His Other Side
Disclaimer: Nah fool, I'm not that creative.
Summary: Harry, in an unfortunate turn of events, is given a dose of bad. What happens when there are two Harry Potter's? One that enjoys killing and rage, and the other the sweet child of the Prophecy...put in the same body! Talk about mood swings…
Pairings: Snape, Snape, Snape!
Chapter 3: Lets Rewite That
When Harry finally got to his room he saw that everything was set up nicely and his favorite pajamas were on the bed waiting for him as though they knew he needed them. He took a nice, but short, shower and began to dress when he noticed something on the right side of his neck again. It was the black dot and it had become the size of a penny, twice as big as when he had looked at it one week before…
Harry's hand flew up to his neck and he gasped in surprise, and shock, as pain flared up through his veins. Every inch of him seemed to be on fire and he felt as if his very skin was being ripped off. It hurt so much!
The pain stopped and Harry unclenched his eyes and teeth, unaware that he had clenched them at all, and sat up in bed.
It hurt more, this time, than all the others. Usually it would come at minor times like when he was in Snape's classroom or around certain people, such as Malfoy, but he had never experience them at night. And never at this level, usually it was just a pinch of pain that lasted three seconds or less.
It bothered him, these pains, but he suspected it was from the unusual bruise on his neck that had stopped growing weeks before. It was now the size of a Gallon and Harry was very much lucky that it was on his lower neck area otherwise he'd be forced to wear turtle necks. He wouldn't have minded much though, it was winter after all.
Dumbledore had been acting peculiar as of lately and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he was being watched by the teachers, too.
He, in all honesty, didn't much care. It only bugged him a little but other than that he was fine with it, though it did make things a tad bit more difficult. And it wasn't the most attractive of things.
Harry sighed and gulped down a glass of water sitting on his bedside table; it was two forty six in the morning.
'What a drag' lying down, he immediately fell asleep, all troubles forgotten.
"Harry, get up! You'll be late for Charms again!" Ron threw a pillow at Harry's head, causing Harry to sit up quickly with wide eyes. Ron laughed and Harry stared, confused.
"Get up, Harry, it already eight, and our Charms class is at eight forty five, remember? I've already eaten with Hermione so we'll see you at the Charms class, OK." It was not a question and Harry had to wonder if Ron was getting along with Snape because of this.
Ten minutes later Harry trudged down the boy's stair case and out the portrait whole nearly blinded with sleep. He had never liked Mondays, they were always a bother
For one, they always ruined the weekend, dramatically stating in a loud voice, "Hey it's Monday! That means it another fine week of blah, blah, blah!"
And second of all, they almost always seemed to go slow, never moving just dragging themselves out making a usually long and boring day even longer and more boring.
Thirdly, they always found a way to serve meat loaf and onions on that day, whether it be for lunch, dinner, and sometimes even for breakfast, or for all three meals of the day (Harry shivered at that memory).
The forth reason was because it most certainly wasn't a Friday, simple as that.
And
The last reason was because the teachers, most of them, were always angry on Mondays (Though most meaning Snape).
Harry sighed; he didn't even have time for breakfast. The day was already proving to be bad.
Charms, one of Harry favorite classes was okay but rather boring today, boring in an annoyingly long and stupid way.
Harry growled into his vegetable soup, and Hermione and Ron stole glances with each other.
Harry did not miss this.
"Harry, are you alright? You seem a bit…" Hermione bit her lip at Harry's glare; Ron's eyes narrowed.
"Mate, you can't go around acting like a git to your friends, save that for Malfoy." Ron looked a long time upon Harrys messy and sleep deprived face. "Don't take whatever's wrong with you out on use," his voice softened, "Harry…tell us what's up."
Harry sighed and stood up. "Sorry Ron, I've got to get to the Dungeons," he looked at their bewildered faces, "and Hermione does too. We'd better get moving, It's been rumored that Snape's in a bit of a foul mood this morning. Wouldn't want to get on his bad side." Harry laughed, Ron shook his head at the joke and Hermione finally felt she was able to smile.
"Alright bye Ron, see you in Transfiguration. Come on Harry," Hermione grabbed his arm and began to drag him towards the doors.
Once they were gone, Ron sighed but wrote it down in his log anyways. It wasn't much but he still had to report it…
The rumor Harry had said he heard was actually a move to change the subject of the conversation at hand, so who could have guessed that the 'rumor' was actually true.
Snape made things in hell seem like a dream come true!
