"Professor Snape... I..." Dolores Umbridge stammered, "I'm here on Ministry of Magic business..."
"Is that so?" Professor Snape pressed, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Miss Umbridge, might I ask what sort of business that would be?"
"Well... I believe... that's confidential..." Umbridge's panicked gaze darted toward the tunnel ahead, where the faint, familiar chill of Dementors lingered in the air.
Terrified that Snape might notice, the pink toad shifted backward as she spoke.
"I think I should be going..." she blurted, then turned and fled at a brisk pace.
Within moments, she Disapparated, vanishing without a trace.
...
A faint smile curled the corners of Severus Snape's mouth.
He glanced at the direction Umbridge had fled, then at the tunnel from which distant wails echoed.
As he strode toward the tunnel, his mind turned over the situation—and he decided not to intervene.
With only two Dementors, if Harry Potter couldn't handle two Dementors, then the title of 'savior' was wasted on him.
And as for Dolores Umbridge, the true instigator behind this incident—having been caught here, at the scene, by Professor Snape himself—if she had even a shred of sense, she wouldn't dare stir up trouble over it.
After all, a Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic had no reason to be lurking in a Muggle neighborhood, especially one where a Dementor attack on a minor wizard had just occurred...
If she insisted on pursuing the matter, she herself would become the prime suspect.
And if Dumbledore chose to push the issue, Cornelius Fudge—Umbridge's superior—might as well prepare to step down a year early.
As for Harry Potter, without the Ministry's interference, he wouldn't need to leave Privet Drive early for Grimmauld Place... In Jon's view, as a weapon against Voldemort, the less Harry Potter knew, the better.
For his own good—and everyone else's.
...
Inside the tunnel, Dudley suddenly shivered violently, gasping as though doused in freezing water.
Darkness swallowed the surroundings. The tunnel lamps blinked out, as if a massive, cold hand had draped a heavy curtain over everything, plunging them into pitch blackness.
Harry heard a scream—his mother's scream, the one from the night she died. He knew that feeling all too well.
Ghosts!
"Dudley, shut your mouth!" Harry shouted.
Even as he spoke, two massive hooded figures glided silently into the tunnel, one swooping toward Dudley, the other toward Harry.
It took every ounce of willpower for Harry to clear his mind... and then, the faces of Ron and Hermione flashed before him.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A brilliant silver stag burst from the tip of Harry's wand, its antlers striking straight at the Dementor's chest. The creature reeled backward, flailing, before fleeing into the dark.
"Over here!"
Harry swung his wand toward Dudley. The other Dementor's eyeless face was less than an inch from his cousin's. In a flash, the silver antlers struck, hurling it into the air. Like the first, it vanished into the shadows.
Dudley lay curled on the ground, trembling and gasping for breath. Panting, Harry hoisted him onto his back.
Then, a cold, oily voice rang out behind him.
"Potter."
It was the voice Harry despised most in the world—Professor Severus Snape's.
...
"Snape?" Harry turned, shouting in disbelief.
"Professor Snape," the man corrected icily.
"Professor!" Harry burst out, "It was the Dementors—they've escaped from Azkaban! They just attacked me and my cousin, Dudley—"
"I'm not blind, Potter," Snape sneered, his lip curling. "I saw your pathetic attempt at defense. I imagine Lupin would be ashamed of ever having taught you... The only thing worth noting is that you barely managed to keep yourself alive."
Harry's breathing quickened. Moments ago, he'd nearly had his soul sucked out, and now Snape stood there mocking him. Every muscle in his body screamed to punch that hooked nose right off his face.
"Why are you here?" Harry demanded coldly.
"Home visit," Snape drawled lazily. "Given your miserable performance in Potions this past year, I decided it was high time I had a word with your guardians."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Snape cut him off sharply.
"Carry that boy and take me to your house."
...
Grinding down his fury, Harry hefted the unconscious Dudley over his shoulders.
His thoughts raced.
"Why is Snape here?"
"Just for a home visit? Then why now—right when I was attacked by Dementors?"
"Or... did Professor Dumbledore send him to protect me?"
The thought eased some of Harry's anger.
At least Professor Dumbledore hadn't forgotten him—even if the one he sent was Snape.
Dudley's body wasn't as heavy as Harry expected.
Glancing back, Harry saw Snape holding his wand aloft, an invisible force helping to support Dudley's weight.
For the first time, Harry didn't find Snape quite so detestable.
...
Frowning, Harry adjusted Dudley's limp body on his shoulder and trudged up the garden path toward Number 4, Privet Drive.
The light in the living room was still on. Sliding his wand back into his jeans' waistband, Harry pressed the doorbell. Aunt Petunia's figure loomed behind the rippled glass, distorted and wavering.
"Dudley..." she gasped, freezing in the doorway once it opened.
"Dudley's fine..." Harry said quickly, assuming her panic was for her son.
Petunia Evans—no, Petunia Dursley now—dropped the teacup in her hand. It shattered against the floor.
"Severus?" she whispered.
"Good evening, Petunia," said Severus Snape calmly.