There was silence in Harry Potter’s bedroom while the boy hunted frantically through his Hogwarts trunk.

Severus knew he should be paying attention to the search, but instead he was examining the room. It was so small it could hardly be called a bedroom at all; Severus’ pantry was bigger than this. The bed was a child’s one, and even considering how short Potter was for his age, he was surely too big for it. Severus was also thinking about the rusty locks hanging off the door, and the cat-flap in the bottom. As far as Potter’s belongings went, all he could see were his Hogwarts things, his owl and those raggedy clothes he had been wearing to work.

Potter himself was engrossed in his search, Kingsley watching him. Severus sidled up to the wardrobe and peeked inside. An oversized thin jacket with holes in the sleeves and a broken zip, and nothing else.

He had assumed the clothes Potter wore to work were just old ones he didn’t care about getting dirty, but now he thought about it, he’d never seen Potter in anything else except his school and Quidditch robes. Until now, it had never occurred to him to wonder why he wore things far too big for him.

Perhaps he needed to have another word with Petunia Dursley.

Potter finally stopped hunting, all the contents of his trunk spread over his bed. “It’s not here!” he said.

“Are you sure?” Kingsley asked.

“I’ve been through it all ten times! My key’s not here. Whoever posed as me must have stolen it right out my trunk.”

And you didn’t check it was still there after your money mysteriously vanished? Severus wanted to say, but bit it back. Potter had gone through enough thanks to this thief. It had taken him a while to realise why Potter wasn’t relieved at the news, before realising that it meant the boy’s pride had made him suffer in silence when it hadn’t been his own fault at all.

As much as he hated to admit it, he and Potter were a lot alike.

“Harry,” Kingsley said, “where has your trunk been during the year?”

“Just my dormitory and here,” Potter said slowly. “Apart from being taken to and from the train.”

Severus frowned.

“It must have been taken one of those times,” Potter continued. “Like from the station or something.”

Either that, or it had been stolen by one of his own Housemates. But Potter clearly didn’t want to consider that possibility. Severus, on the other hand, was not going to rule anything out. He met Kingsley’s eyes, and saw he was thinking the same thing.

“I will update the office and then check on how the goblins are doing,” Kingsley said.

“We need to go and see the Headmaster and fill him in,” Severus said, looking back at Potter. The boy didn’t squirm the way he had always done before when Severus mentioned it, though he didn’t look eager to do so.

They parted ways. Severus took Potter back through Mrs Figg’s Floo, to Albus’ office.

“Good afternoon, Severus, Harry,” Albus said, sounding a little startled but otherwise pleased to see them. “What can I do for you?”

“Headmaster, Potter has something to tell you.” Severus pushed the boy forward pointedly in the small of the back.

Potter took a deep breath. “Professor, I can’t pay my school fees.”

“Oh,” Albus said, clearly taken aback. “Why not?” His tone was completely free of judgement, but Potter flinched a little anyway.

“Someone stole all my money,” he said.

“Pardon?”

“According to Gringotts, Mr Potter withdrew everything from his vault earlier this summer—but Potter swears he hasn’t been near it in two years,” Severus explained. “His key is also missing. The goblins are looking into it, and I informed Kingsley.”

Albus nodded, looking worried. “I’m sorry, Harry, this must be a shock. I will cancel your fee transactions, and—do you need any extra money for books and things?”

“Um … maybe,” Potter said slowly. “I’m not sure.”

“Headmaster, could you make sure the money that’s just been taken from Potter’s vault is returned,” Severus said. “He’ll need that.”

“Of course I will—and Harry, you can pay your fees only when you are able to.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“And if you need any extra money by the end of the holiday, or during the year, just let one of the teachers know and we will provide it.” Albus considered. “I will have a word with Kingsley and the goblins and see if there is anything I can do to help find out who took your money.”

Potter looked a lot happier. It would have been a different story if the boy had foolishly spent it all.

“Albus, the key had to have been taken from his trunk, either during the term or on his way back home afterwards,” Severus said. “Meaning the culprit was most likely someone with access to Gryffindor Tower.”

“But not necessarily,” Potter said quickly.

Albus smiled. “I realise you don’t want to suspect your Housemates, Harry, but we have to consider all possibilities—though I would not rule out any non-Gryffindors just yet. I will alert the staff to keep an eye out for anyone who seems to have suddenly become a lot richer.”

“The goblins are checking the vault for clues as to who might have emptied it, and searching for suspicious amounts of money paid into other accounts since,” Severus said. “And Kingsley’s started an official criminal investigation. I think we’ve got every angle covered.”

-

Snape gave Harry the rest of the day off, but insisted on walking him back to Privet Drive. He followed Harry into the house without asking, and peered into the living-room. It was empty, but there was a half-drunk flowery mug on the coffee table, meaning Petunia would be coming back any minute. He sat down in the opposite chair.

“Er … Professor?” Harry said. Snape looked like he was making himself comfortable.

