Uncle Vernon was standing in the middle of the Weasley’s living-room with a fearful expression on his face as he watched the moving wizard photos, portraying different members of the Weasley family, inside several frames placed on the mantelpiece. Harry had to clear his throat to get his uncle’s attention.

”Harry,” the fat man exclaimed taking a few steps towards Harry as if he was going to embrace him. Harry backed off and Uncle Vernon halted. It was not as if he had ever shown Harry any marks of affection before and Harry did not understand why the man would want to start now. ”You’re well, I gather?” asked Uncle Vernon a bit uncertainly.

Harry nodded.

”I’m glad. Believe me, I really am,” said Vernon. 

Harry nodded again, noncommittally.

”Listen, Harry, I come here today because I want to explain some things to you. I don’t want you to think the worst of us.” When Harry looked sceptical, Uncle Vernon sighed. ”I know that you have no reason to trust me, but… but, I did my best, you have to believe me. I tried to support Petunia and help her become a better guardian for you. She’s so… She is… I will try to explain…” Uncle Vernon swallowed. ”It’s a pity, I tried to get hold of that… wizard… who came to look for you. He knew Petunia when they were children, so he might have been able to give you a better background as to the rivalry between the two sisters.” Harry frowned. Had Uncle Vernon tried to get hold of Severus?

”He told me a bit about it,” said Harry in a low voice. 

”He did, did he? Good. I wanted to give him a more nuanced picture than the one he must have gotten when he came to our house that night you went to the hospital. We must have appeared as monsters to him.”

Harry looked at Uncle Vernon in suspense. Had he spoken to Severus?

”Mr Snape was not at home. I drove past his town yesterday. Then I spent the night at my sister Marge’s. Petunia does not know that I’m here, she thinks I’m only visiting Marge.” 

Harry nearly rolled his eyes. Why was he not surprised? Of course Uncle Vernon would not do anything openly that would risk to upset Aunt Petunia. 

”It was a long drive, you know.” Vernon sounded slightly reproachful and Harry guessed that he owed the man to hear him out. He gestured awkwardly at the sofa and the armchairs to invite Uncle Vernon to sit down. When they were finally positioned face to face, Vernon deeply sunk down in the sofa and Harry upright on the edge of the seat of his armchair, Vernon started to explain.

”Petunia was always jealous of her sister - your mother - and she felt wronged by their parents who she thought supported Lily more than they supported her. It upset her and made her feel bad. When I met Petunia, she had had issued with her weight and her eating habits, bordering on anorexia for a couple of years.”

Harry blinked. He had heard of anorexia and it made sense since Aunt Petunia had always been thin and always nitpicking when it came to food. But he did not know Aunt Petunia to be sick. She had always looked and behaved the same.

”It was not a full-blown disease, just tendencies,” said Uncle Vernon as if he could read Harry’s thoughts. ”What I meant to say, is that it is very important for Petunia to be in control, whether it is about food, the household or her relationships.” Vernon swallowed. ”When Dudley was born, it was chaotic. Everything was turned upside down. She did not manage the breastfeeding. She was completely freaked-out by it. Before we had him bottle-feeding and gaining weight properly, she was a wreck. At the same time, she had these high expectations of motherhood. She was hoping to finally show her parents what a perfect daughter she was. I remember so well the first time after Dudley’s birth they were to come and visit. Petunia stayed up and cleaned the house the whole night. She was completely shut off during their visit. They admired their grand-son and complimented Petunia very kindly, but Christine made the mistake of asking whether she wanted any help and Petunia flew into a rage, mistaking it for criticism. When they left the house, Petunia cried non-stop for five hours.” 

Vernon drew a shaky breath and Harry stared wide-eyed at him.

”Your aunt was diagnosed by PPD - Postpartum Depression - and she was on medication and went to counselling for a whole year, because the condition also influenced the bonding process with the baby. Dudley had feeding difficulties and was a discontented child, maybe as a consequence to Petunia’s condition, maybe because of his own constitution, or both - so the doctors told me. It took a long time before Petunia could stop shutting herself off and start bonding with the baby. Once she did, though, she became fiercely protective of him.” 

Harry blinked. He had no idea that things had been so difficult for Dudley and his aunt when Dudley was a baby.

