"Y-yes, sir."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Professor."
"You both will remain silent until spoken to. I will not warn either of you again," he said, his voice soft as silk and sharp as a knife. He turned his attention back to the subject of interest and found him watching him with rapt attention.
"How do you do that, Professor?" the boy asked, his voice carrying just the slightest hint of a German accent. Everyone in the room, even pale Dudley, turned to him, startled. Everyone except the Dark Man, who regarded him with cool disdain.
"There are those who strive for violence, young man, and those who live it. Those who strive so meekly can not possibly hope to stand up to those who live it. Like those who try and those who do. They are people on completely different levels. Now, your name."
"Harold James Potter."
A strangely sardonic look came across the professor's face, and his scowl twisted up in a mockery of a smile. "Of course it is."
"…Now, your name."
"Harold James Potter."
A strangely sardonic look came across the professor's face, and his scowl twisted up in a mockery of a smile. "Of course it is."
Harry frowned, wondering if the man thought he was lying. It would be the first time he had used that name since moving in with the Dursleys. They knew he was Harry Potter. At least Vernon and Petunia Dursley did. He wasn't so sure about Dudley. The idiot only ever called him things like 'sauerkraut' and 'lederhosen-boy'. Regardless, the Dark Man continued with his questions.
"Date of birth?"
"August 1st, 1996."
"Parents?" Again that sardonic tone, as if he knew already and found it amusing.
"James and Lily Potter."
"Siblings?"
"They keep my evil twin in the closet under the stairs."
"Ha. Ha. Stay on topic, boy. Have you ever been informed of wizards or witches outside the relation of fiction or religious fanaticism?"
"Er... I wouldn't know?"
"Do you have any objections to witchcraft due to religious beliefs?"
Harry hadn't been allowed near the Christmas tree, let alone gone with the Dursley's to church on Sundays, and his youthful memories of it with his parents had all seemed rather dull. He couldn't ever remember them lecturing him against it in Sunday school. Why was he being asked such an absurd question to begin with?
"As long as Satan isn't involved in anyway, I guess I don't care."
Snape looked ready to sneer, then seemed to remember something or someone, and moved on.
"Any allergies or health concerns?"
"Er… I'm allergic to penicillin."
"And your eyes?"
"What about them?"
A sigh. "Near-sighted, far-sighted? Astigmatism?"
"Er… I couldn't see a barn while standing next to it without them on?"
"Astigmatism, then. Is your prescription current?"
"I dunno."
"No, then."
"Are you taking any medication or nutritional supplements?"
"No."
"Parasites?"
"What? Of course not!"
Snape eyed his dirty, ragged appearance critically. "We'll see."
"Hey!"
"Let us be on our way then. This has taken more than enough time as it is," Professor Snape said with an air of finality. The other two strangers nodded in agreement and rose to their feet. Harry stood instinctively. The Dursley's were about to stand as well when the three strangers each removed what looked like twigs from out of thin air, and simultaneously called out 'stupefy'. His relatives suddenly slumped back limply onto the couch, their expression's dazed.
"What did you do?!" Harry cried, moving to Dudley's side to make sure he was still breathing.
"A simple stunning spell, Mr. Potter," 'Mr. Tweed' said, patting him on the shoulder. "No cause for alarm. We've found it's easier for all parties involved if muggles are stunned just before they're obliviated. Less of a struggle. Less chance for mishaps."
"What? Stunning spell? Obliviated? What are you doing to my relatives?! Who are you people? What are you people?"
"Why, we're wizards, Harold," 'Mr. Tweed' said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Just like you." Harry turned to him, looking for any sign of mockery or dementia. The elderly man stared back, his expression calm, his eyes sparkling with intelligence and confidence. A hand landed on his shoulder, making him jump. He looked up to see Professor Snape's cool regard.
"It's time we were on our way, Mr. Potter. Do not bother with goodbyes. In an hour, they won't remember you anyway. You will take nothing…" With the speed of a cobra, he snatched away the sketchbook Harry had been clutching through the entirety of the strange interview. "…of your current or past life with you."
Harry immediately went to grab the sketchbook back, but Snape held it above his head, and the boy was more than a little embarrassed that he was short enough for the tactic to be effective. But as the man had said earlier… there are men who try and men who do. Refusing to be defeated, he leapt up onto the back of the sofa, and then made a lunge from it once again. Snape was actually caught off guard, and rather than be taken down along with the boy, he released his hold on the book. Harry landed heavily on his arms, but with his prize in hand, he scrambled to his feet and made a dash for the front door.
He was half way down the hall, when he heard the shout of 'ligo' and his legs snapped together. He fell forward, his sketchbook flying the rest of the way down the hall. Shaking, and a bit stunned by the fall, Harry lifted himself on to is elbows. He tried to move his legs, but found them firmly stuck together.
The Dark Man strode forward, his expression promising violence. The boy cringed at his approach, but the man strode right past him to snatch up sketchbook once again. As he did so, however, the picture Dudley had assaulted days before, fell out of the binding and landed at his feet. Snape glanced down, seemed to disregard it, but then looked again. Longer this time. His expression turned inscrutable. He then turned to look at Harry, still sprawled out in the middle of the hall glaring daggers at him, and seemed to consider something. He finally picked up the picture, getting a closer look, then carefully replaced it in the sketchbook.
"Mr. Potter, I can tell you are going to make this difficult. I am sure I can make it doubly so. In the interest of your health and my time, which I would rather not spend filling out paperwork on why you are no longer intact, I am willing to make a deal with you. If you come along quietly and behave yourself, I will consider returning your little scribble book."
"And if I refuse?" Harry snarled.
"I will burn it right in front of you, cast a full body bind on you, and drag you along… without consideration for stairs, broken glass, or any sort of foul matter we should happen upon along the way… to WYRA Headquarters. Don't get the delusion that you actually have a say on whether you are going. You may only decide on how you'll get there."
"…WYRA?"
Snape smirked. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter, you will be well acquainted with WYRA soon enough." The man strode back down the hall, over Harry, and back to the living room to inform his compatriots that he was taking their charge on ahead. They cheerfully waved him off, then continued to do who knows what to the Dursley's. He pointed his stick, Harry believed it was called a 'wand', and muttered 'solvo' at him. Immediately, Harry felt his legs release and he scrambled to his feet. Snape's thin, powerful hand was on his arm before he had even balanced himself, dragging him purposefully towards the door.