“You go on up. I need to have another little chat with your aunt.”

Lucky Petunia. Harry had no idea what Snape wanted with her now—he couldn’t suspect her of emptying his vault, could he?—and pretended to go upstairs, but sneaked back down to listen to the conversation.

“You! What do you want now? The boy’s been eating plenty!”

“I know. That’s not why I’m here this time.”

“You lot can’t keep barging into my house and threatening us, Snape!”

Wait—how did Petunia know his name? Harry didn’t remember him telling her last time he was there.

“I think you’ll find we can,” Snape said completely calmly.

“I’m sure your Ministry would have something to say about it!”

“I’m sure they would. As indeed they would have something to say about you starving your nephew. But if you’d like to risk an Azkaban sentence, by all means go ahead and report me.”

There was a furious silence.

“I thought so. Now, I was in Potter’s bedroom earlier and couldn’t help but make a few observations. I wonder if you could clear a few things up for me.”

“Hmph.”

Snape obviously took that as a “Yes”. “What was the purpose of the locks on his door?”

“Why do people normally put locks on doors?” Petunia snapped.

“I imagine to lock them,” Snape said drily. “And why exactly did you want to lock this particular door?” There was a pause. “And don’t even think about trying to lie to me; I will know.”

“We grounded him a few summers ago. Couldn’t trust the little brat to stay in his room. Happy now?”

“I see. And what exactly did Potter do to earn this punishment?”

“He smashed a pudding and ruined our dinner party.”

There was a long silence. “Smashed a pudding.”

“With magic!” Petunia added.

“Ah. I do believe I heard about this incident. I don’t suppose you asked him for an explanation?”

“Of course not! He knew he wasn’t allowed to do freaky—”

“If you had, he might have pointed out that he didn’t do the smashing,” Snape said. “Mind you, I’m sure you and your husband would be reasonable enough not to punish him for something a visiting house-elf did.” His voice was dripping in sarcasm. “Putting that aside, what about the cat-flap?”

“Well we had to put food in his room somehow.”

“Oh, I see. And unlocking the door three times a day was too difficult a task for you. I don’t even want to know how you managed toilet facilities. Moving on, I couldn’t help but notice this is a four-bedroom house.”

“So?”

“So why is Potter sleeping in a room and bed that would be small by an ten-year-old’s standards, when you have a perfectly acceptable spare room right next door?”

“It’s—it’s not spare. My sister-in-law sleeps there.”

“Oh, right. How often does she stay with you?”

“Er … from time to time …” Harry could hear a quaver of fear in Petunia’s voice.

“When was the last time?”

There was a long silence. Harry could hear Petunia was trying to pluck up the courage to lie. “When the boy blew her up.”

“That—that was three years ago!” Snape spluttered. “Potter sleeps here every summer! Don’t you think he should have a decent bedroom?” Silence. “Obviously not. What about clothes?”

“Pardon?”

“I’ve seen the rags he wears when he’s not in school uniform. They look like they were made for a sumo wrestler. He only has about four changes of clothes, no proper winter wear as far as I can see, and it’s all ancient and falling apart. Why don’t you buy him something that fits?”

“We’re not made of money!” Petunia snapped.

“Your husband is director of a large drilling firm—yes, I did my homework. Your house is full of pricey pictures and ornaments, and your clothes are all designer. You also have a bedroom chock full of toys and gadgets obviously bought for your son, all of which look very expensive to me. You can’t tell me you can’t afford to pay for another set of clothes.” Snape’s voice was rising. “You just don’t want to.”

“So what if I don’t? Dudley’s hand-me-downs are perfectly adequate.”

“Maybe I didn’t make myself quite clear,” Snape said shortly. “The boy needs new clothes. I would tell you to buy him some, but your judgement is clearly compromised, so I will do it myself. You will be reimbursing me, or face the consequences.”

“You can’t just—!”

“Yes,” Snape said very finally, “I can. What you can do is let him move into your spare room and swear you will never lock him up again. If it weren’t for the fact he has so little time left here, I would have him moved from your house entirely, but I’m sure you can be persuaded to behave like decent human beings until he is of age—given the right persuasion.”

“You mean if we don’t comply you turn us into horrible things and mess up my house!”

“Exactly,” Snape said. “It seems we do understand each other. I’ll be checking on him regularly, Petunia, so you had better make sure you do what I say.”

Harry heard him stand up, and realising the conversation was over, hurried upstairs as quietly as he could, then sank onto his bed.

That was a weird conversation. Snape sounded like—well, like he cared. True, he’d sorted out the food and money problems before, but Harry had assumed it was just so he wouldn’t pass out while working for him again. What possible reason could Snape have for having Harry change bedrooms and buying him new clothes?

“Potter?” Snape called up the stairs. Harry hurried onto the landing and leaned over the bannister, trying to pretend he hadn’t heard all that.

“Yes, sir?”