”Just when she started to get better, when Dudley was one-and-a-half year old, you were given to us,” continued his uncle. ”I realised that it might be too much for Petunia and, to be frank, she was furious for being laden with another baby. I tried to convince her of giving you back, or to ask her parents to take care of you. But she was feeling stronger and, once again, her anger and resentment made her determined to show her parents and show the world that she would not give in, that she could be the perfect mother. She decided to keep you. Only, she wasn’t exactly kind to you…”

Harry felt a lump in his throat. He had no memories from his earliest time with the Dursleys, only a vague feeling of discomfort, of sadness.

”She had this warped idea… I have tried to reason with her about it, but she seems to believe that one cannot love more than one child at a time. That what amount of affection is given to one child is taken from the other. I have tried to persuade her innumerable times of the opposite. Before this business with the appendicitis occurred, I was thinking that she was making a slow progress, that she was ameliorating her behaviour towards you, wasn’t she?”

Harry looked incredulous at his uncle. What did he mean that Aunt Petunia had got better over the years? He, Harry, had learnt to adapt to her demanding ways, learnt to parry her whims and how to get by her moods, that was all. Who was Uncle Vernon kidding? Harry cringed unhappily, but his uncle had more to say.

***

”Dad? Mum?” Ron peaked through the chink of the door at his parents who were sitting in the living-room together with Bill.

”Ron? It’s long past your bed time. What are you doing up this late?” Mrs Weasley said sternly. 

”Er… Harry’s awake and sitting all curled up on his bed, and I don’t think that he’s feeling very well. I’ve been trying to speak to him, but he’s gotten that way… you know… when he doesn’t want to speak at all and… maybe I should just leave him, but he is shaking all over and I think he would like to cry, but doesn’t allow himself to, if you know what I mean?” Ron’s voice was trembling just a little bit and Mrs Weasley understood that it was out of compassion for his friend, so she rose promptly. 

”I see, Ronald. I’ll come with you straight away.”

”There’s no need to, Mrs Weasley,” came a faint voice from the lower landing of the stairs where Harry was standing in the shadow. ”I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise that Ron would go and fetch you. It was not my intention to disturb you.” Harry sounded desolate, almost panicking. ”I’m sorry Ron - I didn’t mean to worry you, I just wanted you to go back to sleep and be left alone. I don’t know why… sometimes the words won’t come. I don’t want to cause trouble.” 

”You’re not causing trouble. Come here, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. He nodded at Bill who laid an arm around Ron.

”Want a cuppa, little brother? Let’s go to the kitchen. Harry’ll just join us later,” he said.

Mrs Weasley ushered Harry inside the living-room and led him to the sofa. After the visit from his uncle, Mrs Weasley had not detected any signs of distress in Harry even if he had been vague on why his uncle had turned up. He had participated with apparent joy in the festivities of the afternoon, appreciating the visit of Hermione. In the evening the children had been rather tired after all the excitement of the day. For a couple of hours they had quietly browsed a quidditch album that Bill had given Harry for his birthday, and not protested when it was time for bed. Mrs Weasley did not know what could have brought on this sudden anguish that she now discerned in Harry’s whole countenance and stiff body. Jointly, she and her husband tried to coax Harry into talking, and show him that whatever was the matter he could tell them, but Harry only looked more and more miserable.

”Was it the visit of your uncle, Harry? I should not have let him in. Perhaps, you felt obliged to talk to him. Maybe…?” 

Tears mounted in Harry’s eyes and he turned his head away.

”Harry?” asked Mr Weasley.

”Could I please speak to Severus?” whispered Harry. ”Could we fire-call him like you said, Mr Weasley?”

Relief and comprehension dawned on Arthur Weasley’s face while Mrs Weasley looked taken aback.

”Severus? You want to…?” she said, but collected herself quickly. She met her husband’s gaze with resignation. ”Of course, dear, I’m sure Arthur could give it a try. It’s a bit late, but Severus did say, in the beginning when you had just had your surgery that we could call him any time.”

”Of course, Harry,” said Mr Weasley. ”Get yourself a cup of tea with Molly and Ron in the kitchen while I give it a try. It might take a while since we’re not sure Severus is properly connected yet. I’ll let you know.” He locked eyes with his wife who nodded. What Arthur said about the floo was not entirely true - either it would work or it would not - but Molly gathered that her husband wanted to check if Severus was still upset with them because of the quidditch incident. Knowing that Severus Snape, notorious at Hogwarts for his sarcasm, was not a man to mince his words if he was in the wrong kind of mood, Arthur no doubt wanted to spare Harry such a dispute, should it come to that. 

