~~~HP~~~

Monday 29 December 1997

"So, tell me again why you haven't packed yet?" Harry jokingly exclaimed from his bed where his legs hung over the edge, scraping the top of his own duffle bag. He packed yesterday as soon as Dr Swanson cautiously hinted at today's discharge last night. Being his eleventh day in the Guildford Hospital, he had been eager to go home at least six days ago. Harry gave a hard sigh when Snape didn't answer. "Because, y'know, had you packed when I did, we'd be lounging on the sofa in the sitting room instead of waiting here for you to sort your knickers."

That had certainly got the man's attention.

Harry proudly smirked at Snape's harsh glare as he tucked away his half-rolled-up jumper - questionably clean based on the face he made after subtly sniffing it - into his black duffle bag. "Perhaps because one of us had to go home to prepare before you are allowed inside of it."

Harry rolled his eyes, only half annoyed. "You've been going home… what… at least three times a week during the last month of term to talk to Mae?" He had guessed at the number of visits Snape had made based on the mornings Harry had heard him leave long before breakfast, but Snape's small blush confirmed he was close enough to have made a good point. "So, really, what else did you need to do to 'prepare'? I get you want to make it 'girlfriend ready' for tomorrow, but you could have waited until tonight to throw some halfway decent sheets on your bed."

Snape zipped up his bag forcefully and turned to Harry with his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "While I might have been back to the house frequently, no one has stepped foot into your room since you were home for your old essays."

This time, it was Harry's turn to blush. The memory of his cheating and Snape's rage when he discovered it was something he wished to forget.

"Fine. So cleaning out my room took a whole day?!" He asked, trying - and failing - to recall the state he'd left it in. At worst, there might have been some books or clothes left thrown on the floor, and the dust probably accumulated during the last two months, but none of that would account for the hours Snape was claiming to have spent there. It wasn't adding up. Having done more than his fair share of cleaning through the years to keep up with his aunt's high demand, he had to be missing pieces to the story.

Snape just lifted a single eyebrow. "Do you recall the condition of the house in June?"

Harry frowned. His initial impression of his new home last summer had not been a pleasant one. On top of the general disrepair of the place, a disgusting, almost unnatural, sticky film of oily dust had blanketed every surface; a film that, astonishingly, magic could not remove and required them scrubbing it away with a bucket of bulk sanitizer Snape kept tucked under every sink. Back then, he assumed the foreign substance had settled in because Snape lived at Hogwarts during the school year, however, based on the man's delighted expression now, it seemed like the condition was, in fact, a regular occurrence.

"Don't worry," Snape chuckled, dropping his bag onto the floor, making Harry jump at the loud thump it made, "you'll get used to the continual residue. Or at least your… other self… eventually did."

"You're having me on, right?"

"I wish," Snape said, flatly. "The state of the place after as little as a fortnight of vacancy is quite pathetic, which should not be an issue next year when I am no longer boarding at school ten months out of the year.

Yesterday, I concentrated on the rooms you and Dudley will be in, being your bedroom, the bathroom, and the sitting room. I will finish the rest tomorrow before Mae arrives in the evening.

"So that is why I couldn't pack alongside you yesterday, though, my readiness to leave is not what is keeping us here now. We both know I can pack in a matter of seconds simply by waving my hand. We are here because I am still waiting on the refill of your next month's worth of medication. So despite your insistence, we would not be home, anyway."

"Well, you could have requested it yesterday," Harry retorted, earning himself yet another scowl from Snape and a muttered "cheeky brat".

It would take another hour for his prescription refill to arrive and they finally released him to go home. To pass the time, using his new pencils and sketchbook from Luna, Harry poured himself into his newest sketch - the view of the lake from his hospital room. Although he refused to outwardly admit that Christopher- and nearly every adult he'd ever spoken to concerning his mental health since his relapse - had been right, deep down he knew regaining his ability to draw had improved his overall attitude in the last few days. And with each inpatient cycle lasting longer than the last, he would need to have something to make the situation a little more bearable than staring at the ceiling and feeling miserable.