Not that Harry had ever been to hell, but he sure was considering it. Being locked in a Dungeon with Severus Snape for three hours straight will do things like that to you, especially if Severus Snape hates your guts for something completely out of your hands.
Oh yeah, hell seemed real sweet to Harry right about now!
Even Hermione seemed to be getting agitated by Snape's ugliness.
And it seemed as though today he was making the extra effort to be this way.
Either it was indigestion, or Snape was just having a really bad day. Judging from the looks Harry and the other Gryffindors kept getting...it felt as if all the problems in the world, for Snape, had been cause by Harry ad CO.
"POTTER! How many times must I tell you to read the directions BEFORE you add the ingredients? Can you not read? I clearly wrote to add the beetles AFTER the bush roots!" Harry winched and touched his throbbing ear drums. Did the man really have to yell right in his ear, he wasn't deaf?
Harry looked up at his professor and began to stutter an apology, "that won't clean up the mess you made, Potter! You're as lousy and good for nothing as you father was. I guess it was just too much to ask that you inherit some of your mother's abilities with potions, you're useless! Clean this mess up now!"
The whole class was silent, staring at Snape with their mouths wide open.
Harry's eyes felt the familiar prickling and his nose began to sting as the words "you're useless" echoed into his throbbing eardrums. Tears welled but did not fall and Harry kept his head bowed, reliving the moments and the memories of the last words of this mother and Snape's knew additional insults.
A minute passed.
Then another.
And another.
Harry couldn't breathe. It was true…it was all so true. Snape had thought of him this way the whole time, no wonder he hated Harry. He couldn't save anyone…he was…useless….
Harry Potter turned and fled as quick as he could out of the potions classroom not even hearing Snape sputter his name in shock, the screams of Hermione for him to come back, or the whispers of the other students in the classroom.
Racing down the hallway, Harry didn't even look up to see where he was going. He was on autopilot mode, not even caring if he'd run into something or not. Hot tears leaked out of his eyes and he wiped at them angrily, annoyed at having lost control.
Something jerk his shoulder back painfully and he halted, nearly falling into the hand that was large and tight around his shoulder and now his neck. As soon as the hand came in contact with his skin, his neck immediately began to burn as it had the night before. Harry couldn't remember the night before though, only feeling the pain of the present not even knowing if he was screaming or not.
The large hand fell away as though shocked and Harry fell to the floor in relief. Déjà vu hit him in waves of large proportions as he looked up into dark, beetle black eyes, remembering this position from before.
His Professor stood over him with a heaving chest and a look on his face that Harry, had he been in the right mind, would have considered a Kodak moment. His Professor looked terrified.
Harry stared up at him his mouth gaping unable to say the words that were coming to his mind. Snape knelt down and in one small movement Harry was in his hands being picked up by his biceps. Once rightly on his feet he continued to stare into his most hated professors face with shock written openly like a book on his own.
"What did you do to me?" Darkness tugged at the edge of his vision and he quickly drew an arm from his professor, who was still holding him up by the biceps, and clasped his hand over the right side of his neck.
Snape just looked at him and Harry saw something else in the man's face, for the second time in a minute, that he'd never seen before: sadness.
Barely aware of the arms that wrapped around him, the darkness at the edge of this vision finally got the better of him and he felt himself falling into a place where he knew nothing more than silence.
Harry blinked groggily up at the spectacularly white ceiling and winced at the headache that came from seemingly nowhere. Lifting himself into a sitting position, he surveyed his surroundings only to realize that he was in the Hospital Wing…alone.
Harry could hear the Medi Witch of the Wing humming quietly to herself in her office but that was the only other presence around him. He hung his head and stepped off the bed onto the cold tiled floor. Dizzy, but steady, he began to gather his personal belongings, which had been scattered about him here and there, dressed, talked to the Medi Witch to assure her that he was fine and began making his way out of the Wing.
Half way out the door he noticed a full length mirror hanging close by and went over to it to get a good look at his disheveled self.
Stopping only a moment to fret with his hair and face, he automatically tugged at his collar and exposed the large bruise like mark that he'd had for weeks on his neck. It was now a shape that Harry didn't recognize, twisted and changed. It looked almost like a heart…but something was quite wrong with it if it was indeed one. Harry shuddered at the memory of the last time it had burned and realized that something more was going on here than he was aware of…and it all revolved around Severus Snape. The door swung behind him as he left, blocking the mirror momentarily, but as it shut the mirror revealed none other than Albus Dumbledore gazing at the door with an oddly cold look in his eyes….
