Hatred is Harder to Bear

-Wujjawoo-

Standard Disclaimers Apply

A/N: Thanks for those who reviewed :) And I would like to add, before I forget, that as Harry is of age he can apparate.

oOoOo

You may not believe until you see, but you cannot see until you believe.

oOoOo

The day after Azkaban was taken over by Lord Voldemort, Harry went to see Dumbledore. As he made his way up the golden staircase he convinced himself that he wasn't going to leave without getting his way.

"Come in, Harry," said Dumbledore, before Harry even knocked. Harry entered to see the sprightly Headmaster avidly sucking a Muggle sweet and threading beads onto a piece of fishing line. As Harry sat he banished them with a wave of the hand.

"How are you on this fine evening, Harry?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling. "Have you come about the dates of the Quidditch tournament?"

"No," said Harry, wondering why he would bother the headmaster with something like that. "Actually it's a bit more serious."

"Indeed," murmured Dumbledore, leaning forward attentively and pasting an appropriately serious expression on his face. Harry felt his attitude was rather condescending. He took a deep breath and got straight to the point.

"I'd like to join the Order."

Dumbledore straightened in alarm and looked down at him with his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Now, Harry, this is not something to be entered into lightly. You are still at school. There would be nothing practical you would be able to do for us."

Harry blinked, feeling quite offended.

"Sir, I'm seventeen. I'm of age. And I could help the Order if you let me."

"Harry, I couldn't let you participate in raids or defend in the event of an attack, it would be far too dangerous for you."

Harry frowned in consternation. This was not what he wanted to hear. Did Dumbledore think he was completely useless?

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm not a child anymore, and if need be I will act against Voldemort by myself. The fact that I would rather work alongside the Order is the only reason I'm asking you now."

Dumbledore stared at him sharply, scrutinizing him. He murmured something under his breath, thinking.

"Do you still have visions of Voldemort, Harry?" asked Dumbledore finally.

"Yes," said Harry forthrightly. "But he doesn't know I'm there. The Occlumency stops him becoming aware of my presence. Don't you see how useful that could be?" Harry said almost pleadingly. "I could find out about attacks before they happen. I would be able to see where they were if-"

Dumbledore held up a hand, halting him.

"I see that you will not be dissuaded," he said quietly. "If you insist, then I will let you join the Order."

"Really?" Harry asked, stunned. Dumbledore's abrupt change of heart left him confused. Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"Yes, Harry." He reached into the top draw of his desk and pulled out a phoenix pendant attached to a plain black cord and handed it across that table to Harry. "This is worn by all Order members, Harry. It will alert you if there is an attack. You can apparate, correct?" Harry nodded. "Good. All you need to do is hold the pendant and apparate, and it will take you where you need to go. In the case that you may not be able to use your pendant, or you are not at the sight of the attack, you can communicate using a variation of your Patronus."

"A variation? I've seen it, but…"

"Don't worry, Harry. I shall show you the correct incantation."

Harry marvelled at how quickly it had all gone as Dumbledore explained what he needed to know. He left Dumbledore's office feeling better than he had in a long time.

He paused on his way back to Gryffindor tower, gazing up at the full moon and wondering where Remus was.

oOoOo

After thoroughly berating himself for so foolishly giving into the whim that the riddle had implanted in him to solve it, Snape found himself sitting at a table in the library on the night of the full moon. Upon reflecting on it, the simple sentence had not been hard to unravel. Moonwort bloomed only on the full moon, and after consideration he had decided that the location he needed to be at was this table in an alcove at the back of the library.

He had often come here with her, out of view of prying eyes, and he remembered that she had loved to be in the library. An older version of Granger, he sneered. But no, that was wrong. She had been much nicer, and far less nosy.

He looked up at the tiny stained glass window high on the wall. The moon could not yet be seen. He assumed he had to wait for it to be visible; after all, what else should he have come here for? If there was any meaning to the riddle whatsoever, he would find it when the moon's light penetrated the small window.

