Chapter One Harry's POV
Looking at the train, I feel uneasy as I think of what will come. Another summer spent in isolation and discomfort at the Dursleys. Faintly, I wonder what will happen to me this summer. After all, last summer wasn't one of the most pleasant I've had in my life. Even if you cannot call any of them pleasant. That summer, I really wondered if what I was going through was right, if this was truly something I should put up with. At the end of the summer, I was seriously starting to doubt that I could trust the Dursleys anymore. They are family, but what they caused me to become then isn't easily forgiven.
I have to admit I probably would have come out much worse if not Snape had come to fetch me to Hogwarts that summer at Dumbledore's request (due to Sirius wanting to visit me). Never had I been so happy to see old nasty Snape in his dramatic black robes and greasy hair as then. But then again, he wasn't nasty at that time. He was actually rather nice. And more worried than I ever would have pegged him to be about the abhorred Boy Who Lived. When I woke up, I was in the hospital wing, being treated for malnutrition. Dumbledore was not very pleased with the Dursleys right then. Neither was Snape judging from his disgusted look as he told the headmaster about it. Needless to say, I stayed with Sirius alternatively the Weasleys the rest of that summer, recovering.
Anyway, here I am, standing at the station in Hogsmeade and preparing to board the train and go back to Uncle Vernon and the rest of my loving relatives. Feeling tired and not so little negative. I mean, I have just spent another year under the threat of Voldemort, a revived one at that. One would think that this should be the best part of the year. Instead, this is worse than a face off with Voldemort. At least all he wants to do is kill me and maybe torture me. The Dursleys seem to think that I don't have the right to exist. Is this what family is supposed to be like?
With a resigned sigh, I heft my trunk onboard the train and try to step onboard myself. However, that is apparently not my fate as a strong hand with long, slender fingers grabs my arm and holds me back, another hand directing the trunk back onto the station with a wand.
"And where do you think you're going?" a low, all too dangerous voice asks, belonging to my all too despised potions teacher.
I gulp and turn around, facing the dark and very pissed Death Eater-turned-spy. What have I done wrong now?
"To the Dursleys?" I say with as much courage I can muster. Where else would I be going? It's the only home I have!
One of the dark eyebrows disappears behind the drape of greasy black hair always hanging in his face.
"No, you are not" he simply says. "Or do you want to go back to living in the cellar, unloved and uncared for?"
I shake my head furiously. Which sane person would want to live in a cold, dim, isolated and lonely cellar, forgotten by all? Someone maybe, but certainly not I. But it isn't as if I have an alternative.
"Good" Snape nods, grabbing his wand. "Mobiliarbus."
My trunk raise into the air, pulled by invisible strings. Then, Snape starts to guide us both back to Hogwarts. My faithful trunk and I. And we are both thoroughly confused by this new turn of events.
*****
Snape lets go of my trunk and me the moment we are inside Hogwart's walls guiding the latter gently to the ground. The next second, he strides off down one of the many corridors, no doubt heading towards the dungeons, leaving me alone and utterly confused.
"All right" I mutter. "What to do."
I shrug, choosing to simply sit down on my trunk, waiting for something to happen. In normal case, I would've called for Dobby and his friends asking them to get my trunk to my room in Gryffindor's tower, but this isn't a normal case. It is unheard of to let a student stay at Hogwarts over summer since Riddle's framing of Hagrid, and I don't know what to do.
Bored, I stare at the intricate pattern on the ornate doors leading out. As far as I can tell, there are thirty-nine roses on it. Forty-five minutes later, I also know there are 205 bumblebees hidden on it. I am just about to start counting the trees scattered all over it when I hear steps closing in on me.
Relieved that someone is finally coming, even as it most probably is Snape, I rise and turn towards the sound. I really don't know what I expect to see, but it certainly isn't a newly showered Snape with his now non-greasy hair in a ponytail and dressed in muggle pants, a tight, black tee and an open robe. It has to be an illusion.
"Quit staring, Potter"
On the other hand, maybe it isn't, I conclude. He is carrying a sleek, black broom in one hand and a trunk is trailing behind him, upheld by the magic of his wand. Apparently, he is leaving, only the gods know to where.
"Well, come on, Potter" he irritated says, his voice somewhat annoyed. "We haven't got all day."
And apparently soon me as well. This has to be one of the strangest days ever. Taking his lead, I grab my pocketed wand and mumble the appropriate spell to make my trunk trail after me like a puppy. I am apparently following Snape this summer, and I cannot really decide what I think of it.
Well outside, I find that Snape has mounted his broom and is waiting impatiently for me. Deciding not to make him grouchier than he already is, I do the same and look expectantly at him.
