Chapter 10
As the time came for them to part ways, a tension lingered in the air, thick with unspoken concerns. The small moment of unity that had bloomed between them was fleeting, like a fragile flower on the edge of a storm, and Severus couldn’t ignore the feeling that they were on the precipice of something darker. The evening was settling in; the sky growing darker with every passing second, and the shadow of his duty weighed heavily on his shoulders.
“You’ll be safe now, Maglor,” Severus said quietly, his voice laced with finality. “It’s time for us to return to our homes.”
Maglor nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on Harry for a moment longer than was necessary. There was something in his expression that hinted at a deeper struggle, but he said nothing more. His eyes shifted back to the waves crashing on the shore, the old ache in his chest apparent to Severus.
Harry, ever the embodiment of defiance and optimism, looked up at Severus with wide eyes. “I’m okay, really,” he said, trying to soften the moment. “I don’t need anyone to take me home.”
Severus’ gaze sharpened. He had been planning to escort the boy back, but Harry was already pulling away, unwilling to let anyone take control of his life. “It’s getting late,” Severus said firmly. “I won’t allow you to walk back alone.”
“I’m fine! I’ve been walking back and forth here for ages,” Harry protested, crossing his arms, though his voice held a hint of unease. “It’s something I can manage.”
Marvolo’s voice whispered in Harry’s mind, insistent, a sly edge creeping into the words. “Let him take you, Harry. You know it’s safer. He’ll make sure you don’t go back to that place alone. The Dursleys are no place for a child like you. Trust him.”
“But I don’t want him to know about them,” Harry muttered under his breath, casting a furtive glance toward Severus, who remained unfazed by the boy’s growing discomfort. “I can go alone. I always do. It’s fine.”
“Stop being stubborn,” Marvolo chided, his voice low but sharp. “It’s about more than just walking alone. If you stay with the Dursleys much longer, they’ll break you. Don’t you want to get away from that place? Let Severus help you.”
“I-” Harry hesitated, his heart heavy with a conflict he couldn’t voice aloud. “I don’t want him to know about my uncle. Or the house. Or how bad things are…”
“Exactly,” Marvolo pressed, a dangerous lull in his tone. “He doesn’t need to know, not yet. But he can help you escape. You’ll be with him, away from that hellhole. You don’t want to go back there, do you? Trust him. It’s safer.”
Harry clenched his fists at his sides, frustration mounting within him. “Fine! Fine, I’ll let him take me,” he muttered to himself, but the words held a sense of defeat.
Severus watched the boy with a raised brow, sensing the subtle shift in Harry’s demeanor. His sharp eyes missed nothing. “Good,” Severus replied, though his voice held a deeper layer of suspicion, his mind already working through the situation. “You’re coming with me, then.”
Harry nodded reluctantly, avoiding Severus’ gaze. As they began walking toward the path leading back to the village, Harry’s silence spoke volumes. Severus noted how the boy’s steps were hesitant, the weight of some unspoken truth clinging to him. Something wasn’t right, and Severus wasn’t about to let it slide.
“So, Harry,” Severus began casually, his tone almost deceptively light, “when did you arrive at here?”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He knew this question was coming; it had always lingered in the background. But there was something in Severus’ voice, the slight tension, that made Harry want to shrink further into himself.
“I... I don’t remember,” Harry lied quickly, his words tumbling out too fast, too practiced.
Severus narrowed his eyes at the boy, his sharp gaze cutting through the half-truth like a knife. “You don’t remember? It can’t of been too long ago, Harry. When did it happen?”
Harry’s eyes darted to the ground, avoiding the direct confrontation in Severus’ voice. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered under his breath.
Marvolo’s voice flared in his mind again, his words dripping with false sweetness. “Don’t lie, Harry. Severus will understand. He’ll help you.”
“Not everything is as simple as you think,” Harry whispered back to the voice in his head, trying to silence Marvolo’s insistent nudging. He had always avoided facing the truth with the Dursleys, but now, with Severus by his side, it felt like the walls were closing in.
Severus didn’t press him further, but his silence spoke volumes. Severus still had plans for Harry. Not by a long shot.
As they reached the outskirts of the village, Harry slowed his pace. He could already feel the oppressive weight of the Dursleys’ house looming in the distance, the thought of returning to that place twisting his insides into knots.
Marvolo’s voice had taken on a more threatening edge now, a low whisper in Harry’s mind. “Don’t go back there. Don’t let him take you back.”
“I can’t just run away,” Harry whispered back, his tone strained. “I don’t know where else to go.”
“You have options, Harry,” Marvolo coaxed, his words dripping with promise. “Returning to them is unnecessary. You’re stronger than their kind.”
