Don't Chicken Out, Harry! by Lemon Curd

It was with a heavy heart that Harry stepped out of the Hogwarts express. Dumbledore had reassured him he had had a talk with Aunt Petunia, and the Dursleys wouldn’t try to lock him in his room again, and they wouldn’t be angry at him, either, they would, in fact, have forgotten all about it, was how Dumbledore had put it ... but they still were the Dursleys.

Harry knew what to expect from them at the best of times, and that wasn’t very good.

Hermione and Ron still believed he would stay with Sirius – he hadn’t had the heart to tell them, and Dumbledore had emphasized it was very secret, anyway.

Harry had to stay with his mother’s blood relatives because that was safer because some magic – he wasn’t quite sure he understood, but he trusted Dumbledore.

Still, he dreaded his summer. It was all the more bitter as he had looked forward to spending time with Sirius, who, except for his irrational hatred of Snape – for someone who hadn’t had the man as teacher, this hatred didn’t make sense – seemed really nice, and a lot more concerned about Harry’s wellbeing than the Dursleys. Not that that was hard.

“Don’t dawdle, Potter.”

Harry looked up. Snape! Hope blossomed in his chest. Perhaps Snape would do something? Spirit him away citing his absymal potions grades as reason he needed to go to magical summer school? Anything was better than the Dursleys.

“What are you doing here, sir?” Better not get his hopes up, perhaps Snape just wanted to go to Diagon Alley.

“I will have a chat with your relatives. But first, we will meet your assistance dog.”

“My what?”

“Due to the namby-pamby politics with regard to unruly children nowadays, instead of using the cane on you, we will give you a cuddly pet in the hopes that this will somehow improve your behaviour. I have been told it is the normal modus operandi at muggle schools these days.”

Harry had never heard of such a muggle school – well, it certainly wasn’t the case at Smeltings, even though they didn’t use the cane there. Not on boys like Dudley.

But perhaps one of those reform schools that Aunt Petunia had a lot of things to say about – none of them good – when gossiping with her neighbours.

“A pet?”

“Quite so. Luckier orphans get a fairy godmother, but you will see your pet is the next best thing. Come, Potter.”

A pet who would help him? Surely Snape didn’t mean to turn into his animagus form and accompany Harry? He had been surprisingly decent the past year, but he wouldn’t ... or would he? He had talked of a dog, so it couldn’t be him, but ...

They crossed the barrier to the muggle platform, and were met by a giant black dog that barked and wagged its tail.

“Is that your dog?”, a security guard asked. “I thought it belonged to ...” She turned her head and indicated a woman who was just about to board a train.

“I am temporarily in charge of this dog, yes. I regret I am so late, I should have picked it up earlier”, Snape said, coolly, but perfectly civil. “Good day, madam.”

He walked away, followed by the dog.

Or no, the dog was following Harry.

As soon as they had rounded a corner and were away from the guard, Snape took something from his pocket, pointed his wand at it, and it enlargened to become a sort of vest for a dog, with a leash on it.

“Your work uniform”, Snape said coolly to the dog, slipping the vest over it, and fastening it securely. “Oh, and before I forget it, your name is Fluffy. I could persuade Hagrid to lend me this beautiful bowl.” He took something else from his pocket, enlarged it and gave Harry a roughly whittled wooden bowl. Harry thought he recognized the style from the flute Hagrid had given him in his first year. The word ‘Fluffy’ was burned into the wood. “The water bowl got mouldy just about the time the original Fluffy was sent to Greece, but I don’t think that will pose a problem. I heard dogs prefer to drink from the toilet bowl, anyway.”

The dog growled at Snape, but immediately resumed wagging its tail when Harry started to back away from it.

Harry frowned. Something didn’t seem quite right. „I don’t think the Dursleys will want to feed a dog.“ Especially not a dog this large. “They hardly like to feed - ” He interrupted himself. “There’s Uncle Vernon, I better hurry.”

Snape and the dog followed him.

“Hurry up, boy, I haven’t got all day”, Vernon barked.

“Excuse me, sir”, Snape said, icily, his tone even colder than it had been with the dog. “You are Potter’s uncle?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He is a troublemaker”, Snape stated. Which was a clever move, Harry thought, because now he had Vernon’s undivided attention.

“However, the headmaster forbids me to use the cane on him.”

“Does he, now?” Vernon’s little pig eyes glittered with what Harry could only guess must be glee at there being a teacher who wanted to use a cane on Harry.

It did not evade Harry, however, that Snape had never claimed he wanted to hit Harry. Just that the Headmaster didn’t allow it.

“Instead, as is the namby-pamby way of schools nowadays, he will be accompanied by an assistance dog, in the hopes that it will improve his behaviour.”

The dog barked as if it had noticed it was being talked about, and wagged its tail.

“I am not paying for feeding that monster!”

Harry sighed. Of course not. He had never even dared dream of having a dog, but now that Snape had offered … he really did like the idea. The dog was really big, but nothing compared to Fluffy, and Harry hoped its tail-wagging meant that it liked him. Such a large dog might even be able to protect him from Dudley!

„It is not an ordinary dog. It should be able to hunt for its own food, provided that you let Potter walk it away from inhabitated places. You need not fear for his safety, the dog is capable of protecting him.” Snape glared at the dog. “Or perhaps it will eat Potter, in which case both of them cease to be your problem.”

Uncle Vernon laughed a bellowing laugh. “Fine. He can keep it as long as he keeps it under control.” He gave Harry a look. “Your dog is not allowed on the couch. Or in the kitchen. Or anywhere but your room.”

