Sometimes, being forced to face our problems seems to create them. It doesn't. It only brings to light what has been a problem the entire time. Does something being shrouded in darkness make the thing any less real? Does neglecting a problem make it any more solved?

Sometimes, dealing with certain problems blinds us to other problems. Perhaps the other problems aren't as important; perhaps they are. That is irrelevant. Solving the first problem does not necessarily bring you closer to solving the next. It doesn't mean that solving the first was useless; it means that you can't stop there.

As long as there are problems, there will be problem solvers. As long as there are people, there will be problems. As long as there are people, there will be stories. And as long as there are stories, there will be storytellers. Perhaps the problem solvers and the storytellers are one and the same.

Harry felt anxious about leaving Hogwarts for the summer holiday. Snape had invited Harry to spend the summer with him at Spinner's End, and Harry had accepted. Snape had been rather nervous about it, and offered Harry the alternative of staying at Hogwarts, almost to the point of overrunning the invitation with that suggestion. But since Harry knew that Snape usually spent his summers at Spinner's End, Harry had opted to spend his summer there with Snape. He didn't want to put Snape out of his usual routine, plus, despite his anxiety, Harry thought a change of scenery might do him good.

Sirius had recommended it too. Not that Sirius wanted him to go; no, Sirius actually wanted him to stay at Hogwarts, if he had been perfectly selfish. Ghosts had to be bound to a particular place, according to Ministry law. Due to an increased paperwork if it were otherwise, a ghost could only be moved once a year. Since ghosts had no legal rights, they could be moved by any wizard who had attained the age of majority, who could make real estate decisions regarding a particular piece of land. While Dumbledore would have been perfectly happy to move Sirius to Spinner's End, or wherever else Harry could have been staying, and Sirius would have been perfectly happy to go, Harry would be spending three months of the year there, and nine at Hogwarts. It made sense that Sirius stay at Hogwarts until Harry's education was done.

But Sirius had recommended that Harry visit Spinner's End anyway. Sirius thought it would be good for Harry to get away from Hogwarts for a bit. So much had happened in such a short period of time that it would be good for him to sort out some of his problems in a new environment. Plus, if Snape was going to be spending time at Spinner's End, it wouldn't be good for Harry to be staying at Hogwarts with only an immature ghost for company. Who knew what sort of dangers Harry would get into then?

So, come the end of term, Harry packed his trunk and made ready to floo to Spinner's End. Carrying his trunk behind him with a levitation spell, Harry made his way to Snape's chambers. He admitted himself, not bothering to knock; they had done away with that formality awhile ago.

"Are you ready?" Snape asked when he looked up from where he was just finishing packing himself.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Just one trunk?" Snape questioned.

"Yes, sir," Harry repeated. Snape shrugged and finished quickly. He shrunk Harry's trunk a several of his own and put them in his pocket.

"Rules regarding magic," Snape began abruptly. "They include the following: Do not do magic, unless your life or well-being are in danger. Technically, you could probably get away with it because the Ministry cannot tell one magical signature from another, as you found out with Dobby, and I am, of course, authorized to do magic at Spinner's End. That does not justify your breaking of law. Even if you can get away with it with the Ministry, you can't get away with it with me, and I will not allow it, if only because I intend for you to be a law-abiding citizen and follow the laws in place."

"Of course," Harry agreed, without hesitation. "Are we ready then?"

"Almost," Snape stalled. "Have you ever been to Wolverhampton?"

"No, sir," Harry replied.

"Then I suppose I should probably explain a few things before we get there," Snape began, ill at ease. "Wolverhampton is not a nice town. At least, not where Spinner's End is."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"You're from Surrey, aren't you?" Snape asked quickly.

"Yes," Harry said, sounding confused.

"Well, Surrey is a fairly good part of the country," Snape continued. "Not that bad things don't happen there - obviously - but it's not known as a bad area. Wolverhampton, on the other hand, is. It looks it. Spinner's End, and the surrounding buildings are, well, for lack of a better phrase, falling apart."

"Oh," Harry said tonelessly, confused. "Well that's alright. It won't be a problem, will it?"

"I hope not," Snape said. "I just didn't want to startle you. I feel should apologize for not having a better place to offer." Harry smiled at him.

"Honestly," Harry said, "I think I can deal with whatever the problems are, as long as I'm safe."

"Yes, well," Snape said, clearing his throat. "There are certainly ways to be unsafe in Wolverhampton, though I think if you follow some common sense rules, it should be alright. We can discuss them once we're there." Harry nodded.

