Harry tried not to retch when he and Dumbledore landed, for once thankful that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

“All right, Harry?” asked Dumbledore, brushing off some imaginary dust from his cloak. “The sensation can be quite disconcerting.”

Harry nodded jerkily.

“Very well then, if you will just follow me…”

Harry could practically feel his mind expanding to accommodate the recent influx of information he had received. A school of magic? People looking for him? The Dursleys dead? Well maybe that wasn’t such a shock; after all, they’d been dead to him for quite a while now. Despite his confusion, Harry made sure to school his face into a calm, blank mask. Emotions were weakness, and he could not afford weakness. He would have been long dead if he was weak.

What the hell am I doing? Harry wondered to himself.

Every ounce of logic he possessed had been screaming at him to flee the moment that odd man had appeared. Who in their right mind would willingly take off with some creepy old man who claimed to know their parents? No one, that’s who. Even if the man had been telling the truth, that Harry’s parents had entrusted him with his safety, this Dumbledore character hadn’t exactly been doing a bang-up job of it, had he?

Sure, show up when the Dursleys drop dead, never mind that I haven’t set foot in their house since forever.

The idea that their deaths would hurt him was laughable. Clearly, this old man knew nothing.

But despite all that, something told Harry that Dumbledore meant him no harm, or at least no immediate harm. Harry did have good instincts; indeed, they had saved his life more than once, and right now, said instincts were telling him to go with this man.

And a magical school?

I knew I had powers, but there are that many others like me? It sounds like there’s a whole community of magical people; there would have to be if there’s a school.

Harry wasn’t stupid; he knew he couldn’t be the only person with powers, but an established community, that was something else.

If Dumbledore knew my parents and all that, why have I been completely cut off from this community? Why show up now?

Harry bit back a laugh as he recalled one of Dumbledore’s questions. Did your aunt tell you nothing of your heritage?

Imagine Aunt Petunia sitting me down and telling me all about magic. Ha! That’d be more unlikely than Uncle Vernon giving me the talk.

Harry tried to imagine Vernon, with all his formidable skill in the art of rhetoric, attempting to explain the mechanics, demonstrating how to apply…

Bad thought, baaad thought. Don’t even go there.

As those thoughts raced across Harry’s mind at top speed, he simultaneously scanned his surroundings, attempted to absorb every detail he could.

One moment of inattention, one missed detail, can mean the difference between life and death, or, at the very least, the retention or loss of vital organs.

Harry had learned these lessons well, the hard way, so his eyes darted rapidly around the location as he followed Dumbledore, sure to walk behind him at a slight angle.

It appeared that they were walking down a dark, unassuming road, with a few widespread, modest, but well-kept houses. There were no others outdoors at this hour, though Harry could hear the distant hooting of an owl and the chirping of crickets. Harry did not let down his guard, however; he knew that they were not in this particular location for nothing. There had to be something different about this place, or they would not be here. Harry was certain.

Sure enough, Harry finally caught a glimpse of something odd in the distance. It was a slight glow, a shimmering mist, which appeared to surround a vast, empty area of land at the end of the road. As he and Dumbledore drew gradually closer, Harry got the sense that only they could see it, though he could not say how he knew.

When they reached the edge of the mist, Harry hesitated.

For all I know, this is some noxious gas that will knock me out or kill me soon as I come in contact with it.

Harry felt Dumbledore looking at him, so he quickly turned to meet that appraising gaze.

“You are able to detect the protections, Harry?”

By Dumbledore’s expression, Harry sensed that he wasn’t meant to see the mist at all.

In answer to Harry’s unasked question, Dumbledore continued.

"This energy is composed of a variety of protective spells preventing outsiders from accessing, or even locating this area.”

That must be why he’s brought me here, because of the protection, Harry thought. Something tells me that the guy who lives here suffers from a moderate to severe case of paranoia. I suppose we’ll get along then. I can do paranoid. Unless he’s in hiding… but then why would it be safe for me to be here if people are after him? Unless I’m not really meant to be kept safe.

Harry watched carefully as Dumbledore drew the sticklike object from the sleeve of his robes and waved it over the mist in a complex motion.

Magic wands. Really. 

Dumbledore spoke. “Harry, I will need you to submerge your hand in the mist so I can properly key you into the wards.”

Suuure, I’ll just stick my hand into some unknown substance and see what happens. That would be rule number one of what not to do. Or rule number two, I should say, as I’ve already broken rule number one, which is to take off with weird strangers who wave sticks around.

Dumbledore seemed to take note of Harry’s doubtful expression, and smiled slightly, immersing his own hand into the mist.

Well, he did it.        

Harry stuck his left hand, just in case, into the mist, half-braced for severe pain, and was relieved to feel only a slight tingling.

“Very well, Harry, that will do,” said Dumbledore. “You may now step through.”

