Chapter 5 — The Man in the Shadows
The morning started quieter than most. Dudley was still snoring in his room, sounding rather like a small lawnmower. Harry was already awake, gazing up at the ceiling with that oddly calm expression he wore when he wasn't fussing.
I slipped out of bed, stretched, and went through a few easy exercises — old habits from a life long past. My body wasn't quite sure what to make of them yet, but it did help to shake off the sleep. I got ready, dressed neatly, and padded downstairs.
Mum was in the kitchen, humming as she fried bacon. Dad was at the table, buried behind his paper as usual.
"Morning," I said, sliding into my seat.
"Morning, Arthur," Mum replied without turning. "Eat up. We've a busy day."
Mum had already packed a small bag — extra nappies for Harry, a thermos of tea, Dudley's emergency biscuits, and a tissue box because she never left home without one.
Today, we were going somewhere. Mum had decided last night, after a long look at Harry sleeping, that we would try to find Severus Snape. Dad had groaned, mumbled something about "wild goose chases," but hadn't argued again. That, in Dursley terms, was full consent.
Dad was pretending to read the newspaper, but I could tell he was nervous. He'd shaved twice.
Dudley was feeding Harry bits of toast crust, despite my warning.
"He can't eat that, Dud," I said.
"He's got gums," Dudley protested.
"Yes, and I'd like him to keep them."
Harry just gurgled, like this was all terribly funny.
Breakfast was a little quieter than usual. Every now and then, Mum's eyes drifted to Harry, then to the window, as if she was thinking about the world beyond ours.
I buttered my toast carefully. "So, Spinner's End," I said. "Where is it?"
"In Cokeworth," Mum said, voice tight. "Old mill town. Not far, but… not the kind of place you go for fun."
Dad made a sound that could have been a growl or a sigh. "Filthy place, if you ask me. Whole area smells like factory smoke and bad decisions."
"That's all right," I said cheerfully. "We're only going to visit one bad decision."
Mum gave me a sharp look, but Dudley snorted into his milk — which was worth it.
Dad frowned but said nothing. Mum's lips pressed together. She didn't admit it, but she was curious too.
---
By midmorning, we were in the car, heading toward Cokeworth. The drive took most of the morning. The farther we went, the darker the streets got — not because of clouds, but because everything seemed older, greyer, like the colour had given up years ago. Rows of narrow brick houses leaned toward each other, and the river that cut through the town looked like it had seen better days.
Spinner's End was at the far edge — a cramped little lane where even the rain seemed reluctant to fall.
Dad's knuckles were white on the steering wheel by the time we turned into the street.
He parked the car with a grunt. "Lovely. We'll all catch something just standing here. This is really a dreadful place."
Mum ignored him, tightening her coat. "This is it," she said quietly. "He lived somewhere down here."
We started walking. Dudley held my hand, shoes splashing in shallow puddles. Harry was bundled up in Mum's arms, wide-eyed and curious, watching everything with that unnervingly calm stare.
Mum stopped at one particular door. Number Twelve looked like it was being held up by its own curtains. The brickwork was stained, and the front door had paint peeling like old bark. She hesitated before knocking. For a long time, there was only silence.
Dad muttered, "If this fellow's half as odd as you said, Petunia—"
"Then you let me handle it," she cut in sharply.
The door opened just as she raised her hand again.
He stood there — tall, thin, black-haired, with eyes like ink and a face pale and drawn tight by too many sleepless nights. Even without knowing his name, I'd have recognised him anywhere. Severus Snape.
For a moment, no one spoke. His black eyes flicked from Mum to Dad, then to me, and finally to the baby in her arms.
"Petunia," he said finally, in a low, soft voice.
"Severus," Mum answered, matching his tone with practiced politeness. "You look… exactly the same."
She added stiffly, "We… we need to talk. About my sister."
Something flickered in his expression. A crack in the mask. For a heartbeat, he was just a man in grief.
"She's gone," he said simply.
"Yes," Mum whispered. "I heard. We… we have her son."
And then Harry made a soft noise, as if to prove it. Mum shifted slightly, revealing him fully from the folds of the blanket.
Snape looked down. He just stared at the baby — at Harry — like the world had ended all over again.
I'll never forget his face then. It wasn't anger or surprise. It was pain — deep, quiet, and breaking. His mouth opened as if to say something, but nothing came out. And I swear, for a second, I thought he would cry.
But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. His shoulders straightened, his voice turned cold. "I see." Then he stepped aside. "Come in."
---
The inside of his house was dim but surprisingly clean. The air was heavy with something that smelled faintly medicinal. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with books and jars of strange ingredients — powders, roots, and things I didn't want to name.
Dad looked around like a man expecting a toad to leap out at any moment.
Snape gestured toward the worn sofa. "Sit, if you must."
