Harry walked through the day in a daze. He didn’t have any place he had to be or anything he had to do, which was unfortunate since he really could have used something to help him not vacillate so wildly between stunned and hopeful. He was in a hopeful mood when he encountered Snape in the corridor that afternoon. His eyes must have given him away because Snape straightened suddenly when their gazes met.

Recovering quickly, Snape said, “There are some arrangements to be made. If you are going to be available on Wednesday…”

“You think I have someplace else to go?” Harry asked.

“There is that. I have asked a solicitor to come— Are you ready for this, Harry?” Snape asked.

Harry swallowed hard. “Yes, sir. Just a little fast.”

“Do you want time?” Snape asked levelly. “You may have as much as you like.”

Harry tried on that idea. “I don’t think that will make any difference.” He looked down at his hands folded around themselves. “I’m just still getting used to the idea.”

“By all means you may certainly have time to become accustomed to the idea before going forward.”

With a shake of his head, Harry said, “I don’t need it. I’m not going to change my mind.” Indeed, he had latched onto the notion more fiercely than he had believed possible, imagining giving it up gave him an awful hollow feeling.

“Wednesday then after breakfast, in the Defense office.”

“All right.”

They both stood still without any inclination to move. “Would you care to help me test the efficacy of some old potions from the stocks?”

Brightening instantly, Harry said, “Yes. Please.”

Later in the afternoon, Harry sat alone in the Great Hall reading a Muggle paperback book Hermione had sent by owl that morning. It wasn’t holding his attention as well as he had hoped. So, when the front doors of the castle opened and closed and hesitant footsteps sounded across the Entrance Hall, Harry looked up at the doors with some interest. A woman with pinched features surrounded by a frame of short brown hair and wearing a maroon traveling cloak came in the first set of doors, stopped, and looked up at the ceiling in surprise.

Eager for a distraction, Harry put down his book and stepped over to her. “Are you Gertrude Greer?”

She frowned at Harry’s oversized Dudley t-shirt that had long since turned a mouldering mousy color. Then pawed through a large shiny purse slung over her shoulder. “Are you the welcoming committee?” She apparently found the parchment she wanted. It had the school seal on it. She read it over quickly, her lips moving faintly.

“I guess I am now,” Harry said. “Do you want me to show you to your office and classroom?”

She put the parchment back away, stuffing it in at random. She turned back to the Entrance Hall without answering his question. “I came on an earlier train in case they didn’t have room for my trunks on the fuller afternoon run.” She spoke in a tone that assumed he would care. In the outer hall stood five very large vertical trunks looking like menacing wardrobes.

“Maybe I should let you move those,” Harry said, imagining them filled with dangerous ingredients and delicate instruments.

She muttered a hover charm of sorts and the trunks lifted in unison like a platoon and followed them across the hall, Harry in the lead.

Down in the dungeon, Harry was glad Snape wasn’t around. A few cauldrons still bubbled on the benches against the wall. Greer slipped her gloves off and circled the room, glancing into the cauldrons as she passed, furrowing her brow in dismay again at his dingy shirt before going to the desk.

“What do you teach?” she asked as she clicked open a trunk and pulled out her desk set.

Harry walked along the cauldrons, checking instructions and potion status. Grinning, Harry said. “I don’t. I’m a student.”

Greer opened the drawers of the desk and arranged her things in them. The scene bothered Harry somehow and he tried to shake it as silly.

“I read the school rules. Students aren’t allowed to stay for the summer.” She spoke an Umbridge-like voice.

“I think the headmaster made an exception,” Harry said easily. The Draught of Isis was turning a nice fuchsia color which meant it would be finished before tomorrow. He stirred it a few times, bringing a cloud of debris from the bottom.

“I wouldn’t touch those if I were you,” she snapped at him.

Harry stowed his hands behind his back. “Your dungeon, ma’am,” he said, still feeling uneasy about that notion, as though he had something unfinished here that now never could be.

