“Hello Petunia.” smirked Severus Snape.

“Oh, hello Severus! I thought that it was my son Dudley,” replied Petunia with a saccharine smile. “He’s been at one of his little friends’ parties this evening. But what a wonderful surprise to see an old childhood friend instead. What brings you here tonight?”

“Charity and I” said Severus, indicating his companion “are tutors at Hogwarts” a nervous twitch under Petunia’s left eye rewarded his emphasis of the final word. “I expect that you’ll be delighted to know that Harry has been inducted into my House.”

“Oh, I cannot say that I am delighted, Severus, dear; the boy is such a handful. He has ADD, you know. Ran me ragged for the last ten years. I honestly don’t know what to do with myself now he’s at school. He’s not in trouble is he?”

“Oh no, no, not at all.” replied Severus, grinning like a shark. Charity looked from Petunia to Severus perplexed. This nice woman… well she just didn’t seem the type!

“Only Harry, well he’s a dear boy but he gets up to so much mischief. I positively lived in his last headmistress’s waiting room, all the times he’s got into trouble: he’s so sensitive. Of course, it’s to be expected, what with what happened to his parents.” Petunia continued, oozing sympathy from every pore “Not that it was always his fault, of course, he’s so clumsy. Bad co-ordination: the doctor thinks that it was his head injury, the one he got on the night my poor sister died.” Crocodile tears leaked from the woman’s eye and she dabbed at them with a little scrap of lace.

“When is your husband coming home, Ma’am?” asked Charity. It was quite obvious that Petunia was not the one at fault here, if there had actually been any abuse at all. Poor co-ordination and Attention Deficit Disorder were a bad combination; it seemed very likely that any injuries that the boy had suffered were accidental.

“Oh! My husband, he died a few years back. A car crash.” Petunia was sniffling in earnest now “My poor, dear boys have never quite got over it. Especially Harry.”

“Oh I am so sorry!” blurted Charity “I didn’t know.”

“Why don’t you ladies sit down and I’ll make a nice cup of tea.” Offered Severus, striding into the kitchen. Petunia looked, for a moment, as if she wished to stop him but she immediately thought better of it.

“That would be lovely Severus” she said, her eyes now watering in earnest.

oOoOo

After a moment’s rummaging, Severus found a teapot: it was the work of a moment to fill it with water and cast a quick boiling charm. Reluctantly, Severus added three teabags: he hated the gritty little powder that the bags leached but, as there was no loose leaf in the house, he would just have to grin and bear it.

A quick summoning charm called a tray, three cups and saucers (with a nauseating flower motif), a sugar basin and a milk jug. Severus took two little vials from his pocket: one he emptied into the teapot and the other he swigged back, making a face as he did so. He would just have to hope that Charity lived up to her name and forgave him.

OoOoO

“Milk and two sugars, right, Petunia?”

“Why yes, Severus, you remembered after all this time?!”

“I have an exceeding good memory, Petunia.” Smirked Severus, handing her a cup. “And how do you take yours, Charity?”

“Oh, just black, please, Severus.”

Bugger, now he would have to add both milk and sugar to his own.

After furnishing them all with cups of tea, Severus took a gulp of the foul, sugary brew and began to chat with Petunia about Harry’s progress in potions, his budding friendship with Draco, the praise- or otherwise- of the other Hogwarts teachers, whilst watching, with great satisfaction, as Petunia drained her cup.

“So, Severus,” Petunia said finally “I imagine this isn’t just a social call, given the lateness of the hour, why are you really here?”

“Severus thinks that you have been abusing Harry” blurted Charity, who then looked horrified and clasped her hands over her mouth.

Severus smiled and relaxed back into his chair “I don’t know whether you recall, Tuney, the story of the Celtic queen- I’m sure you were eavesdropping when I told Lily about her- whose husband was murdered by the Chieftain of a neighbouring tribe. This Chieftain took the widowed queen to wife and, one day, she offered him some stew. The Chieftain, suspecting poison, told the Queen to eat some first, which she did. It was only after the Chieftain had finished his portion that the Queen informed him that it was, indeed, poisoned and promptly died.”