Dad stood awkwardly near the door. Mum perched on the edge, holding Harry close. Snape's eyes lingered on the child, his expression unreadable.
Dad cleared his throat. "Well, now—"
Snape's gaze flicked to him. One look was enough to silence Dad completely.
I found myself stepping forward, despite being the smallest person there.
"Mr. Snape?" I said.
He turned those dark eyes on me, and for a moment, I felt like I'd been x-rayed. I was careful not to look directly into his eyes. After all, Snape was a natural Legilimens.
"I'm Arthur," I said. "Arthur Dursley. Harry's cousin. We came to ask… what happens now. You know — about his mum and dad. Their funeral. Their house. All that."
"There will be a funeral," he said finally. "The Ministry is… involved. It seems they consider it a convenient occasion for celebration."
Dad frowned. "Celebration?"
Snape gave him a look colder than the North Sea. "The fall of the Dark Lord, Mr. Dursley. They plan to turn it into a public spectacle. Hundreds will attend. Some will want to touch the Boy Who Lived."
His gaze softened — just barely — as he looked at Harry. "And others will want to finish what their master started."
Mum inhaled sharply, clutching Harry a little tighter.
Dad's jaw tightened. "You mean — he's still in danger?"
"There are always fanatics," Snape said simply. "For now, it would be safer if you remained… unseen."
Mum's fingers tightened on Harry's blanket. "Then we can't go?"
"It would be unwise," he said flatly.
I interjected at that moment, in an innocent, hurt tone, "Does it mean we cannot see them one last time? And Harry will not get the chance to say goodbye to Aunt Lily?"
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, exactly — just heavy.
Snape drawled at last, "Perhaps I can arrange for you to see them before. Privately."
Mum's voice broke. "I'd like that. Just once."
Something softened in his eyes, so faint you could miss it if you blinked. "I'll send word."
I asked again, "Sir — what happens to their house and everything inside? And… their money?"
Dad looked alarmed. "Arthur!" He gave me a look that said, Not now, but Snape's expression didn't change.
He regarded me for a long moment before replying. "In the wizarding world, there are solicitors — Gringotts representatives and magical law firms that handle inheritance," he said. "The Potters were an old family. Their assets are managed by Gringotts until their heir"—he glanced again at Harry—"comes of age."
I nodded slowly. "So there's a will?"
"Most likely. Though whether the Ministry allows you access to it…" He let the sentence hang.
Mum frowned. "Access? He's family. Lily's son."
"In your world, perhaps," Snape said quietly. "In ours… lineage is complicated."
She frowned deeper. "Then someone from that… world will come, I suppose?"
Snape tilted his head. "Perhaps. Though I wonder," he said, his tone thoughtful now, "how you intend to manage, Petunia. You were never fond of our kind."
Mum stiffened. "He's family."
"That did not seem to matter before," he murmured.
Her cheeks flushed pink. "Things are different now."
For a moment, he looked straight at her, as though measuring how much she meant it. I thought he might say something cruel. Instead, he just nodded once, almost imperceptibly. "Then I hope, for his sake, that they truly are."
Silence filled the room, broken only by Harry's quiet breathing.
His gaze flicked to me one last time — sharp, assessing. "You ask questions most adults wouldn't think of. You're the sensible one, then," he said, as if he had already understood everything from Mum and Dad's memories.
Dad muttered, "He gets it from me."
Mum rolled her eyes.
Snape almost — almost — smirked.
---
The air outside felt fresher than it had going in. We walked back to the car in silence.
Dad muttered, "That man gives me the creeps."
Mum didn't answer. She just kept walking, her eyes a little red but dry.
After we left Spinner's End, Mum was quiet, holding Harry close. Dad grumbled about parking tickets, and Dudley fell asleep on my shoulder.
But I kept thinking about Snape — the way his voice had cracked for a moment, the way he'd looked at Harry like he'd just seen a ghost he'd never stop mourning.
I'd read enough — remembered enough — to know one thing for certain:
Anyone in the world could hurt Harry. Even Dumbledore, in his own way.
But not Snape.
Never Snape.
He'd already lost too much.
And as we drove home through the wet grey streets, I made a quiet promise to myself — that whatever came next, I'd make sure this time, Lily's son would have more than a legend. He'd have a family.
---
That night, after dinner, the house felt strangely calm. Dudley was asleep early, Harry too. Mum sat beside Dad in the living room, staring at nothing in particular.
After a long silence, Dad spoke first. "We'll go, then. When he writes. Best to get this over with."
Mum nodded. "Yes. For Lily."
I leaned against the doorway, pretending to yawn, though inside I felt something shift again — quiet, invisible, but certain.
The Dursleys were changing, bit by bit.
And I thought maybe we could give Harry something close to home.
End of Chapter 5 — The Man in the Shadows