The sun was on its way to the noon point in a cloudless sky of Surrey. The wind was barely there, and Severus walked up the street in eerie silence. No one appeared on the lawns, curtains were drawn, and even an occasional dog on a property seemed to be a life-like lawn ornament at best.

The young professor was mildly frustrated with the way his curiosity had overruled his plans this morning; yet his six sense told him there could be some profit in this course of action. He tugged at his shirt sleeve out of habit and tried to get the three-piece suit to settle more comfortably. Severus never embraced his Muggle side, exactly, but he learned to live with it. If only because he liked to have an upper hand where an upper hand was due. And an upper hand over someone like Lucius was deadly useful, too.

Number four was under the same mirror spell as the rest of houses in the street; neat and tidy and eggshell-blue. No movement was visible inside, either; thankfully, no dog.

A front door, a back door, most likely, five windows on the façade – Severus catalogued escape routes methodically as he walked up to the porch. He spared a passing thought to a possibility of watchers, Dumbledore's or someone else's, but dismissed them as no danger. Hardly anyone would want to simply kill him in the middle of the street; otherwise, he planned to behave demurely enough.

He knocked, both sharply and forcefully, for the intention not to be misunderstood. There was a shuffle from inside, then silence. Perhaps, the adults weren't at home at all? If so, all the better. He knocked again. Silence. He tsked, placed a palm against the door and pushed a bit.

There was a horrible creak of splintering wood, but the door opened only a fraction. His eyebrows shot towards the hairline. None of immediate explanations fit, and those which might, he didn't care to contemplate right then. He placed his hand against the door again, this time not concentrating his magic on opening, but on pushing it inwards. And it budged, then something crashed, and the door swung wide open with a thud.

That's how Severus Snape suddenly came face-to-face with a large blonde man with a hammer in his hand, who was staring at him with dilated pupils in his small eyes. He almost jerked back, but then recomposed himself and tried to make as much sense of the situation as was possible.

"Good day, Mr... Dursley, if I'm not mistaken," he began, not stepping across the threshold into the hammer's range. "I'm here on account of your nephew, Harry Potter. My name is Severus Snape, and I'm a Professor at the School of Witchcraft and Wi–-"

The door slammed in his face. Honestly, under the wave of irritation that engulfed him, he was a little impressed the man could move with such swiftness in spite of his stature. Still, it wouldn't do. Before the woodworking sounds from inside could block his way again, Severus attacked the door one more time and, this time, made sure to step in immediately, kicking the door closed behind him with a heel.

"Mr Dursley," he ground out, "I must insist that you not interrupt me."

"This is my house," the man said, taking half a step back. "You are breaking and entering, sir!"

"I wouldn't have to –-"

"You again!"

Severus turned sharply towards the voice. What he saw was a woman – indeed, Petunia, his memory supplied, the years hadn't been very kind to her – standing in the doorway to the kitchen and pointing her finger at him. Her face was pale with pink spots spreading erratically. Well, that answered the question of whether she remembered him.

"Please," he began, forcing his teeth to unclench, "let us –-"

"You defiled her mind and made her go away! And now you are coming for more!"

Oh, for basilisk's intestines, thought Severus, Petunia at her best. He was ready to silently agree with McGonagall about not being fit for this job; but not for the reasons she surmised. He couldn't scare the boy because he would never meet him.

"It is inevitable!" he barked, trying his best to keep his mind on the purpose. Lowering his voice back into the normal range, he said, addressing Petunia directly, "Let me speak to your nephew."

Petunia and her husband began to say something at the same time, but a new voice cut through them.

"That's me!"

A boy was standing on the stairs, grasping the banister tightly and looking straight at Severus. Another boy, fair-haired, two times his size, watched the proceedings from the furthest possible point upstairs. The first boy looked so small that for a split second the professor had an odd feeling he'd managed to go back in time and come a couple of years too early.

"Right," Severus said, returning to the pattern he had had in mind before entering the house. "How do you do, Mr Potter."

"How do you do, sir," the boy nodded, a bit hesitantly, but seemingly unafraid. Severus gestured at him to come downstairs, and he complied immediately. There was some hope of completing the task, yet.

"Don't listen to him, boy!" Petunia shrieked, holding onto her husband's arm and not coming to intercept him, however. Severus ignored the adults completely for the moment.

"Before I introduce myself, am I correct in assuming you haven't had a chance to read the letters recently delivered to your address?" At another nod, he reached for the letter in his pocket and offered it to the boy. "Please do so now."

"It's not the same, though," Potter Jr wondered aloud, turning the green envelope this way and that in his hands. Severus frowned minutely.

"The content is exactly the same, I assure you, Mr Potter."

The boy glanced at him and did away with the envelope quickly. Several moments passed in silence, while he perused the letter, then he raised his eyes to Severus once again.

"Um, sir? Why? I mean, if it's true what it says there, because it can't be, really, but if it is? Why me?"

"Because you are qualified," he sidestepped. "Whether you are qualified to finish your education remains to be seen, but you are certainly qualified to try, or I wouldn't have wasted my time coming here." Because I can't have my revenge until you are at Hogwarts, he added mentally. "And magic does exist."

"Nonsense!"

Severus snapped his fingers, not even turning. He had irritation to spare, and if they traced his wand, Minerva would rip his head off, and that would be merely the beginning of it. The boy opened his mouth to ask some or other inane question, but never closed it, looking from him to the man at his back, who tried to talk and only succeeded in becoming redder from effort.

"Now, my name is Severus Snape, and I teach at Hogwarts. You should address me 'Professor' or 'Sir'."

The boy shut his mouth with a click.

"Professor, uh, what does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Not applicable in your case," Severus frowned. "Other than that, have you heard of carrier pigeons?"

"Yes. Oh! I get it," Potter Jr brightened and nodded. Severus resigned himself to the fact that standing before him was a natural, absolute, one-hundred-percent Muggleborn. It was a bit frustrating, a bit painful, and a bit –-

"He is not going; we're not going to pay for him to be raised in unnatural ways!" Petunia's sense of righteousness overwhelmed her fear, apparently.

"The school fee is none of your concern," he replied, immensely tired of hearing her voice, but trying to be a dignified Hogwarts representative in this madhouse and not be framed for murder. "Mr Potter, take pen, paper and write a response. Now."

While the boy ran to his room for the supplies, he leaned on the banister and glared the Dursleys into silence for all he was worth. Even though it was barely noon, he briefly wished the day hadn't begun, somehow skipping to tomorrow. Luckily, Severus Snape didn't know that his day was yet to begin in earnest.