Harry seemed to grasp what was going on and nodded subdued. He was far from sure that Severus would agree to come after all.

”Follow me, dear,” said Mrs Weasley kindly. 

***

”You wanted to speak with me, Harry?” Severus Snape suddenly appeared at the kitchen door and Harry bolted upright, almost knocking his mug with tea over. Shock overruled most other emotions on his face and had not Mrs Weasley’s usual sententious fuss saved him, he would have stayed staring at Severus with an open mouth for the rest of the evening. His teacher looked the same as always, clad in a wizard’s robe and with a non-committal expression on his face.

”Take your cup, Harry, and go with Severus to the living-room to have a little chat,” urged Mrs Weasley. ”I’ll make you a cup as well, Severus - black with lemon?”

Snape nodded. He was not as cool as he let show. He had been slumbering on the sofa in his living-room at Spinners End when a strange sound had waken him up. With a racing heart he had jumped up and drawn his wand, reflex from the war, ready to strike, until he discerned Arthur Weasley’s round face among the flames in his suddenly lit fireplace. It was too hot to have a fire going in the summer, especially after a day of hard work. Snape still had his working clothes on, dusty and sweaty - he had been too exhausted at the end of the day to do anything but lie down on his moth-eaten sofa.

Somehow, nothing much had needed to be said between the father of seven and the solitary teacher, because despite their differences there was an instinctual understanding between them. Snape had gestured for Arthur to come through and Arthur had in very few words explained the situation to him. Harry… in distress… Did not talk… Had a visit from his uncle… Asked for Severus… Snape’s black eyes pierced Arthur Weasley with such intensity that Arthur realised that this strange young man usually did not let show a fraction of his emotional depth.

”You… He wants me to come?” Snape had asked and Arthur had confirmed by nodding. Snape had disappeared quickly to clean up and change clothes and then, without a word, he had stepped after Arthur, through the floo, straight into the Burrow. 

Harry led the way into the living-room. They sat down and heard the door shut behind Mrs Weasley who had been giving Harry encouraging looks which only served to increase his nervousness. She expected something of him - he was at a loss to guess what precisely. Now when Severus was here, Harry did not know how to begin. He was thrilled, though, that his teacher had come, because that must mean that he had forgiven Harry, must it not? Most of all, Harry only wanted things to be like before, so he started to tell Snape, slightly incoherently, about his birthday, about the events of the day - skipping Uncle Vernon’s visit - and about his presents. Snape sipped his tea with an inscrutable expression and finally asked. 

”Why were you upset this evening, Harry?”

Harry immediately felt his throat constrict and realised that it would be the same as before. Severus would want to make him talk, and he could not, he just could not! 

Noticing the panic in Harry’s eyes, Snape frowned slightly, then he put his cup down on the table and leant back in his armchair, forcing himself to relax, He drew a deep breath, then said in a deliberately drawling tone of voice:

”That uncle of yours came by my house yesterday. I must acknowledge that I was curious as to what business he could have in that part of the country, but as I did not feel like speaking to a sweating giant amoeba, I did not open the door for the idiot protozoa. What did he want, then?”

Harry suddenly gave up a short, snorting laugh, almost choking on it.

”So did he come up with some deplorable attempt at excuse for almost letting you die, or did he just wish you a happy birthday?” asked Snape.

”No, he had no idea it was my birthday,” Harry answered distractedly. ”They never used to celebrate it after all. It kind of embarrassed him when it dawned on him on his way out, as Mrs Weasley asked him whether he wanted to stay for the party.”

”So, did he convey any message from your aunt? Had she sent a few well-chosen words along with him?” asked Snape lightly. Harry looked surprised.

”No, no, I think that he came of his own accord. I don’t even think that Aunt Petunia knew that he was here,” he answered. 

”I see,” said Snape. ”Tell me, Harry.” 

The cramp in his throat had lessened and Harry was able to recount to Snape everything that Uncle Vernon had told him. Snape listened attentively, noticing that Harry spoke more and more quietly, with lowered eyes.

”What else did he say?” Snape prompted Harry when he came to a halt. Harry drew a deep breath.

”He asked me to come back and live with them again,” he answered in a small voice. It was Snape’s turn to almost choke on his tea.

”He did what? Why on earth would he do that?” he exclaimed.