But Harry knew, deep down, that the Dursleys’ house was his only actual option. It was where he had to go, whether he wanted to or not.
Severus observed Harry, sensing the internal battle raging in the boy. “We’ll get through this, Harry. Trust me.”
Harry forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah... thanks, Severus.”
The tension between them lingered, unspoken and unresolved, as they made their way to the house that Harry called home, but never truly felt at home in.
As they approached the house, Harry’s heart began to sink. The Dursleys’ home loomed ahead like a prison, its cold, unwelcoming walls towering over him. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of dread settling over him like an all-encompassing fog. Severus walked beside him in silence, but the man’s presence felt like a comfort, albeit an unsettling one. It was a reminder that Harry wasn’t completely alone, yet it also served to amplify how trapped he truly was.
They reached the door, and Harry hesitated. Before he could reach for the handle, the door swung open, revealing Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway. Her face twisted into an expression of mild annoyance when she spotted Harry, her lips curling as if the sight of him alone disgusted her.
“What are you doing here, boy?” Petunia snapped, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked down at him, already preparing to berate him for something he hadn’t done. But then her gaze shifted, and she froze, her eyes widening as she saw Severus standing beside Harry.
The transformation in her expression was almost comical. Her usual disdain turned into something more venomous. “What’s this about, then?” she hissed, her voice dripping with malice. “A freak like you, bringing your kind here? Don’t you have any shame?”
Severus’ eyes flickered with something dark, but instead of rising to her insult, he merely smirked, leaning casually against the doorway. “I see the years haven’t improved you, Tunie,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. The use of the old nickname was unmistakable, a nickname from their shared childhood, one that had always seemed to irritate her to no end.
“Don’t you dare call me that!” Petunia’s face turned a dark shade of red, the veins in her neck bulging as she sputtered with outrage. But Severus hadn’t finished.
“Why? Wasn’t that the name you used to love when we were kids?” Severus’ tone was biting now, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing her. “Has life been too kind to you, or did you forget the name that was your only charm back then?”
Petunia’s lips curled in an ugly snarl, but before she could respond, she turned to Harry, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him toward the door with surprising force. Harry cried out, the sudden pain sharp and shocking. He staggered back in an attempt to break free, but her grip on him was vice-like, her nails digging into his scalp.
“Get inside, you little freak,” she sneered, dragging him away from Severus without a second thought. The look in her eyes was the same as always, unabashed hatred, like Harry was a thing to be discarded, not a person deserving of respect.
Severus watched in horror and disgust, his face darkening with fury. Before Petunia could yank Harry any further, Severus moved with the speed of a striking serpent, his wand flicking out with practiced ease.
“Stupefy!” he shouted, his voice cold and commanding.
The spell hit Petunia square in the chest, and she immediately froze, her hand loosening its grip on Harry’s hair as she collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The harsh thud of her body hitting the floor echoed in the tense silence.
Harry stood there, trembling, his fingers reaching up to his head where Petunia had gripped him. His breathing came in shallow, rapid gasps. The pain from her grasp lingered, a cold reminder of how she always treated him. But the shock of Severus’ quick intervention was the first flicker of hope he had felt in a long time.
Severus stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He knelt beside Harry, looking at the boy with a mixture of concern and cold precision. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice much softer than it had been with Petunia. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead taking a step back and surveying the scene before him.
Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand, a mixture of anger and relief crossing his features. “I, I’m fine,” he said quietly, though his voice trembled. “But why did you…? You didn’t need to do that, Severus.”
Severus stood, the motion almost graceful, his eyes scanning the unconscious woman at their feet. “I don’t think she was ever going to treat you any differently, Harry,” he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “And you certainly don’t deserve that kind of treatment.”
Harry couldn’t argue with him. He had never argued with that.
But as the silence stretched on, the tension in the air thickened. Harry’s thoughts began to race, his mind trying to comprehend what had just happened. The moment’s weight affected him. Severus had just stepped in, intervening in a way that was both unexpected and startling. Harry had never had someone act like that on his behalf, not like this.
But then, in the back of his mind, the voice of Marvolo stirred, curling around his thoughts with a dark chuckle. “It’s about time someone put them in their place. You should be grateful, Harry. This is just the beginning.”
Harry’s jaw clenched at the voice, but he refused to let it affect him. Not now. Not when things were beginning to shift. But Severus had heard none of it, his focus entirely on Harry as he gestured toward the house.
“Come,” Severus said, his tone shifting slightly, “We’ll get you inside. I’m not leaving until I’m certain you’re safe.”
