Hidden Things
A Day Like Any Other

Harry becomes involved in a dangerous spell that reveals the frightening truth about Snape and could also give Voldemort his chance to kill him. Alternate Universe - Sixth Year.

xxx

In a soft mixture of gold and blue the morning began to creep through the park, on past the playground equipment, tangling through the trees. A few Muggles came and went about their early business, paying not a drop of attention to the shadowy figure of a teenage boy sitting all alone on a bench with his nose in a book. He didn't pay them any attention either, though from time to time his mind wandered from the words before his eyes. In fact an hour had passed before he realized he was still on the same page as when he bad begun. Harry Potter sat back and laid the book aside, looking out across the foggy morning. Summer had not gone well. The Dursleys had not taken too well to the little conversation they had been treated to at the end of last year's term. They had grudgingly allowed him free reign with Hedwig for a change, all too afraid that those 'freakish friends' of his would prove good on their word to show up should he suddenly stop communicating. But their attitude towards him hadn't improved and in fact had only worsened.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before sinking his fingers into his wild, raven-dark hair. He hadn't stayed around for breakfast much over the summer, but knew that to stay away all day wasn't a wise decision. Uncle Vernon took a certain pleasure in hurrying Aunt Petunia and Dudley out of the house as soon as he returned from work for hours on end with the door locked, knowing Harry couldn't get back in until they returned, which was almost always after dinner out. He had spent a few hot afternoons sitting on the front porch with nothing to do and nothing to eat. As nice as it was to not have the Dursley's around the novelty of being apart from them inevitably wore off to be replaced with the solitary anguish of being alone with his unpleasant thoughts.

It wasn't the expected nastiness from his relatives that had made the summer even less bearable than usual. That was at least something he knew how to handle. No, it had been the loneliness and loss more than anything that had made the summer drag on hopelessly, endlessly. His dreams tormented him with images of the Department of Mysteries, leaving him with numb mornings that matured into sorrowful nights. These brought on more visions of pain and fear and guilt. Staying awake until the wee hours never helped, nor did those few dreamless times of rest he managed now and then. He missed Hermione and Ron, missed the school and Hagrid. And he missed Sirius. Living with the Dursleys only reinforced the knowledge that he had lost forever the closest thing to a true parent he had ever had. He no longer woke up with tears in his eyes threatening to fall, but a void, familiar and cold.

Harry groaned at himself and kicked at the dust beneath his feet. At least when he was listening to Uncle Vernon gripe about him or having Aunt Petunia shove gardening gloves in his hand he wasn't thinking about the void. Picking up his Quidditch book he got up from the bench, stretched and began towards the Dursleys. He had letters from his friends to look forward to today. It was his birthday.

His walk home was uninterrupted, as usual. It was far too early for Dudley to be out and about after his midnight carousing with his gang, and of course the neighbors would never bother to speak or even look at him. That was one of the few virtues of being forced to return to Little Whinging every summer. There weren't people gawking at him in droves and right now he didn't think he could put up with it if there were.

When Number Four Privet Drive came into view he was both gratified to see the car still in the driveway, it being a fair Saturday, and annoyed at the no doubt snide reaction he was going to walk in on once he opened that door. With a sigh he poised himself to do just that when it opened before his hand even reached the knob. Before him stood his uncle, red faced and furious. A large hand closed over Harry's shoulder and before he could ask what he'd done, he was whisked away into the house. He stumbled forward just as the door slammed with a jarring force that made him wince. Still, he turned with a measure of weary dignity to see what sort of bee had infiltrated Uncle Vernon's bonnet.

His uncle raised a fist in which was clenched a parchment and Harry widened his eyes, wondering who had written. "What do you mean, boy, wandering the streets when these so-called teachers of yours want you to stay put? And don't you try to deny you knew it, either! Where are the letters they sent you?"

Harry swallowed guiltily. Oh, not for making Uncle Vernon mad, certainly. He couldn't care less. But he knew now they must be watching him, watching him day and night, putting himself in danger regardless of their wishes that he remain in or very near the house at all times. He hadn't thought of it, walking alone in the shady light of pre-dawn. He had taken the silence for granted and now he realized he was worrying his friends for his own selfish needs. "The letters are upstairs."