”Um… He said that he regretted very much what had happened, but that everyone deserved a second chance and that Aunt Petunia was not so bad and that she would be nicer to me now, because the social service’s investi-vestigation had made her realise that their behaviour towards me re-reflected on their whole family. Er… that is what Uncle Vernon had tried to convince her of for many years, it a-appears. So, Uncle Vernon was sure that she would make a real effort.” Harry did not look convinced and Snape knitted his eyebrows.

”What else?”

”He said that we were family and that family should take care of each other and not burden the society, or other people. He said that the social services had told him that the Weasleys are not well off and that there were some kind of issue with money concerning the expenses… for me…” Harry’s voice faltered and Snape looked grimmer and grimmer.

”What was your reply?” he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

”First, I told him that I didn’t want to go back to them, but then he went on saying that the social services were investigating Aunt Petunia’s sui- suitability as a parent and that she was afraid that they would take Dudley away from her. That must really freak her out, and Uncle Vernon almost started to cry in front of me and said that I could save their family honour by coming back to them and they would be so grateful and kind to me if I did them that favour because it would prove their good intentions to the social services and then he repeated that I should not burden an already poor family and I said that I would think about it and… then he left.” Harry finished abruptly.

”And what did you think about all that?” asked Snape, struggling to sound even.

”First I put it all out of my head, because it was my birthday and I did not want to think about unpleasant things, but then when I tried to go to sleep tonight, it all replayed itself in my head and I thought that maybe I must go back to them. I overheard Mrs Weasley one day saying to Mr Weasley that it was hard for them to afford everything - and they already have enough children of their own, why would they spend the little money they have on me? And I felt really bad because they had gotten me presents, every single one of them, and I started to panic that they would realise they couldn’t keep me. And then I felt bad for Aunt Petunia…”

Snape raised his eyebrows in incredulity.

”Well, everyone deserves a second chance. You did something bad and Dumbledore arranged so that you would get a second chance, didn’t he?”

Snape made a grimace.

”And Aunt Petunia adores Dudley. She’s not mean to him and she would go completely mad if they took him away from her, and Uncle Vernon seems to think that it is all up to me and…”

”Well, it is NOT up to you!” Snape could not hold back any longer. Harry went silent. ”Harry, do you honestly believe your uncle when he says that she will be nicer to you?” asked Snape, forcing himself to lower his voice. 

Harry squirmed.

”It’s not as if she came here and asked for forgiveness in person to show you her regrets, is it? In my opinion she has none. That coward Vernon sneaked away in secret not to trigger her wrath, counting on talking you into complying with his plan and only then would he persuade her of taking you back with the same argument he gave you about Dudley. Don’t tell me that you believe him for one second?” 

”Not really,” whispered Harry. ”She might pretend for a while, maybe, but then she would go back to the same. She hates me.” Snape was both relieved and saddened by the unsentimental conviction in Harry’s voice. He knew by experience that it took many disappointments, many rejections for a naturally trusting child to reach the conclusion that the person who was supposed to be your parent hated you.

”And you know now that it has nothing to do with you, don’t you? It’s not about how you behave, not about who you are…” said Snape.

”I know that now. But… is she still sick from that post-something-depression? Is she really mad, or what?” Harry asked confused. ”I mean, she seems normal most of the time - just, you know, cross and bitter.”

”She was mad enough to almost let you die. She deliberately chose to leave you for fear of being ensnared by some magic that would make her start liking you. She sincerely believes that being nice to you will hurt her son. That is kind of delusional. Extremely unreasonable and strange at any rate and I can’t see how that could change all of a sudden,” said Snape.

”I don’t understand then why Uncle Vernon can’t see that? He seems to believe that she’ll be able to… improve… Why does he ask me to…” Harry was near tears again.

”I think that he’s willing himself into seeing her as a good person,” said Snape slowly. ”We have a tendency to blind ourselves to the faults of the ones we love. And somehow, he probably could not stand to see her as she is. He needs to persuade himself that she is a good person deep inside. You could say it’s a case of… co-dependency.”

Harry looked puzzled. Snape sighed.

”That’s what they call it. Or ’Folie à deux’ - that’s French and means approximately ’theatrics for two’.”

Harry looked even more confused. Snape tried to explain.