She shut one of the drawers with a thud and opened the cabinet behind her, usually locked because it held restricted ingredients. Snape must have left it unspelled for her. “If the headmaster lets the rules be broken so easily, that doesn’t bode well for my getting along with him. I must say.” She seemed to be thinking aloud to herself, but it still made Harry narrow his eyes at her.

“Then I am glad you are not the headmistress, ma’am,” Harry said. “I don’t fancy being hunted down and killed in revenge by Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew. Although I admit, being here restricts me from doing the same to them.”

She froze, her hands wrapped around a stack of files. “You’re Harry Potter,” she said with a grimace. Her eyes finally sought out his scar. She shook her head and put the files in a box on the floor. “I suppose if exceptions are going to be made…”

Harry stepped toward the door. “They do tend to happen for me,” Harry lilted, thinking ahead to the next one he could annoy her with. “I’ll leave you to your unpacking, Professor.”

At dinner, Greer stepped in just as everyone took a seat. Harry sat down across from Snape, realizing too late that there was an empty spot to his left, across from Dumbledore. With so few people, it was difficult to box himself in. Greer stepped over the bench to that seat and shook Dumbledore’s hand before sitting.

“Gertie, if you had owled that you were arriving early I could have made certain you were met at the station.”

“It is no matter, I am accustomed to handling my own trunks.”

Dumbledore went through introductions. Greer turned from the last one, Hagrid beside her, and rubbed her hands together as though overexcited by the food on the table. At least she didn’t wear flowered things the way Umbridge did, Harry thought. “Mr. Potter was kind enough to show me to my office when I arrived,” she said in a saccharine sweet voice.

Harry gave Snape a flash of dismay. “The Isis is almost finished, by the way,” Harry remembered to mention to him.

“It is about time,” Snape replied, as though the potion had it in for him.

Greer looked between them calculatingly.

“Mr. Potter has been assisting me in preparing the long-brew potions I took the liberty of starting before your arrival. During the school year, it is much more difficult to brew them successfully.”

“You should use the second floor girls toilet. It’s worked well for us in the past,” Harry said in a tantalizingly innocent tone. No other conversations seemed to have started as everyone served themselves.

“And what may I ask were you brewing?” Snape said.

Harry drank his pumpkin juice to stall. “Ask me in a year when Hermione has passed her exams.”

“Something dangerous?” Snape went on.

“Was for her.” Harry poured himself more juice. “She accidentally turned herself into a cat.” The memory was far enough removed that he found it quite funny now. When he stopped laughing, he pulled the plate of chicken legs closer and selected two.

“What is wrong with this toilet?” Greer asked, slightly concerned.

Harry sensed that she really disliked anything that might not be orderly and predictable. “Moaning Myrtle is the reason no one goes into it,” Harry explained. “She’s a ghost. You didn’t go to school here?”

“I attended Durmstrang,” she said in a tone that closed that topic.

More annoyed with the woman, Harry said, “Myrtle is harmless. Other things in there aren’t so.” He caught Dumbledore’s gaze, which held equal parts disapproval and mischief.

“Why are such things left for the students to stumble upon?” Greer asked bluntly.

“Oh, well, this one was left by one of the school’s founders, so it is a little hard to remove.” In as ordinary of a conversational tone as Harry could muster, he added, “Although the Basilisk is dead now. Someone put a sword through its head.”

Snape broke in. “It does not pose a threat to you, Ms. Greer. Or to anyone who does not speak Parseltongue.” He gave Harry a dark look.

“Well, I certainly do not!” she blurted.

Harry jumped at her outburst. As he settled down and adjusted his napkin, he muttered quietly, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nothing wrong with it, Mr. Potter?” she asked in shrill mockery as though he had done something wrong during class and she desired to make an example of him. “Only the darkest wizards are Parselmouths, Potter, or didn’t you learn that in this school of bright windows? Perhaps you still have a few things to learn, eh?”

