Keep on keeping on

When Severus landed in a side street in busy muggle London, he didn’t notice at first the hyperventilating boy sprawled on the floor beside him. But when he did, his stomach lurched and he crouched down next to Potter.
“Potter. It’s ok. Take a deep breath.” He reached a hand out again to touch the boy’s shoulder. Potter clearly didn’t see it coming this time as Snape’s hand made contact. Frighteningly fast, the boy scrambled back away from Snape until his back met the alley wall. His breath was still coming in thick and fast and the man could hear the Potter was struggling to breath. He was taking in three ragged breaths for every one he let out and his hands were shaking at his side.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. You’re safe Potter. Come on boy.” It wasn’t said with any malice and, of course Snape would not have known how triggering that word was but Potter began shaking even more. Snape was confused at what had prompted this even worse response. The boys eye’s were darting side to side at speed and his hands were still shaking and the shaking did not abate as he pulled at his fingers again.

Harry was terrified. The second he was pulled into that dark tunnel, away from the shore he was once stood on, Harry stopped being able to breath. His lungs felt tight and his head hurt. He couldn’t feel anything else. He couldn’t feel his hands or his feet, only the pain in his head and chest. After what felt like an age, Harry felt his feet again and then the pain in his chest was overtaken by the pain he felt in his knees as they crashed against the hard floor. He fell forwards and felt his cheek press against the cold, hard floor. The tightness in his lungs returned and his breathing sped up. His vision was blurry and he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears. But he felt a hand on his shoulder and all Harry could think was that it was Uncle Vernon; that a punch was coming soon. Harry scrambled on his front and rolled over, backing up until he felt his back hit a wall. He was trapped. He could feel his hands shaking and he tried to stop them by pulling at his fingers again. He felt another hand, this time on his knees that were pulled tight to his chest. He started shaking his head, reaching one hand in front of him to protect himself whilst the other crept up to head, pulling at his hair. Harry knew he was getting hysterical. He knew it was only a matter of time before Uncle Vernon started beating him again and Harry knew he would need to at least be able to see to protect himself. So, Harry started to focus on his breathing. He tried to take even breaths and began to pull at his fingers again. He knew that this was a way of calming himself – he had done it for years now. Eventually, Harry’s vision started to clear and ringing in his ears stopped. When he looked up, Harry realised that he was not in Privet Drive. He was not in his cupboard but he was sat on the floor of an alley with Professor Snape staring intently at him, with a confused expression on his face.
“Potter. Are you with me? Can you hear me?” Harry nodded his head in response but kept his mouth firmly shut. Shakily, he got to his feet and kept his eyes on the ground.
“Can you say anything? Or should we get going?” Snape asked. In response, Harry began to walk away, looking over his shoulder at Snape, trying to convey the message that he wanted to get going.

Snape was worried about the boy – sure he was. But he wasn’t about to change his whole life to accommodate the fragile boy. He was no doubt going to be someone else’s problem come September 1st and he was sure the Albus had the situation under control. Snape’s job was to get Potter’s supplies and take him back to the Dursley’s. But something kept nagging at Severus. That little display of Potter’s was worrying and Severus hadn’t known what to do but it seemed like the boy had gotten himself out of it. Severus just had to do his job.

Walking into Diagon Alley was an assault on Harry’s senses. It was something he had never experienced before and Harry was overwhelmed. The tall man walked beside him, not touching him. Professor Snape had not looked at Harry again since the alley. Harry understood that. He was a freak and after that little display he knew that no one would care about him. He can’t even speak up and say how horrible his life was. It wasn’t enough that Harry flinched from every sudden movement or was left black and blue every night – the Dursley’s had to take his voice too.
“Come. We will go to Gringott’s first.” Snape snapped. His whole demeanour had changed. His once calm body language and gentle voice had gone and was replaced with a cold, steely voice that clearly was all business. Harry followed the man down the busy street, avoiding bumping into anyone. They reached a large, marble building that glinted in the artificial sunlight. Nervously, Harry stepped up into the building behind Professor Snape. Harry was shocked to see the tiny humans – were they human? – sat behind high desks counting piles and piles of gold coins.
“Mr Potter needs to get into his vault.” Snape demanded to the thing behind the front desk.
“And does Mr Potter have his key?” The hook nosed goblin sneered. Harry decided that’s what they were, thinking back to the only story book he had in his cupboard. Harry blinked at Snape as the man peered down at him expectantly.
“Well? Where is it?” Snape asked coldly. Harry shook his head. Snape sighed and turned back to the goblin.
“It appears he does not have it. Do you have another way of identifying that it is him and then you can use the master key?”
“Well,” the goblin pondered Snape’s words and stroked his hairy chin with his long fingers, “There would be another way.” The goblin’s eyes flicked to Harry’s forehead. Snape sighed again and looked back to Harry.
“Your scar Potter. Show him your scar.” Harry hesitantly lifted his fringe to reveal the oddly shaped scar that cut into his head. He wasn’t sure why his scar would help identify him – it was just one other thing to make him a freak. Clearly Snape just wanted to embarrass Harry further. The goblin mouth broke into a toothy grin and an sparkle flashed in his eyes.
“Yes, that will do nicely,” He drawled “Follow me.”
Harry followed the goblin and Snape down a dark corridor, the only light coming from the torches in sconces on the wall. They reached an old, rickety cart and the other men climbed in, so Harry followed. His stomach lurched once again and Harry pulled on his fingers to avoid the inevitable panic attack that was brewing. Finally, the cart slowed outside a large vault. Harry stood back as the door opened.
“Well collect what you need. No doubt you have already been taking from it for years already.” Snape said. Harry was confused again. He’d never seen this before. He’d never had any money and was always told he cost too much and took away from Dudley. But, once again, he said nothing and collected a small amount of coins. He wasn’t sure how much he’d need nor how much he had taken so he just hoped for the best. When he was done, he turned round to the professor, and they left in silence.