Severus threw some floo powder into the fire, and called out, "Spinner's End!" The two of them stepped through the archway and into a room, presumably Spinner's End. Harry immediately began looking around. Like Snape had forewarned, the room they stepped into was neither pretty nor kept up. It was built in dark wood, and the floor was warped, like there had been a flood years ago. When Harry took a step forward, it creaked loudly. The wallpaper and paint were peeling in places, leaving the plaster visible beneath it. There was visible water damage on the walls. The doorframes and mopboards were missing in places. In one spot, there was even a large gouge in the wall. The ceiling had water damage as well, and was missing pieces of plaster, revealing some of the rafters. There were spots for two windows in the room, but they were boarded up, and between them was a door. It had multiple locks in place. The glass in the windows had been shattered and not replaced. The far wall was lined with shelves, crammed with books. They were nicely filed along the shelves, but then there were books sitting crosswise across the tops of others and a few on the very tops of the shelves as well. A dark gloom hung over the room, perhaps making it look worse than it was.

The furniture was just as bad. There was a couch and two armchairs which looked like they belonged in the junk heap. The upholstery was faded and worn, showing stuffing and foam in numerous places.

Snape stepped over to the wall and flipped a light switch. A single unshaded bulb sprung to life. It didn't help matters any.

With the exception of a nine month layer of dust, Harry had to admit the place was clean, and for that he was grateful. Snape smiled apologetically at Harry.

"It's nice," Harry lied, and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement. He could tell Snape was stressed about the condition of Spinner's End, and he wanted to put Snape at ease about it. Harry didn't care that much about the condition of the building. Snape was offering him a much better place than the Dursleys, even if the integrity of the building was compromised.

"You don't have to try to make me feel better," Snape dismissed. "I know it's bad enough that it should have been condemned years ago, and it's fine to say that, because it's true. The one thing it has going for it is that it doesn't have any leaks. Yet." Snape crossed his fingers and glared at the ceiling, as if glaring at it was going to convince it to not leak.

"Why don't you just transfigure some of this into better things?" Harry asked, wondering if that was overstepping his bounds.

"Do you realize how much magical energy that would take to maintain?" Snape snorted. "The number of things, the duration, and the distance between caster and object all have to be taken into account. To transfigure all of this, even only for the time I'm here, would drain all my energy. I would lethargic at best, and dead at worst."

"Oh," Harry said. "So when you transfigure a cot or something in your chambers...?"

"It's one thing, usually only for a night, and I remain nearby," Snape explained. "Additionally, since that's Hogwarts, the school provides some of the energy required. It's not nearly as demanding there as it would be here. You will find that I use my magic much more sparingly away from Hogwarts."

"Oh, okay," Harry said cheerfully. "May I...see the rest?" he asked.

"So I haven't scared you back to Hogwarts yet?" Snape laughed. Harry just smiled weakly. The house was fairly intimidating, but Harry wasn't going to change his mind now. Snape stepped out of the room and Harry followed.

"How did you come by the house?" Harry asked. They walked into the adjacent room, the kitchen. There was a stove and oven, and a refrigerator, both of which looked like they had seen much better days.

"It was my parents'," Snape replied. The sun shown through a window above the sink, facing away from the road. There was a grate over the window.

"Why are there bars on the window?" Harry demanded quickly, almost panicking.

"Safety," Snape said, puzzled at Harry's tone. "It helps deter robbers."

"Oh, okay, well if that's all," Harry dismissed, breathing a sigh. Snape raised a curious eyebrow, but didn't question anything. "So you grew up here?"

"After a fashion," Snape said. "This is where I lived as a child. When my parents died, the estate fell to me as the sole heir." Snape stepped over to the fridge and plugged it in. A low whir filled the room as it began to run.

"Was it always like this?" Harry asked.

"It wasn't quite this bad growing up, no," Snape admitted. "The city has become more run down over the years, and I haven't been able to keep it up. I'm absent nine months out of the year, and when I am here, I neither have enough time to do the work myself nor the money to invest in it, even if I did have the time."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, puzzled. Snape shrugged as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Spying would have payed better if it wasn't that Dumbledore and the Dark Lord both knew I had effectively no choice in the matter," Snape said softly. "Teaching pays acceptably, but not abundantly. Much of my teaching funds go towards my potions ingredients so that I and others can avoid doctor or healer bills as much as possible."

"Others?" Harry questioned.

"Some local muggles, the stray witch or wizard," Snape shrugged. "They all have a right to what I have to offer, and they pay what they can, but most of the time, it doesn't cover the cost, much less the labor."

"And you do it anyway?" Harry asked, clearly shocked.

"Of course," Snape said, sounding affronted.

"But - but - " Harry stammered. "That's being nice."

"No, that's being a decent human being," Snape corrected quickly, before anyone might get the impression that he, indeed, was being nice.