He didn't have to wait long. After fifteen minutes the first beam of light fell into the room, and it was surprisingly bright. A single streak pushed through the clear hole in the centre of the window and lit a small area on the far side of the room. He stood rapidly and strode over to the bright spot on the shelf.

There seemed to be nothing special about it; it was a dusty disused wooden bookshelf and nothing more, but upon closer inspection he saw a fine crack running along the back of it.

"Hmm," he murmured, reaching out to slide his fingernails into it. He pulled lightly and the wood came away, revealing a hidden compartment with a single scrap of parchment in it. With more than a little curiosity he retrieved it and unfolded it. It had evidently been hidden away for many years; it was yellow and dry, and cracked when he unfolded it.

"Lumos," he muttered, and the writing upon it was illuminated.

In all the world, Potions is the only art that requires logic and passion – S.S.

He stared at it with dawning comprehension. SS, he realised, did not stand for Severus Snape, but for Selina Severin, an esteemed Potions Mistress of whom the two of them had spent many long hours discussing. Her statue was a long way away from the library, and he was about to set off for it when he felt the Dark Mark burn.

He swore under his breath and headed instead for his room, and then out into the night.

oOoOo

"Filipius," Harry murmured, and the feather on the table before him began to follow the movements of his wand.

"Aw, how did you get it so easily?" moaned Ron, who was having no luck with his.

"You're flicking, Ron," tutted Hermione. "It's more of a smooth swoop."

"A swoop?" Ron asked.

"Yes, Ron," sighed Hermione. "A swoop." Her feather danced around his head.

Harry laughed and pulled out his essay to add a few last-minute thoughts.

"Why didn't you finish that last night?" asked Ron, abandoning his uncooperative feather with a glare from Hermione. Harry shrugged.

"I was a bit tired after you-know-what," he muttered, concentrating on his essay. He scribbled out a whole line and replaced it with a new one. He was concentrating so hard he didn't know the class was over until Ron tugged him on the arm.

"You wanna stay here all day?" he asked.

"No," muttered Harry, shoving his belongings into this bag. He followed them out of the Charms classroom and into the hall, and as he did so a statue caught his eye. He stopped abruptly, and hurried over to it.

"Harry- what are you doing?" asked Hermione as the two of them came up behind him. He didn't answer them, and instead looked at the statue of the woman whom the plaque said was Rosemary Redding. Hermione began a long-winded speech about her, but Harry didn't listen. Rosemary Redding had made great advances in the field of Charms, apparently, and suddenly the riddle began to make sense. It seemed entirely likely that this was the Rosemary he was looking for.

He reached up to brush away the dust from the engraved quote above her head and read it.

"Reveal to me the nature of magic and I shall want for nothing," it read.

And suddenly it was so clear. It was so simple he didn't know why he hadn't tried it in the first place. Rosemary's First, he realised, referred to the first of the words from her own quote.

Reveal.

And Charming- it referred not only to Rosemary's prowess at Charms, but to what he needed to do to find the hidden meaning in the poem. Reveal was a charm that would find love's hidden meaning. Some kind of revealing charm, then.

With a grin at the thrill of the adventure, he set off down the corridor, unaware of Ron and Hermione's dubious glances behind his back.

Later that night, Harry pulled the book from his trunk and pulled the curtains tightly around his bed. He opened the book to the poem, My Beloved.

"Revelios," he muttered, tapping his wand to the page. At first he was surprised when the words began to shimmer; he had thought his mother would have chosen a harder spell. Perhaps, he thought, solving the riddle had been enough. The words on the page shimmered and disappeared, to be replaced by a much shorter passage in his mother's script. He read it with mounting excitement and a thumping heart.

HJP if this is you, read my words and find them true.

In the odds my time should pass, I could not leave the truth to chance.

Only trust, I do not lie, and coincidence is far from right.

Go to where my blood does dwell, ask her of the truth to tell.

She will point you where to go, if one other should fail to show.

