In Family, There is Strength

Chapter Three

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings belong to J.K. Rowling.

"Meddling old coot," Snape grumbled once the Headmaster was gone.

Harry bit back a laugh as Snape turned his dark gaze on him. "Just so you know, your friends are not to know you are here," He said, walking across the room. "Follow me, Potter!" He led the boy to the dining room where breakfast awaited them. "Sit down."

Harry's stomach growled as he surveyed the bacon, eggs, toast, and cereal. There was also a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a pot of coffee. He sat down and waited.

Snape began to serve himself, stopping when he noticed the boy wasn't dishing up his plate. "What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Eat!" He snapped.

"Such a good host," Harry muttered to himself as he began to fill his plate. He should have remembered though, that his professor had the hearing of a bat.

"What was that?" Snape asked dangerously.

"Uh, nothing sir," Harry said quickly. They ate in silence, Harry stealing glances around the nice room while Snape seemed focused on a long piece of parchment. Whatever he was reading must not have made him happy because soon he was scowling.

Snape read through the diagnostic and felt sick. He had been so sure, so arrogantly sure that Potter would be coddled, spoiled even, at his relatives. After all, he remembered Petunia's jealousy of Lily, of how she had written to Dumbledore asking to be allowed at Hogwarts. She had wanted to be a part of the magical world and what better way than to raise the hero of the wizarding world? How dare she, he seethed. How dare they? From what he was reading, the boy had been neglected and not given any love or care from the moment he was left with them. Basic needs were barely even met. Malnourished and injuries that went beyond childhood accidents. Burns, bruises, broken wrist when he was five, sprained ankle when he was seven, bruised throat... and a scar on his hand from the use of a blood quill. Umbridge, he thought darkly. He put down the parchment and gulped down his coffee. He needed the boy to tell him more but that was going to be difficult as the boy didn't like or trust him. He tapped his fingers on the table before noticing Potter staring at him curiously.

Harry lowered his eyes when Snape caught him staring. "Um, I'm finished sir. Should I take my dishes to the kitchen?"

"No," Snape said slowly, surprised he would ask. Or maybe he shouldn't be surprised as all his preconceptions of the boy were being challenged. "Dobby will see to it. I want to talk to you, Potter, and it won't be a pleasant talk. But it is necessary."

"Okay," Harry said, wondering what he meant.

"First, I must say again that you can not tell your friends that you are here," Snape said. "You may write to them but they must believe you are at your relative's house. The Headmaster has placed a charm on the Dursley's house so that any mail sent to you will be redirected here. I need to be able to trust you on this, Potter. Not just for your safety but for mine as well. Only a few people know about this cottage. Everyone else believes I live at my childhood home."

"I understand sir," Harry said. "I won't tell them." They would probably pass out from shock if he did. Well, if they were still speaking to him. Besides, Ron wouldn't want to hear from me anyway, he thought sadly. Perhaps Hermione wouldn't either. He couldn't blame them though, his actions had almost gotten them killed.

"While you are here, you will rest from your ordeal, eat three proper meals a day, keep your room clean, and do your homework. Which, by the way, I will be checking so it better be done to a high standard." Snape continued.