"So decent human beings are supposed to be nice, that's all," Harry smiled cheekily.

"Hmph," Snape snorted, but didn't argue the issue any further. "Do you want to see the rest of the house then?"

"Sure," Harry said, nodding. There was a narrow hallway off the kitchen, which had three rooms off of it; two bedrooms and a bathroom. They were like the rest of the house; damaged, and the furniture falling apart. There were tiles missing from the bathroom floor and walls, and there was mold growing in corners. Harry wasn't sure he liked the look of that, but quickly started filing away ideas on how to kill the mold. He had picked up some useful knowledge from working at the Dursleys for years.

"And this one was what I had intended for your bedroom," Snape said, directing Harry into the bedroom closer to the kitchen. It was almost empty, except for a bedframe and mattress shoved into the corner of the room, and a dresser beside that. There was a small window above the bed, also with a grate over it. Snape unshrunk Harry's trunk and shoved it through the door. Harry moved it the rest of the way into the room.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, smiling broadly at Snape.

"Do with it as you wish," Snape instructed. "Put up your infernal Gryffindor banners or whatever you want to make the walls more palatable."

"Thank you," Harry repeated, awkwardly standing in the room, glancing about as Snape stood in the doorway, not entering.

"I intended that this would be your space," Snape continued. "I will do my best to respect that and not enter without your explicit permission, barring an emergency of some sort." Harry nodded his understanding. "Likewise, I would ask you to keep to the same rules regarding my bedroom as well. Of course, should you need anything - anything at all - that constitutes a valid reason for you to come get me from my room should I be residing there at any given time. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Don't go in your room unless it's an emergency."

"No," Snape corrected patiently. "Don't go in my room unless I am both in there and you need something. It doesn't have to be an emergency; just something you need."

"Oh," Harry said, though he wasn't sure he understood what Snape meant, at least not entirely. Perhaps time would tell. "Okay, that's fine then."

"Well, I suppose you should probably get unpacked," Snape advised. "We can venture back to The Leaky Cauldron tonight for dinner since I haven't had a chance to buy any groceries yet. Is that alright with you?"

"Yes, of course!" Harry agreed enthusiastically. Snape pushed himself off the doorframe.

"Alright," Snape said. "I'll be unpacking as well. Let me know if there's anything you need. We can talk about house rules tonight at supper." Harry nodded but didn't say anything. When Snape left, Harry looked worriedly at his trunk and opened it.

He took out his textbooks and set them in a pile in the corner, but then thought better of that. If the house flooded, as the evidence seemed to indicate, his books would be safer in his trunk. So he put them back. He took out his clothes, folded them neatly, and put them in the drawers of the dresser. He didn't have many; just enough to cover the bottom of each drawer, actually.

There were a couple other things Harry had in his trunk as well; his wand, his photo album, a few Weasley pranks, and Hagrid's flute, to name a few. He pulled out the album and set it on the dresser, opening it and setting it on its edge so it balanced, revealing the pictures of his parents in their youth and then, later on in the album, pictures of himself, Ron, and Hermione. He set his wand and the flute next to it.

Harry sighed, dissatisfied with how quickly he had unpacked his measly possessions. He didn't even have any of those infernal Gryffindor banners to hang up, and he ardently wished he did. Spinner's End was a scary place, and anything he could do to make it seem more familiar would improve it a lot. Harry sank to the bed and closed his eyes and he tried to calm his raw nerves.

It surprised Harry that Snape lived in the slums, but Harry was not ungrateful for the shelter being provided, all the same. It was safer than Privet Drive had become, despite the mold in the bathroom and the crime potential. Harry just hoped the roof didn't fall down on him all of a sudden. Some might have thought that his bedroom resembled that of Privet Drive, and perhaps in some ways, it did. But there were two fundamentally different things about this room. The first was that Snape had given it to him of his own free will, not because he was forced to, but because he wanted to. The Dursleys had often reminded Harry that he was an unwanted waste of space; Snape wasn't giving him that impression. The second thing that was different was the fact that the only lock on the bedroom door was one on the inside. Harry was comforted by the fact that he knew Snape couldn't lock him in the room, short of magic, and he knew Snape wouldn't do that. The bars on the window unnerved him, but at an intellectual level, he understood them. They were meant to keep others out. They weren't meant to keep him in. Harry thought that, perhaps, he could adjust to the bars though, if he reminded himself that they weren't there to hurt him.

Harry stretched out on the worn out mattress, feeling the springs dig into his still-thin frame. Harry shifted into a more comfortable position, found a soft spot on the mattress, and laced his fingers behind his head as he lay against the pillow, and examined what remained of the ceiling. Then he fell asleep.