One day in the middle of January, just a couple of weeks after Ada left, it became Harry's turn to leave St. Jerome's. The whole thing seemed to happen surprisingly fast to Harry, leaving him feeling rather overwhelmed as he walked in the front door of Emily Price's flat.

Harry was gripping Emily's elbow as she brought him into the house. While Harry was grateful that someone had evidently at least shown her how to do sighted lead, he could also tell that it was an altogether novel experience for her, and she seemed unsure. This made Harry a bit nervous; how much would she really know about caring for a blind child? For that matter, what was she really like? She had seemed nice enough in their brief meeting at St. Jerome's, but the Dursleys had always seemed nicer in company than they actually were.

"Here's the living room, that's my boyfriend Chad on the couch over there." Chad have him a lazy 'hey,' and Harry gave him a tentative wave back. He felt a bit lost though -- what couch over where? He imagined Chad was probably absorbed in the sports game he could hear playing on the TV. Emily led him deeper into the house as his mind churned, trying to take everything in. "The kitchen is straight ahead, and here's the hallway to our right." She led him down the hall and began pointing out what Harry assumed were closed doors (he could not feel the airflow he had begun associating with open doorways). "Here is the bathroom on our left, your room on our right, and my room is at the end of the hall."

Emily left him in his room to unpack, and he used his hands and his cane to explore it. The door was in the left corner of the room, and Harry began moving along the right hand wall first. He first found a desk and chair along the same wall as the door. He next encountered the bed, which stood in the corner diagonally opposite from the door, it's length stretching along the wall opposite from the hallway. A dresser stood across from the foot of the bed, and once he had completed his circuit, Harry set his small bundle down and began moving his clothes into the drawers. The photograph of his mother went under the pillow of his bed, and in the process of exploring along his bed he found that a small window was situated in the wall opposite the door, above the bed.

Feeling somewhat bored once he had unpacked his few belongings, Harry ventured out to the living room, taking his cane as the place was still unfamiliar to him. He had always carried his cane at St. Jerome's because the other children often left stray toys or other items on the lying around, but Lucy had told him that in a home that he was familiar with, he would be able to walk around without his cane, provided the other occupants kept items neat and organized, and Harry looked forward to this next level of freedom now that he was in a foster home.

He made his way forward, searching for the couch with his cane and wishing that Emily had been more specific in her descriptions and her tour. When he found the end of what he hoped was a couch, he sat with his cane resting between his legs, its tip touching the base of the coffee table he'd found in front of him. He could hear someone, he assumed Chad, sitting near where he believed the other end of the couch was (he had now confirmed its identity), and wondered idly where Emily had gone.

"Do you follow football at all?" Chad suddenly asked him, breaking their silence. "You a Chelsea fan?"

Harry fingered the battered brim of his hat. "I guess I'm a fan, I haven't had much opportunity to follow football though, no."

Harry heard a chink and the sound of air escaping, then caught a whiff of alcohol, and assumed Chad must have opened a beer.

“Man City is playing Arsenal right now. They look pretty good,” Chad added.

Harry nodded, not sure what to say, but just then Emily entered the living room.

“Who wants some dinner?” she asked brightly.

A little while later, they all sat down at the small kitchen table. Harry felt awkward and annoyed when Emily tried to cut his food for him. She eventually stopped after Harry’s adamant insistence that he could do it himself, and that if she would just tell him what she had placed where on his plate, he would be perfectly fine. Harry was beginning to feel a bit nervous about his living with Emily and Chad. Had no one told them anything about how to live with a person who was blind? Suddenly all the techniques Lucy had taught him seemed so inadequate, and it seemed so complicated to explain to his new caregivers what he needed from them and what he most definitely did not need from them.

As it turned out, Harry’s fears were only partially realized. After a few days of being occasionally over-helpful, Emily backed off and allowed Harry to do things himself. As Harry learned the layout of the apartment and started to leave his cane in his room, she began trying to leave doors either fully closed or fully open and chairs completely pushed in so that Harry would not run into them. She also promised that she would keep her belongings in their place so that he would not trip over them, and even told him she would organize certain sections of the fridge and cabinets with easy-to-make foods so that Harry could grab himself a snack when he wanted.