Harry stared at her. In a soft voice, he said, “I have lots. I have to take N.E.W.T.s.” This comment brought forth grins from the other teachers. Harry took a bite of mashed potatoes, which were staying warm on his plate somehow. He wondered who was doing that for him. “And I have heard that about Parselmouths, ma’am. In school. Second year.”

Sprout and Hagrid looked at the ceiling at that moment. Harry mulled over whether to pop it on her now or save it for later.

“Well, that is good to hear,” she calmed down considerably as she said this.

“All dark wizards, ma’am?” Harry asked when the table remained silent as though to give him an opening. “Or, all Parselmouths are dark wizards? I just want to make sure I have this straight.”

As if flustered by his sudden stupidity, she frowned and said, “I’m certain there have been dark wizards who weren’t, many in fact. But there has never been a Parselmouth who wasn’t.” She waved her fork at him as she spoke with strong emotion.

“Do they have to register somewhere? You know, like Animagi?” Harry asked this with honest curiosity. He glanced again at Dumbledore, who continued to eat calmly. Harry kept expecting a small shake of the head from him, telling him to stop it.

“They should have to,” she blurted out. “Fortunately for all of us, they are incredibly rare.”

“Ah,” Harry said as though this cleared the topic up completely and it could be dropped. 

As Harry ate in silence, McGonagall caught his eye and gave him a disappointed look. Harry shrugged lightly at her. He had to take an entire year of Potions with this woman, after all.

“I hope you settle in easily here, Gertie,” Dumbledore said as he waved his plate away. “If there is any way any of us can assist you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I’m certain I’ll be fine,” she said primly, now sounding like Aunt Petunia.

As Harry finished his lunch, all he could think of was he hoped Hermione didn’t take a liking to this woman. Otherwise he might not make it through his three last terms of Advanced Potions.

“I am curious, Mr. Potter,” said Greer as she encountered Harry in the corridor. Harry had unfortunately chosen that moment to check inside the suit of armor that always seemed to be humming to itself. “Didn’t they give you any kind of a job to do around the castle for the summer?”

Harry thought she might treat him better today since he was wearing a decent set of robes despite the warm day. But apparently that wasn’t the issue.

She went on, “I have only been here two days but you seem to have no profitable activity to occupy yourself.”

“Um,” Harry began. “I’m only guessing, Professor, but I think the other teachers feel that offing Voldemort was worth a summer of unprofitable activity.”

“Hmf,” she said through her nose and strode away.

Harry wondered if he went down to breakfast now he could avoid her for the rest of the day or at least for the morning. Willing to eat alone in exchange for not seeing her for a while, he headed straight down to the Great Hall. 

As it turned out, he didn’t need to eat alone. Snape paced in vague agitation along in front of the head table. Concerned, Harry asked, “Everything all right, sir?”

“Yes,” Snape muttered. As Harry took a seat at the end of the Hufflepuff table, his teacher ceased pacing and sat across from him. “You are up early,” Snape observed.

“I went to sleep early. I think I’m bored again. That and I was hoping to avoid eating with the Dragon Lady.”

Breakfast plates appeared on the table. “You are not enamored of Ms. Greer?” At Harry’s doubtful face, he said, “Perhaps you would be willing to leave with me after the hearing.”

Harry froze. “You think Dumbledore would let me go?”

“I expect, Potter, that no one, Servant of the Dark Lord or otherwise, would expect to find you at my house.”

Harry grinned, “Probably true.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Potter, our house,” Snape corrected.

Harry’s eyes glazed as though he stared at something well beyond the side wall of the hall. A home to go to that wasn’t the Dursley’s. That thought was going to take some getting used to.

“Potter?” Snape prompted.

Harry looked at his plate as he pushed his egg around with his fork. “I was just thinking how nice it is to not be at the Dursleys. I like regular meals and not being beaten up by my cousin.” He fell silent, flushed in embarrassment.

