Chapter Text
Minerva McGonagall clenched her tea so tightly her knuckles hurt. “Albus. You can’t be serious.”
Albus Dumbledore spoke softly. “There is no choice, Minerva. Without the Blood Wards, Harry would not be alive today. Unpleasant though his relatives may be –”
“They are more than unpleasant, Albus! You read Molly Weasley’s letter. Locked in his room! Bars on the window! Fed canned soup through a cat flap!”
“It is most troubling,” Dumbledore nodded. “I will speak to Petunia before Harry returns for next summer. And to Arabella Figg, as well. With the proper precautions in place –”
“Albus! No amount of precautions could possibly be enough. Potter simply cannot return to those people.”
“And yet, he will have to.” Dumbledore sighed. “Half the summer at least, to anchor the Blood Wards. It is . . .difficult to accept, I know. If there were another way. . .”
He was interrupted by a loud scraping noise. Across the staff room, Severus Snape pushed back a tall, wing-backed chair, where he had been reading a potions grimoire and listening, unseen. Now, he strode towards Albus, robe billowing.
“Severus! My Dear Boy! We had no idea you’d returned so early.”
Severus frowned sourly. Was Albus actually so delighted to see him safely returned from a dangerous reconnaissance mission? Or was the headmaster merely anticipating that Snape’s presence arrival might inhibit Minerva’s candor? Either way, Albus was destined for disappointment. The mission had not gone well. Severus had been lucky to escape with his skin and his cover intact. And he had no intention of inhibiting his fellow head of house. Quite the reverse, as it happened.
“Problems handling Potter, Minerva?” he sneered. “What a surprise. Had you not insisted on treating him differently from every other student, from the very moment he first set foot in this castle, perhaps you would not currently find yourself in such a state of . . . confusion. Things would be very different, had he been sorted into my house.”
Minerva’s lips thinned. “In fact, this conversation was not about Potter’s behavior at all, Severus.” She paused, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe. “I am most pleased, of course, to see you returned safely. And I will be most happy to converse at length when I am not having confidential discussions with the headmaster. Albus, my office, please.”
“Minerva. There’s nothing whatsoever to discuss with the headmaster. Your course of action is clear.” Severus plucked Molly’s letter off the table and scanned it rapidly. “If this were quite literally any other student at the school, you would already be taking steps to remove them from a demonstrably abusive and neglectful home environment. We have had words before, regarding your tendency to construct an entirely new set of Hogwarts rules and regulations, specifically for Mr. Potter’s personal use. I was quite clear that such fuzzy thinking led nowhere of value.”
“But the Blood Wards. . .” Minerva met his eyes briefly, then stared down at her hands.
“The Blood Wards can be transferred to another guardian, or, indeed, to Hogwarts itself. It is hardly advanced alchemy.”
“Severus, my boy –”
Ah. Dumbledore was interrupting and interfering. What a surprise.
“ -- while your grasp of potions theory is nothing short of brilliant, Blood Wards are a different . . . ah, kettle of fish, entirely. They are little understood, and there has never been a documented case of successful transfer.”
“That is not because such a transfer would be theoretically difficult, Albus, but rather because it is not typically relevant. When the remaining family is halfway capable of behaving as human beings, there is no earthly reason to alter the protective wards. Furthermore, there is no specific discipline of ‘Potions Theory.’ Magical principles transcend method and medium; that is what makes them principles.”
“Consider then, Falkheart’s Principle of Equilibrium. It would suggest –"
“I am not interested in debating fine points of theory, Albus.”
“Ah. Thank you, Severus. I appreciate your -- "
“This is clearly a case,” Severus interrupted, “which calls for a Practical Demonstration. If you will excuse me, Albus, Minerva. I will be back within the hour.”
He approached the fire and tossed in a handful of Floo Powder. With a cry of “Spinners End,” he disappeared into the flames.
***
It took longer than Severus had expected to find what he needed. Too many boxes in the dusty attic of his old family home. Too many memories. But at last, he found something that would serve as a temporary transfer node. With an emphasis on temporary. He had no interest in holding Potter’s Blood Wards a second longer than necessary. But clearly, some sort of catalyst was necessary to break Minerva’s paralysis. Once she learned that Blood Ward transfer was indeed possible, she would waste no time in finding another placement for Potter, perhaps even removing him from Severus’s aegis within the hour. With any luck, the boy would never even have to know that his potions professor had any involvement whatsoever in his long-overdue custody change.
Bolstering himself with that cheering thought, Severus transfigured his clothing into a Muggle suit, apparated to King's Cross Station, and caught a cab to Privet Drive.
***
Petunia yanked open the door before he’d even had a chance to ring the doorbell. “Go away. Lily’s long gone. You can’t be here.”