Finally able to leave the hospital, the roughest disapparation he had ever experienced, dropping him to his hands and knees as soon as they landed in the alleyway two streets away, challenged Harry's new sunnier demeanour. Against his will, he emptied the small contents of his stomach onto the concrete next to Snape's feet, which the older wizard vanished without a word.

"Gimme a minute," Harry eventually croaked. He felt Snape's hand on his back, expertly pressed in the perfect position to help ease the cramping in his stomach. "I… just need to catch my…"

"Take your time," Snape whispered close to Harry's ear. "We are not in any hurry."

If Harry's insides weren't still feeling like they were being squeezed through a tube, he would have thanked him. Instead, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut - afraid the spinning landscape would increase his vertigo - and focused on the feeling of the hard pavement beneath his palms and the cool air flowing around his neck, matching his breathing to each gust. Harry did not know how long he kneeled there, but slowly his head stopped spinning, the pounding of his blood rushing in his ears ceased, and his stomach settled enough for him to stand.

"Sorry 'bout that," Harry apologized embarrassingly, holding his hands out to steady himself despite Snape's powerful grip on his shoulders. His eyes flickered up to Snape's, then back down to his trainers, and then landed on the freshly cleaned cement. "Dunno why it hit me so hard. I'm good now, though."

"Are you certain?" Snape asked after a solid thirty seconds of searching Harry for any sign of him lying. "Because it will take us longer to get home if you aren't and you fall and knock your head on the ground. I highly doubt you want to end up back at the Guildford Hospital so soon."

"Yeah." Harry cracked a half-hearted smile at the unexpected, yet needed, joke. He straightened himself out, rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans more for a distraction than to remove the small bit of dirt on them. "I'm fi… erm… I mean… I'm good. Really, I just want to go home."

But Snape remained still. Harry fidgeted uneasily in Snape's scrutinizing scan - judging how much he could trust Harry's self-assessment of his condition. Just as Harry was about to take action himself by heading towards Spinner's End ahead of Snape, the professor gave a curt nod and led them down the gloomy street.

Less than halfway home, Snape asked over his shoulder, "Did I mention Dudley is already waiting for us there?"

Given that he already told Harry twice, the Gryffindor suspected he was using it to check in on Harry while they walked home.

Choosing to evade the tactic, Harry asked a question of his own, "Why do you think I responded so… violently appar- erm-to travelling today? That was even worse than when we came home after my treatments at the clinic. And those were bloody awful, but I never sicked up like that."

Snape slowed down until Harry caught up with him. "I have a few theories as to what might have caused it. For one, your treatments are becoming increasingly taxing on your body. I'm sure you've noticed how your blood counts have taken longer to recover with each cycle."

"Obviously," Harry grumbled. No one needed to remind him of that. "But I feel better today than I have in the past… a lot better, actually."

"Your magic," Snape murmured in a hushed tone, without my further explanation.

It took them passing four more row homes in silence for Harry to understand that Snape had, indeed, answered why he reacted so badly to the disapparation, as well as why he felt better despite Dr Swanson's warning that his blood counts were still only slightly above the threshold for discharge. He should have noticed it sooner, honestly, and he may have had he not actively avoided thinking about the day of his relapse at all costs. But it made sense. The stomach pains he'd been experiencing were caused by the magical block dissolving - much in the same way as the horcrux block did last year -, then he had the magical explosion at the end of term which aligned with his accidental magic over the summer, and now it was masking his symptoms, which had been the explanation Healer Smithe gave for why Harry never felt the decline of his relapse. He had unknowingly restarted the depressing cycle that had led up to his relapse, and what neither wizard wanted to say out loud was that if they didn't get his magic contained again, it would effectively undo all his progress from chemotherapy.

"The next full moon can't come soon enough," Harry complained. "I never thought I'd be begging to go through that bloody ritual again, but if I could, I'd do it tomorrow."