“That bad?” Snape asked with a touch of his usual snideness.

“I think if you’d asked me to come home with you for a previous summer…I probably would have, just to avoid them.”

“Quite bad, then,” Snape stated dryly, making Harry smile again.

After breakfast, Snape left to meet the solicitor in Hogsmeade. Harry wandered slowly up to the Defense office. His hands were cold and his heart raced. He stared with much more attention at the portraits on the wall as he went, as a way of stalling. They all paid him more attention in return.

“Prithee!” a knight in one of them said. “Have you seen my horse?”

Harry shook his head. “No, sorry.” As he turned the corner, the knight was yelling, “She’s a bay. Sixteen hands. Let me know if you see her!”

At the door to Snape’s office, Harry hesitated for a time while clouds passed the windows at the end of the hall shifting the air from light to silvery. Finally, he reached for the door handle. The office was bright inside from rows of high windows. Books lined the walls now, half of them potion-related. He stared at the pensieve up on the shelf and tried to assemble in his mind how he had arrived at this strange point. Voldemort seemed in the distant past compared to the complicated seesawing of his emotions right then.

Sooner than Harry had hoped, the door opened. As he turned to it, Snape swished in. He appeared openly relieved to find Harry there, drawing a sheepish smile from Harry.

The solicitor was a woman with short, stiff, auburn hair and stout body that moved lightly on short legs. “Mr. Potter,” she said sincerely, “very pleased to make your acquaintance.” Her spiky auburn eyebrows bounced as she talked. “May I take this chair?” 

“Of course, Ms. Kranden,” Snape replied and sat behind his desk.

She pulled the chair up close to the front of the desk, opened her briefcase and pulled forth a thick assortment of parchments. “Now, since you are of age but under twenty, we can perform a custodial adoption or a successionary one.” She waited for Snape to reply.

“Which do you recommend?” Snape asked.

“Whichever we think the council is more willing to approve in this situation.” She finally found the sheet she was looking for. “A succession was authorized just two hundred and two years ago for the…Nigellus family. But they are considered perfunctory barring undue influence upon one of the parties.”

Snape leaned back in his chair, “Nevertheless. Custodial, I should think.”

Kranden pulled out a quill and dipped in the inkwell on the desk before filling in the date at the top of a long parchment form. “Given your age, Mr. Potter, and that no one would question your ability to attend to your own interests, you can in theory break from Mr. Snape at any time, just as one could from natural parents once one is of age.”

“I understand that,” Harry said.

She looked between the two of them. “A symbolic adoption, really,” she commented as she filled in the names in the blanks buried in the middle of the first paragraph of highly stylized script. Her writing stood out as cold and factual.

Snape stared at his fingernails and stated quietly, “Symbols are important.”

“Of course. I don’t disagree,” she replied automatically. She shifted the parchment up and scanned the intervening text quickly. “Now, Mr. Potter, you have no living immediate family?”

“No.”

“Relatives? Godparents? Anyone who might contest this?”

“I have an aunt and uncle—”

“Ever co-habitate with them?” she interrupted.

“My whole life.”

She looked up and considered him. She pulled out another form and made a note on it. “We’ll have to get signatures from them, at a minimum. They never officially adopted you, I assume?”

“Not that I know of. I doubt it.” Harry was both relieved by this and felt a little hurt by it at the same time.

She frowned at the parchment in her hand. “The council is not going to like that. Can you bring them in to witness that they are willing to release you? It’d be time consuming to go through a separation before the adoption. You might be twenty by then.”

“They hate wizards,” Harry said. “You’d have to trick them into it somehow. They hate me, for that matter.”

Kranden tapped her finger on the desk as she thought. She frowned as she reread the second parchment again.

“They starved me. They made me live in a broom cupboard. They put bars on my windows to keep me from leaving for school,” Harry explained, exasperated by the thought that Vernon and Petunia could still interfere with his life.