Petunia’s pale eyes were round with horror, her mouth screwed up like- Severus uncharitably thought- a cat’s rectum. Her gaze fell on the tea pot.

“Oh yes, Tuney,” said Severus, his voice smooth and rich as caramel “The tea was, indeed, spiked with truth serum. One which compels the imbiber to speak when asked a question. Now, tell me, what do you really think of Harry?”

“He’s a freak. An abomination. A nasty, weedy, squint eyed little wretch. He was always watching me with those unnatural green eyes. Judging. Plotting. I could see it in his nasty, pinched little face. I didn’t want him, he was forced upon me. Vernon couldn’t see what a foul, unnatural thing he was but I could. My poor Dudders; I was so afraid that he’d infect my little boy, my beautiful, normal child, with his unnaturalness. Thank God Dudders takes more after me. He could see that Harry was a freak. Hated having such unnaturalness in the same house, my poor boy.” replied Petunia, her words coming out in a rush, like water which has been pushing against a dam.

“You said that Vernon, your husband, liked Harry?”

“Yes, poor, tender-hearted fool. He favoured Harry over Dudley, you know” said Petunia with an ugly look on her face “how he could dote on such a scrawny, dark, sallow thing when he had his own flesh and blood, our own little blond, rosy-cheeked cherub, in the next cot, I could never understand. He sat up all night with the keening thing- not even a proper cry- all night!- when it had colic.”

“And when Vernon was outside the house, how did you treat Harry?” queried Severus.

“As he deserved” came the short reply.

“Did you feed him?”

“No.”

“Did you play with him?”

“I couldn’t bear to touch the little wretch. Besides, I had my Dudley.”

“Describe Harry’s day when he was between 18 months and two years.”

“I fed and changed him at six, before Vernon left for work, and put him back in his cot. At five o’clock I took him out of his cot and fed, bathed and changed him. Vernon would play with the boys after he’d had his tea. We put them to bed at seven.”

“You didn’t feed or change Harry between six AM and five PM?”

“No.”

“Did he get nappy rash?”

“Yes but I slathered his arse in nappy-cream and Vernon never noticed anything wrong.”

Severus grimaced “And, when Harry was a toddler, how did his days go?”

“Got Harry and Dudley up at seven, fed them before Vernon left for work.” Petunia said mechanically “I put Harry in his playpen until Vernon got home. He bathed the boys whilst I made tea. After we’d all eaten, we put the boys to bed. Harry was sleeping in the guest room at that time. Didn’t want him near Dudley.”

“And, between the ages of four and eight, what was an average day for Harry?”

“Got Harry and Dudley up at seven, gave them breakfast. Sent the boys to school. They got home at four o’clock and, well, Harry was old enough to earn his keep so I gave him chores until six, when Vernon got home. We ate tea at six-thirty. Harry was in bed by seven.”

“What sort of chores did Harry have to do?”

“He washed the dishes, picked up Dudley’s room, gathered the laundry and put it in the wash, ironed the clothes, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, did the gardening, washed car, chopped vegetables, made the lunch, dusted all the rooms and wiped down the glosswork.”

“What were you doing whilst Harry did all this?” Asked Severus, appalled.

“Playing with Dudley or watching TV.”

“And what happened if Harry didn’t complete a chore to your satisfaction.”

“I slapped him. Took a belt to him sometimes. Little bastard deserved it.”

“And how many times a day did you hit him?” asked Severus. Charity had tears in her eyes.

“Normally five or six, sometimes more, sometimes less.” Petunia replied carelessly.

“And how often did you beat him with an instrument?”

“Three, four times a week.” Severus dug his nails into his hands. The temptation to draw his wand was overwhelming.

“And how did Harry’s routine change when Vernon died?” he finally asked.

Petunia smiled “I didn’t have to pretend to care for the little freak. Gave Dudley the guest room as a play area and put Harry in the cupboard under the stairs. He got up at five, did the chores, made Dudley and I breakfast, went to school, came home, finished the chores, cooked tea. I locked him up in his cupboard before Dudley and I had tea.”

“Did you feed Harry at all?” asked Severus.

“He ate at school, didn’t he?”

“What about weekends and holidays?”

“I gave him a bowl of soup if he finished his chores” replied Petunia dully.