"And I'd give anything to do it for you," Snape replied sincerely, his gaze drawn to Harry from the corner of his eyes.

They walked the rest of the way from the apparation point to their front door in silence, Harry trying hard not to wallow in self-pity and Snape… Well, Harry couldn't tell what was going through his mentor's mind; precisely as Snape preferred. For all Harry knew, the man was debating whether to use his pure black bedspread or the slightly lighter black one when Mae visited, but based on his tight jawline, he felt whatever it was, had to be more important than bedding colours.

Thinking about Mae arriving tomorrow sent Harry down a path of imagining what it was going to be like living with Mae for two days. Harry was so wrapped up in their plans for New Year's Eve - introducing Mae to Wizard's Chess and Gobstones, sitting down for dinner as a foursome, and toasting the New Year, alcohol-free for Harry and Dudley - that he noticed nothing strange when he pushed open the door to Spinner's End ahead of Snape and took his first step inside until all the window exploded and shot glass all over the walkway outside, into the foyer, and presumably in each of the bedrooms.

Instinctively, Harry ducked his head and covered it with his arms to protect his face from the tiny incoming shards of glass. Snape rushed in to defend him as well, and in less than a single second, he felt the man's arms come to rest on top of his. The "event", for lack of a better word, ended just as soon as it had begun, and an eerie silence fell upon the foyer as neither Harry nor Snape dared to move for fear of setting off another magical outburst.;

"What the hell was that?!" Harry exclaimed at the same time Dudley came running down the stairs, his rapid, booming footsteps betraying his panic.

"Are you hurt?" Dudley skidded to a stop in front of Harry, who barely noticed his head shaking 'no'. "What was that? Is more coming?"

"I'm guessing the windows upstairs had a similar fate?" Snape answered before Harry had the chance to.

Dudley's reply sounded muffled like it came from the depths of the Black Lake making it impossible for Harry to understand it. He could hear the abnormally loud crunching of glass beneath Snape's heavy boots as the professor moved around to assess their situation. How had that much glass landed in the tiny foyer? Even if every piece of glass in the house broke - which seemed likely if the window all the way upstairs in his bedroom had - there would be minimal glass on the floor near them, limited by the small window at the top of the front door and the mirror hanging on the wall near the sitting room threshold on his left. The rest would have fallen in the room, or out in front of the house, it had broken in.

"Harry? Snape's stern voice roused him from his daze and made him notice the two sets of eyes staring at him. Evidently, he'd missed something one of them had said to him. "Are you alright? Did any of the glass cut you?

"Erm…" Harry frowned as he ran his hand over his face and checked the rest of his body to see whether any of it had hit him. Fortunately, he had covered his face in time, and his winter coat protected his arms. "No, I'm alright," he breathlessly replied, quickly following it up with, "was that my magic? Was it trying to hurt me by summoning it all here?!"

Snape followed Harry's line of sight to the ground, where the glass accumulated around their feet. Without uttering a word, let alone the explanation Harry had requested, the professor waved his wand over the compact area, promptly lifting the glass into the air around their knees and sending it out of the room much in the way it had entered; albeit at a significantly slower speed. Harry and Dudley exchanged a worried look between them as they listened to the glass mending itself throughout their home.

"Yes," Snape finally answered with a ragged intake of breath. "I believe your magic needed to adjust to the structure's enchantments, especially those on the front door where they are the strongest. We both know that your magic has a history of reacting in an… unfriendly… manner towards you… such as with apparating this afternoon. Therefore, it would not surprise me if it had summoned-"

A violent, searing agony suddenly shot through Harry's body, knocking him to the floor, before he could hear the rest of Snape's explanation, if he had finished it at all. His face twisted in torture, and though he could hear nothing except the beating of his heart in his heart, the rawness of his throat suggested he was screaming. Pain surged through every nerve and muscle, eerily similar to when he had been under the Cruciatus Curse, rendering him helpless; unable to do anything besides thrash on the floor and scream.