Harry stared in mounting anxiety at the words. He had to go to where his mother's blood dwelled…a perfectly innocent reference to the Dursleys. It made sense, though. If anyone knew something of his mother's secret it would be her sister.

He wondered what the truth was, the truth that seemed so important. And as to coincidence…well, he hadn't believed in coincidence in a long time. And as many of the clues had been specific to him, it was hard to believe that it was a coincidence.

But who was the 'one other' that his mother referred to? He copied down the message and cancelled the charm on the page, reverting it to normal. As he returned the book to his trunk, he realised how dearly he wanted to know what the secret at the heart of these riddles was. What was so important that his mother must leave a message in case of her death, and that she could not have told anyone else?

oOoOo

"Professor, I need to go back to the Dursley's," said Harry, looking apologetically at the Headmaster. Dumbledore looked up in surprise, prompting Harry to go on. "It's just, I think I've forgotten something that I left there, and it's really important."

Dumbledore banished the letter he had been writing and stood up, barely glancing at Harry. He went to the old cupboard against the wall and retrieved his Pensieve.

Only when he had seated himself and added a memory to the swirling silveriness did he finally answer Harry.

"Must you go tonight?" asked Dumbledore. Harry was slightly taken aback at his accusing tone.

"No, of course not! Sooner is better, but I can wait until someone is free," he said, wondering why he had so much trouble communicating with Dumbledore lately. Maybe, he thought, it was because Dumbledore couldn't peer into his thoughts so easily anymore. Dumbledore nodded.

"I see. Well, tonight is not such a good time. Most everyone is at work or busy with tasks for the Order. However, if this is so important to you, I will see what I can arrange. I will have someone take you within the next week."

"Thankyou," said Harry, and stood up to leave.

"You are still carrying your Cloak with you?" Dumbledore asked as he reached the door.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, though he wondered if it was really necessary. He had carried it with him all through fifth and sixth year and not needed it once.

oOoOo

"-and now my father's free," Harry heard Malfoy whisper to his friends. Harry sneered. Malfoy was going to get caught one day, and it would be no one's fault but his own.

Harry hated the fact that Voldemort had gained control of Azkaban. Countless Death Eaters had been freed, and the Ministry had been powerless. For a reason unbeknownst to Harry, Fudge was still in office, and although he was now actively opposing Voldemort, he was doing a poor job. Surely there were other candidates that would do a better job?

"Hey Harry, can I see your essay? I finished mine but it's not long enough…"

"Sure," Harry said, passing his essay on defensive shields to Ron.

"Detention for cheating, Potter," said Snape, sweeping into the room. Harry's gritted his teeth in chagrin.

"Git," muttered Ron, surreptitiously passing Harry's essay back after taking a prolonged look.

"Doesn't matter," replied Harry.

"Quiet," snapped Snape, and there was no longer chance for conversation as the lesson began.

oOoOo

Harry knocked wearily on the door of Snape's office, his bag slung over his shoulder. At Snape's answer he stepped in, and upon seeing him Snape's rose to his feet and pulled his wand from his pocket. He stepped around the desk and held a quill out to Harry. Startled, and acting out of reflex, Harry grabbed the quill to take it, but Snape didn't let go. Instead he tapped his wand on the quill, there was a lurch behind Harry's navel, and they disappeared in a whirl of colours.

Harry's feet hit the ground with a thump and he stumbled forward as he tried to remain upright. He regained his balance and looked around to consider his surroundings.

"You could have warned me," he said shortly, taking in the neat locality that was Privet Drive.

"You have five minutes," snarled Snape, "to get what you need. I have better things to do than baby-sit you."

"You didn't have to come," shot back Harry, affronted by Snape's rude tone.

"Yes, well, the Headmaster made sure I understood how important this was, and I was the only Order member without pressing engagements…"

He looked away from Harry and down the street, staring disdainfully at the identical houses lining the road.

"Well?" he asked after a moment of silence. "Which is yours?" He watched as Harry pulled something out of his bag and shoved it at him, and he took in the sight of the silvery material with a hint of incredulity.