“We’ll make a case for abused and neglected then,” she said softly as she wrote out a note on the margin of the parchment. 

Harry kept his attention firmly on her writing. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Snape’s gaze. “They’d sign anything you gave them if it meant they never had to see me again.”

“We’ll start with that route then. If we can convince them that your relatives are wizard-averse Muggles, they may forgo the witness requirement. If not, we’ll take the neglect route.”

She made her way down the parchment, filling in each of the blank lines with her mechanical writing. She used a complicated spell to duplicate the parchment into five copies. Finally, she said, “Sign here,” to Snape as she turned the stack around to him.

Snape pulled out his usual raven quill and signed the top copy. Harry leaned back in his chair as he watched, feeling dizzy. As Snape flipped up the bottom edge of the parchment, he gave Harry a glance, then lowered his brow at Harry’s expression of distress. Harry forced himself to breathe deeply and felt a little better. After a long pause of consideration, Snape returned to his task.

The completed stack was turned toward the solicitor and she carefully straightened them before turning to Harry with an official air. “Mr. Potter, do you understand the ramifications of what you are entering into?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“All right, then.” She dipped her own quill again and signed each of the copies with practiced speed. She set the quill aside and straightened the sheets yet again. “We need two more witnesses to Mr. Potter’s willingness. The witnesses need to have long-standing familiarity with him.”

Snape stood and gestured for them to move to the door. “The headmaster will most certainly be willing.”

They stood in the headmaster’s office as Dumbledore glanced over the long parchment with his head angled back to see through his half-moon spectacles. With deliberate motions, he arranged the stack before him and turned to Harry, who stood back from the group. “Harry?” Dumbledore asked. 

“Sir?”

“All right, Harry?”

Harry shrugged and then forced his demeanor to brighten against an unusual panic that tried to grip him. It receded as he looked into the old wizard’s gentle, knowing eyes. “Yes, sir,” he answered with confidence.

Dumbledore pulled out a peach-colored quill and signed each of the copies before handing them back to Kranden.

The three of them exited. Harry glanced up as he moved to close the office door behind them. Dumbledore’s expression, as he sat with his hands folded before him on the desk, was more at peace than Harry had ever seen. He gave Harry a kind smile and a nod with more than the usual twinkle.

As he followed the others down the escalator, Harry considered that he would have agreed to this just for Dumbledore, had he known what it meant to him. At the bottom, as the gargoyles leapt back into place, Snape stood in thought. “Professor McGonagall?” he suggested.

Harry shrugged and said to the solicitor, “If she thinks we are playing a practical joke on her, will that reflect badly on us?”

Kranden cleared her throat. “I’m not the council. I’m just here to help with the paperwork.”

“McGonagall then,” Harry said. As they walked toward the staircases, Harry started to grin as he imagined his Head of House’s reaction.

At her door, Snape knocked and stepped in. “I am in need of a favor, Minerva, if you have a few minutes.”

“Certainly, come in.” She marked her page in the large book in front of her and closed it. Harry stepped in behind Snape with the solicitor trailing behind.

“Do you want to explain first?” Harry asked as he stopped just inside the office, thinking the two of them should wait outside.

“No, it is all right.” Snape took the parchments from Kranden and held them out to McGonagall. “I need you to witness these, if you would, after the solicitor asks you a few questions.”

McGonagall accepted the parchments and adjusted her glasses. Her face fell into shock as she read the first paragraph. She looked at the solicitor, then Snape, then finally at Harry, who sighed at her expression of stunned dismay. She dropped the stack down on her desk and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Just a moment. I want to talk to one of you,” she pointed between Snape and Harry, “alone first.”

Snape and Harry considered each other, unable to determine who should stay. 

“Potter, you stay,” she said impatiently. The others stepped out and closed the door quietly. McGonagall started to speak and then stopped. After another glance at the parchments she shook her head. “This had to have been Albus’ idea.”