Seconds felt like hours while Harry lay convulsing on the floor, completely oblivious to his surroundings. He couldn't hear Snape or Dudley calling his name in panic, or feel their hands press against him before recoiling at the slight shock they received upon contact with his skin. He didn't hear the front door open or feel the weightlessness of Snape's Mobilicorpus, and he didn't notice the change of light on his face once they gently laid him down on the cement stoop, finally putting an end to the magical reaction and his misery.

"W-w-what…" Harry's voice was raw and raspy from his screaming, stopping him from finishing his question. He tried to sit up but quickly found himself unable to and collapsed against Dudley's chest, only then noticing his cousin was sitting on the ground behind him to help prop him up.

"Don't move too much," Snape firmly advised from his position hovering over Harry's limp body. "Take a deep breath and let yourself rest a bit first."

Harry nodded his reply so as not to aggravate his injured vocal cords, however, the motion sent a shockwave through his skull, prompting him to whimper.

"To make sure there won't be any residual interactions out here, I need to go back inside to disable a few of the security enhancements. Will you be alright with him for a few minutes?" Snape asked, presumably directed at Dudley since Harry figured he was in no condition to respond to anything at the moment.

Dudley's approving hum vibrated into Harry's ear from his chest. They exchanged a few more instructions that Harry had no hope of following until the door opened and closed with a loud - at least to Harry - bang and he was alone, outside on the front steps, with his cousin.

"Are we vi-visi-visible?" Harry stuttered. His eyes were still closed to protect himself from the bright outside triggering an impending migraine, so he missed Dudley's reaction during the prolonged silence.

"What do you mean by visible?" Dudley eventually asked.

"Uh…" Harry's forehead furrowed as he concentrated on forming the words to describe the fear rising in his chest. "C-c… ca-can the n- neighbours see us out here?"

Close enough.

Dudley's arms, which Harry hadn't noticed around his shoulders, relaxed. "No. Severus made sure we're hidden."

Harry released a small chuckle and cracked his eyes open. Despite feeling his glasses still on his nose, Dudley's face was blurred, likely a result of whatever had attacked him in the house. "Oh good. The last thing we need is some muggle bobby finding us out here. How'd you e'splain that to 'em huh?"

In a dismissive gesture, Dudley shook his head. "I've got some bad news for you, Harry. I seriously doubt there are many of 'em out this way, anyway."

"Prolly right," Harry muttered. His droopy eyelids closed automatically. "And even if they were, they've more important things to worry 'bout."

"Sure thing, Harry," Dudley replied, and Harry almost thought he heard a slight choke in his cousin's voice but he ignored it; convincing himself he'd misheard the other boy. But the slight squeeze of Dudley's arms around him and the reassuring whisper, "You're going to be alright, Severus will be back soon," were things he could not ignore.

I must look pretty bad this time.

The next thing Harry knew, a cold phial pressed to his lips startled him awake. He'd barely sat up when a thick, warm viscous syrup, tasting oddly like burnt tree bark, sloshed into his mouth sending him into a coughing fit. As the phial was again forced between his lips, sending a second surge of liquid straight down his throat, a familiar, strong arm wrapped securely around his upper body to both stop him from falling forward into the concrete stoop and to prevent him from pulling away.

"Drink it, Harry," Snape's stern voice whispered into his ear. "It will help stop the pain and tremors from the Cruciatus."

Harry assumed he must have fallen asleep - passed out, his brain unhelpfully corrected - at some point because he didn't recall Snape returning outside, but it explained why the arms around him felt so comforting.

Harry nodded his understanding, voluntarily opening his mouth when Snape brought the phial to his lips for the third time. It took several more minutes, each one less excruciating than the last, for the potion to work its way into every muscle of his body with a pop, burn, and then peaceful nothingness. Finally able to breathe again, he blinked his eyes open to discover Snape taking up most of his now completely clear vision. Snape appeared more concerned than the Gryffindor had ever seen him.

"Well… that was fun," Harry said, earning a snort from Dudley sitting at the bottom step of the stoop. "I vote we don't do that again."

