Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry, oh how I wish I did and I could have my way with him and so many other ickle characters. Alas, I am poor and pathetically obsessed with the world of Harry Potter so I only can write about him.

How to stay paralyzed by fear of abandonment

How to defer to men in solve-able predicaments

How to control someone to be a carbon copy of you

How to have that not work and have them run away from you

How to keep people at arm's length and never get too close

How to mistrust the ones you supposedly love the most

How to pretend you're fine and don't need help from anyone

How to feel worthless unless you're serving or helping someone

Eight Easy Steps

Album: So Called Chaos

Alanis Morissette

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Harry woke up in his small bedroom at the Dursleys. He had hoped that after the fuss the Order had made over his treatment that this holiday visit would not be so bad. However, just like many other times in his life, his wish did not come true. He had been locked in his room for the last two weeks, only allowed out a few times a day to use the restroom.

Although he hated being locked in his room, the worst thing about it was the lack of fresh air from the locked and barred windows. Not only did it magnify the summer heat, but it also took away his ability to keep in contact with his friends.

Harry felt listless. As it had been during the summer after his first year at Hogwarts, he was fed through the cat flap on his bedroom door, but his stomach cramped and ached from hunger. That was bad enough, but Aunt Petunia didn't give him enough water to drink, either.

As he sat up on his bed and looked around at his Spartan room, he wondered what was actually going on in the world outside his little room. Even before the Dursleys had taken to locking him in his room all of the time, they had not allowed him to watch any news.

Even though he had been cut off from the outside world, he knew something big was going on. He knew that the Dursleys were scared, but he could only imagine what was going on to make them so afraid. Petunia no longer allowed her precious baby Dudley to wander the streets or even go over to his friends' houses. Dudley's reaction to this pronouncement was heard several blocks away and for several days, of that Harry was sure. However, Uncle Vernon stiffly upheld the new rule and squashed any further objections.

Harry chuckled at the memory of his uncle's beet-red face, his voice loud and cruel as he yelled, "You'll listen to me boy, or you'll end up locked in your room just like that freak."

Even though that memory brought about a small smile, it also marked in his mind the day he knew things were really getting worse. He wondered what could suddenly cause the super-indulgent parents to lay down rules for their spoiled son.

Again, Harry's mind wandered to his friends. He missed their letters, even though they contained little news of any consequence. He felt lost without even a small connection to what he thought of as his other life.

His Hogwarts things locked in the cupboard under the stairs, his owl staying back at the school, no contact with his friends, and being locked away made it seem almost if his memories of school and the wizarding world were just a fantastic dream. Although the scar on his head, the pain of losing his godfather, and the horrific nightmares he had every night made it clear it was not a dream of fancy for Harry. It was the real deal, so to speak.

He jumped at a loud banging on the door.

"Wake up," Aunt Petunia shouted. He heard the clanging of the metal locks as she fumbled with the keys. Quickly he stood up and made his way over to the door. He had learned at a young age that answering her quickly would make his life easier.

Once the door opened, she looked around at the room. The disgusted look in her eyes grew darker as they fell on the skinny, small boy that was in his humongous hand-me-downs, held up only by the belt he wore around his waist. She sneered.

"This room is filthy and it smells horrible, what are you doing up here all day long?" she questioned maliciously. Her gaze drifted over the messy bedroom again. "We should never have taken him in," she murmured. Harry's jaw clenched, but he remained silent. Petunia looked at her nephew again. "It's because of you that my poor Dudley has to make do, cramped into one bedroom while you laze about in here."

Harry lowered his eyes, to keep the anger at her words, hidden from view. "I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia. It's uncomfortable with the window closed and the door locked. Could you maybe open it a little... for some fresh air?" he replied, trying to calm his aunt.