"Put it on," said Harry, and Snape took it purely out of surprise. He sneered and held it back.

"I see no need," he said. Harry sneered right back at him.

"If you insist on not wearing it, then I will have to insist you stay here. My relatives do not take kindly to wizards appearing on their doorstep."

Without waiting for Snape to answer, Harry transfigured his robes into a plain Muggle shirt and jeans and marched resolutely up to the front door of Privet Drive and knocked.

"Dudley, get the door," Harry heard his uncle bellow from within. A few moments passed, but then Harry heard the thump-thump of someone descending the stairs and the door swung open.

"Who is it, Dudders?" yelled someone, and Harry identified the voice as Aunt Marge's.

"It's him," Dudley spat, an ugly scowl marring his features. "What are you doing here, freak?" he asked, his massive body blocking the doorway. Harry heard Uncle Vernon cursing, and his clumping footsteps as he came to join his son at the door. Harry sincerely hoped that Snape had chosen to remain back on the street.

"I came to see Aunt Petunia," said Harry. "I left something important here and I need to collect it."

A gleeful grin split Dudley's face.

"Dad's going to be thrilled to see you."

oOoOo

A gleeful grin split the obese teenager's face.

"Dad's going to be thrilled to see you."

Snape sneered. If this took longer then ten minutes, he would reveal himself, whether it was against Potter's wishes or not. He would not stand to watch the boy's relatives fawning over him in such a sickening manner.

As a result of his reluctance, he barely managed to slip in the door before it was closed, rather brusquely, he thought, behind Potter. After only a few minutes though, Snape severely regretted not having stayed out side. In just a few short moments, any illusions Snape had held about the boy's life with the Muggles were completely shattered, and though he felt a stab of malignant triumph that the last Potter had not led the privileged life he'd previously supposed, he felt foolish for all the times he had commented otherwise.

After all those times he had called Potter 'spoilt' and 'ungrateful', the boy had probably gone off and had a good laugh at his expense, and told his little friends about how stupid Snape was. The conniving, pretentious brat.

oOoOo

Harry stood wearily before his there giant relatives, feeling severely out-numbered and tiny. Tonight had not been a good night to intrude on his relatives peaceful lives. Harry thought that Uncle Vernon might have just managed not to have an aneurism as he ushered his important business guests out the door, a vein throbbing painfully fast in his temple as he apologised about his delinquent nephew from St. Brutus'.

Dudley sauntered slowly around Harry, a hearty cuff to the shoulder sending him a step to the side. It wasn't difficult to see that Dudley was thoroughly enjoying himself at Harry's expense.

"Explain yourself," hissed Uncle Vernon.

"I need to see Aunt Petunia," Harry said curtly, infinitely glad that Snape was still out on the street. Well, hopefully. Aunt Marge stepped forward, an unpleasant frown on her ugly features. She reached out and tugged at the collar of the new-looking shirt he wore.

"Where'd you get that, eh?" she jibed, flicking it in a bullying manner. Harry glared at her. "We certainly didn't give you anything like that. Stole it, did you?"

Harry ignored her and leaned sideways, trying to see past her wide girth and into the further rooms.

"Explain," hissed Uncle Vernon again, clearly not pleased at Harry's lack of reply. "Do you have any idea how important that meeting was for me? An important business dinner that was…"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon, but I really don't have time. My teacher is waiting outside to take me back and he isn't a very patient man. If I could just see Aunt Petunia-"

"Your what?" growled Uncle Vernon.

"My teacher," Harry repeated softly, trying hard to keep any inflection out of his voice. It would not do to upset Uncle Vernon any further, but a moment after thinking that he realised that the man's rage was rapidly growing.

"You brought a teacher from that freak school of your's here? And left him outside?" Suddenly Uncle Vernon lunged forward and grabbed Harry by the collar of his shirt and thrust him up against the wall. "What the hell do you think the neighbours will say?"

"Let me down, Uncle Vernon," said Harry icily, trying to speak forcefully even though the chubby hands were pressing into his wind pipe.