"It was certainly unexpected," Snape grumbled as he rearranged their positions so that Harry could lean against the closed door while he performed a diagnostic charm. Satisfied with the results, he added, "I've never heard of any instance of accidental magic creating a Cruciatius-like reaction. Especially when directed at the wizard himself."

"Because the magic can't work without the intention behind the spell, right?" Harry inquired with caution. He didn't need to see Snape's slow nod to know the answer to his question, nor did he need to see the anguish in Snape's eyes to know that they both were concerned about the same thing: if Harry's accidental magic could cast the Cruciatus Curse - because no matter what anyone tried to claim that's what it was - could it also cast the other two Unforgivables? Could his magic accidentally kill someone, or more likely himself given its self-inflicting nature?

"So? What now?" Harry stood on wobbly legs, declining Snape's extended hand for support, although the professor remained suffocatingly close to Harry. "How can we stop this?"

"I'm going to start by disabling the rest of the spells around the house," Snape peered up at the old row home running through his plan: "Thankfully, the bulk of the structure is non-magical, therefore removing any enchantments placed around it, such as the security wards, washing charms, refrigeration charms, and so on, should be simple and will prevent your magic from reacting to them."

Harry's head snapped up from brushing the dirt off his jeans. "I'm not going back in there."

Snape sighed. "Then where do you think you're going to go? You can't spend the rest of the holiday out here." To further his point, he swung his hands around the stoop hardly large enough to hold the two of them. "And everywhere else you could go… back to school, the Burrow, Hogsmeade, and to Luna's… has a higher concentration of magic than here. At least here I can effectively undo the spells and revert it to its muggle structure."

Harry clenched his jaw, pleased with himself for not reacting impulsively like he wanted to. "What about Mae's? Her flat is all muggle."

Snape's eyebrows sprang up as if he couldn't believe Harry would casually suggest his girlfriend's flat. "It was," he answered slowly, "until I magically fixed the window I magically broke leaving traces of magic in the structure. Plus, she doesn't live alone. Jessica, at best, tolerates me and, at worst, is actively trying to prove I have malicious intentions. So I apologize if I'm not willing to bring in a wizard with proven chaotic, uncontrollable magic."

A tense silence fell over the three of them as they waited for Harry to finish weighing his options, or lack thereof.

"He has a very valid point, Harry," Dudley offered. "You're really out of any better choice."

Harry opened his mouth, prepared to emphatically suggest Hermione's house and then stopped himself. Even though he had never been to the Grangers' before and didn't have their address to get there - he was certain Snape had access to the information - knowing Hermione, he did not doubt that her family would gladly welcome the three of them into their home; no questions asked. Except he couldn't bring himself to mention her name because of her recent engagement. Harry didn't want to ruin her joyous moment by showing up at her doorstep with a problem she would devote all of her energy to fixing. This was his issue, not hers, so as much as he hated the idea of walking back into Spinner's End, Snape and Dudley were correct; he had no other choice.

"I s'pose you're right," Harry muttered. "You'll make sure it's safe?"

"Absolutely," Snape responded emphatically, moving until he faced the Gryffindor. "After hearing Healer Smithe's assessment of the incident at school, I am confident that removing the enchantments will make it safe for you here. You may continue to experience bouts of magic, similar to the levels you had last week at the hospital, but it shouldn't be nearly as catastrophic as what you just went through. And until I know for sure that things have settled down, I won't leave your side. I promise, if anything feels wrong, I will get you out of there."

"What if it-"

"It won't," Snape cut off Harry's anxious, yet not unfounded, thinking.

"You don't know that," Harry spat back. "You just said-"

"I won't-"

"-But you said-"

"Harry-"

"Would you fucking stop interrupting me!" Harry finally yelled, thankful for their physical privacy and the silencing spell around them. Snape, to his credit, refrained from speaking again, not even to reprimand him for his language. Releasing a calming breath, Harry began again, "You said you've never seen accidental magic do a Cruciatus Curse… because it needs the intention behind it. But seeing as I didn't intend on torturing myself today, how can you be so sure it won't cast Avada Kedavra on me?"

