Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter characters.
A/N: This is something I wrote last year, although I'm still working on it. Pleas R & R!
Summary: Harry's having visions that can kill him if not helped, but who will help him?
Hidden Visions, Hidden Truth
Chapter 1
Snape stood on the threshold of his balcony at Snape Manor. Drops of rain came over him at all sides, and he tried his best to remain warm by his heavy black winter cloak. Of course, it was the summertime.
His black eyes that were alert on the shallow lake sitting in front of him were now alert on the sky.
"Where is he, that sluggish owl?" Snape muttered, trying hard not to chatter his teeth. "He should be here by now, unless he crossed paths with an airplane," he laughed feebly at his joke.
Albus Dumbledore had sent an owl explaining that Harry was having horrifying visions of the unpleasant incident, which took place at the end of his fourth year, and that Snape needed to mix up a potion to help him with those visions. Snape, after thoroughly reading the letter, lit a fire and threw the letter into the fire. After a couple of minutes of staring elsewhere, he reached his hands into the fire and tried unsuccessfully to get the letter and read it again. It was burnt to the crisp.
Afterwards, Snape sent an owl to Dumbledore explaining that he didn't want to deal with low sunken, arrogant Potter on his summer vacation. Now he was ready to hear a reply.
He had just about fallen asleep when a loud and shrill hoot from his side woke him up. His eyes automatically opened up and he turned to his right, where an owl was sitting on the floor, holding a letter with its beak.
"Finally, that crackpot old fool ("Please forgive me Dumbledore," he quickly said later.) replied." He took the letter from the owl's beak, and shooed him away, who, in his turn, gave Snape a sharp nip on the finger.
"Dumb owl," Snape cursed as he unfolded the letter and began reading.
Dear Snape,
I will not tolerate being spoken to like that, letter or no letter. And don't speak of Harry like he's some sort of cockroach-
"But he is a cockroach," Snape complained. "One that I'd like to squash."
-Harry is not James Potter. He is far apart from looking and acting like James. Why can't you forget the past and resolve to help Harry?
If these visions go on long enough, Harry could die. Then Voldemort, seeking weakness in the wizarding world, will run havoc among us.
And don't forget those pesky Deatheaters. And you, being one.
Please, Severus, I trust you to help Harry Potter.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
Snape threw the letter down in frustration. Somehow, Albus always finds a way to get him to help Harry. He reread it again, and thought it over for a moment.
"Fine," he said to himself, "I'll help Harry."
Harry was unhappy at the Dursleys' household. Every morning, he would go down to breakfast only to find that nobody saved him any toast. Besides being starved to death, his visions were worse than ever. Every night, he would wake up in a pool of sweat, screaming, only to find that he had woken up. This happened particularly every Wednesday, at midnight, and lasted until six in the morning. Mostly he saw Deatheaters in his dream, but the dream he had last night not only showed the Deatheaters, it also showed Voldemort.
He tried brewing up a Dreamless Sleep potion, but realized that he needed five lacewing flies, six hairs from a unicorn, one crushed snake fang, and a snakes' toxic venom. He tried substituting these ingredients for things around the house, but it only ended up leaving a big hole right in the middle of the rug.
Snape stared disgustedly at the Dursleys' house. It was a muddy brown, with patches of black marks on the side. He couldn't see him living in the house, not even for a million Galleons.
Harry stared blankly at the wall in the cupboard downstairs. His Uncle Vernon moved him back down in the cupboard ever since his Cousin Dudley lost enough weight that it was a celebration, a happy moment for his Aunt Petunia. In fact, they were so happy, they bought Dudley another Playstation, only so he could throw it out the window when he found out that his friend couldn't come over because he was moving away.
Snape sighed as he headed towards the entrance door. Wherever Harry was-
Wherever Dumbledore is, Harry thought.
I hope he's safe, Snape thought.
I hope he sent help, Harry thought. A door banged loudly from the outside of his cupboard. He woke up from his thoughts and started to pant loudly. "In here! Help me, I'm in here!" he shouted. There was a silent pause. "It's probably no one. Must be the wind or-or Uncle Vernon." He closed his eyes and sat back up against the wall.
Snape looked around. The house was empty. But he was sure someone shouted for help. "Hello?" He circled the room cautiously.
Harry heard someone again. This time he recognized that voice. "Hello? Who's there?"
This time Snape heard it again. "Whoever you are, keep talking," he instructed.