However, Chad either found these measures too annoying to follow, or he was incredibly forgetful and lazy. He too frequently left doors ajar, and he had a tendency to scatter his clothes so that they somehow reached the hallway. And Harry found himself putting his hand into spilled toothpaste that had been left on the bathroom counter at least once a week.

Still, Harry thought that overall his new living situation was not that bad. He found the flat incredibly quiet compared to St. Jerome’s, even if Chad did seem to always have the TV on, and he very much enjoyed having his own space that he could retreat to. For the most part, Chad and Emily left him alone, aside from Emily’s questions about school and Chad’s one-sided football conversations, and Harry found that he quite liked it. The atmosphere felt so different from the Dursleys, where their ignoring of him had felt subtly hostile, as though he were a cockroach infestation they could not get rid of, and they had been quick to notice him when he did something freakish or messed up one of his many chores. At Emily’s, he did not even really have any chores, except for helping with the washing up after dinner on occasion.

But in the spring of that year, Emily and Chad began fighting more and more often. Harry found himself frequently escaping to his room once they both were home from work in order to escape their shouting matches. Eventually, at the beginning of May, Chad moved out. Emily was mopey and despondent for a week or two, then seemed to throw herself into caring for Harry. She was nearly perfect about keeping everything clean and organized and keeping objects out of his way, and she constantly wanted to talk about how he was doing. At first, Harry found this disconcerting and rather annoying, but after about a month of living alone with her, he began to warm up to her, just a little.

Then in early June, she started seeing Jack. He became all she could talk about, and he was over nearly every night for dinner, leaving sometime after Harry went to bed. A few weeks later, he had moved in, and Harry’s life changed once again.

Jack seemed to drink quite a bit more often than Chad (which, Harry thought, was saying something), and he was not as comfortable as Chad had been with just mostly ignoring Harry. He did not say much to Harry at first, but Harry would often feel his eyes on him when he was out in the living room. And, like Chad, Jack was ‘between jobs,’ so Harry spent most afternoons alone with him before Emily got home from her job.

Even worse, Jack made Chad look like a neat freak. Living with Jack caused Harry to suspect that Chad had actually been trying to keep things consistent for him and just slipped up sometimes. Jack left his things all over the place, not even seeming to try to keep his belongings contained to the bedroom he shared with Emily. Harry was constantly knocking over empty or half-full beer bottles which had been left forgotten on the coffee table or on the floor by the couch, and he broke a few unopened beer bottles that had encroached on the spaces in the fridge that were reserved for his organized snacks. If Emily was still at work when Harry broke a beer bottle in the fridge, Jack would yell at him, accusing him of being clumsy and disrespectful.

One afternoon, about a week after Jack had moved in, he was sitting on the couch and watching one of his cop shows when Harry emerged from his bedroom.

“Harry! Come sit over here with me,” Jack called out to him. Confused and a bit wary, Harry walked over to him and sat next to him on the couch.

“Harry, I was wondering, don’t all blind people wear sunglasses? How come you don’t?” Jack questioned him once Harry was settled.

Harry’s face colored. “Er, I don’t know. I don’t need to I guess. I don’t have any sunglasses, anyway.”

“Hm.” Jack seemed to be thinking. He said nothing more, but Harry could feel his eyes on him again.

The next day, when Harry got home from school, Jack greeted him more cheerfully than usual, making Harry suspicious.

“Here,” he said, and abruptly shoved a plastic object into Harry’s hand. Annoyed, Harry traced the object with the fingertips of his other hand.

“Sunglasses?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah, I thought you could wear them. Ya know, to cover up your eyes at least. It’s a little disconcerting, the way they stare,” Jack explained to him, completely oblivious to Harry’s discomfiture.

