Fury was his northern hawk owl that lived in the owlery, as the dungeons were no place for an owl.
"Yes, Master," she said with a bounce. It wasn't everyday Severus had a task for her, as he was not prone to asking others to do things he could do himself. "It will be done just as Master says."
"Thank you, Mittens."
She bowed and popped away.
Severus straightened and turned toward the fireplace, preparing himself mentally for what he was about to endure.
The last time he had seen Dumbledore . . . alive. . . .
Severus shook himself. He could not allow himself to dwell on the past. It had not happened in this timeline — it would not happen.
But Severus could not stop his mind from thinking back, scenes of that day flashing violently in his mind's eye. He had to fight the bile from rising up his throat. No one should die that way, least of all a leader like Albus.
Exhaling slowly, he occluded, reigning in the calm and solidifying his mental walls as he buried the painful, horrid memories. Events would not repeat themselves; he would die before he would allow it.
Confident he had himself under control, he took a handful of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, disappearing in a flare of green flame.
O o O
He stepped into the eccentric office, the entire atmosphere almost foreign to him now. It had been over two years since he had been here and seen this office whole.
He looked to the desk, finding the Headmaster signing some documents.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" he asked, softly announcing his presence — even though he knew very well that Albus was already aware of his arrival.
"Ah, Severus! Yes, please, sit down." He looked up, gazing over his half-moon spectacles. His eyes were as kind as ever, but there was also something else. Bemusement?
The potions master did as asked, sitting as he often had before. Straight-backed and stiff.
Putting aside a stack of papers, Albus held out the bowl of sweets. "Lemon Drop?"
Severus was very tempted to take one, but it would be so out of character that it might cause Albus to have a stroke. He politely declined.
Acting disappointed, the headmaster set the bowl back down after taking a candy himself.
"Well, I had an interesting conversation with Hagrid a few hours ago," the older, much older, man began.
"I can imagine," Severus said tersely.
"I am curious, Severus, why you went to Diagon Alley," he continued, unbothered by the younger professor's curtness.
Severus didn't reply immediately, thinking about how best to handle this. He couldn't tell Albus the truth, that was for sure. He would begin asking too many questions and it would complicate things that were best left alone for Severus to handle on his own.
"I was . . . curious," he answered finally.
"About Harry?" Albus' eyes gave a slight twinkle.
"Yes."
"So you went to see him for yourself? But why did you decide to relieve Hagrid and take Harry to get his supplies yourself? Were you so curious to spend an entire day with the boy?"
Severus knew he had to tread carefully. He had to make this believable. Very believable.
"At first, I simply wanted to determine the boy's attitude and then be on my way, but upon seeing his physical condition and attire. . . ." Severus' tone grew dark and dangerous.
Albus quickly leaned forward, his eyes growing concerned. "Please, continue, Severus."
"The boy is underweight and was clothed in ragged old clothes that were at least three sizes too big for him."
The Headmaster's eyes widened.
"I felt it best for me to take over and ensure things were not worse than I had already been able to gather."
"What did you learn?" Albus asked, afraid to hear the answer but needing to know.
"Enough to have already sent the boy several potions," Severus sneered. "I will be sending him three potions every week for him to drink."
Albus exhaled slowly, his wrinkles becoming more pronounced as he frowned. "How bad is it?"
"Nothing that I cannot repair, but, had things been left alone, next year at this time I wouldn't have been able to say the same."
Albus closed his eyes in emotional pain as guilt, stronger than a furious Hungarian Horntail, rose up within him. He should have listened to Minerva, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
"I have already had a . . . discussion with the Dursleys. Their mistreatment of him will not continue. Mr. Potter will be eating full meals and sleeping in a real bed from now on."
"A real bed?" the Headmaster asked in alarm, his eyes snapping open as another emotion swelled from his center.
Outrage.
Unfortunately, Severus did not comprehend the extent of anger now glistening in the older man's eyes, and promptly answered. "Oh yes, Mr. Potter has been sleeping in a cupboard for the last ten years. The Dursleys had moved him into the spare bedroom after the first letter," he stated flatly, having to control his own disgust until it was instantly forgotten in the next split second.
Magic erupted, and it was only thanks to a century of using magic that prevented all of the Headmaster's things from shattering spectacularly off his desk and shelves. As it was, his self control was not good enough and the bookshelf directly behind him exploded, pages now fluttering all around him in a mighty and intimidating display of his old power.
Albus leaned forward, his head bowed as he reigned in his magic — magic that was still rippling through the air and causing his hair and clothing to shift in a pulsating breeze. His left hand was flat on the desk, while his right was clenched into a tight fist at the center of his chest. Fawkes gave a concerned squawk and quickly flew to him, landing on his left shoulder before lowering his feathered head and lovingly burying his beak into the man's white hair.
Severus was speechless.
He had never seen his mentor so . . . furious.
Student letters were addressed automatically, and it was only after Harry had not replied to his first letter that McGonagall looked at what was being written. The first letter she saw was addressed: 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive.' She had not known about the cupboard, so had not been able to tell the Headmaster.