Harry nodded silently, following Severus into the house, the echo of Petunia’s collapsed form still lingering in his mind. He could only wonder what would happen next, but one thing was certain: things were changing. For better or for worse, he was no longer just a helpless child at the mercy of the Dursleys.
The moment Harry stepped into the house, a familiar, suffocating weight settled around him. The Dursleys’ home, with its stale air and the oppressive silence, felt like a tomb, a place where Harry’s very presence seemed unwelcome, a constant reminder of the abuse he had endured over the years. He’d almost forgotten how much he despised the house, but as Severus followed him inside, the house starkly reminded Harry.
Vernon’s voice suddenly boomed from the living room, sharp and angry, muffled by the thick walls but unmistakable. “Petunia! What on earth is going on out there?”
Severus’ face tightened in irritation at the loud, grating sound of Vernon’s voice, but he didn’t falter. He simply turned to Harry, his gaze cold and calculating, as if weighing his next move.
“Stay here,” Severus muttered, his voice low but commanding. He turned away from Harry, his robes sweeping around him like dark, foreboding shadows as he walked toward the living room. Harry stood still, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, every instinct telling him to run, to hide, to escape from this nightmare that had always been his home.
As Severus entered the living room, Harry couldn’t make out what was being said at first, just the low, guttural growl of Vernon’s voice. But then Severus spoke, his words sharp and measured.
“Dursley.”
Vernon Dursley froze at the sound of the name, turning slowly to face Severus. His large, pudgy form was as intimidating as always, but there was something about the quiet menace in Severus’ stance that made him hesitate, just for a moment.
“Severus Snape,” Vernon spat, his voice dripping with disdain. He looked at Severus with a mixture of surprise and contempt. “What are you doing here? What do you want with my nephew?”
Severus didn’t move. He just stood there, his eyes dark and piercing, the flicker of his wand hidden beneath his sleeve. “I’m here to collect my charge,” he said flatly, the words deliberate, as if he had no patience for any further nonsense.
Vernon’s face turned red with indignation. “Your charge? He’s nothing but a little freak. What gives you the right-”
“Enough,” Severus snapped, his voice low and dangerous. “You will not speak to me like that, Dursley. I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Harry is coming with me.” The way he said Harry’s name sent a chill down Harry’s spine. It was the first time in his life that someone had ever referred to him with such authority, and the force of Severus’ words cut through the tension in the air like a knife.
Vernon took a step forward, puffing his chest out in an attempt to intimidate Severus. “You can’t take him! He belongs here, under our care! You, ”
“I said enough.” Severus’ wand flicked out, the gesture so swift it was almost imperceptible. With a flick of his wrist, the room seemed to tighten, the air heavy with his magic. Vernon faltered, stepping back as if he could feel the weight of the unseen threat. “Harry is not your concern anymore. If you’re wise, you’ll stay out of this.”
Vernon’s face twisted in frustration, his eyes darting to Harry, who had remained standing just outside the doorway. His anger flared, but he held his tongue, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Severus now.
Severus turned his back on Vernon, giving him no further attention, his focus shifting back to Harry. “Pack your things, Harry,” he ordered, his tone softer now, but no less firm. “We’re leaving.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the words. For a moment, he couldn’t move, his mind racing, trying to process what was happening. Severus... was really taking him out of here? For the first time in his life, someone was actually offering him an escape, a chance to break free from the suffocating grip of the Dursleys.
“But... but-“ Harry stammered, his voice uncertain, as though he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “What about them?”
Severus didn’t even glance back at the Dursleys. “What about them?” he repeated, his voice flat. “They’ve made their choice. You’ve made yours. There is no place for you here anymore, Harry.”
Harry swallowed, his throat tight. He had never considered what it might be like to leave, to walk away from this house. It felt like a strange weight lifting off his chest, but there was also fear, fear of the unknown, fear of what came next.
Before he could say anything more, Severus continued, his voice gentler now, though still firm. “Go pack. I’ll wait here.”
Harry nodded slowly, his heart racing as he turned away from Severus and headed upstairs, each step heavy as he moved toward his room. He had no idea what he was supposed to pack, what he would need to bring with him. For years, he had barely owned anything, clothes, books, trinkets. But now, with the prospect of freedom hanging in the air, it felt like a lifetime’s worth of possessions suddenly mattered.
He gathered a few things, clothes, a small leather bag of odds and ends, and stopped for a moment, his hand hovering over the small stone that he had found on the beach.
The weight of it in his hands reminded him how it had woken Maglor up. He needed to take it with him.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Severus’ voice came through the wood. “Harry?”