"I'm in here! Walk straight and turn to your right! I'm in the cupboard!" Harry's voice was hoarse; he doubted anyone could hear him. But someone did. The lock was rattling and the door flew opened. There, Harry saw, stood Snape. "P-Professor Snape?" What was he doing in here? Harry thought.
"Harry?" Snape hinted a kind of amazement in his own voice, but amazement of what? He suddenly remembered that he was Snape, and playing mean was his game. "Potter, oh, how I wanted to see you like this, imagined you like this, hidden in a cupboard, probably starving to death, probably sulking and crying for help, probably trying to use magic to get out of this forsaken cupboard." Harry had dark circles under his eyes, he was thinner than usual, and his hair was messier than ever, it smelled like he hadn't taken a bath since he got home from Hogwarts, and he was clutching his bent wand in his right hand. Big bruises on his arm were visible and for once in his life, Snape felt sorry for Harry. He shook off the feeling, and realized that he didn't mean half of what he said.
Harry grinned slightly. "Two out of three right. The Dursleys' are starving me to death, and I tried to use magic to get out of this cupboard. And don't even think about trying to find the Dursley's, because they went on vacation and left me here. Locked up, like some animal at a zoo. I've-I've been feeling a bit off for a while. I think it's the flu or something. But the Dursley's ignored my hacking coughs and thought it was just the cold, so they thought it'd pass. That's when the visions began." Harry felt tears coming. He hurriedly shook off the feeling and looked up at Snape.
Snape was quite taken aback that Harry was crying. His once lively green eyes were now filled with tears.
"They-they-when I got home for the summer, they were worse than ever. They beat me for things I did, my fault or not. If something happened, like the bacon burnt, Uncle Vernon would hit me. And-and--" He tried holding back tears. "If Dudley was upset or something, they would blame it on me too. Uncle Vernon would kick me and lock me under this cupboard for a week-possibly two-and not let me out, except to go to the bathroom, and didn't feed me at all." He was sobbing wildly.
Snape tried to sort out what Harry just said. Harry's relatives? Beat him? And here he was, trying to be brave for me, Snape thought. And I always thought that he was pampered, fed, and a spoiled rotten little brat. But, here he was, starved, with baggy clothes, and those bruises. This was child abuse!
"Why hasn't the Ministry of Magic sent you any letters explaining the use of magic?" Snape asked.
"Uncle Vernon boarded up the house and painted it so no owls would recognize it. And he sold my owl to the pet shop so I couldn't send letters to my friends. Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. Are they all right? I have to know." Harry sobbed.
Snape was quite silent for a moment. Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, turned into Harry Potter, the Abused Boy who Lived. Now he knew why Dumbledore was worried.
Snape was about to leave when Harry gasped. He turned around, only to be confronted by Harry. "You aren't going to leave me here, were you? Where are you going?"
Snape found Harry rather interesting. He grew a few inches since last year, so he was about the same height as Snape. He was about to make his attempt to leave when Harry gasped again. "For your information, Potter, I was about to leave for Hogwarts to-to-to tell Dumbledore about your ordeal here." Snape almost spat out the words "to return to my normal life and not deal with you", but somehow, he couldn't say that.
"Can I come?" Harry asked abruptly. "I mean, if it's okay with you."
"Potter, school starts in no less than twenty days. Why come with me if you can go to the Weasleys' or your godfather's place?" Snape asked irritably. He didn't want to watch the Potter boy all day, it'll be as boring, not to mention horrifying, as watching grass grow.
Harry's green eyes looked at Snape pathetically. Why, oh, why does it have to be this way? Snape thought.
"Okay, Potter, but do try and keep up. Where's your trunk?"
"I'll get it." He ran upstairs while Snape waited for a couple of minutes. Sure enough, there was some banging and Harry was hauling his trunk down the stairs. "Thanks, Professor."
"Just so you know, I'm not doing this for you. If you don't come back to Hogwarts, I'll have no points to take off of you. And when we get back, you're going to take a shower so I won't have to smell your stink, get your school stuff ready, and stay out of my way."
They were outside and heading up a hill to a rubber boot that strangely looked familiar to the portkey that transferred him to the Quidditch World Cup.
"Um, I still need to go shopping at Diagon Alley, and I need my owl."
"The ministry will take care of that tomorrow. Let's just get back to Hogwarts and get this over with." They touched the portkey, which sent them back to Hogwarts.