Well, that answered the question as to whether she’d recognize him.
“Petunia,” Severus hissed, silkily. He had carefully considered his options while hunting through all those dusty attic boxes. He could, of course, threaten magical retribution. And yet, such threats, however thoroughly deserved, might have unpleasant repercussions should Potter’s change-of-custody encounter ministerial scrutiny. Moreover, he deemed them unnecessary. Why resort to coercion when simple unpleasantness could suffice?
“You can invite me inside,” he continued. “For a civilized cup of tea. Or, I can remain on your lawn, voicing my reasonable and legal complaints through your downstairs window, in full view of your neighbors.”
“This is private property. I’ll call the police.”
“I don’t believe you will. Your treatment of your nephew violates both muggle and magical law. So, unless you would like the whole neighborhood to become aware of our discussion, perhaps we could continue this conversation inside?”
She invited him in, of course. There had never been any question of her allowing him to attract the neighbors’ attention.
“Vernon?” he asked, as he seated himself at the kitchen table.
“Work.”
Somewhat to his surprise, she was making the tea he’d requested. Perhaps she found the familiar ritual calming. Or perhaps she was simply delaying the moment when she would have to sit down and face him.
“And your son?”
“Dudley is at Smeltings.”
“The house is empty then. Good. That makes things simpler.”
At that, she began to tremble. Once, Severus would have enjoyed her fear. Now, it simply made him tired. Oh, she could be brave enough when terrorizing a small magical child. But let a grown wizard simply ask for tea, and she began to fall apart. Had it not occurred to her that one day her nephew would grow up? That Potter might remember his mistreatment at her hands?
He watched, silently, as she measured out tea leaves and poured boiling water. The cups she chose were ridiculously pink. She balanced them on delicate saucers and set them on the table. By the time she seated herself, her hands barely shook.
“Petunia,” Severus began.
“Don’t bother pretending, Sev.” She shook her head. “You aren’t really here to scold me about Harry. You wanted him dead. Lily warned me, before that maniac killed her. Told me if I ever saw you coming, I should grab Dudley and run.”
It was a punch to the gut. It was ice-cold water dumped over his head. Lily had warned Petunia. About him. Lily’s last thoughts, her last days . . . she’d gone to the grave, hating and fearing Severus. It wasn’t surprising. At some level he’d known, of course he’d known. But still – hearing it …
“Running wouldn’t have helped.”
It was the wrong thing to say and he knew it was the wrong thing to say even as he said it. And yet, rather than stop himself, he continued on saying the wrong thing, in a dull, dead monotone. “No one can outrun a killing curse. If I’d wanted you and your son dead, you’d have had no chance against me.”
“You think I don’t know that, Sev?”
The pain in Petunia’s voice was raw, awful. It stopped Severus short.
And to think he’d thought this would be quick, to think that he’d promised to be back at Hogwarts in an hour. Oh Merlin, if this took too much longer, Albus and Minerva would be joining him in Petunia’s hideous kitchen, wouldn’t they? Because today just kept getting worse.
“So why didn’t Lily protect you? She could have helped you disappear.” Severus started to take a sip of tea, then thought better of it. Petunia, after all, had yet to take a sip. And while he didn’t think she’d had time to slip anything in, there was no reason to take the chance.
“Vernon hated magic,” said Petunia. “He wouldn’t accept her help. He didn’t want to hide.”
“And you went along with that?”
“I love him more than I loved Lily.” Finally, Petunia took a sip of tea. Her hands were shaking enough that a portion of her tea slopped out of the cup and onto the saucer. Slowly, she spread each hand flat on the table.
There was a long, long silence. Severus used it to finish his tea, one sip at a time.
“Why are you really here?” Petunia asked finally. “What do you want from me?”
Severus considered. This conversation was not going as planned.
“Lily warned you against me?” he asked, softly.
“Yes.”
He lowered his voice still further. Quiet could be much more effective than shouting, as he’d learned during his first years terrorizing – ah, teaching – Hogwarts students. “Lily said I was allied with the Dark Lord?”
“Yes.”
“She said I was a danger to you, to Dudley, to Harry?” His voice was now so soft that Petunia was leaning slightly forward across the table to catch his words.
“Yes.”
“THEN WHY,” Severus bellowed, “WHY IN MERLIN’S NAME DID YOU OPEN YOUR DOOR TO ME?”
Petunia flinched.
“Your logic does not parse,” said Severus, returning to a normal volume. “If you so feared me, you would done far better to hide yourself.” He let one eyebrow climb skyward, while fixing Petunia Dursley with a well-practiced patronizing sneer.
There was another very long silence.
Any minute now, Albus or Minerva would come bursting in. Or Vernon would come home from work. Or a neighbor would be over to borrow sugar. Well, probably not that last one. Not if the neighbor had previously met Petunia, that is.
