Disclaimer: I do not own anything nor will I ever own anything except perhaps a small cardboard box where I shall live haha.

Chapter 3

Harry watched as locks of jet black hair fell into the sink, along with the 'snip…snip' as he hacked away at them. Stupid Snape…snip…poking his greasy…snip…nose…snip…in it. More like stupid uncle Vernon for making me like this. He jumped and glanced over his shoulder, just in case Vernon had heard him, even though he knew this was impossible. When he was done, he looked in the mirror to see how it had turned out. It was ok, considering he had no clue in the hairdressing realms and he'd done it with a pair of paper scissors. He'd cut a scruffy side fringe of sharp bangs over one eye, covering the black eye nicely. He'd also cut his hair to its normal length so it no longer resembled Snape's. He stripped off and, locking the door, got into the showers. Gasping a little as the water stung his various wounds and afflictions, he tried to forget about everything and washed the blood, grease and worries from him. After he'd stayed in as long as he dared, he dried himself and set to work on concealing…well everything. Once he was done, he pulled on his pyjamas and ran back to the dormitories, pulled on his robes, grabbed his things and sprinted down to breakfast. He sat down heavily next to Ron and Hermione who stopped talking as soon as he came within earshot. It was obvious what the topic of their discussion had been.

"Whoa I like your hair Harry!" said Ron admiringly.

"Thanks," Harry replied half-heartedly and watched as the other two ate, wishing he could do so himself. Oh how he wanted to, just the mouth watering smell of just a simple piece of bread, toasted to a golden brown, lathered in golden yellow butter…

"Harry?" Hermione had obviously been talking to him.

"Oh right, what?"

"I was just saying me and Ronald were going to go to the Library after lessons. You want to accompany us?"

"Can't. I've got a detention with Snape." He cringed inwardly at the thought.

"What? Already? I haven't even got a detention yet!" Ron was obviously astounded that Harry had beaten his record, "Well whatever. C'mon, or we'll be late for Potions - you don't want another detention."

"Mr Potter. MR POTTER!" someone was nudging him. He looked up, glaring at Ron who was obviously the culprit, and was jerking his head oddly to the side. Harry looked forward and flinched instinctively. Professor Snape was glaring at him, a look of pure venom in his eyes. Of all the classes to fall asleep in –

"Mr Potter! Will you kindly answer the question!" he spat.

"Er – sorry sir, I don't think I heard the question," maybe if he could just talk his way out of this –

"That's because you were ASLEEP!" – apparently not. Snape slammed his hands down on Harry's desk and leaned forward frighteningly close. Harry screamed and fell backwards off his stool, much to the amusement of the rest of the class who burst into fits of laughter. Ron hooked a hand under Harry's arm and pulled him back to his feet. Harry stood there shakily, trembling from head to toe, his hands frozen to his side.

"Potter what is the matter with you?!" inquired Snape in a far less intimidating voice.

"I'm stupid. Filth. Vermin." He could not help himself saying it. The well rehearsed words just spilt out to more raucous laughter and a "Too right!" from Pansy Parkinson.

"Enough!" Snape silenced the class with a wave of his hand, his eyes still fixed on Harry's petrified face, "Mr Potter. You will join me for another week's detention on top of tonights. Everyone," he turned and walked back to the front of the class, "Turn to page 364."

The rest of the day could not have gone worse for Harry. He was so tired from many sleeps lost to nightmares and a severe lack of food that for the few classes he did stay awake in, he could not concentrate and made fatal mistakes. In transfiguration, when Harry had been shaking so badly he had transformed Neville's chair into a wombat instead of the pebble they were supposed to be transfiguring, Professor McGonagall had said that he needed some sense knocked into him, to which he had paled and flinched instinctively, cowering in his seat. When the end of the day came, he wanted nothing less than to go back to the dorms and sleep, but he knew he had a detention with Snape. He feared every step that took him closer to the dungeons, and his impending doom. His palms were sweaty and his whole body was shaking like a leaf. I can't do this. He thought. What if he's been talking to uncle Vernon, and he's gonna fill in for him while I'm here? What if he tries to hit me? What if he tries to…to rape me? He was at the top of the stairs to the dungeon and he tried to grab onto the handrail for support, but he slipped and fell headfirst, through the door into the dungeons. Snape, who had been marking essays looked up, startled.

"Mr Potter what is the meaning of this?" He stood up and walked over to the cowering boy. Harry retreated into a corner but was hastily pulled away and to his feet by the Potions Master. They stood, looking into each others eyes, black met green and Snape once more probed his mind.

A tall burly figure of a man was advancing, his fists raised. They swung, but the small boy ducked, thus infuriating the man more, and causing a heavy torrent of blows. The boy squealed in pain, his hands covering his face uselessly…

The boy was sitting in the corner of a small dark room as the door creaked open and the man was there again. The boy was wrenched out of the room and kicked brutally down the stairs. He collided with the open door and –

Snape clapped his hand to his forehead in pain….the Legilimens was reversing on him…

Someone was punching him in the back. He fell forward and hit his head on the table in the kitchen and crumpled, unconscious.

He was pressed against the cold, damp wall of his room as he watched a slim light crawl up the wall as the door opened. Someone tall and muscular was casting a shadow as he stood in the doorframe. He watched it get bigger…and bigger, fists raised, ready to strike…

"ENOUGH!" Snape exploded. He would not let Potter see that. He would not go there again. But how strange those jumble of memories were…the first he knew were Potter's, as he could not recall ever being there. And the figures, though blurred and fuzzy, were enough to tell what was happening. But the boy looked perfectly fine – no cuts, no bruises, and those blows would surely have left a mark. He looked perfectly normal save the emptiness in his eyes and the despair in his face. Snape could not act upon just memories. He would need to know the full story.

"Potter - " he reached out a hand to place on the boy's shoulder, but he squealed and tripped over backwards in his haste to get away. He sighed, extending a hand to help him up. Harry ignored it and got up regardless and went to sit down at a desk. Very well. Snape thought. This shell is going to be hard to crack.

The hours passed slowly, but when Harry was finally dismissed, he would have run if it were not for his exhaustion. This had definitely been the worst first day back to Hogwarts, ever. He was screaming inside, ashamed at what his teacher had just seen. For he had seen it too. Not very clear, but he knew who those figures were. He could recognise that man anywhere. But the second set of memories were not his own…he was sure of that. So who's were they? Snape's? Surely not…but Harry had never heard of a three-way Legilimens. Either way he was glad to be rid of the place, and promised himself he would not allow Snape to make eye contact with him again. He could not risk another outburst like that.

When he finally got back to the dorms, it was already 11:30. Unwillingly, he pulled on some pyjamas and fell onto his bed, not bothering to get under the covers. He knew he would have to get up early again so as to cover up and take a shower, but he was dreading it. Almost instantly he fell to sleep only to be tormented, once again, by strong dreams of Privet Drive.