"You think I want freaks prancing around in dresses outside my house? Why are you back here, boy?" he demanded. "They said we would never see you again."

"Let me down," Harry spat, understanding that being polite would not work. "I should let you know that I'm of age now. That means I can legally use magic outside of my freak school."

"Don't you dare use that word here," snapped Uncle Vernon, though he dropped Harry to the floor and stepped back. There was a moment of silence as they glared at each other, mutual dislike mirrored on their faces. Then-

"Vernon? What's going on?" Aunt Petunia entered the room and stopped short when she saw Harry. A look of distaste flitted across her face. "Why are you here?"

Harry gave her a wide smile.

"How are you, Aunt Petunia?" he asked, satisfied to see their faces as they were thrown by his abrupt change in mood. Aunt Petunia glared, her eyes flicking past him to the stained glass insets in the door.

"Come away from the windows," she snapped.

"Of course," agreed Harry, moving through to the kitchen. "We wouldn't want the neighbours to see."

The Dursley's followed him, crowding around the small table. There wasn't much room.

"Now what do you want?" snapped Uncle Vernon. "I won't have any of your ruddy games, boy, so you just tell us hat you need and then get the hell out!"

"May I speak to Aunt Petunia alone?" asked Harry. Aunt Petunia opened her mouth to speak but Aunt Marge leapt in.

"We're bloody well not leaving her alone with you, freak. I won't have you practicing any of your voodoo witchcraft on my sister-in-law."

"Damn right," grunted Uncle Vernon gruffly.

"Fine," muttered Harry. The hard way or the highway, he guessed. He looked his Aunt directly in the eye. "I want to know if you have anything that belonged to my mother."

Aunt Petunia blanched and began trembling.

"Why?" she asked, her voice rising in her defensiveness.

"I really don't expect that you actually want them," said Harry sarcastically. "And as I at least think of my mother with fondness, I would like something of hers to remember her by."

Suddenly Dudley gave an angry roar and launched himself at Harry, with surprising agility considering his size. His fist caught Harry on the chin and knocked him to the floor. Harry sprang to his feet, preparing to defend himself, but found there was no need. Dudley stood glowering at him a few feet away, Aunt Petunia resting a restraining hand on his arm.

"All the junk was moved into your room after you left. Anything you want you can find there. Get it and leave," she said coldly.

Junk, thought Harry. She was calling her only sister's belongings junk. He turned from them and walked to his room, the cupboard under the stairs. There was a lock on the door, and Harry pulled out his wand and muttered a spell, not wishing to raise their ire any further. Not a wise move. A hand clamped around the back of his neck and propelled him forward, smashing him up against the wood.

"You will not do that in my house," hissed Uncle Vernon. He pulled Harry away from the door long enough to open it and shoved him inside. The door slammed behind him, leaving Harry in blackness. He let out a silent sigh as he reached for the light switch. Flicked it. Wondered how long it would be before Snape came looking for him. Flicked it again. Nothing. Lumos.

Aunt Petunia had indeed move all the junk down here after he left, probably the very next day. Old furniture and Dudley's broken toys lay in neat piles around the rooms. Nothing he could see might have belonged to his mother. But there must be something here, or Aunt Petunia would have thrown him straight out.

He shone his light around, instantly dismissing piles that obviously held nothing of his mother's. He began heaving broken toys and boxes out of his way, sweating as the dusty air dried his throat. Finally, at the bottom of a pile near the corner, he found a small wooden chest that he had never known the Dursley's owned. He reached out and lifted the lid, and inside he found a handful of objects that had obviously been given to Aunt Petunia by his mother. Knowing he had little time left, he softly closed the lid and shrank the chest, slipping it into his pocket. He doused the light on his wand and stepped out into the much brighter hallway, blinking as he got his bearings.

Uncle Vernon emerged from the doorway to the kitchen, an arm pointing at the door.