Harry stiffened at that. A little coldly, he said, “He suggested it originally, but that’s all.”

She frowned and rubbed her eyes tiredly after setting her glasses aside.

“All you have to do, Professor, is witness that you believe I am doing this willingly,” Harry explained in a hard tone.

“Well, Harry, I can tell you are serious about this,” she said. “Are you doing this willingly, or to please Dumbledore?”

“I honestly didn’t realize how much this meant to him until five minutes ago.”

She considered that and sighed as she again perused the top parchment. “Some things cannot be recaptured, Harry,” she said wistfully.

Angry and hurt now, Harry replied stiffly, “And some things can.”

“Harry,” she said gently. “I will sign these for you—I don’t mean to imply that I won’t. And I do wish for you to find what you clearly feel you are missing.” She clasped her hands together, leaned back in her chair, and considered him with a sad expression. Quietly, she said, “The night Albus dropped you at your aunt and uncle’s house, I begged him not to leave you there. I am certain he did not realize how poorly treated you would be. But he insisted you grow up in isolation from your fame. Turns out he had other reasons as well that he didn’t share at that time.”

“I know them now.”

“Any of us would have taken you then. Any of us would take you now.”

Harry fidgeted a little. “I don’t think you understand me as well as Severus does.”

She sat forward and put on her glasses. In a lilting tone, she said, “Perhaps not. But had I known you were in the market for a replacement parent, I would have liked a chance to apply.” When Harry smiled at that, she went on, “When I ask you if there is anything you need, I do mean it, even if we can’t always figure out how to help you.” She considered him. “Clearly what you need is permanence. Call them back in.” She waved at the door.

“Are you certain bringing Mr. Snape along is a good idea?” Kranden asked Harry as they waited on the castle lawn. Snape was stepping down from the main doors, still out of range of hearing. “If they dislike wizards…”

“Are you kidding? All the better. They’ll think I’m going to be miserable. They’ll sign in an instant.”

Snape wore a Muggle outfit of starched white shirt and dark trousers. The cuffs and collar of the shirt were far too wide for current fashion. Kranden had done a better job, wearing a straightforward, conservative wool jacket and plain skirt. “Shall we?” she said as they congregated.

They Flooed into the nearest wizard enclave and then walked to Little Whinging. The sun was shining brightly and the wind was gentle. “You owled them, correct?” Kranden asked as they approached the drive.

“I used Muggle post, but yes. I didn’t tell them the time. Otherwise they wouldn’t be there when we arrived,” Harry said.

The neighbor lady looked up from her weeding at Snape and gaped. Snape gave her a narrow-eyed look in return. Harry waved at her and said hello in his most friendly manner. Her sour face looked more confused by this, mincing over to inspect her hedges in order to follow their progress up the pavement.

The door opened as they approached the step. Vernon held open the door and scowled, “Figures the neighbors’d see you. I don’t know what you want, but you better make it quick.”

“You didn’t inform him of the purpose of this visit?” Kranden asked Harry.

“All I told him is that he’d be rid of me for good after this,” Harry explained, as they followed Vernon Dursley into the house.

Petunia stood in the kitchen doorway with her arms folded and a scowl on her lean face that faded to fearful as Snape stalked past her with a dark glance. In the living room, Vernon took a seat in his regular chair without inviting others to sit. Snape followed into the center of the room and turned in a circle to look over the place. Vernon gave him a distrustful huff through his mustache.

“Thought I heard somethin’.” Dudley, now as tall as Vernon, sauntered into the room. He walked menacingly over to Harry, who stood his ground and stared far up at his older cousin. “Didn’ think you were ever comin’ back, Pottie.”

“Just couldn’t stay away,” Harry retorted.