”In households where one person is alcoholic, it is not uncommon for the spouse to deny the disease and to protect the addict. Take my parents, for example. My father was a heavy drinker, and violent at that when he was intoxicated, but my mother always found excuses for him afterwards, when he was sobering up. She never left him. They had terrible rows - fantastic theatrics…” Snape shook his head with irony. ”They said hair-raising things to each others - as a child I thought they meant every word they said and was terrified by it all. They threatened to murder each others, after all…” he added dryly and Harry widened his eyes. ”But I understood later that it was just a ritual, a show that satisfied their co-dependency, because afterwards, they would make up, and I suppose that my mother felt needed and loved as she comforted him, only to await the havoc of the next intoxication.” 

Harry swallowed and peaked at Severus under the fringe, trying to picture him as a young boy, feeling sorry for his teacher.

”Being outside that co-dependency, excluded from the strange agreement between the two persons, is confusing. As your uncle, as well as my mother, appear to be perfectly sane, but at the same time pretend that there is nothing wrong with your delusional aunt and my alcoholic father, we start doubting our own minds, don’t we? You ask yourself whether Uncle Vernon is not right and whether you should not give Aunt Petunia a second chance, imagining, perhaps, that the fault is yours for not trying hard enough… Right?” 

Snape lifted an eyebrow and Harry nodded, embarrassed, in response. Severus was right on.

”I know about that… Well, let me tell you something, Harry - second chances don’t apply when you deal with chronic abuse within a household. By the time you realise what is truly going on, the perpetrators have already overtaxed their account of second chances. Second chances are to atone for one single, once-in-a-life-time, incredibly stupid action.” Snape’s face darkened with regret. ”And Merlin help you,” he murmured, ”If you don’t take that chance at heart and make the utmost of it. Unless you revise the fundaments of your moral incitements and learn to live - strictly! - by your newfound better rules, you’re not worth it.” 

Harry sighed. Severus was so stern with himself. He wondered what his teacher could have done in the past that was so terrible. He got Severus’ point, however, and felt better, but completely wrought out. 

”What about the Weasleys?” he asked.

”They would not have committed themselves to take you in if they had not considered all the aspects. They truly like you Harry. You are lucky to have a foster family like them,” said Snape.

”You’re no longer angry at them - or at me - for what happened when we were flying on our broomsticks that day?” asked Harry. Snape sighed.

”I realise that I overreacted and that I, in my eagerness to protect you, humiliated you in front of the Weasley siblings,” he said. 

”I’m so sorry that I yelled at you,” said Harry in a small voice. Snape shook his head.

”I was terrified when I saw you up in the air. But I went overboard when I brought you down like that. It’s because of the appendicitis rite bond. You heard Professor Dumbledore mention it - have you learnt anything about it?” He looked inquiringly at Harry who nodded. 

”Mr Weasley explained to me about it. I’m sorry that you feel obliged to be nice to me because of it,” said Harry and turned his head away. Snape’s eyes widened.

”Oh,” he said at a loss of words at first. ”The magic does not compel me to do anything I don’t want to,” he explained carefully. ”The magic can only bring out what is already there. I understand that the contrast to how I behaved to you during the school year is considerable, but let’s say that I was not happy with my own behaviour then. I’d… rather prefer… this to be my true self… It’s not as if I turned into some dancing and singing clown who’s trying to please you, no matter what, after all,” Snape ended with irony.

Harry snorted with laughter again. As it was impossible for him to picture Severus in anything other than black, and with that rigid countenance of his, he would make a pretty terrible clown.

”Speaking of which…” Snape reached into his pocket and drew out an envelope. It was slightly crumpled, but it said ’HARRY’ on it in neat capitals. ”Here you are. Happy birthday, Harry!”

Harry must be really tired because once again his mood changed as if someone had pushed a button, from amusement to something that risked to make his chest explode. His eyes brimmed with tears again, but he fought them back. He did not want to cry yet another time today. He opened the envelope carefully and sorted two tickets for a circus.

”Ah…” He looked at the date on the tickets. ”It’s for tomorrow night! We’re going to the circus tomorrow! Thank you so much, Severus!”

”You’re welcome, Harry. You don’t need to go with me, you know. You can invite Bill, or Mr Weasley, if you want. I’m sorry I could not afford to buy tickets for the whole Weasley family,” said Snape.

”I want to go with you,” said Harry firmly.

Severus gave him that almost-smile and nodded. 

”Let’s get you to bed then. So that you’ll be fit and restored for the adventure,” he said.