Keep on keeping on

Severus Snape did not like interruptions. When we was brewing peacefully in his laboratory he did not like to be interrupted. So when his fireplace crackled and blazed green, he groaned angrily. Through the flames stepped the tall, thin old headmaster.
“Severus” Dumbledore nodded. Severus lifted his head and jerked it sharply at the man before him.
“Headmaster. I’m very busy. What do you need?” He asked sharply. The man waved his hand, indicating to the potion that was bubbling away beside him.
“I have a job for you, Severus.”
“Find somebody else, Albus. I’m doing my job right now.” The headmaster sighed in defeat. He looked weary, Severus noted. Tired and frail but his eyes still had that annoying sparkle that Severus hated.
“There is no one else. Harry Potter - ” Albus started.
“No. Absolutely not. Send someone else. That boy – no. I’m not having anything to do with him until he graces my classroom – no doubt with an over inflated ego and a penchance for showing off” Severus spat, a sneer tugging at his lips.
“Severus. Please. He hasn’t responded to his letters.”
“Then send Minerva. She will likely be the boy’s head of house after all.” Dumbledore sighed again and clasped his hands together.
“I can’t. She’s too busy handling the muggleborn intake. Look it will be simple. Petunia would have told him all about it and it will probably end up just being something simple like not knowing how to use owl post. Please Severus.” Dumbledore begged.
“Fine. I’ll go.” Snape resigned. Dumbledore grinned and clapped his hands together.
“Excellent my boy! I’ll see you when you return then.” The headmaster turned on his heel and walked back through the floo. Snape sighed once more and set about to finishing his potion. There was no way he was going anywhere until his primary job was completed. The boy could wait for him.

The next morning Severus shrugged on his cloak and stepped out of his quarters, heading for the front gates. He assumed the boy would be living in luxury at Petunia Evans’ – no Dursley – house in Privet Drive. So, reaching Hogsmeade now, Severus turned on his heel and apparated away. A second later, Severus landed on the end of a sickenly perfect street. There was not a thing out of place. The flowerbeds were perfectly trimmed, not a weed in sight. The lawns were the perfect shade of green – almost like someone had taken a paintbrush to them.
“I might vomit.” Snape drawled in a low voice. He walked down the street until he reached number 4. He steeled himself and knocked on the front door. Nothing. No sound came from the house. Severus looked around and noticed no car on the drive. He frowned and knocked again. Maybe they were out? Merlin, that’s all Severus needed. Discretely, Snape pulled out his wand and placed it in the palm of his hand.
“Point me Harry Potter” Snape whispered, grimacing at the name. But he frowned when his wand started going haywire. Groaning, Snape turned around and pushed the front door open, surprised that it was unlocked. Creeping inside with his wand raised, Snape was hit by the strong chemical smell of bleach that assaulted his nose. The house was even cleaner on the inside that it was on the outside. Everything was a nasty cream colour. Snape continued through the hall and pushed the door open that led to the kitchen and living room. The man was shocked to see that the living room was covered in letters. Completely out of place in the clean and tidy house. He leant down and picked up a letter that was crumpled on the ground. Straightening it out, Snape gasped when he read what was written on it. ‘The cupboard under the stairs’ was written in emerald green ink. Dropping the letter like it gave him a shock, Snape stormed from the room and went back to the hall. Eye’s scanning around, he saw a small cupboard, the door slightly ajar. Cautiously, he reached out and opened the door out and was shocked at what he saw. The interior of the cupboard was dark and dirty, unlike the rest of the house. It was small and cramped with cobwebs clinging to the sloped ceiling. On the floor was a stained mattress covered with a few thin, threadbare blankets. There were a few broken toy soldiers scattered around and as Severus looked up, what he saw broke his heart. Taped to the wall was a crumpled piece of aging paper that read ‘Boy’s room’ in colourful crayon. Sick to his stomach, Severus slammed the door to the cupboard and stormed from the house, breathing heavily. But he had a job to do so, pulling on his occlumency shields, Severus set about to finding the boy.

Eventually, Severus traced the child’s magical signature to the edge of a lake in the middle of nowhere. The wind was howling and the rain was lashing at his face. The bank of the lake was assaulted by the crashing water that too was being beaten by the weather. Severus spotted a small island with a rundown shack in the centre of the lake and could just about make out the shape of a small wooden boat banging against the shore. Refusing to use it to save himself getting more wet than he already was, the man turned on the spot and apparated to the doorway of the shack. Steeling himself, Severus began pounding on the door. When no answer came, Severus drew his wand and cast a spell that threw the door wide open. Stepping inside, it took a second for his eyes to adjust but when they did, he was shocked once again. Standing before him was a large, beefy man whose face was growing darker and darker by the second. The woman next to him was tall and thin – he knew her. Petunia Dursley. Severus saw the large boy – that must be their son he thought – huddled behind his mother. But where was the boy? Where was Harry?
“Who are you? What do you want?” Petunia whispered, her voice shaking. Snape tutted.
“Oh Tuni. Don’t you remember me? I am upset” Severus said snidely, pretending to be hurt by her words.
“You! Leave. Now.” Petunia spat back, realisation crossing her face. Snape ignored her demand and continued to search the shack for the boy. Vernon looked like he was about to speak but Snape raised his hand, effectively silencing the man. Snape’s patience was wearing thin.
“I am Professor Severus Snape and I’m here to take Harry Potter to school.”
Vernon’s face grew even darker – if that was possible.
“He’s not going. That boy is a freak and if he goes with you he will become even freakier. At least we have been trying to stamp out the freakiness.” The larger man spat, pointing his meaty finger at Severus.
“Well, fortunately, it is not up to you. You may be his guardians but his name has been down before he was even born and he will be going. Now, where is he?” Severus demanded. His eyes continued to roam around the small hut until they landed on a small figure huddled in the corner. Snape locked eyes with the large, frightened eyes of the child.
“Potter?” Snape whispered, reaching his hand out to the child. The boy flinched as the hand came closer to him and Snape could see the child was shaking terribly.
“Potter. It’s ok.” The boy shook his head but began to crawl out from his hiding place. He kept looking fearfully at Vernon but eventually came to stand beside Snape.
“We will be leaving now.” Snape said, in a tone that clearly did not expect a response. Snape strode from the room, ensuring the boy was in front of him, and closed the door behind him.
“Come, Potter.”