“Tell me about the bleach incident?”

“He threatened to tell Vernon. I’d hoped that the little brat’d never speak again but, worse luck, Vernon came home early and found him. Took him to A and E.”

“Are you convinced that Harry has been the victim of criminal neglect and sustained abuse, Professor Burbage?”

“Yes.” replied Charity in a choked voice.

“Very well.” Severus looked into Petunia’s eyes and whispered “Legilimens”.

Images assaulted his brain. A whimpering baby whose bottom was, not only inflamed, but also almost raw in patches, being roughly slapped with cream and bundled into a nappy. A weeping toddler, stinking of faeces and clutching at his stomach as he sat in an empty playpen. A tiny, terrified, chalk-white face beholding a leather belt. A child, slouched like an old man, walking through the door and watching, with heartbreaking envy, as another, much larger boy, was embraced by Petunia.

“Mum! I’m back!” a huge blond boy entered the door. His clothes were sleek and designer and a mobile phone- a luxury which most business men would envy- tucked carelessly into the pocket of a well cut, nappa leather jacket.

“Who are these guys?”

“Teachers from the freak’s school.”

“Oh” the boy’s piggy eyes rounded with surprise and fear.

“We are just leaving” said Severus calmly. As he stood up, he quickly cast sleeping charms on Petunia and Dudley, who slumped into a chair.

“I’d better obliviate them, for now” said Severus “The Headmaster will not be as amenable to persuasion if we curtail his discretion.”

“Huh” said Charity, whose Veritaserum was wearing off.

“Dumbledore is as human as the rest of us. If I take the decision out of his hands by, ah, dealing with Petunia, he will get on his high horse.”

As Severus obliviated the Dursleys, a section from "Thee Dutie of Thee Basilisk" slithered out of his subconscious:

“Iyf onne kindre be preferred, so ays to bryng payne to thee unwanten, theyn thyse speyll bey of yuse. Iyt’s kenning iys Jaycobbs Spyll, beyng namened for Jaycobb who loved und honyered onne sonne aybove alles oters und theyreby caysed greet mysery unto themme.”

Severus smirked and cast ‘Jacob's Spell’ on Dudley, a lovely little, well, it couldn’t be called a curse; it was actually more of a blessing, really.

“What was that?” Asked Charity, as the twinkling white light faded.

“Have you ever heard the Bible story about Joseph and his coat of many colours?”

“Oh yes,” enthused Charity “It’s a famous musical: ‘Joseph and his Technicolour Dreamcoat’”

“Yes, well, imagine how Jacob would feel if Joseph woke up one day and told his father that, the night before, he had dreamed that he, Joseph, had switched places with one of his less favoured siblings and that, in this dream, he had endured all that his sibling had suffered. Imagine how Jacob would feel when Joseph told him that he had realised the cruelty of his fathers’ actions and despised him for them. That he no longer desired to be Jacobs’ son.” Severus smiled, his dark eyes glittering like obsidian “That is what is going to happen to Petunia when Dudley wakes up.”

oOoOo

“Severus, Charity, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Albus Dumbledore, welcoming the Potions and Muggle-Studies Professors into his office.”

“I suggest that we wait for Poppy to arrive before going into any great detail,” replied Severus, sitting down in a chintzy armchair. For all Professor Dumbledore’s intellectual brilliance, he had worse taste than Petunia. “Let’s just say it concerns Harry Potter.”

“Oh dear, has he met with some mischief?” asked Dumbledore in a concerned voice. “It was highly unfortunate that he should be inducted into Slytherin with Messrs Malfoy and Nott, their families are not known for their tolerance of mixed-blood. Is that why you are here, my dear?” Dumbledore turned to Charity.

“No Headmaster, I am not aware of any such problems.” replied Charity, quietly.

“Mr. Potter is actually settling very well into Slytherin” Severus sneered “I have heard of no trouble from that quarter. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

The fire roared green and Poppy stepped through the Floo, she was carrying a bundle of Medical Reports.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Poppy said, sitting down in an armchair “Please read this; it’s Harry’s National Health Service record.”