Harry waited until Dumbledore had passed through the mist before doing so himself. He then did a double-take, shut his eyes tightly, then looked again. What had recently been a large, barren piece of land had transformed into an extensive, well-kept property surrounding a large house of gray stone. He and Dumbledore were walking down a narrow walkway leading toward the house, which was lined with trees and odd-looking plants. Harry looked further, and realized that the surrounding land seemed to extend indefinitely, with no apparent end in sight.

This makes no sense, how can magic be this unlimited? It would completely upset the rules of nature, the balance of the universe. Hell, the entire existence of mankind. There’s got to be some restrictions.

As they drew closer to the entrance of the home, Harry felt the beginnings of anxiety creeping into his chest. He was about to be placed into the custody of a person whom he had never met.

What if he’s… No, I will not be afraid. Worst thing, I can just do what I did the last time.

They reached the entrance. Harry watched as Dumbledore knocked twice on the door. It almost immediately opened. Harry carefully controlled his breathing.

Show no fear. Show no fear. Show no fear. Fear is weakness. You are not weak. Show no fear.

A tall, lithe man clothed in dark robes appeared in the doorway. His face was long, angular, and pale, as though he rarely ventured outdoors. He had thin, shoulder length black hair with a greasy sheen that brushed his shoulders, and a long hooked nose. Yet his eyes were his most disconcerting feature. They were deep-set, and so dark that his pupils could barely be distinguished. The truly unusual aspect of them, however, was their almost magnetic quality; Harry felt compelled to stare into them, and, once he did, was hard-pressed to tear away his gaze.

This guy doesn’t like me.

It wasn’t hard to tell; dislike and irritation seemed to radiate from the man in waves.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the man finally looked away.

“Thank you, Severus, for accommodating us at this late hour, and with such short notice, I might add.”

The man twitched slightly, but other than that, made no acknowledgement of Dumbledore’s statement. Dumbledore seemed unbothered, as though he was long accustomed to such treatment, and turned towards Harry.

“Harry, this is Professor Severus Snape. He is the much respected potions master of Hogwarts, and the head of Slytherin as well.”

Slytherin? What in the…

“Severus has most graciously acquiesced to having you here for the next few months until you begin school, Harry. I’m sure you will be most pleased with the accommodations.”

Well, that’s not saying much; any accommodation is a step-up for me, anyway.

Harry nodded to the Snape person, and the man responded with a twitch of the shoulder.

“There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you, Severus, so if you would…”

Snape extending an arm in an exaggerated, somewhat mocking motion, and Harry followed Dumbledore through the doorway.

Harry looked around. They had just entered a modest sitting room with a couple of navy colored couches, and a small table at its center piled with books. The room was dimly lit; there was a fireplace at the far end of the room with a few dying embers, and a lamp attached to the wall glowed faintly. The floor was made of of dark wood, and bookshelves composed of similar material lined the walls.

Harry looked up as Dumbledore spoke again.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Harry, Severus and I have some things to discuss, so if you would remain in here, we shall return shortly.”

Without looking at Harry, Snape pointed to one of the couches, then immediately swept from the room with a swish of his black robes. Dumbledore smiled at Harry, and, with a sigh, followed Snape at a more sedated pace.

Harry waited until he heard the click of a door being closed, then crept soundlessly toward the room the men had entered and pressed his ear to the door.

“Severus,” Dumbledore was saying, “I am well aware of your feelings on this matter, and I assure you, if there was any other way-”

Yes, I am quite aware that there are no other options,” Snape hissed furiously. “I would never have entertained the thought of agreeing otherwise.”

Guess he’s not too pleased with this arrangement. Dumbledore must’ve made him. What hold does he have over this Snape guy, anyway? I guess I am here because of those protections, then. Funnily enough, I don’t find that very comforting.”

“If you would just keep an open mind, Severus, I’ve no doubt that you will find-”

“Enough, Albus, I have agreed. I will do my part. Just do not expect me to break out in paroxysms of ecstasy...”

Harry drew back from the door, and carefully crept back to the sitting room, seating himself carefully on a couch. This situation was appearing to worsen by the moment. What had he gotten himself into? Good instincts or not, his presence being forced upon a rather forbidding looking man who had no interest in taking him in, and clearly had something against him.

Not one of my more brilliant moves. This guy can do whatever he wants to me, as long as he doesn’t seriously injure or kill me. What was I thinking? I wasn’t. Or maybe I was hoping that this would improve things somehow. Connections to my parents and all that. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop hoping for pathetic things you know you’ll never get. Hope is emotion, and emotions are weakness. Weakness, weakness, weakness. Weakness gets you hurt. Weakness gets you dead. 