Harry's intense stare remained fixed on stare the entire time, waiting on his response. The seconds ticked on with only the sounds of their heavy breathing between them.

"I can't." The man's anguish at conceding his defeat tore apart Harry's heart. Yet despite being told that the one person he trusted the most to keep him safe, couldn't do so - that this was a problem Snape, of all people, couldn't solve - Harry felt lighter. Suddenly, the fear consuming him minutes ago about returning into the house had vanished.

"Ok, I'll stay," he said with his head held high in the face of Dudley and Snape's utter bewilderment. "After you've removed everything, of course."

"Have you completely lost your mind? Or perhaps you are trying to drive me mad?" Snape's arm angrily gestured to the still-closed door behind them. "I just told you I cannot guarantee your magic won't cast the Killing Curse on you, and now you want to go back inside?!"

A small chuckle escaped Harry's throat at the reaction only Harry could elicit from the man. "In my experience overconfidence causes one to make stupid mistakes, even to someone as meticulous as you. I'm pretty sure I've been told that more than a couple of times during my years at Hogwarts."

The strain in Snape's shoulders eased at the same time he pinched his eyes shut. "I highly doubt that during that lecture they intended for you to use it to convince me to put you in more danger. It's quite the opposite, in fact."

Harry's dramatic shrug went unnoticed, and after a suspenseful minute of watching, Snape considered his options - in a much more logical manner than Harry had earlier - the professor told him to wait outside while he went to remove every spell and ruin from their home.

Given how few enchantments Harry had personally experienced while living in Spinner's End - the security enhancements on the door and windows, cooling charms for their refrigerator, laundry charm on the washing basin, and probably a dozen or so protection charms he assumed Snape built into his potion lab in the cellar - he was surprised when it took the professor close to twenty minutes to disable all of them and return to the stoop. Dudley and Harry waited on the stoop, with Harry pretending to sleep despite feeling his cousin watching him closely. They both got to their feet as soon as the front door reopened and Snape emerged.

"We're going to go in slowly this time to give your magic a chance to adjust to any residual signatures inside," Snape instructed boldly, although his white knuckle grip on his still brandished wand and the slight tremble in his voice did little to calm Harry's growing nerves. "I'll go first, positioning you between me and Dudley. I will be responsible for the protection charms should anything, like the glass, hurls towards us, and Dudley, you are to pull Harry out of the house as fast as possible. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Dudley answered, far more respectful than Harry had ever heard him, even to Uncle Vernon. It reminded Harry of how far the two boys had come - Dudley being willing to take directions from an authoritative figure like Snape and Harry putting his hands in his former tormentor.

A stiff nod had Snape continuing, "The plan is to get Harry upstairs to his bedroom. From there, I can assess how much protection his room will need, if any. Ideally, my actions have fixed the problem and we won't have any issues-"

"Like me dropping dead?" Harry sarcastically snorted. With two sets of eyes staring back at him, he sheepishly added, "Sorry."

"Yes, that would certainly be a worst-case scenario," Snape quipped, his voice as sharp as his potion's knife at Harry's unappreciated comment. "Now, given that the Cruciatus did not immediately-"

"I'm ready-" Harry clapped his hands, then ceremoniously wiped them across the upper part of his jeans, unexpectedly leaving a trail of dirt from leaning on the dusty stoop for close to an hour, "Let's get this over with."

Harry, without giving it any thought, shut his eyes and held his breath as Snape led him through the doorway for the second time, bumping into Snape's back almost immediately after crossing the threshold. His heart pounded against his chest realizing the surrounding air was the same as any other day he'd entered Spinner's End. He'd never put much thought into the detection of ambient magic - could someone sense the presence of enchantments used on a structure? If his magic had reacted to the magic around him, should he be able to notice a difference walking in now? He couldn't recall if he had ever noticed them at the Burrow or while at Malfoy manor, or in the years he spent at Hogwarts compared to returning to Privet Drive for the summer.