“The war is over, Sev,” Petunia said, finally. “You have no reason to hurt me, anymore.”
“I never did,” said Severus. “Whatever Lily may have believed, I was never a danger to her or to hers.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because you’re still alive. And I have always known where you lived.”
Petunia stared, trembling.
“Drop the righteous charade,” Severus snapped. “If you truly feared me, you would not have let me in. Please do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise. My time is not unlimited, and we have much to discuss.”
“So discuss,” Petunia spat.
“You are abusing and neglecting your nephew, Harry,” said Severus. “As his professor, I have a duty of care. I am here to remove him from your custody, permanently.”
Petunia laughed. “I wish you could.”
“Your meaning?”
“Surely you know about the Blood Wards. Didn’t that old fool explain? Does he even know you’re here, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“He is aware, yes.”
Well, that was probably true. Dumbledore could put two and two together as well as anyone. He doubtless knew where Severus had gone. And, given that he’d yet to show up and interfere, he seemed to be giving Severus a chance to prove his practical demonstration. Or perhaps he was simply waiting for Severus to prove himself wrong, sparing the need for a tedious argument.
“Blood Wards can be transferred,” said Severus. “And I am asking you to transfer them. To me.”
“And why would I do that?”
“You want Harry gone.”
“I want a lot of things I can’t get.”
“So do I.” Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. It was a muggle photograph, from Lily’s 8th birthday party. Lily, Severus, and Petunia stood by a half-eaten ice-cream cake, grinning from ear to ear. “I want this back. I want her back.”
Petunia glanced once at the photo, then quickly averted her eyes, as if looking had hurt her.
“Petunia. I can keep Harry safer than you ever could. And . . . your family will be safer without him.”
Petunia nodded, tightly. “Fine, I’ll do it. Just . . . hurry up. I want you gone, before Vernon finds you here.”
“He won’t.” We are finishing this conversation, Vernon-free, if I have to transfigure him into a parakeet to achieve that objective. Although no doubt he would find ways to be sufficiently distracting, even in avian form.
Severus removed a pin from his lapel, stuck his thumb, and let three drops of blood fall onto the picture. “Now you.”
“Not with that dirty pin,” Petunia’s lips pursed. “I’ll fetch a clean one from my sewing kit.”
“As you prefer.”
As Petunia went upstairs to fetch her sewing kit, Severus let his gaze fall on the photo. Such a long time ago. So much life, so many mistakes, so much pain still ahead. How had he ever been so young?
Petunia returned with a pin and stuck herself without hesitation, letting her blood mix with Severus’s.
“I will ask three questions,” Severus said, quietly. “You will answer them. That is all the transfer spell requires. Do you understand?”
Petunia nodded.
“First. I swear on Lily’s grave that I will protect her son’s life with my own. Do you accept my oath?
Petunia hesitated for only a moment. “Yes.”
“Second. I swear I can protect your nephew, Harry, in ways you could not hope to match. Do you trust my judgment in this?”
This time, Petunia spoke more quickly. “Yes.”
“Third. Will you give Harry into my protection, relinquishing your claim as kin?”
“Yes,” said Petunia, bitterly.
The photograph glowed and then vanished. The house shook from the foundations to the roof.
“Did it work?” Petunia asked.
“Yes.”
“Then get out. Now. I never want to see either of you again.”
Suddenly exhausted, Severus bowed his head and left.
***
It had been significantly more than an hour, yet Minerva and Albus still waited in the Hogwarts staff room.
“Severus means well,” said Dumbledore softly. “He has always loved Lily. Do not treat him harshly when he fails.”
“You are sure he will fail?”
“No one could succeed in this, Minerva.”
He was interrupted by a tremor that ran through the room, as the entire castle shook on its foundation.
McGonagall leaped to her feet, drawing her wand, spinning in place to search for attackers. When nothing further happened, she dropped her wand arm back to her side and turned to Dumbledore.
“What just happened, Albus?” she asked.
Dumbledore chuckled. “Minerva,” he said. “I have never been happier to be wrong.”
“Are you saying that Severus transferred the wards?”
“He did more than that. But explanations can wait – no doubt he will be here in a moment and we can discuss the joyful news together.”
“Joyful news?” Snape came tumbling out of the fireplace, sounding about as far from joyful as could be imagined. Exhausted would be a better word. Or cranky. Dealing with Petunia could do that to a person. Especially dealing with Petunia, after dealing with Dumbledore, after that awful mission, and no sleep whatsoever last night.
“Yes, Severus,” said Dumbledore, beaming. “Congratulations on your adoption of Harry Potter. I am certain you will make a beautiful family. Lily would be so proud.”