With some effort, Harry pushed his thoughts back. This wasn’t helping. He needed an out; there was no way he could stay here. He considered just running, but he doubted that he would get very far. He probably would have to leave the same way he came in, with a wand and some magic spell, which was obviously beyond his capabilities. Anyway, Dumbledore would just find him again and tighten the protections.

Now that I think about it, Dumbledore probably could have forced me to come here if I hadn’t agreed. It’s just smarter to make me think I have a choice.

No, running would be a senseless move. He would have to simply wait and feel out the situation before figuring out his next step.

Harry heard the door open, and immediately stood, muscles tensed. Harry forced himself to relax; it would not do for them to know of his wariness.

“Well, Harry,” Dumbledore said serenely, “I have intruded upon Severus’ hospitality for quite long enough, so this is where I take my leave.”

He extended a hand toward Harry, and Harry suppressed a jerk.

He just wants to shake hands. Oh.

Harry clasped Dumbledore’s wrinkled hand, drawing back as quickly as he could without appearing rude.

“I may return here at some point in the summer, Harry, but if I do not, I will see you in school come September.”

Harry nodded to Dumbledore, and watched as he strode soundlessly out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Harry breathed in once, then turned to face Snape. He met a sneering expression of hostility.

I wonder how many more days I have to live.

"Potter,” Snape spat, “as I will be enjoying the dubious pleasure of your company for the next three months, allow me to make a few things quite plain.”

Here we go.

“I am a solitary man. I am quite unaccustomed and disinteresting in having infantile brats run amok in my home. I expect strict obedience and exemplary behavior. I will not tolerate running, shouting, whining, complaining, or rudeness of any kind. You will keep your possessions where they belong, and if I discover anything of yours that is not where it should be, you will not see it again.”

What possessions?

Snape abruptly swept from the room, and Harry hurried after him. When they reached the end of the darkened hallway, Snape paused next to a door.

“This, Potter, is the entrance to my potions laboratory,” Snape said harshly. “It is entirely off-limits to you. Though I’ve no doubt that the Boy-Who-Lived feels entitled to go wherever he may please, and fancies himself fully qualified to cope with all things magical, if you venture past this door, the consequences may have you wishing for death.”

I’ve wished for that before. And the Boy-Who-What? Is that me? Clearly, there’s a lot more going on here that I don’t know about.

Harry followed Snape as he swept down the hall and up the stairs. Snape opened a door and pointed him inside.

“Now, it is currently a quarter past one in the morning,” Snape snapped. “Professor Dumbledore has taken the liberty of arranging provisions for you, as it seems you deem it beneath you to keep track of your own belongings.”

Yeah, that’s right. I've just managed to misplace all my belongings...

“There is an en suite bathroom in this room. I suggest you shower,” Snape said with a look of disgust, “and change into those.” He pointed to a pile of neatly stacked clothing on the bed.

“I will expect you in the kitchen for breakfast at half-past eight. Do not keep me waiting.”

With that said, Snape swept out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Did I offend this guy in another lifetime? This is really, really not good.

Harry felt his heartbeat speed up, and he struggled to control his breathing. He had been in this situation before; he had run from it, chosen to live in constant discomfort and danger rather than remain at the mercy of people who despised his existence, and now, as a result of his idiocy, he was right back where he started. To make things worse, something told Harry that it would not be nearly as easy to get away this time.

This guy’s a wizard; he’ll be ten steps ahead of me. He probably knows every trick in the book. No, stop. Hyperventilation is an incredibly lame way to die. When I die, I’m going out with a bang, and taking a bunch of people I hate with me. I will not die of asphyxiation alone in a bedroom. Breathe.

Harry, with some effort, managed to calm himself enough to think rationally. Figuring that he may as well take advantage of the situation, he found a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on the bed, and entered the bathroom.

He blinked once. Harry had not been in a proper bathroom in over a year. It was small, but pristine, lined with pale gray tile, and there was a matching rug spread across the floor. Harry opened a cupboard, where he found a pile of folded towels.

I am in heaven.

Harry basked in the sensation of warm water washing away layers of accumulated dirt and blood from his body, ignoring the sting of water spraying against his many scrapes and cuts. He could not remember the last time he had taken a shower; in recent times, the extent of his bathing habits had been a quick scrubbing down in a nearby public bathroom. Harry watched the brownish water swirling down the drain as he lathered soap all over his body. He scrubbed his hair viciously, rubbing out the caked dirt and blood.

When Harry finished his shower, he felt almost human, and he quickly dried off and dressed.

I could get used to this. A shower, clean clothes, an actual bed. If I can just get Snape to forget my existence, I’ll be set.

Infinitely more relaxed, Harry retrieved his dagger from the pocket of his soiled jeans, slipped it under his pillow, and settled into the bed, wrapping himself in the thick blankets. Suddenly exhausted, Harry fell asleep.