Whelp

seeing Harry's unadulterated joy was recompense enough.

Like the clothes, he shrunk the toys and put them in his pocket, with a promise to hand them over to the boy as soon as they were home. Then they saw an Optician and had Harry fitted for glasses that had him exclaiming even more excitedly than he had for the toys. At last, they stopped in at the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry held the menu awkwardly in his little hands, up close to his face, but didn't seem to be actually looking at it. He stared at the table and mumbled incoherently when asked what he wanted to eat.

Severus frowned. 'You're hungry, aren't you?'

'Yes, sir, er, Father.' His new glasses made his eyes brighter, rounder, and he wasn't squinting anymore, which was a definite improvement.

Another thought occurred to him. 'Can't you read the menu?'

Red bloomed on the boy's cheeks before he looked away with a one shoulder shrug.

'Harry . . .'

'Sorry, sir!' He put down the menu and folded his hands in his lap, looked down at them miserably.

'Harry, I'm not concerned about your shrugging right now. I'm concerned about your reading. Didn't you learn when you were in school?'

The boy swallowed and shook his head.

'Whyever not?' He didn't seem addlebrained.

Unaccountably, Harry's eyes filled with tears. He swiped at them viciously with tiny fists. ''Cause I'm stupid.'

'No. You aren't stupid. Anyone who could remember all the rules in my house is possessed of, at the least, a superlative memory.'

'Am,' the boy insisted. 'Aunt Petunia said . . .'

'I'm sure,' Severus said quietly, when Harry didn't finish his sentence, 'that your aunt has said many things to you over the years which are simply not true. I've mentioned as much before, correct?'

Harry still didn't look at him, but he jerked his head in a tight nod.

'Just so. Now, were there any subjects you liked at school?'

'Yes, sir. Maths.'

'Good. What did you like about it?'

'I can count fast, and numbers're dead easy to write out. There's only ten.'

Severus nodded. Tom came to their table to see how they fared, and Severus waved him away irritably. When the man had gone, he said, 'See now, that's well done. Why does reading give you trouble? And mind, I won't take the answer you gave before.'

Harry's shoulder hitched up. 'It's hard to think about.'

'The reason is hard?'

Shaking his head, Harry said, 'No, sir. In classes, was ofttimes hard to think.'

'And why is that?' Severus asked, although he had a couple guesses.

'I'm easily distracted,' Harry said, sounding like he was quoting something. 'And after morning break, I'm often moody and unpredictable.'

'Really. Who told you that?'

'Aunt Petunia.'

Severus had mentally said the words along with the boy. He shook his head. 'When did she tell you that you were moody and unpredictable?'

'When my marks came in, first year. She said the teacher told her so. And her Dudders was such a good student, 'twas a shame he had to go to school with the likes of me.'

'Was . . . Dudders in your class?' He almost choked over the nickname. Merlin's drawers.

'Yes, sir.

'And when he was in class with you, did he ever distract you from your work?'

Harry finally looked at him, expression quizzical. 'Sorry, sir?'

'Was he ever loud and obnoxious in your presence, to the point of keeping you from concentrating on your work?' He knew damn right well Dudders had been, but wanted Harry to see for himself. 'Did he ever deliberately take your work and ruin it, or goad others into doing so?'

Very quietly, Harry said, 'Yes, sir. Sometimes.'

Severus nodded. 'And during your morning break, after which you were so moody and unpredictable, did your cousin ever attack you or goad others into doing so?'

'Sometimes, sir.' The boy looked completely miserable, and Severus finally relented.

'Do you think, if you were not being hounded by that oaf of a cousin every minute of the school day, that you might be able to concentrate on learning to read? And maybe even get better at maths?'

'Maybe,' the boy admitted.