No one should have those kinds of eyes, he thought almost absentmindedly.
Haunted, broken eyes, the doors to her soul shattered, half reflecting like a mirror would. But the reflection was faulty too, showing no more than you should see, and yet everything you shouldn't.
Ashes and fire in her eyes. She had purged the world's darkness and light through those cursed, Avada Kadavra, emerald green eyes of fire.
Yet, he pondered, if he asked, he was rather certain the child in front of him would prefer drowning in ice.
Rewind
Let's go back,
Maybe about,
Five weeks ago.
Harriet James Potter was flung across the dining room, her head exploding in pain as it made contact with the wall. But at this point, the pain felt numb to her. Her stomach ached more than anything, she hadn't eaten in two weeks and 4 days, the tally marks she made in blood on the floor of her cupboard was proof to that. She braced herself for another punch, but a sweet noise interrupted her daily routine.
The doorbell, a soft tinkling 'ding-dong' rang clear through the house. Vernon Dursley stared down at his niece with disgust as the primary emotion in his eyes, and with another more primal thing that simply scared Harry(she didn't want to think about how she'd seen that before in someone else's face right now, that alleyway still scared her).
With a rough grip on the front of her shirt -no, wait, it was Dudley's old tattered rags, found by Aunt Petunia when she was cleaning out the basement - Harry's mind registered without really meaning to- but all that cut off when the door she spent hours looking at from the wrong side opened. Thrown in without a second glance, Harry attempted to make the landing less painful by avoiding her right arm.
She had never been so glad before as to be ambidextrous, although she was truly a righty, but it was learned quick she had to learn how to write with either hand at the the Dursleys. Even so, it didn't change the fact she was sure her right arm had been broken a few days ago (4 days her mind whispered that's when it started hurting so much she hadn't finished the chores in time and got a few dozen more belt lashings to show it).
And now that she was out of sight from her relatives, all the mental barriers fell into crumpled heaps, like when Aunt Petunia had taken the curtains down for Harry to wash and the fabric pooled at the child's feet whilst she frantically raced to finish before dinner.
There was no dinner that night for her. She hadn't finished her chores in time, and how was she supposed to expect to earn her keep if she couldn't ('wouldn't' was the word Petunia used, Harry remembered) finish her chores on time?
She'd bet her blanket (nothing more than another rag, really, a blue cloth worn and faded by time and stitches unraveling too fast for Harry to save) there wouldn't be any dinner tonight as well. At least for her now, after all, 'dearest Dudleykins' should never have to even think about going hungry.
Closing her eyes against the darkness, only lines of pale light filtered through the cracks on the vent in the door, Harry ignored the pain, the hunger, the feelings urging her on to give up it would be so easy sososo easy there were razor blades Uncle Vernon used to shave sososo easy just cut and you would forget everything just release the blood and it would be so-
Her mind shut down on that thought, sleep taking over. The only thing she would remember upon waking up was a snowy white owl with the most startling yellow eyes.
Knowing nothing of the Magical World, not even the bare fact it existed, Harriet James Potter wouldn't have been aware her magical core was slowly expending its energy into tricking her body. Her stomach maintained it's shape but the inside wouldn't digest much more than she was fed weekly, enabling the unwilling fasts she survived to be dragged out even longer.
As this happened, so did two other feats of accidental magic. A numb tingling filled Harry's right arm, shutting down the nerve system until she would wake again.
A smaller, thinner strand of magic slid past the door through the vent, shimmering a pale green and blue. White interrupted its coloring every few seconds as it slid, much rather like a snake, past the living room. Vernon and Petunia were talking to a Mr. Jithil, father of Jack, one of the boys in Dudley's crew. The two had retreated to video games in Dudley's master bedroom. Apparently Harry Hunting wasn't as fun when she was locked up.
'Grounded' as Petunia said to Mr. Jithil.
The mail slot creaked open, but no envelopes fell through. The strand of magic slipped out, darting away with the breeze. It wasn't long before it caught hold of the leg of a tabby cat striped with black. Twisting around the ankle, remaining unnoticed, the color began changing, a light brown weaving through in braiding motions until it blended into the fur perfectly.