Vernon turned a shade redder and tossed the crinkled parchment at him as if it were a weapon. "If one of those ruddy owls flies at me again with those...those...people of yours asking me to keep you in this house-as if I wanted you here any more than necessary-so help me, boy, you'll stay in that cupboard for the rest of the summer! I'll not have those strange people barging into my home, blaming me for your lack of sense! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Harry groaned, knitting his brow and glancing at the stairs. Of course Uncle Vernon didn't care one way or another if Harry endangered himself (he would probably encourage it if not for the threat of wizards dropping in), but to be addressed by magic folk as if they were equals, that would naturally infuriate the old man. After a dismissing glare aimed at him Harry hurried up the stairs before he could be assigned some sort of task in retribution.

He wandered into the washroom and ran the water, removing his glasses so he could splash his face. The water cooled him, refreshed him and gave him an excuse to avoid going into his room for a few minutes, which would delay the potential finding of sharp-toned or disappointed letters from any number of sources reprimanding his careless walks. He sighed softly and leaned against the sink, watching the water funnel down the drain. Part of him didn't care to heed to sense. Let Voldemort come for him and try something.

That was desperate thinking, he knew, serving no purpose except to cater to his need to rant. When Harry straightened he looked into his reflection, thinking about what today meant. He was getting older and certainly felt it with the grief and the knowledge of his destiny weighing him down.

Growling moodily, he shrugged it off and hit the light switch, hoping that any letters referring to his foolishness were mixed with birthday wishes. Sure enough Hedwig had flown into his window sometime in the morning hours (he left the window open whenever he left, just in case) and had brought Pigwidgeon with her, who was hooting at the older owl playfully. On the bed were a few envelopes on top of packages, all addressed to him. The first one was, thankfully, from Ron and he tore into it quickly, needing something to feel better about.

Hey Harry,

Happy Birthday, mate! Hope the Muggles haven't driven you completely nuts. Mum's sending along the usual for you so you won't starve and my gift'll be in with hers. Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you to keep inside the house 'cause we're not really sure how far your protection goes. Don't worry. It won't be much longer. We're going to come and get you in a few weeks, as soon as Dad gets back from a mission for the Order. Anyway, Hermione's been begging me not to, but I gotta tell you about this spell she found! Uh-oh. She's coming, bloody nosy if you ask me, trying to make sure I don't tell you. I gotta run. See you in a few days. Stay inside for my sake! Mum's been giving us projects to keep from worrying about you!

Ron

Harry glanced it over again and wondered what kind of spell Hermione could want kept from him. It would probably be something dangerous or something that could get them into trouble. In other words, something he would really want to learn. He smirked and glanced at the gifts on his bed before picking up the next letter, this one from Hermione.

Happy Birthday Harry!

I hope you're doing well. Now I know you've been out of the house, Harry, and I understand you need your space. I honestly do. But it's so very dangerous right now. Professor Dumbledore says it's very important for you to stay near your aunt and uncle's house. You're safest there. Please promise me you'll stay inside this time. Professor Dumbledore has written your uncle already. I hope you like what I got you. I cannot believe how much stuff you can buy that's related to Quidditch! And Harry... Whatever Ron says, don't do it. He's acting sneaky lately and I would hate for him to get you into trouble or worse, hurt. We can't afford to be as reckless as we have been. Not with Voldemort back. Take care of yourself, Harry.

Hermione

He hadn't expected anything less than her fervent wishes that he remain indoors, but it still made him sigh to read it. Still, he couldn't help but smirk at her concern over Ron's activities. He would stay indoors and give her that one, but Ron's spell had him very curious. After all, he couldn't deny his best friend the time to at least hear what he had to say. It didn't mean he would have to do anything. Not unless he really wanted to.

Still smirking, he started for his gifts.

xxx

Author: Ruse angelruseATgmailDOTcom

Disclaimer: Harry and company belong to the wonderful J., whom I thank personally for the deliciousness that is Snape.