"Never come here again," he hissed, his tone hateful and threatening. Harry nodded. He went to the door, surreptitiously casting a healing charm at his bruised neck and jaw. He opened it and stepped out onto the porch, Uncle Vernon slamming the door as soon as he was there. He felt a stab of horror when he realised he could not see Snape, but as he walked towards where they had arrived Snape pulled the Cloak off himself, appearing in the same spot Harry had left him. He tried not to show his relief too much. Wordlessly Snape held out the quill, tapped it with his wand, and they appeared back in his office.

"I trust you got what you needed?" Snape asked snidely.

"Yes. Thankyou," he said. He was sure Snape would not appreciate the thanks. He turned to go, and had opened the door, when Snape spoke.

"What is…St. Brutus'?"

Harry froze. He shut the door slowly and turned around.

"I thought you waited outside."

Snape sneered.

"Obviously I did not," he said. Harry felt the blood rush to his cheeks against his will.

"St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys," said Harry, somewhat defensively, "Is the school that the Dursley's neighbours believe I attend."

Snape stared, and Harry felt his cheeks flaming.

"Were you there the whole time?" he demanded.

"Yes," said Snape. Harry was dismayed. Snape continued. "The injuries you received at the beginning of the year- they were not just from your cousin, were they?"

Harry glared reproachfully at the calm Potions Master, who did not care for him in the slightest. He turned from the dark man and left without answering. There was no need for an answer, because Snape already knew.

There was no need to ask for is silence, because Snape did not care.

oOoOo

Prancing around in dresses indeed, seethed Snape, as he headed for the statue of Serina Severin near the entrance to the Slytherin dormitory. He stalked through the darkened and damp halls, fuming. He forced himself to be calm. He really hadn't been put out that much by taking the boy to his relatives- it was just the fact that it was that boy. Surely there were others that would rather take the responsibility for him.

He cast the evening's events from his mind as he turned to face that statue of the young Potions Mistress. He stood before it, wand clasped in his hand as he ran his finger over his lips. His gaze ran over the words inscribed above her head.

In all the world, Potions is the only art that requires logic and passion.

He ran his finger over the statue, searching for a crack, or something that might reveal what he was supposed to do.

"Revelios," he murmured, tapping the statue sharply with his wand. Nothing happened. He scowled. If this was some kind of joke…

But no, Snape knew she would never do that. He scowled at the unyielding wall in irritation. He murmured another revealing spell, but still there was nothing. A password then, he mused. Some kind of word that activated something. He cleared his throat.

"Lily," he said firmly. Still there was nothing. He tapped his chin impatiently with his wand, and as he did so, a peculiar thought came to him. He remembered it from his school days, when his and Lily's friendship had been a secret. If they wanted to meet, one would place a certain word on the notice board, and over the years, Snape had come to associate that word with secrets. And if what he was searching for now was not a secret, he didn't know what was.

It was a simple word, one that would not raise suspicion if seen. Lily had not wanted it, had said their friendship should not be a secret, but Snape had insisted. After all, he had a reputation to maintain. He had his family's honour to uphold. He had his dignity and pride to defend. Associating with a Mudblood would have ruined all of that.

Oh, he had been so stupid, and it had ruined it all.

He raised his wand and murmured the secret word. Their word.

That statue spoke.

"Hello, Severus," it said, and it was Lily's voice. Snape fought against the lump forming in his throat.

"Lily?" he questioned. The statue seemed to smile, and he waited for it to speak again.

"Severus," is (she) said again. "I always missed you."

Snape's heart thumped painfully in his chest, and a feeling of light-headedness consumed him. He had never fainted before, but he was feeling suspiciously close to doing so. Hearing the dead speak again was always a shock, he decided.

And then the statue told him the biggest secret of all. Bigger than there secret meetings during their school days, and bigger than what had happened after.

It told him the whole, shocking truth.

oOoOo

A/N: I seem to have jumped ahead more than I was planning, but I think it's for the best. Like I said previously, this is more of an introduction to what the story is really about. Please review- Wujjawoo