Dumbledore scanned the almost blank page. “Oh, that is unfortunate. Household cleaning liquids can be the very devil; their bright bottles and fruity scents are very tempting for little ones. But how gratifying that, otherwise, Harry has a clean bill of health” Dumbledore looked up, his eyes twinkling. The complacent expression faded when faced with Poppy’s stony countenance.

“I have checked, Harry has never been admitted to a private clinic either.” Said Poppy Pomfrey coldly. “Severus asked me to do a medical examination on his first years. This is Harry’s report.”

Dumbledore took the scroll and unravelled it. There was a good five feet of parchment and, as the Headmaster scanned it, his face paled.

Finally, he looked up “You’re sure of this?”

Galen, the serpent spirit, coiled out of the end of the Mediwitch’s wand. His expression tightened into one of fierce concentration and he shifted into the shape of a child’s body. Of Harry’s body. Dark patches mushroomed on the pale form and bloody red stripes criss-crossed over it’s back so densely that scarcely any white could be seen.

Dumbledore bit his lip, looking disconcertedly at the slowly revolving form. “I have seen enough, Poppy, put it, I mean him, away.” He said finally.

“Harry was very reluctant to undergo medical examination” said Poppy, softly, as Galen wound back into her wand “He even tried to make me promise to keep his results confidential. I, of course, had to betray that confidence. I did not do so lightly; I am genuinely frightened that, if he returns to his guardian, he might not survive it.”

Dumbledore turned his gaze to Charity and Severus.

“Professor Burbage and I visited Petunia this evening and, under Veritaserum, she made a number of confessions.” On seeing Dumbledore about to open his mouth Severus added “I did not harm her; I simply sent her to sleep and cast a memory charm so she would forget having seen me this evening.”

“Very well, Severus. And what did she tell you?”

“Charity, would you be so good as to allow the Headmaster to see your memories in his Pensieve?” asked Severus politely.

Charity nodded and Dumbledore bent under his desk to retrieve an empty stone basin. Soon, the Headmaster was deep in the Muggle-Studies Professor’s memories.

When Dumbledore surfaced, he looked as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“And do you have something to show me, Severus?” he asked, in the tone of one who wants to get everything over at once.

Severus raised his eyes to the Headmaster, welcoming them into their jetty depths. Together, he and Dumbledore watched Harry’s misery, his pain, his hunger and his fear.

“Why did you tell me that Harry was living with the Evans?” asked Severus finally.

The Headmaster looked wretched “Although I knew that Petunia had faults, she was Lily’s sister and Harry is Lily’s child. Petunia loved Lily when they were young and she, I believed, continued to feel some regard for her sister even when... And the man she married, Vernon Dursley, by all accounts he was a kindly man. I truly thought” said Dumbledore sadly “that she had changed for the better. Harry was such an adorable little boy: I thought she must love him.”

“That was not an answer to my question!” said Severus hotly.

“I had to place Harry in his aunt’s care” replied Dumbledore, his tone also becoming heated “Lily had protected Harry from Voldemort’s curse and this protection ran in Harry’s veins. Petunia, as Lily’s closest living relation, save Harry, could act as an anchor for blood wards so strong that, as long as Harry remained in Petunia’s house, not even Voldemort could harm him there. I knew that you bore no love for Petunia, that you would disagree, but what other choice did I have?”

“He cannot go back there.” said Severus baldly. Poppy and Charity nodded in agreement.

“Yes, yes. I accept that.” Replied Dumbledore, distractedly. “This has opened a whole box of doxies. I will draft papers for Harry to become a ward of Hogwarts. We have a couple of safe houses; I can only hope the protections around them will hold…”

“If you will excuse me,” said Poppy, “I need to be getting back to the Hospital wing.”

Charity yawned, “I better get back to bed or I won’t see the morning.”

“I’ll come by to countersign the documents tomorrow morning, Headmaster.” said Severus coolly. “Until then, I bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight, dear boy.” replied Dumbledore, a soft plea in his voice. Severus sneered and turned his back.

When he was alone again in his office, Albus Dumbledore turned to his phoenix “I appear to have made a bit of a mess of things Fawkes.”

The Headmaster was not comforted by the bird response: which was to turn his back and contemptuously relieve himself.

“Oh dear."