Walk the Shadows

'It's Professor Snape. Not Mister.'

'I see. My apologies, Professor.'

'Quite all right,' Snape said, giving Harry an odd look, which Harry returned, with interest. Then Snape called up a House-elf and ordered tea, instead of making it himself, and Harry relaxed a little, deciding the lack of ritual meant nothing to taxing would be discussed.

He realized after an hour that he had been very, very wrong.

That first hour was Madam Phineas asking Harry all about the Dursleys and how they'd treated him, and he'd answered the first few questions with, 'But they're not even around anymore, so what does it matter?'

He'd been advised by both Snape and Madam Phineas that it did matter, for the official records of the transfer of guardianship, and so he had to talk again about the cupboard and the lack of consistent food, the occasional smacking around, the games of Harry Hunting, the cat flap and all of it. He looked down at his hands the whole time, and was glad, for once, that he had told most of this to Snape before, so he wouldn't have to worry what the man thought of him and his inability to stick up for himself with a bunch of stupid Muggles.

And Snape, for his part, remained silent, which was also a boon.

'So, you were 'rescued' by three of the Weasley boys the summer after your first year at Hogwarts?' Madam Phineas asked. She'd been making notes in a folder the whole time, and now seemed to be just asking for clarifications.

'Yeah . . . I mean, yes, ma'am. They used their Dad's Ford Anglia to help pull the bars off the window, and then we flew to the Burrow. I stayed there the rest of the summer.' It was, bar none, the best summer he'd ever had.

'Mm-hm.' She paged through her paperwork for a few moments, then looked back at Harry, holding up a thin piece of parchment. 'I have a letter written by Arthur and Molly Weasley, sent to Child Welfare in August of that year, protesting your placement with your aunt and uncle.'

'Really?' Harry leaned forward to see the letter, but Madam Phineas put it back in her folder. He'd always wondered why they'd never said anything about that summer breakout to him, or to Dumbledore, always just figuring they didn't care if he was locked up, so long as he was safe.

The woman's lip twitched. 'Really. There is, however, an attachment from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, stating that for reasons of utmost security, you were required to remain at 4 Privet Drive.'

Harry sat back. 'Oh.'

'It's why we never conducted home interviews with you previously,' she said softly, looking him in the eye. 'You were down on the list for inspections, as are most Wizarding children who are raised by Muggles, whether Muggleborn or adopted. Muggles don't often have the resources to deal with magical children.'

'You're telling me,' Harry muttered.

Madam Phineas smiled wryly. 'No, I don't imagine I need to, do I? At any rate, such measures were waived in your case, which is highly unusual, but then, the way things are . . . with You Know Who . . . Well.' She turned a couple more pages in her folder before she looked at him again. 'This summer has been a bit of a trial, hasn't it?'

He shrugged one shoulder, looking at his hands again.

'The Muggles left you alone, I see . . .' She scribbled something and then her voice sharpened. 'I have a report from the Headmaster about an abduction . . .' she started, and stared at him, waiting.

Harry bit his lip and didn't answer, except to shrug again, and eventually she went on. 'And that for the last several weeks, you've been living with Professor Snape.'

That was easier to answer. 'Yes, ma'am.'

'How is that going?'

'Fine.'

'Harry. I'm going to need a little more detail than that.' She glanced at Snape and said, 'Would you be more comfortable talking with me alone?'

Harry looked over at Snape, then, whose face was completely void of tells, but who then tilted his head to the side just a bit, as if to encourage him to make a decision of his own. He thought about trying to describe his relationship to Snape, and the last few weeks with him, in front of him, and had to wipe suddenly sweating palms on his trousers. 'Um, okay.'

Without a word, Snape rose and went through the door into his private potions lab. Harry watched him go, not sure whether he'd hurt the man's feelings . . . and then had to suppress another mad bout of laughing at the very idea.

'All right, then,' Madam Phineas said, 'tell me a little more about how you and the Professor are getting along.'

'I . . . well, he's been really good. About everything. Even when I get angry and break his stuff.'

'Do you 'break his stuff' often?'

'Not anymore.' Harry shrugged. 'It's mostly just yelling now. Not like I'm yelling all the time,' he added quickly. 'But sometimes . . . it's really . . .'

'It's been a difficult time for you,' she said softly.

'Yeah.' He shook his head. 'And Professor Snape's been real helpful. He makes me talk stuff out and gave me a journal and we have rules and stuff that I have to follow so I can go flying and all.'

'What made you agree to the idea of him becoming your guardian?'

'Well, he said . . .' Harry swallowed and made himself meet the woman's eyes. They were a soft, light brown,