Hermione would know, Harry thought to himself. I bet Draco does too.

No one uttered a word while they waited in the entrance, with Harry sandwiched so closely between Snape's body and Dudley's now smaller frame that he could feel their breathing on his chest and smell the crisps Dudley had probably eaten with his lunch. Their tense bodies were ready for anything Harry's accidental might throw at them - Snape to cast and Dudley to pull. An ear-splitting explosion startled Harry, and his eyes shot open to the sight of a bright orange glow somewhere between Snape and the staircase. The professor reacted instantly by unleashing a powerful jet of water from his wand at the same moment Dudley grabbed Harry by the upper arm and pulled him away. The unexpected movement entangled Harry's feet, sending him reeling backwards. He fell heavily on his bum, within millimetres of crashing down the stoop's cement steps. Without so much as a glance at the two teenagers, the door in front of him slammed shut, sealing Snape inside.

Harry let out a loud groan. He cautiously got to his feet and checked his aching body for signs of new bruises or cuts. Satisfied at finding none, he said with a sigh, "I supposed it's an improvement… seeing as nothing physically attacked us."

To this, Dudley shook his head and muttered, "If you say so, Harry."

Neither of them bothered to try opening the door, as they assumed Snape had locked it or, more likely, would fly into a fit of rage if they entered without him giving the all-clear first - something that neither one of them wanted to experience.

The ten-minute wait for Snape to return seemed like an eternity. Regardless of what Snape said about the incident, the slight charring on the edges of the man's dark green jump, the soot on the tip of his nose and staining his cheeks, and the unnatural frizz to his long black hair made it evident that it was anything but a "small fire".

"I missed the privacy wards in the sitting room and the unbreakable charms on the kitchen dishes," Snape explained, spelling his face and clothing clean. "I cannot disable the floo entirely, however, it is usually the person using the floo subjected to the magic, not those around him."

"How often were you breaking your dishes to make you have to charm them unbreakable?" Harry randomly asked. By the time he remembers Snape's bad habit of throwing things when he was angry, it was too late to avoid the dark black eyes from glaring over at him - both daring him to mention anything else on the topic and questioning how he could focus on such a minute detail at such a moment. "So I should be good to go now?"

Snape ran his palm anxiously down his mouth as he said, "It's a bit more… complicated. I found evidence to suggest there is at least one security enchantment hidden within the structures that I am unable to remove."

"Why?!" Harry and Dudley asked in unison.

"In simple terms, I cannot identify it," Snape replied. "Therefore, we need to get you upstairs and I set the wards while I figure out what else I place on the home and how to dismantle it. "

"You're telling me your grand plan is to run to my room and lock me in there? For how long? Until the start of term?" Harry sank to the cold concrete and rested his weary head onto his bent-up knees.

Dudley broke the momentary silence, though Harry did not lift his head while he spoke. "How long do you think it will take to figure it out? And how sure are you that you can get Harry upstairs before anything attacks him?"

"I have a few educated guesses of where to look and what might have been used to improve their strength," Snape started with a quiet, calculating hum. "Two, maybe three hours at the most. And I have absolute confidence that Harry will be safe there. I would never put his well-being at risk.

"I plan to use a combination of an enchantment from St Mungo's for patients with spell damage and another from the DMLE typically used when detaining suspects. The former keeps any surrounding magic from affecting a particular area, like a curtained-off hospital bed, while the latter will temporarily prevent him from using magic of any kind, intentionally or accidentally. Essentially, together they'll make Harry's bedroom and bathroom magically clean. No magic in. No magic out." He paused, looking back and forth between the two boys before settling on Harry. "Ultimately, this is your decision and if you don't want to take the chance, I will find an alternative-"

"I trust you," Harry blurted out, more comfortable than his frayed nerves felt. If he wanted to be honest with Snape, which he didn't, the idea of being anywhere terrified him and he would no sooner spend every knut in his vault to redo the blasted ritual right there on the stoop. But without that as an option, trusting Snape was the next best thing.

