Severus POV
Scowling, I pulled on my atrocious muggle attire that consisted of dark blue jeans and a black button up shirt that thankfully had sleeve. Over and over in my head I cursed myself, not understanding why I was even doing this.
Dumbledore, the old coot, had mentioned the night before that he had not checked up on the Potter brat once since he left the boy on the door step of the Dursley's home. But why did I even care? The 'Boy Who Lived' was probably getting pampering rival to my Godson, Draco Malfoy. He would come to Hogwarts thinking himself better than everyone else at the school, just like his father.
But unlike Dumbledore, I had in fact, met Petunia Dursley. I'm sure she is just as horrible as she was when she was Petunia Evans, if not worse. And anyone who would willing marry that stick of a horse faced woman couldn't be good either. Dumbledore hadn't seen the conceded child Lily's sister was, and he hadn't seen her disgust at her sister that had grown off her jealousy.
Just one look at the boy and I would be satisfied. Just to make sure he was in fact being treated like the little prince I couldn't wait to take down a peg or two in my potion lessons in five years when he turned eleven and came to Hogwarts.
My jaw clenched and my brow furrowed, I slipped my wand into my pants pocket and appaerated to Number 4 Privet Drive.
A sneer on my face, I walked up to the house, in disbelief at how muggles built their communities. Did they honestly enjoy not being able to tell which house was their own at first glance? My own home in Spinners End was no palace, but it was far better than anything in this clone filled neighborhood. Shaking my head, I knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.
I knew that someone other than Petunia might answer the door; after all, the woman was married. I wasn't expecting, however, the door to be opened by a man that could be easily mistaken as a walrus.
"Hello?" he asked gruffly, taking in my professional appearance. "If you're selling something, we don't want any."
"Actually, Mr.…" I paused, my eyes narrowed at him in expectance.
"Vernon Dursley." The man answered, looking annoyed that I was still talking.
"Mr. Dursley, I am a sponsor." I lied smoothly. "I choose a child in kindergarten, based on their potential, and if they maintain good grades throughout their school I pay for all of their college. If their grades remain good enough, I pay for a private school through their high school years." The dollar signs were almost visible in the man's beady eyes, and I wanted nothing more than to hex him for being an abomination on this earth then leave to go back to my lab.
"Well you have come to the right place sir!" the man exclaimed, his fat face bunching up in odd places as he beamed at me. "My Dudley has more potential than any of the others his age. The boy is simply brilliant!"
I instantly picked up on the fact that he did not mention Harry Potter, and my stomach clenched. It wasn't possible that I had been right. No, Dursley was just talking about his son first because the Potter boy isn't very smart. Even as I repeated that in my head, my heart sank into my stomach.
Vernon, being oblivious to my clenched jaw and twitching left hand, invited me in, babbling about his son the entire way to the sitting room.
My eyes, trained from years of being a spy, flicked around as the man attempted to chat my ear off. The walls were covered in pictures of one of the ugliest children I have ever seen, a blob of fat mass with a tuff of blond hair on his head. I am positive my gag reflex actually went off. But there was not once picture of a boy with black hair and green eyes. Not one.