Dudley gave Kranden a lewd appraisal then turned to Snape and froze. Snape—even in his approximation of Muggle clothes—looked like a wizard and with his current fierce expression not a very nice one. His black eyes, ragged hair, and hooked profile stood out starkly in the frilly decor of Petunia Dursley’s home. Dudley took an unconscious step backward and swallowed hard. “Who’s that?” he asked the room uncertainly.

“My teacher,” Harry replied casually.

“You let a wizard in here?” Dudley demanded of his father.

“I told them to make it quick,” Vernon insisted.

“What do you want?” Petunia asked from the entry to the hallway. Her prim voice shrill from barely controlled fury. Her eyes darting fitfully between each of the guests in her house.

Kranden set her briefcase on the low table and pulled out a parchment. “We are here to ask you to sign a document stating that you are willing to relinquish your status as Harry’s guardians.” She held the parchment out toward Vernon.

Vernon accepted it with a snort through his mustache. He didn’t look at it, just stared at Kranden. “Why?”

“It is mostly a formality, but it simplifies our other filings.” She sized up Vernon before explaining, “Professor Snape, here…” She gestured at the man behind her. “…is making an application to the Wizard Family Council to adopt Mr. Potter.”

“What?” Dudley sputtered, attracting Snape’s silent, intent attention. Dudley shut up immediately and backed up another step. “He can’t magic me without taking out his wand, can he?”

“Yes. He can,” Harry supplied confidently.

Dudley, sweating now under the piercing black look, backed up beside Petunia, on his toes ready to make a run for it. “You’re not going to let Harry do this?” he asked his mum.

Petunia’s eyes narrowed. “We certainly don’t want him back in this house.”

Kranden stepped up to her instead with another copy of the parchment, pulling a Muggle pen from her inside breast pocket. “Sign here, then,” she invited.

Petunia held the parchment and pen, one in each hand and considered Snape. “What do you know about this man?” she asked.

“I have a copy of his vitae,” the solicitor offered, gesturing at her case. “He has taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the last—”

“Don’t mention that wretched place to my wife,” Vernon growled. He hefted himself out of his chair and stepped up to Snape. With narrowed eyes he said in a low voice, “I’ve heard there are good wizards and dark ones. You look like a dark one to me.”

Snape didn’t react, just studied Vernon closely. “And that would matter, how?” he calmly retorted.

“Seems a little strange, Potter losing everything to dark wizards, and all.” He looked suspicious now. 

Snape’s eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms and drew himself up straight. “I do not know, or care, frankly, how you might choose to classify me.” He stared through Dursley in silence before stating: “What I can tell you is that I am a strict disciplinarian. Misbehavior of any kind in my presence is punished most severely. Harry’s summer has been spent in long hours of extra readings, lessons, and menial tasks that I set him to. I do not tolerate wasted time.”

Vernon grunted approvingly and turned to take the parchment from Petunia. Harry backed up against the wall to get out of his way. “So why did you agree to this, boy?” Vernon mockingly asked him.

Harry hesitated before replying, “He asked me.”

“That’s all it took?” Dudley asked in disbelief.

Harry shot him a dark look, pained to find too much truth in his response. “It’s nice to be wanted.”

On the way back down the front walk, the solicitor switched her case to her right hand after shaking Vernon’s. After the door closed hard behind them, she said, “You lived here your whole life, Mr. Potter?”

“They were behaving better today to keep up appearances,” Harry assured her. 

“I cannot imagine,” she said. 

Harry leaned forward to look across at Snape. “You didn’t mean what you said, did you, sir?” he asked, worried.

“Potter, as far as I am concerned, you have earned the right to a frivolous existence living off of others’ pathetic gratitude. I would not recommend it, nor encourage it, however.”

Harry let go of a deep breath in relief. “I suspected that you were just saying what he wanted to hear.” He shook himself theatrically. “Legilimency with Vernon Dursley, brrrrr.”

“The lengths I am willing to go to, Potter,” Snape commented in a airy, suffering voice.

“I am not hearing any of this,” Kranden said as they turned off Privet Drive.