Better Be Slytherin!

trouble then? I knew he would. Boy's as nasty as they come.'

Severus gritted his teeth. They were still standing in the entry way, and no one had even given a hint that they might treat him as a guest by offering him a seat or tea. Philistines. 'He is not, in fact, giving us any trouble. As I was explaining to your darling wife a moment ago, I visit the homes of all my first year students, to see what their individual needs might be when they arrive in the Wizarding World.'

'Don't you say that word in my house!' Dursley all but shouted. Quick to anger, indeed.

'Which one?' Severus asked innocently. 'World?'

'You bloody well know which one! I'll not have it! We put up with that boy's freakish ways for ten years. Ten years! Taking food out of our Dudley's mouth, and clothes off his back, and this is the thanks we get? No respect at all, and in my own home! We're well rid of that freak, and you can just shove him on someone else for a change!'

Severus glanced at Petunia who was paler still, if possible. 'I do believe, Mr. Dursley, that there was an agreement reached when the Potter boy was taken into your home ten years ago.'

'We were hoodwinked! The boy's been nothing but trouble since the day he darkened our door. Nothing but a nuisance and a danger to my whole family! We finally got rid of Dudders' tail,' Dursley jabbed a sausage of a finger into Severus' chest, 'which was all that freak's fault. And no one came to pay recompense, either, for our poor son's suffering! Freaks, drunkards, and bastards, the lot of you.'

There was a limit to Severus' patience at the best of times, and this was not one of those times. He had spent years in abject servitude to one of the most feared and reviled of maniacs in the history of Wizardom, and he knew his way around the pompous and blustery. Half of the Death Eaters were just like this Vernon, so sure of themselves and their particular view of the world that they would pay no heed to a giant squid if it landed on their face. So ready to lay blame on others, and shout their way out of any situation which made them question the tenets they held so dear.

He loathed such creatures.

He loathed this man.

With his left hand, he grabbed the man's finger as it reared back to jab him again, and squeezed. Hard. Dursley tried to rescue his digit, but Severus had years of such near-constant muscle-toning activities as stirring and chopping on his side, as well as keeping himself fit through sparring when he could. He was willing to bet this man had not seen his own muscles in a decade. Bending the forefinger back, he snarled, 'You will keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Dursley, or I will carve it out myself and feed it to worms.'

Sweat broke out on Dursley's brow. His bushy mustache trembled. He wrenched at his hand, trying to get back his finger. A little more wriggling, and the man would break his own finger with no assistance from Severus.

Severus bent the offending finger a little more, until the man whined in pain. 'Do I have your attention?' He glanced out of the corner of his eye to make sure Petunia was still where she'd stopped before. She was, and was gaping at the display with her mouth opened wider than any first year at their first Halloween Feast.

'Ungh,' said Dursley, knees almost buckling.

'Good. Because I will not repeat myself again. Harry Potter is your nephew. I am his Professor. I will ask you several questions about him, and you will answer, completely and honestly, or we will have to repeat this particular lesson until you do. Am I clear?'

'Mmmph.'

'Excellent.' He glanced over he man's shoulder. 'I believe the sitting room will be much more comfortable for our conversation than the entryway. Don't you agree?'

'Ugghn-huh.'

'Then pray, lead on.' Severus proceeded to let Dursley lead them into the sitting room by the simple expedient of shoving him backwards towards it, keeping a firm grip on the man's meaty finger. Once inside the small room – dominated by a television, a large couch, two recliners, a fireplace and a Slug – Severus pushed Dursley onto the couch and sneered as he released the man's digit. 'Perhaps Petunia would be so kind as to bring tea?'

Petunia, hovering by the doorway, jumped at the sound of her name and looked more sour than ever, but she gave a curt nod and disappeared, towards the kitchen, one might hope.

Oddly, the Slug was curled up, wide eyed and petrified, on the other end of the couch from his father, and was clutching his bottom as if it might catch fire . . . oh, Dursley had said something about a tail. Severus suppressed a snicker and looked around the room, taking in the gaudy knickknacks and unmoving pictures of this horrific family, noting that there was not one of Lily or James or even Harry, who had supposedly lived here for ten years. Instead, the walls seemed almost entirely devoted to the Slug, with a few of his parents mixed in for variety. There was no sign at all, in fact, that the Potter boy lived here, or ever had.

'Now,' he said, settling into one of the recliners – though not reclined – once Petunia had returned, 'Pray tell me about Mr. Potter's primary schooling. In what subjects did he excel? Which ones were more troublesome?'

Dudley, apparently done with arse gripping, snorted an ugly laugh. 'Freaky Potty? He's a dunce. Couldn't spell his own name right if you gave him twenty quid.'

'That's right, Dudders,' Dursley said, nodding. 'The boy never could get grades like yours. Always making excuses for his homework not getting done or cutting classes. Stupid freak, just like his father. Always getting in trouble, too, with his freak displays and . . . .'

Severus tuned the man out as he prattled on. This was getting him nowhere. He knew for a fact that the boy wasn't stupid, having seen first hand a well-reasoned essay that spoke to the contrary, and he knew all the rest of his usual questions would be met with the same lies and scorn. He could not imagine this was what Lily had in mind for her son.

There were only a couple things he could do at this point, to try and salvage whatever he could of this abysmal visit, and he was far better versed at one than the other. Besides, while torturing this lot held a certain vicious appeal, there was always the tedious clean up afterwards, and the chance Aurors might be called to the scene. Thus, while Dursley built up a good head of steam on a topic close to his heart – that of the utter worthlessness of his nephew – Severus surreptitiously slid his wand into his hand from the sleeve of his business suit coat, and cast a non-verbal Legilimens.

More than an hour