Harry Potter and the Misunderstanding

CHAPTER 4

Harry felt strongly that Snape could have given him some warning. A brief explanation, at the very least. As it was, Harry was completely unprepared for the way the fireplace flames enveloped him and spun him around like a stone in a sandstorm. Harry knew no better than to open his mouth and call for help, only to find himself choking when he inhaled the ash. It was a blessed relief to feel cool air on his face, but Harry couldn't catch himself in time to avoid stumbling onto the rough stone of the hearth. His bag went flying across the new room, landing on its side in a shower of dirt and grime and Harry avoided Snape's eye as he hurried out of the fireplace to retrieve it. Harry tripped on the ledge of the fireplace in the new room and went sprawling over onto the hardwood floor, bumping his head. His hands scraped, and his eyes smarting with tears, Harry coughed and coughed.
'Stupid boy.' Came a man's voice from behind him, scathing in its tone.
Harry felt his shirt tightening around his chest as the man grabbed a handful, digging in his fingernails. Harry yelped in protest as he was bodily hauled to his feet and shaken.
'Don't you have enough sense to look where you're going?' Snape hissed at him.
'I tripped.' Harry protested weakly, the truth of this reply being fully realised by himself as he felt his head spin. Harry could feel where Snape's fingers were still pinching into his back but the man let go at Harry's barely audible gasp of discomfort. Harry straightened his t-shirt and pressed his aching palms against it, searching for some form of comfort. Snape's face was twisted in anger, when Harry looked up and he quickly looked away to focus on the room they were in instead.

It was a very dark parlour. The curtains were drawn but Harry saw that the room itself was dark, dark everywhere, in fact. Dark panelling, dark furniture, dark upholstery and dark curtains. The only relief to the darkness was the light grey fur of a thick layer of dust which coated everything in the room.
'Not exactly an estate home, but then I do not bring home an income comparable to what your uncle undoubtedly did.' Snape said bitterly.
Harry flushed. 'I wasn't thinking about that.' He said, looking down at his shoes.
'If you can hold for a little longer, I'll have my servant clean the house.' Snape told him.
Harry frowned but did not look up. He wondered apprehensively if Snape was referring to him as the servant, having forgotten Snape's earlier comment that day.
'I do hope we can move fast enough for you.' Harry heard the man add with a sneer in his voice in reply to Harry's silence. 
'I- ' Harry protested weakly, but Snape wasn't interested.
'Can't you be quiet?' He snapped, and Harry fell silent as Snape headed for the hallway, impatiently beckoning him to follow with a crook of his finger. 'I'll be making us our tea while Noddy gets your bedroom ready. I want you out of the way until we eat.' He ordered, without looking at Harry.
The sound of their footsteps was muffled by the dust on the floor, as well as by a thin rug that reached from the end of the hall they had entered to the kitchen entrance. Harry only noticed this because his eyes remained on his shoes for the entire journey.
'Do you like to read?' Snape asked suddenly, gruffly. He had stopped suddenly next to a closed door in the hall and turned to look down at Harry.
'Yes, Sir.' Harry answered honestly, slightly relieved by the direct question. The man's snide way of speaking to him so far had been confusing for Harry. His answer wasn't a lie either, he did like to read. Admittedly he didn't have his nose buried in one all the time like Sally Turner at school did, but he enjoyed the power that a good story had in causing him to forget his worries.
Harry also understood now that this Noddy was the servant. Harry was looking forward to expecting an elderly gentleman like the caretaker at his school; a quiet, hunched man. One with hair like the feathers of his dusting brushes.

Harry was shaken from his thoughts when Snape opened the door next to him. Harry was impressed to see a complete personal library full of books. Like the parlour, it was dark, and Harry found the shadows around the walls a bit gothic in tone, but there was a large black sofa near the dormant fireplace which looked fairly squishy. Snape walked over to the window and pulled the heavy curtains aside, flooding the room with sunshine.
'Find a book you like and sit quietly until I call you for tea.' He ordered.
'Yes, Sir.' Harry replied quickly, slightly awed by the selection before him. As Harry took a timid seat on a straight-backed chair next to the fireplace, he heard Snape close the door behind him. The leather of the chair he sat on was cracked and dark in places and Harry slid off it warily to wander over to one of the shelves. He began scanning for something that looked interesting. Some had boring titles that he did not understand while others looked like they might crumble if he picked them up, such was the delicacy of their spines. He selected one called The Tales of Beedle the Bard and looked dubiously at the large sofa. It looked comfortable but also very dusty. Well, a little dust never hurt anyone, Harry reasoned as he gingerly climbed up and wriggled back against the arm. He opened his book to a story called Babbity Rabbity and Her Cackling Stump. Soon enough, he forgot where he was and why he was there, and it was a full forty minutes later before he came to the last page of the third tale. Harry left the pages of the story like a diver resurfacing from a deep dive. He stretched and yawned, noting that the light outside had changed considerably. He realised that it must be nearing sunset. Harry was just wondering if he should choose another book when he heard footsteps in the hall. The door flew open to reveal his guardian, whom Harry had begun to think of in his mind as Death, from the story The Tale of the Three Brothers.
'Dinner is ready, Potter.' Snape informed him. He looked suspiciously as Harry as though he couldn't believe the boy could have occupied himself quietly for the last hour. Didn't children get bored quickly?
Harry nodded and slid off the sofa, still clutching the book. He wavered uncertainly before hurrying over to the bookshelf to put the book back, figuring he ought to show the man that he could be respectful of other peoples' belongings.