"That window will not be opened so that you can talk to your abnormal friends. Just like that good-for-nothing mother of yours, you are. Always taking what you don't deserve and wanting more on top of it. I won't have it in my house, do you hear?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he replied. He knew that doing anything but agreeing to her ranting would only make her more upset, and he was painfully aware that he had not yet been allowed to use the restroom.

"See that you do remember. Well hurry up I am not going to wait for you all day. You have twenty minutes to take a shower." Her last comment was muttered as she walked away.

Quickly, Harry grabbed some clothes and rushed into the bathroom. They rarely allowed him to shower, so he was not going to waste the opportunity.

---

In her bedroom at Grimmauld Place, Hermione stretched languidly, as she woke up the next morning. She was determined to make today a good day.

She was not quite sure exactly how she was going to do that, but she was determined to accomplish her goal. For too many days this summer, she had allowed herself to wallow in self-pity and she woke up knowing she needed to make a change. There was no way she was going to ignore what was going on around her, but she was not going to let it rule her life either.

She decided that today she would start out with a nice relaxing bath. She had not allowed herself the luxury of a bath since she had started staying here, and if she was going to change her outlook that would be a good place to start. Quickly gathering her things, she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Drawing her bath, she added her favourite bubble mixture. Once the antique tub had filled, she climbed in and sighed as the hot water settled around her. This was something she had definitely missed. Although this somewhat small tub was nothing like the grand bathing chambers the prefects at Hogwarts were allowed, it was almost like coming back home.

As the steamy hot water worked the tension out of her body, she allowed her mind to wander to the problems they were trying to solve. The potion was the first thing that came to her mind. Although there were potions that could temporarily weaken someone's magical ability, none of the variations, or even combining strengthening solutions that they added made any difference. Truthfully, some of the combinations they tried were reduced to grey clumps and some even melted cauldrons in spectacular displays of fireworks. So maybe if they looked at several of the active ingredients on these potions they might come up with clues on how to create their own base potion, instead of a modified one.

Once she was out of the tub, her first stop would be to the library for some more research. However, this time it would be in an entirely different direction.

Now feeling like her luxury time was not wasted, she started to wash her hair.

Once her bath was completed, she dressed quickly, and wandered downstairs towards the library. She was surprised when she entered the room, as Professor Dumbledore was sitting at the large oak desk in the corner.

"Miss Granger, I hope you are well rested this morning."

"Yes, Professor, I had a pleasant night's sleep." She replied. "Sir, have you heard from Harry? I haven't had a letter in weeks, and I am starting to worry about him."

"No, I am sorry. I have not talked to Harry since the day school ended."

"Do you think that he's all right? It's not like him not to write."

She jumped a little in surprise when the silky voice answered instead of the headmaster.

"I am sure the ever-polite and studious Mr. Potter would never forget to write his friends," he sneered. "Probably enjoying his holiday with his Muggle relations too much, to worry what might be going on. Tisk, tisk; not a very Gryffindor thing for him to do."

Hermione stared at the sarcastic Potions master and favoured him with an icy look. "Harry never forgets to write, sir. That is why I am worried about him."

Before the snarky teacher could reply, the cheerful headmaster interrupted the conversation that was going on. "Severus, I am sure Harry would not forget to write to his friends. Maybe he has been busy, or perhaps something has come up."

Turning to face Hermione, his eyes blue eyes twinkling, he told her, "Miss Granger, I know that you are worried about your friend, but he is in the safest place possible for him right now."

She barley managed to rein in the snort at his assessment of Harry's home life. Sometimes she had to remind herself that the headmaster was not as all-knowing as people thought he was. She could not imagine him leaving Harry with such horrible people, or at least she hoped he would not.

In the last few years, she had decided that Professor Dumbledore was as sneaky and as manipulative as a Slytherin instead of the Gryffindor she knew him to be. Luckily, he was working for the Light, but even then, she was well aware that working for the good of the people sometimes wreaked its own havoc.