The third attempt Harry made to enter, things went more smoothly, in no little part because Snape and Dudley hustled him up the stairs as if a swarm of inferi were rushing after them, rather than waiting in the entry to see where his magic would cooperate or not. Halfway up the creaky stairs - an observation Harry filed away for later - a series of loud pops echoed from all around them, similar to what Harry had once seen in an old wartime film, proving their rush had been justified. They didn't stop, or even slow down, at the unsettling sound until they reached Harry's small bedroom at the end of the corridor where Snape hastily pushed him and Dudley in. Snape's stammering began even before the door had completely closed.

How Snape could be sure these new spells would work, Harry didn't know, nor was he in any state to comprehend the explanation if he asked. Something about their frantic dash up the stairs, coming after his four massive episodes of accidental magic, drained whatever adrenaline-fuelled energy he had left, leaving him just enough to flop onto his bed, over the newly laundered bedspread, kick off his shoes, and roll onto his side, facing the window with his back to the door. Harry lay soundly in the comfort of his first true bedroom, oblivious to the end of Snape's changing or the creaking of his bedroom door, signalling Snape's arrival.

"The light bulbs popped as we made our way up the stairs," Snape's deep voice said, breaking through the increasing haziness of Harry's mind; simultaneously on the verge of sleep and begging for him to be left alone so he could try to make sense of what had occurred to him in the last hour.

The bed sank behind Harry's lower back, but Harry did not turn to greet his future father and if this troubled the other wizard, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he continued as though Harry was paying attention, detailing the rest of his day's plans.

"Nothing else has happened in the house since I placed the spells on your bedroom and attached bathroom, so I believe they are working, at least for the time being. I'll continue to monitor them for the next few hours. In order to remove the remaining wards, and explore our options for getting you back to school next term, I need to visit Hogwarts and possibly meet with Healer Smithe. Do you think you'll be alright here without me for a bit?" Snape paused, and the bed shifted as the professor bent over to check on Harry, then lifted. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and muffled, giving his instructions to Dudley. "While I am in the castle, I will have my sphere on me. I will give you Harry's out of his overnight bag. Don't think twice about contacting me, no matter how little or insignificant you… or especially, Harry… may think it is. The enchantments placed on the room will last for approximately a day. Hopefully, if I find the answers I'm searching for, I won't have to replace them tomorrow.

Harry lost interest in their whispered conversation regarding his care. He despised how everyone in his life had to sacrifice for him, from Snape risking both of his careers to stay at the hospital for one to two weeks every month and missing time spent with Mae to watch over him, to Dudley giving up his holiday because Harry's magic went crazy. When did he become such an inconvenience to everyone around him? His relapse? Or did it go back to his first diagnosis? And at what point would they look at him and realize he wasn't worth all the work they put into him? When would they recognize that he had nothing to offer them in exchange for all their help? As months dragged into years, would they remain by his side? Or more, would he want them to still be by his side?

The sound of the door closing diverted Harry's negative thoughts, and he focused on the sound of Snape's heavy boots descending the steps, and the distinct absence of the creak when he appeared to have reached the bottom.

"It's my magic," Harry breathlessly whispered, not expecting Dudley to react, but also not surprised when the other boy pulled up the desk chair beside the footboard of his bed; close enough that Harry couldn't ignore him, yet far enough not to suffocate him. Harry forced himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily on the headboard for support. A grimace crossed his face from his body's protest to the movement. "The creaking from over summer? My magic must have caused it" he clarified. "On the way up here, I heard it again, but not from Severus leaving just now, meaning the spells he set up must be working."

Dudley smirked. "Compared to everything you've faced this afternoon, I think I'd prefer the creaking throughout the house."

In perfect timing, a searing ache rippled up Harry's body, reminding him of the physical toll the events had taken on him.

"You and me, both," Harry groaned, vowing to himself not to dare to step foot outside of the enchanted area until Snape gave permission, "So… now that we're trapped in here, what are we going to do?"