Now back in Diagon Alley, Harry followed the professor to various shops and as time went on, Harry’s arms began to strain under the weight of all the parcels.
“Final stop now. You will need a wand.” Snape said sternly. Harry nodded but kept his eyes on his shoes. Snape steered Harry to an old shop; the sign was faded and the golden letters were cracked and peeling but once read ‘Ollivander’s’. Snape opened the door for Harry and followed him inside. The interior was dark and cramped with the walls piled high with long, thin boxes covered in a thick layer of dust. There was no sign of anyone in the shop beside the pair themselves. Snape reached out and rang the bell that sat on the countertop. At the ring, a man appeared from behind one of the towering stacks. The man’s face looked weathered and wrinkled suggesting that he’d live a very long and stressful life. However, his eyes were bright and wild and Harry saw them flick to his forehead just like the goblin’s had. Harry felt uncomfortable and his skin crawled.
“I wondered when I’d be seeing here Mr Potter.” The old man announced. His voice was smooth and melodic. Harry assumed that this must be Ollivander. Harry returned his gaze to his feet.
“Of course it seems like only yesterday that your parents were in here buying their first wands. But now it is your turn, isn’t it? Well, come on then Mr Potter, tell me? What’s your wand hand?” Ollivander asked. When Harry didn’t answer, the man raised his eyebrows. Harry shrugged listlessly.
“Your dominant hand Mr Potter. What hand do you write with?” Harry raised his right hand in answer. A look of confusion flashed across Ollivander’s face as Harry stayed silent and he locked eyes with Snape, who just shrugged.
“Right. Well. Let try this one and you can give it a wave.” The wand maker took a box from the shelf and pulled out the wand from inside. He handed it to Harry who held it gingerly in his hand. Unsure of what to do, Harry simply followed Ollivander’s instructions and waved it around. A vase smashed loudly and Harry felt his stomach drop. He was for it now. The sweet, old man in front of him would be so angry and Harry prepared for the inevitable blow. Ollivander waved his hand and the vase repaired itself but Harry flinched at the sudden movement. He shrank into himself and cowered, still expecting the worst.
“Not to worry Mr Potter! Not to worry. All fixed. Now try this one next.” Ollivander was once again confused about the boy’s reaction to the broken vase but, like last time, Snape just shrugged. Harry continued to try out wand after wand until finally, what felt like the last wand in the shop, one flew red sparks out the end at contact with the boy’s hand. Ollivander clapped his hands gleefully and smiled widely.
“Excellent. Just excellent! The wand chooses the wizard Mr Potter.” Harry wasn’t quite sure what that meant but he was just glad that one had finally chosen him. As the pile of discarded wands had grown steadily higher, Harry’s anxiety had risen higher and higher.
“Pay Mr Ollivander then Potter and we can leave.” Snape said sharply. Harry put a handful of coins on the counter and turned around, following Snape out of the shop.

Now back in the street, Snape led Harry back through the busy place until they were stood in the alley that they originally arrived in. Once again, Snape offered his arm to the boy and Harry took it hesitantly. Immediately, his stomach lurched again and in an instant, Harry appeared in the Privet Drive again. Whilst Harry was saved from the embarrassment of the public panic attack like last time, he still felt uneasy and panicky so he started pulling on his fingers again.
“Right. You’re going back to your relatives and then come to King’s Cross Station on September 1st. Train leaves from platform nine and three quarters at 11am. Be there Potter because there won’t be any more rescue trips. See you at school Potter.” Snape said haughtily, a sneer tugging at the corners of his lips. The man turned on the spot and disappeared into the fading light, leaving Harry alone to return to his house of horrors.