Harry checked the special mixture he had hidden in his wardrobe. Thank Merlin he had thought to buy the supplies needed for this before coming back here. Harry hated the Dursleys with a passion; well, one Dursley in particular. His aunt couldn't do much to protect him, because she had to protect her own son. For his uncle, Vernon, had gone off the deep end after the summer before his third year. After that summer, Harry's situation became worse than ever at Number four Privet Drive. Re-covering the mixture so it could finish fermenting, Harry lay down on his thin mattress to think.
His life had never been pleasant after the first time he had destroyed Voldemort(Harry thought of him as Moldywarts, or Tom most often). He had been regularly neglected until he was four, then the beatings started. By age seven Harry had learned to duck as soon as he sensed an incoming fist or foot. When Harry did that, Vernon decided to make Harry's reflexes useful. So the young boy had started running 'errands' for his uncle's shady business. For when the man wasn't working on drills, he was a drug dealer. He never touched the stuff himself, but he made quite a pretty penny for selling illegal drugs. When Harry became runner, he delivered the drugs and brought back the money. He learned early never to try and hold any of the money back unless he wanted his hide stripped raw.
Besides the beating he received if he tried to cheat his uncle, the running was dangerous in and of itself. The cops would willingly pull over any suspicious characters, and if caught with the drugs the person (even a child) would find themselves under lock-up. Then there were the buyers; if they did not find the merchandise appealing, you could quickly find yourself dying from wounds inflicted on you by angry customers. But Harry had a talent for avoiding trouble outside of 'home'. It served him well, and he still had his skin on even this late in the game.
It had been much harder to 'run' when he entered Hogwarts, for he was watched more closely then. In his third year, though, he realized he could make money for himself by selling wizard drugs. They were just as illegal as the muggle drugs, but far more addictive. Thus it was he ran two drug routes by that summer. Vernon never interfered with the packages that were owled to Harry after the first time he tried. The bundles were cursed so any muggle trying to open it would experience severe pain as if he had been burned. It didn't do that if it was merely held, but usually a muggle couldn't resist poking his (or her) nose in things. Getting hurt once was often enough for them though.Harry, however, paid dearly for both inflating Marge and then selling wizard drugs. It was something not even Sirius (who provided protection against most of the abuse) could help him with, for Harry was ashamed that he had 'let' it happen. Once he entered fourth year, he started to drink. It was light alcohol, at best, just strong enough to give the young wizard a buzz. And it had to be discreet, for the Triwizard Tournament meant that Harry was always in the limelight. After Cedric died, though, Harry went to the ones who gave him the drugs to sell. He asked for something stronger then what he could get at the local seedy bars. They had given him a recipe for a special wizard drink. It was a mix of wizard and muggle ingredients, was palatable, and fairly easy to make. The special thing about it, though, was it only gave a small hang-over with two shot glasses worth. Enough to get mildly drunk on, but not risk overdose. Great stuff, but Harry hadn't been able to try it yet.Harry started out of his dose as he heard loud creaks on the stairs. He prayed it was Dudley and not his uncle, for Dudley rarely tormented him anymore. How he wished Dumbledore had allowed him to go to the Weasley's, or wherever they were staying. His friends and godfather were keeping things vague because of Tom's rebirth, and he daren't try and relate what happened to him at Privet Drive over owl post either. So, while he hated the separation from most wizarding things, he understood the risk of mailing someone. If Tom knew, he would use it to his advantage. Not a good thing by far.
The stomping got louder, approaching his door. Harry got out of bed, making sure his wardrobe door was shut before backing into a corner. The lock clicked open quietly, not wishing to alert anyone who might still be in the house. Harry gulped, for this could only be his uncle. Sure enough, when the door opened Vernon's face appeared, looking menacing. He snarled softly at Harry, "Boy, you haven't been running since you got back. I don't care what type of restrictions you've been put under. You will run those special errands for me. If you garner favour, I'll let you run your own junk too."
Harry blanched slightly, but knew he didn't really have a choice. He had found that the wizard dealers could be just as aggressive as the muggle ones, and they were far more dangerous, having access to painful curses that Harry had a harder time avoiding than he did the physical attacks. With a heavy heart, he moved away from his corner, ready to garner 'favour'.
***
Severus grumbled softly to himself, limping slightly on his way to his rooms. The meeting had not gone well. It was taking too long for Riddle to trust him again. After the episode at the end of the school year, Severus had found himself low man on the totem pole when he returned to spying duties. So it had become far too common-place for him to come injured back to Hogwarts. He was just glad that Albus and/or Poppy never pressed to see him after a meeting. Which left him to his pain potion, and some sleep.
He found his room unoccupied, as expected. Taking the Pain Relieving potion that he always left out when he knew a meeting was in store, Severus crawled into bed. He wished he had taken a Dreamless Sleep potion instead, as his sleep was invaded by disturbing imagery. When he woke shortly before dawn, he shook his head in disgust. That scene could never happen, especially not to that particular person. But why had he dreamed that anyway? He cared nothing for the person except to honor his promise to one he had loved dearly. So why did the person haunt his dreams?
Deciding that it would be better if he lost himself in potion-making that day, the grumpy Bat of the Dungeons got up to eat and prepare for the day. Severus soon lost himself in the potions when he got to it, and almost started when Albus came in un-announced as always. Key word was almost, and he neatly put the potion in stasis after adding the ingredient that had been in his hands at the time. He then turned to Albus in a 'well?' kind of way.
"Severus, I have a job for you." stated the Headmaster. Severus began cursing in his mind. Whenever Albus said those six (or was that seven?) words, it always meant trouble for the Potions Master. His life was about to become difficult. How right he was, though he didn't know just how difficult it would become.