Big surprise there. Harry wasn’t sure even he was allowed on the couch. He certainly hadn’t been when it was new, and hadn’t yet tried if he was after Dudley had left a chocolate stain on it.

“Yes, Uncle Vernon.”

“Assistance dogs undergo very strict training routines”, Snape stated. “They obey every command of the person they assist, unless they have to prevent that person from walking into danger. Think of this one like the dogs blind people have, but instead for reckless dunderheads.”

The dog looked at Snape and growled, then started wagging its tail again and rubbed its head on Harry’s leg.

So Harry started his summer holidays, proud owner of a giant black dog whose main difference to the original Fluffy was that he had only one head.

It really was an extraordinarly well behaved dog. It laid down on the floor in the back of the car when Harry ordered it to – fortunately, Uncle Vernon’s car was big enough for that. Vernon always had American cars that were a lot larger than the average, and certainly a lot larger than the Weasleys’ Ford Anglia.

Well, on the outside, that was.

When they got home, the dog jumped out of the car straight after Harry. He didn’t need the leash at all, really, he just held it in his hand because he didn’t want it to drag on the floor.

Aunt Petunia wasn’t happy about the dog, but apparently Dumbledore had really talked to her, because she gave in after Uncle Vernon told her the dog would feed itself.

“And it stays off the furniture!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

As last year, Harry let Uncle Vernon lock his trunk in the cupboard under the stairs, then took Hedwig and the dog to his room and closed the door.

“Now there’s three of us”, he said with a sigh. “Misery loves company.”

The dog barked, then ... something happened.

Its shape changed. Harry watched in fascination as the fur melted away, the snout shortened ...

“Sirius!”

“Shhh, quiet!”

“So that was what Snape meant about fairy godmothers.” A dog godfather. Or a dogfather? Harry laughed out loud with relief. He didn’t need a fairy godmother when he had a wizard godfather.

“Yeah, I guess.” Sirius grinned. „Now, what do you think, should we get dinner at the Leaky Cauldron? My treat, of course. Or do you know a nice muggle place?“

“The Dursleys usually leave me at home when they eat out, so ... not really, but ... wait, we can’t go to London. That’s too far away.” Even if Sirius had managed to hide a flying car anywhere close by ...

“Why not? I am a wizard, Harry!”

Perhaps they would floo there? Or were they other ways of getting somewhere that he didn’t know about yet? “Oh. Right. Let’s go to London and find a nice muggle place to eat? But before you do any magic, we should tell the Dursleys I am taking you for a walk.”

Harry was seated in a nice Chinese restaurant and had his mouth full of noodles when he finally thought to ask: “Does Dumbledore know about this?”

Sirius didn’t scold him about talking with his mouth full, but instead answered, equally with a full mouth: “No. Snape offered to smuggle me in.”

“Seriously?”

“I am always Sirius.”

Harry laughed and almost chocked on his noodles, but fortunately, Sirius knew a spell to help him get air again.

“Yeah, I know, old Snivelly isn’t usually this helpful, but he wants to snoop around in the old Black house – I can’t stand the place anyway, so I agreed. Of course, if he had demanded something unreasonable, I’d just have tried to get you to smuggle me in by yourself.”

“I don’t think that’d have worked”, Harry said, careful to stop eating for a moment. “The Dursleys wouldn’t ever let me have a dog if it wasn’t an adult who told them I had to have one.”

Sirius nodded. “James really didn’t exaggerate. They are as horrid as he said.”

“They met him?”

“Only once, but yes, they did.”

“And they always told me he was a good-for-nothing drunk!”

“Did they?” Sirius looked like he wanted to growl.

“Yeah. That my dad didn’t work, and stuff.”

“Oh, that was true, in a way. Your father had enough money not to have to do paid work, Harry. He did ... well, not exactly charity work in the usual sense, but he didn’t get paid for fighting Voldemort.”

“And my mum?” Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked earlier. “Did she have a job?”

“Nah, she ... well, she fought in the war, same as James, but after she had you she didn’t fight much anymore.”

“Oh. I thought ...” He didn’t want to imagine his mother as housewife. Not one like Aunt Petunia, who spent most of the day keeping the house perfectly clean and the rest gossiping and spoiling Dudley. Mrs. Weasley was different. With seven children, a large vegetable garden and livestock to take care of, she really couldn’t get another job.

But somehow, Harry didn’t think his mother had wanted quite such a large family.

“Don’t think she couldn’t have gotten a job, Harry. She was a quite clever witch, really.”

“Really?”

“Top of her year in potions.”

“Woah.” Harry grinned. „Wait. Wasn’t Snape in the same year?“

„Yeah, okay, he was top of the class, too, but let’s not count him.”

“No, that’s okay. Hermione says he’s brilliant, and she would know. She’s a genius herself.” His mum had been as smart as Snape. Which meant she must have been about as smart as Hermione when she had been their age.

It made a world of a difference to thinking of his parents as useless drunks. Hagrid had already told him they hadn’t been that, of course, but it was nice to know more.

So summer went on. Harry didn’t mind that the Dursleys never waited for him with dinner while he walked his ‘dog’ – Sirius always apparated them to London and treated him to meals in various muggle restaurants. After learning that Dumbledore wasn’t supposed to know about it, Harry had suggested they stay away from the magical world, even though Sirius said the risk of being discovered would have made it fun for James.

Perhaps his dad hadn’t had enough exitement in his life, Harry thought, but he would like a summer where everything went perfectly well, for a change.

With Sirius’ comforting presence next to him, even weeding the garden in the hot summer sun was not so bad.