broken wand and a sickening sense of dread fell upon him. The majority of his faction were storming the other downstairs rooms, but there was no sound of them having found anyone. Sprinting up the stairs, Severus used a burst of wordless magic to throw open all the doors and pushed his way past Macnair and Yaxley.

"He's not here," Lucius' voice came hollowly from just ahead of him in one of the bedrooms.

A blast below immediately drew everyone's attentions; the air seemed to grow heavy and vibrate around them. All four men, knew what that meant.

Macnair flinched and swallowed nervously. "He's angry," he growled.

They all glanced towards the stairs, when a sudden crash made the foundations of the very building tremble and as if a signal had been set off chaos descended upon the residence.

Members of the Order began to appear in all parts of the house, with their wands drawn and a curse on their lips. The crash must have been the Dark Lord's magic clashing with Albus', Severus surmised. A feat which would always prove formidable.

Casting a bout of Quasso Ossa at Shacklebolt who had apparated directly behind him, Severus heard him groan before he half-rolled and half-crawled into Dudley's bedroom where he could lie out of sight. Approaching the landing, Severus raised his wand to clear a path in the thick clouds of dust which had formed in front of him. The wall between the kitchen and lounge had been completely demolished. Wordlessly casting a complex monitoring charm, Severus realised what the Dark Lord had doubtlessly had already learnt, the wards which had appeared to be weak and ineffective just moments ago, were now raised unbelievably high. High enough that they would prevent more Death-Eaters from being summoned, as well as impeding their ability to leave by disapparating or portkeys. Dumbledore had evidently ascertained that Harry was gone and had wasted no time in completing his trap against the Death Eaters.

Which is well and good except that I can't leave now.

And yet, in spite of everything, Severus trusted Albus implicitly; he knew he would hardly forsake him now.

Drawing up his shield against a punishing series of blasting hexes as he descending the stairs, he cast Ventus sweeping Arthur Weasley off his feet and crashing into the hard, stone wall at the bottom. Inwardly cursing that a large section of the order were all to easy to take down, he knew he'd had little choice with Macnair, Yaxley and Lucius close behind him. Luckily a spell from one of the other Order members dragged Weasley out of reach before it could look strange that Severus wasn't trying to finish him off.

Reinforcing his shield; it really was bedlam as he reached the bottom of the stairs, with stray curses and hexes rebounding from every direction, and fragments of magic careering about the room, as the wards were hammered repeatedly. Then his breath caught as he saw Moody. Well I'll be bloody sure to keep out of his reach. Resisting the temptation to repay the bastard threefold by casting an anonymous dismembering curse, he reminded himself that they were on the same side, nominally, at any rate.

Throwing himself unceremoniously onto the floor to avoid an Avada Kedevra; several members of the order began to converge on him at once. Thankfully their plans were foiled by Lucius who wounded two of them by incanting Extorqueo caput capitis, which also distracted Tonks who turned to help her allies, giving Severus some much needed breathing space to find cover.

That was altogether too close for my liking, Severus thought grimly as he positioned himself in the an alcove where a pantry had once stood, but which was now little more than a blackened, gutted ruin.

Severus used the brief reprieve to heal a deep gash in his shoulder where a stray hex had partially breached his shield. He had absolutely no intention of allowing himself to be killed. Not today, not like this. When I do fall I intend to take as many foes with me as I can, not to be caught by a stray Avada Kedavra in some ridiculous skirmish where no one even knows who I am. He was determined to fight with every breath in his body. After all how can I possibly allow myself to be slain while I've still got promises to keep and duties which tie me irrevocably to this realm?

Hampered by limits upon what he could safely cast; rarely able to even utilise his skill with Revibro, to rebound attacks which were cast upon him, he knew he needed to leave quickly. He'd been in similar situations before, where he was forced to defend himself against the order, but never in such a scanty area. In the past he'd always found a way of getting himself out of the main line of fire.

Albus was right, this is folly.

He watched impassively as the repugnant green hue of an Avada Kedavra accompanied a deathly rush which smacked into a masked figure, probably Goyle, he deduced from the wizard's stance and build. Whoever it was fell in a motionless heap, only a few feet away from the slim body of another Death-Eater. Hopefully Bellatrix, he thought, even as he knew it was unlikely. Alas, somehow she always seems to emerge unharmed.

The situation was rapidly disintegrating, with more and more corpses beginning to litter the house. Many of them appeared to be Death-Eaters he was satisfied to see, although it didn't bode well for his immediate future.

Where was Albus?

It was hard to see through the dust and flashes of magic which meant he had to take cover repeatedly. Casting Revibro to rebound a blasting curse at Fletcher, whilst changing the angle slightly so that the worst of the spell crashed into a table, he was gratified to see that a piece of ricocheting wood had wounded Moody on the back of his arm as he was busy duelling with Lucius. Well it wasn't intentional and it's scarcely my fault if he doesn't practise what he preaches, constant vigilance indeed!

Finally, finding Albus in the midst of all the madness, Severus drew in a shaky breath at the sight of his friend and mentor squared up, head to head with the Dark Lord.