Harry said nothing, just nodded vaguely and slipped the shades on, not wanting to disagree with an adult. Inwardly, however, he was angry, confused, and insecure. Jack thought his staring eyes were uncomfortable! Did his eyes really look like that? They weren’t that bad, were they?

“Would you like to watch some TV with me?” Jack asked, unaware of Harry’s churning thoughts.

Harry shook his head no, not trusting his voice, and headed to his room, closing the door behind him.

That evening at dinner, Jack thoughtlessly slid the bowl of shredded parmesan cheese over to Harry too quietly, and without informing him he had done so. About a minute later, Harry put his elbow in it, upsetting the bowl and sending cheese all over the table. He began apologizing profusely while Emily set about cleaning everything up. Jack ignored Harry’s words and started in on him, ranting about his carelessness. Even when Emily defended him, explaining to Jack that he needed to tell Harry when he moved something like that, Harry could feel the heat of Jack’s angry stare on him for the rest of the night.

xxXxx

Severus Snape was growing tired.

For nearly a year, he had spent every weekend, every holiday break, even some free periods, scouring England for any sign of Harry Potter. And he was even further from finding him than he had been a few months ago.

But Harry Potter would not be safe until he was found, and he could not let it go. Despite everything that he had told everyone else, despite Albus and Minerva’s worried looks, despite his grumpy demeanor in the classroom, he could not ease up.

He would find Harry Potter. He would protect him. He had to.

xxXxx

When Harry walked in the door later the same week, Jack called from the couch, “Hey! Since you’re up, can you grab me another Samuel Smith from the fridge?”

Assuming that a Samuel Smith was one of his beers, and not wanting to be deemed a burden in his new home, Harry complied, feeling around in the fridge until he felt one of the tall glass bottles and carrying it out to the living room. He held it out in the direction Jack’s voice had come from, and felt him take it from his hands. Harry was just turning around when Jack began yelling at him.

“You idiot!” he raged. “This isn’t a Samuel Smith, it’s one of my Ola Dubh’s! They’re completely different!”

Unsure how he was supposed to be able to read the label and tell the difference, Harry just stood silently and waited out Jack’s tirade, imagining that Jack was just looking for an excuse to vent about something. After several minutes of yelling, Jack finally sent Harry away, and he escaped to his room gladly.

This soon became a routine of sorts for the two of them. Jack would regularly request a specific beer from Harry, Harry would have about a one in two chance of picking out the correct one, and Jack would grudgingly accept correct ones or rant at him when he gave him the wrong one. Jack also started berating Harry whenever he would knock into or step on one of his many scattered belongings, particularly if he broke or spilled something. And when he left a chair out or a door ajar, he would chuckle when Harry walked into it, claiming that, “You have to learn to laugh at yourself!”

As an attempt at avoiding such situations, Harry began working at extending his tactile senses in earnest. He eventually increased his range so that he could sense vague outlines and grosser shapes at a five foot radius around him, and feel finer details at a similar range but in only one direction. Yet he still could not maintain it for long, and he worked furiously to increase his endurance.

Jack’s behavior did not confuse Harry, exactly. It angered him, certainly, but he was not unused to unfair and mean-spirited treatment; he had lived with the Dursleys for six years, after all. And some part of him still wanted to be accepted by his new guardians. What did confuse him was that Jack would suddenly become helpful and apologetic when Emily got home from work, and suggest activities in an attempt to buddy up with Harry. Emily strongly encouraged these ‘bonding activities,’ as she called them, and so Harry was forced to spend a couple of hours with Jack on most weekends. Usually, he would sit with Jack and his rowdy friends while they watched football, and try to avoid being squished or trod on when they jumped up and hugged each other in celebration of a goal. A few of times, he was brought to a game with the group, the first time being for his ninth birthday. He enjoyed this experience much more, except when Jack used Harry’s blindness to somehow finagle closer seats or a better parking spot.