Minerva McGonagall crossed the street once more, unknowing of the abuse Harry suffered. The professor wasn't able to find a way inside the actual house, but from what she saw of Harry weeding and watering Petunia's prize garden earlier that morning, she surmised Harry was happy there. In a way, that was true. Harry had been smiling just the barest bit that morning because yard work was the only work she got to do outside, for obvious reasons.
Nodding at Arabella Figg, Minerva hastened to the guest room where her clothes for visits and a floo fireplace were kept. With a flick of her tail, she regained her human form, still unaware of the magic now twining peach into its color scheme.
"I will be leaving now Arabella, it was lovely to have tea with you again." Minerva said her farewell before Flooing off in a dash of blazing, unnatural flames.
The Apparition point was set in Hogsmeade. It wasn't the closest to Hogwarts, but Minerva had chosen it for good reason. She figured she may as well run an errand before returning to the castle.
It was not everyday the Bat of the Dungeons asked her to help pick up his potion ingredients.
She knew it was important though, Severus was on a breakthrough of an even more potent Wolfsbane potion, and with any luck it would subdue over 80% of the primal instincts werewolves felt during the full moon. Maybe they could bring Remus back now...
Shaking her head, she banished the thought, as wonderful as it was. For now, she needed to pick up the herbs and return to Hogwarts. No doubt Dumbledore was in need of her help with the paperwork once more.
Green fire flared as Minerva Flooed into Severus Snape's personal quarters. The walls were a shaded dark green, the ceiling an even darker variant of the paint. The floor consisted of a gray carpeting and the couches and two armchairs were cream colored, calming to the eyes. Few had set eyes upon the living space for the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Minerva took it as an honor, seeing as Severus was a firm believer in privacy.
There were no footsteps to let her know her co-worker was coming to greet her.
"Minerva, my thanks for picking up the ingredients." Severus took the cloth drawstring bag untainted with any spells or charms (they screwed up these certain potion ingredients, Severus had learned the hard way after his first try at the Adnos potion) with a nod at the older woman.
"It was no trouble Severus, I had just come back from checking on Harriet anywa-" Minerva was cut off by a loud chime.
The magic stirred, waking into a clear and bright noise. It unraveled from Minerva with the spoken name, darting over to circle once in the air above both professors. The colors shifted, the outline blurring into a cloud before morphing into clearer cut details.
A scaly leg stepped out, followed by the rest of the apparition's body. White dimmed to silver as green swirled into place when the other three legs and a tail appeared. The dragon snapped his jaws, eyes glaring at Severus and Minerva as he stepped forwards.
All of a sudden, a glazed film covered the mythical beast's eyes. Golden irises became hazy with fatigue. The dragon stepped forwards far more slowly and less intimidating.
Lowering his neck, the reptile cooed, a trilling sound with hints of venom. Bright eyes narrowed, locking onto Severus' form, bypassing Minerva with a blink. A forked tongue flickered out of his mouth, licking scaly skin and tasting the fresh air in the dungeons (Freshening Charms had a use after all Severus had found out a few days into his first year teaching).
The dragon opened his mouth and screamed.
A jet of black magic streamed out, moving straight up into the air and slowly clustering in various sized circles. The dragon bowed his head before disappearing, his features slowly melting and dissolving into nothing.
Minerva wondered when was it she fell back on the couch, and how did Severus get his wand in hand without her noticing? Oh, but of course he would be able to that, Minerva realized. His role in the Order was a dangerous one. Every precaution was necessary.
"Minerva," Severus was staring at where the dragon used to be, Minerva noted.
"Minerva, what was that." Minerva blinked at the hints of raw emotion in that question phrased as a desperate sentence.
It was that moment she saw Severus was not trying to trace the dragon with his eyes, he was staring at the blooming magic. The black clumps of pure energy were blossoming into pieces of color with distinct shapes.
White lilies and purple hyacinths.
Inside the cupboard under the stairs of Privet Drive Number 4, Harry continued sleeping, dreaming of wings that would let her fly alongside a silver dragon and white owl.