Albus had always said that he didn't believe he was capable of defeating the Dark Lord, and yet he was the only wizard capable of holding his own against him... with numerous curses flying simultaneously in every direction, Albus Dumbledore that beacon of the light had obviously been prepared to thrust aside his reluctance to use dark magic, for the time being at least. Severus saw at least three curses which he was using which were highly illegal and likely to jeopardise his seat on the Wizengamot, if not prompt a trial against him, if they were witnessed by any Non-Order Aurors. He approved whole-heartedly.

And then he noticed something else on the edge of his peripheral vision. Good grief, Tonks, the utter fool was completely exposed whilst she seemed to think she was creeping up on the Dark Lord, as if that could ever happen. Severus saw Bellatrix aiming her wand at Tonks and chose that moment to interrupt them both, his deliberately off-target blasting curse catching them both by surprise as it hit the ceiling and brought masses of plaster, bricks and dust upon them. Bellatrix had the sense – and skill -to avoid the worst of the rubble, although Tonks was clearly injured. That half-witted witch should never have been here in the first place, if that was the best she could do!

But the act had drawn Dumbledore's attention, as it was intended to. And after a quick glance from the Headmaster Severus braced himself for what was about to come.

Conjuring a fantastical shield to guard his back, which appeared to be made up of no less than solid metal, and several meters thick at that, a clear gesture that his power was by no means diminished if ever there was one, Dumbledore turned to send a hex towards him. Severus cursed inwardly as Lucius blocked it for him, but the second attempt soon found it's mark.

Both his masters watched with very different emotions as Severus flew backwards, gasping from the sudden almost overwhelming pain which he felt as blood began to pulse steadily from surface wounds across his body. It wasn't Sectumsempra but it certainly looked a lot like it.

With a muffled groan, Severus immediately started to twist the top of his cuff link, his portkey back to his rooms, and found that the wards had been lowered for mere seconds; it was a dangerously brief period of time, but somehow he made it through just as he was beginning to sense the wards being drawn up once more.

He was going to have a hell of a job explaining that departure to the Dark Lord. How exactly can I account for the fact that I managed to break through Albus' wards, particularly given the fact that I'm supposed to be gravely injured?

Laying the matter aside for the time being, Severus steadied himself momentarily on his fireplace, barely pausing before flooing up to Dumbledore's office, leaving a dripping trail of blood in the grate behind him.

Dragging off his Death-Eater mask he found the set of despicable muggles in various states of shock. He noticed dispassionately that the fat boy seemed to have vomited upon Albus' rug, a side-effect of the unexpected port-key journey no doubt, and was now quivering with fear.

Leaning against the door frame to catch his balance and fixing them all with his narrowed glare he demanded in a ferocious voice,"Where's Harry?"

Vernon cringed remembering his last dealings with a wizard.

Petunia's eyes widened as she recognised him, in spite of the Death-Eater robes, her immense shock and the blood which was dripping down his face.

"Severus Snape?" she said, her mouth hanging agog.

"Where is he?" he spat back.

"I-I don't know. One moment we were all there in the kitchen and the now we're here! But Harry- I-I don't know... He said- he said he was only back with us for a bit, that he only there while the protections were sorted out so he'd never have to return again..."

"He didn't come here?" Severus demanded impatiently.

She shook her head dumbly.

"What happened to his wand?" Severus was training his obsidian eyes upon Vernon now. "WELL? DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN IGNORE ME?" he hollered.

Dudley let out an involuntary whimper. He'd seen how his father had been beaten by the last wizard who'd came to their house.

"You're bleeding," Petunia said in a faint voice. She was staring at him as if she was unable to comprehend how he could possibly conduct an inquisition, whilst ignoring his injuries as if they were mere scratches.

Severus glanced down his sodden clothes in disgust. Actually, he was bleeding heavily now, practically gushing in fact. Casting a series of healing charms, and moping his face with his sleeve, he rooted about in his pockets for a blood replenishing potion which would help to counteract his light headedness. The extensive cuts were all surface wounds, designed to bleed profusely, and although they were acutely painful, with some basic treatment they were scarcely dangerous.

Albus would need to invest in a new rug, however, given the pool of blood which was seeping into the fibres alongside the vomit.

"Answer me," he ordered aiming his wand at Vernon's face, who stared at the drops of congealed blood upon the polished ebony wood in utter horror. "Now!"

"I-I-I don't k-k-know..." he stuttered.

" Ferinus flagellum," Severus said coldly as he changed the angle of his wand and moved it from side to side in a series of crisp movements. "Pepetual poena," he added softly, his eyes flashing. "Take that to your muggle doctor."

Vernon cried out piteously in a hair-raising moan and wrapped his chunky arms around his stomach and shoulders where the main force of the spell had been directed. Severus watched mercilessly as livid, scarlet welts became visible on the areas of bare skin at the top of the Vernon's collar and on his hands and forearms.

"Speak!"

"Ahhh! You- My- I don't know anything! What have you done to me?" Vernon clutched his chest, tears of self-pity running down his face.

Severus raised his eyebrows, and spoke in a low, dangerous tone, "You will explain what happened!"

Vernon's only response was to try to scramble as far away from him as possible, but a firm grasp on his collar soon put paid to that attempt.

"Then, I will look for myself."

And staring into Vernon's round, terror-stricken eyes Severus did just that.