Although she knew that Dumbledore thought of Harry as a son, she hoped he would manage to survive the plans the world and the headmaster had for him. Hermione had played enough chess to know that even the queen, a player's most valuable piece, could be sacrificed under certain circumstances to win the game. She knew that Harry and Snape were both valuable to this war, and she desperately hoped that they would live to see the fruits of their labours.

Shaking her head slightly to clear the thoughts that were running through it, she quickly replied, "Yes, I'm sure he is fine."

Snape quickly ended the conversation by stating firmly, "Miss Granger, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore in private."

"Yes, sir," she replied. "I would request some time to speak with you later, sir; I have a couple of thoughts on the potion."

"Yes, yes, later. I have some important things to discuss, and don't need a chatty, nosy silly little girl interrupting." He sneered at her.

She left the room in an outraged huff, 'Chatty, nosy silly little girl. Well I don't need an arrogant, pompous, jerk telling me what to do either,' she thought.

"Severus, you should not bait her so." Dumbledore stated as soon as the door was closed.

"You would steal my only pleasure left, old man. Baiting young Gryffindors is entirely too enjoyable to give up," Snape said with a slight chuckle. "Is it true what she said? Has no one heard from Potter since school got out?"

"Yes, Severus that is true. I have even sent him an owl and it came back undelivered."

"And you thought this was not important enough to mention before now?" he sneered.

"I know he is at his relatives and although they do not like the wizarding world, he is safe there."

"Now, I know you did not come here to discuss your favourite student. Or maybe you did, Severus?" he questioned.

"Actually, I did. I have an idea that might work to keep him out of the Dark Lord's hands."

Severus paced back and forth across the library for a moment before sinking into a chair. Placing his head in his hands... realising too late that he had told Dumbledore that he was thinking about Potter and worst of all he had made a special trip to talk about keeping him safe. He was sure the headmaster was never going to let him live this one down.

How in the world could a spy make such a mistake? It was almost like the Slytherin traits that he valued so greatly had disappeared and it was all that insufferable know-it-all's fault. Well maybe there was a way to salvage this situation, make the headmaster think he was only considering Potter's problem because it affected his very life as well.

"Severus, are you still with us?" he questioned with that damn all-knowing twinkle in his eyes.

"Yes, I am here. I was just ruminating on the different options on how to keep your precious boy-who-lived safe," he spat out.

"Yes, yes, you said that. What was your idea?"

"I think that we should stage an explosive argument between you and the boy, maybe even in Diagon Alley. Then at the end have the boy disappear. It would paint a picture of strife within in the Order ranks. The Dark Lord would be pleased to see what he thinks is the opposition falling apart at the seams. Perhaps, he might even get a little too full of himself and become sloppy."

"That might work; have you any thought of where we should send the boy?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I have a friend; he is located far away in the barren countryside of Siberia. They are not affected by the war yet, nor do they receive much news there. He is the former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher from Durmstrang, so not only will Potter be safe there, he might learn something as well."

Dumbledore burst out laughing, "You are going to send Harry to Siberia... exactly how long have you wanted to do that, Severus?"

A small snort escaped from Severus. "Sir, I may have wanted him gone, but if I were to send him away for good, that would be a little close for comfort. Although, I have heard that there are small cabins located in the North Pole. Maybe we could send him to live with that crackpot Nicholas and the hundreds of house elves he seems to be breeding."

After a few minutes, Professor Dumbledore wiped the tears from his eyes, and told the usually dour man in front of him, "I have missed that wicked sense of humour these last few months."

"What, you think I was joking?"

"Oh, my boy, what ever will I do with you?" Dumbledore questioned. "Although, in all seriousness, please, contact your friend. Let him know to expect Harry in a week's time."

"Yes, sir," Severus replied. "I will arrange that now. Good day."

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I want to thank my beta jedikeladry without her; this story would not be nearly as good. I also want to thank notsosaintly, who has provided encouragement that has kept me going.