“Just a second,” Harry called out, shoving the blanket into his bag and zipping it up quickly.
When he opened the door, Severus was standing in the hallway, his expression unreadable. Harry met his gaze, trying to read the man’s face. “Ready?” Severus asked, his tone a bit gentler now that Harry had made the decision.
Harry nodded, a tight smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I think so.”
The night air was crisp as Severus and Harry walked in silence through the quiet village of Cokeworth, the weight of their departure still settling around them. Harry’s heart beat faster than usual, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in his stomach. It was so surreal, walking away from the Dursleys’ house, the place that had been his prison for so many years. He had never imagined he would escape, let alone with someone like Severus Snape.
The only sound as they walked was the soft scrape of their footsteps against the cobblestone path, the gentle rustle of trees swaying in the evening breeze. Harry glanced up at Severus every so often, but the man remained stoic, his face unreadable. It was as though Severus had already steeled himself for whatever came next, prepared to deal with the fallout of his decisions. But Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that Severus had his own reasons for getting involved, reasons he didn’t yet understand.
As they neared the familiar corner of Spinner’s End, Harry felt a sense of comfort begin to settle in. This was different. This was something new. Severus’ home was dark and unwelcoming, but for Harry, it already felt like an escape from the Dursleys. It was cold, detached, but somehow, it was better.
Marvolo’s voice suddenly echoed in Harry’s mind, breaking the silence.
“He should’ve just tortured them, you know.” The tone was casual, almost playful, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Harry frowned inwardly, trying not to let Severus hear the conversation. “What?” he thought, bewildered. “You want me to, what? Torture the Dursleys?”
Marvolo chuckled darkly. “I’m not talking about you, Harry. I’m talking about Snape. He should’ve made them suffer for what they did to you. They deserve it. All of them, especially that fat fool of an uncle.”
Harry bit his lip, shaking his head slightly, trying to focus on the reality of the situation. He didn’t want to entertain thoughts of vengeance or torture. The Dursleys were horrible, but Severus had already done enough by getting Harry out of there. He didn’t need to escalate things further.
But Marvolo persisted, his voice growing more insistent in Harry’s head. “Don’t you think they deserve it, Harry? After everything they did to you? Every single time they hurt you, humiliated you, ignored you? Don’t you want them to suffer?”
Harry’s steps faltered for a brief moment, his heart aching at the memories of his life in that house. The beatings, the neglect, the constant cruelty, it all swirled around in his mind, vivid and painful. A surge of anger, of wanting to make them pay, bubbled up inside him. But then he remembered Severus.
He didn’t want to be like them. He didn’t want to become the monster that Marvolo seemed to think he should be. “No,” Harry thought firmly. “I don’t want that.”
Marvolo’s tone shifted, an almost disappointed edge to it. “You’re too soft, Harry. It will only get worse for you if you let them get away with it. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. You’ve already left. You’re free for now.”
Harry didn’t respond to Marvolo’s words. He wasn’t sure what Marvolo wanted him to do with them. But as he caught up to Severus, he pushed all thoughts of revenge away, focusing instead on the present. He had to figure out what life looked like now, what it meant to be free, to have someone like Severus on his side.
As they reached Severus’ house, Harry looked up at it, his breath fogging the air in front of him. The house was quiet, dark, and uninviting, but it felt like a new chapter, one where he wasn’t just surviving. For once, he had a choice.
Severus unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist, stepping inside and holding it open for Harry. Harry hesitated for a moment at the threshold, before stepping over the threshold into a new world, one that was uncertain, but far safer than the hell he had left behind.
The door creaked closed behind them, and Severus turned to him, his expression still unreadable but his eyes softening just a fraction. “Go upstairs and make yourself comfortable. You can rest for the night. We’ll discuss the next steps tomorrow.”
Harry nodded, unsure of what to say. Severus wasn’t the type to offer much comfort, but Harry knew this was as close as he’d get to reassurance for now. As he climbed the stairs to the spare bedroom, the silence of the house was a stark contrast to the chaos that had been his life up until now.
Marvolo’s voice lingered, faint but still there. “It’s just the beginning, Harry. You’re free, yes, but remember who you are. You’ll need power to survive in this world.”
Harry pushed the voice away, forcing himself to focus on the present. There would be time for everything else later. For now, he was free. And that was enough.
The bed was simple, but it felt like a luxury compared to the tiny cot at the Dursleys’. Harry sank into it, letting the exhaustion finally overtake him as he pulled the soft, fluffy blanket tightly around himself. As he closed his eyes, his last thought before sleep claimed him was a quiet acknowledgment that, perhaps for the first time in his life, he was truly safe.
For now.