After Jack had taken Harry to a couple of games, he began insisting that Harry do some chores around the house, as a repayment of sorts for his kindness. He would ask for tasks such as vacuuming the carpet that stretched throughout most of the flat, or sweeping the kitchen floor, or cleaning the bathroom mirrors. For the most part, Harry did not really mind doing the chores. It was not nearly as many as the Dursleys had made him do.

However, there was one incident that seemed to step Jack’s hatred of Harry up a notch. Harry had been doing the dishes, at Jack’s request, when Jack added a stack of his own dishes to those in the sink, upsetting Harry’s neatly organized piles. A wineglass tumbled down and shattered as Harry reached to catch it, slicing Harry’s palm open. Instantly, Jack was at his side, cleaning up the glass and wrapping a towel around Harry’s hand. Surprisingly, Harry got no rebuke from him, just a push towards his room, and the distinct impression that Jack was nervous.

When they sat down to dinner with Emily that night, she caught sight of Harry’s hand, and Harry learned why Jack had seemed so nervous. After drawing the story out of them, she tore into Jack, furious with him for not properly tending to Harry’s wound, and for letting him get hurt in the first place. Eventually, she piled Harry into the car and drove him to the emergency room, where he received several stitches.

After that, Jack’s taunts became increasingly more venomous, and Harry thought his drinking might have increased. Eventually, Harry increased his endurance enough with his extended tactile senses that he could use it sparingly around the house, decreasing the number of opportunities for Jack to berate him. Unfortunately, Jack just found new ways. He began rebuking him for poorly-done chores, always finding a missed spot or two (likely imaginary, Harry thought). Harry protested at first, but when Jack threatened to hide him to teach him respect, asking how Harry could know if he could not see, Harry just accepted the verbal abuse. The threats continued for months, well into the winter, until Jack finally made good on his promise.

The first time it happened was a cool day in early March. Harry was carrying a cup of juice he had just poured for himself, concentrating hard on not spilling it. He was heading towards his room with his extra tactile sense closed, and did not notice Jack standing silently in the doorway. Jack did not move for Harry to pass, and Harry ran straight into him, spilling juice all over the both of them. Harry began to apologize, feeling around on the ground for the fallen cup, when a slap to his face nearly knocked him into the cabinet that was beside him. He paused in shock, and heard Jack’s footsteps stomp back to the living room. Moving quickly, he gathered up the cup and cleaned the spilled juice before fleeing to his room.

Harry wondered whether the slap had left a mark; it felt like it must have, but Emily never commented on it. But from then on, it was as if the floodgates had been opened. Jack took every opportunity he had previously used just to yell at Harry to now slap him around, usually in areas that would be hidden by his clothes if they left bruises. Harry would promise himself that he would just strengthen his tactile senses, make them sharper and increase their reach and increase his endurance, and then Jack would have no reason to hit him anymore, then he would see that Harry was useful and not a nuisance. But even as Harry’s mistakes decreased, Jack seemed to create or invent excuses to teach Harry a lesson. Eventually, he began using the wooden spoon on Harry’s back as he had once threatened he would, leaving raised welts, and on especially bad days he would even use his belt.

Not all of the marks that were left could be completely hidden, every so often a stray flick of the belt or a slap would land too close to his face or to his forearms, and Harry wondered that Emily never said anything. At first he decided that she, too, was afraid of Jack, but after some time he concluded that she must not care for him either.

Finally, in early October, just two months after he had turned ten, he ran away. Whether to avoid being abandoned again, or to avoid being beaten again, or another reason entirely, he was never sure; he just suddenly knew that he needed to leave. He gathered a small bundle of a few of the clothing items Emily had bought him and a small bag of granola bars, trail mix, and yogurt from the cabinets. He placed these and some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet into his school backpack, deciding with some sadness to leave all of his Braille books behind because of their weight. He tucked his mother’s photograph deep into the pocket of his jeans, pulled on a hoodie over his t-shirt, tied his winter coat to one of the loops of his backpack, and laced up his sturdy boots. Then he jammed his cap onto his head, grabbed his cane, and fled into the wee hours of the morning, leaving his sunglasses lying broken on his dresser.