"Sir?" I ask, using as little words as possible, as I still don't know where I have him. It seems to be safer to assume that he, like the Dursleys, prefer when I'm quiet and out of sight. I mean, this is my grouchy, bad tempered pain-in-the-ass potion professor, but he's also the man who has taken me from the Dursleys and is almost pleasant in his free time. My assumption doesn't seem to suit him well though, because he frowns, almost glaring at me.
"We are going to my cottage" he enlightens me, a slightly exasperated key to his voice. "And school's over for now. You may as well call me Severus like everyone else. Or Sev if you prefer that."
Did my ears just hear that? I am beyond baffled. Did Snape just allow me to call him by his first name? His pet name? This world is definitely ending. But I don't get any more time to think about it, as Snape – no, Severus, I'm not about to risk calling him Sev, it's hard enough to call him Severus – kicks off, forcing me to follow. Still, the thoughts jumble in my mind. Sev? Cottage? I have never seen this side in Snape. Nevertheless, I can already say I like it better than his usual self.
Sev's POVI'm still raging at the thought of what Harry had to endure last summer. And probably all the other summers and years he spent with the Dursleys. How can one do such a thing to a child, let alone a relative? But then again, who am I to judge, Death Eater as I am. Or was. I've killed children after all, tortured them, felt pleasure in their pain. Even my own…
I shake those thoughts from my head. There's no use in going on a guilt trip right now, everything is hard enough as it is. I mean, look at the present situation! I'm flying a few kilometres above the ground within an anti-muggle bubble. The adolescent I've practically harassed since the first time I met him is following me tight on my heels, probably trying to figure out why I'm so nice to him so suddenly. Then there's the fact we're going to my cottage, where I haven't brought anyone since that day, after allowing Harry to see me more casual than I've shown myself in public for a long time. Then we have the fact that Sirius Black and his werewolf friend Remus is going to go berserk on me when they find out about the situation. Well, maybe not Remus Lupin, he's always been the more sensible of them, but can you say 'strange situation'? Add the fact that the boy is targeted by Voldemort, the one I serve, and you have a big mess. Literally.
I glance back at the boy riding behind and to my left. He's fifteen years old, yet he is only 5'2" tall, and neither of his parents was very short. My guess is the lack of a healthy life has inhibited his growing process, especially the events last summer. However, I will certainly fix that. A restore-your-growth potion and a healthy living for the summer will do.
Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Famous all over the world for the way Voldemort failed in killing him and lost his powers on the way. Harry lost his parents, and for that, I feel sorry even though I wasn't particularly fond of his parents. No child should have to endure that – I should know.
But the saddest thing is how the family given to him has treated him. Locked away, shouted at, being called an anomaly. And from what I saw last summer, he seems to view that as normal.
He's so pale. Almost sickly so. But then again, who wouldn't be after enduring what he has endured all his life. I would be – if I hadn't inherited the would-be golden skin (if I had more sun that is) from my mother. Instead, I'm pale yellow. It's strange that we're so alike in many ways, yet I haven't realized it until now.
Oh, crap. There's the bloody ravine. One would've thought I would've gotten used to the abrupt turn by now and not almost crash right into the mountainside every time I go home by now. But no. Severus Snape, potions teacher and ex-chaser in Slytherin's Quidditch team always just manage to stay clear of a solid, 700 feet tall cliffside. In addition, as I look back at Harry, I can see he neatly stayed clear of it and is looking like he is trying to conceal his amusement. It isn't working.
Deciding that this is a time as good as another to start the process to gain Harry's trust, I let myself crack, smiling for the first time in years, chuckling softly for the first time in over a decade. And as Harry sees I seem to not care much about it, he lets a small smile out. It's certainly not much, but it's a beginning. It has to be the first time either of us is at ease with each other.
However, it is getting dark, and even though I would prefer to use the slight opening I've gained, we sure don't have time to hover by the beginning of the ravine leading to my home and smile all evening. Therefore, I start to move again, still smiling slightly. And when Harry follows, I can sense that my little mishap gained me my first few feet of ground.
My 'cottage', a simple two-story house in a solitary part of Wales' Mountains, has been in my family for centuries. From the beginning, it was a simple hunting cabin now it is my home. Built in natural wood and situated by a small stream, it's a wonderful place to live if you want a peaceful and beautiful home. In the summer, a wonderful garden with flowers in all possible colours grows around it, scenting the air with heavenly tastes. And to be honest, I love it.
However, as we land, it's already dusk, and we can't see the beauty of the place. Besides that, both Harry and I are dead on our feet. So, I decide to just get us inside and into bed to get some sleep. Which was a wise decision judging from the way Harry's stumbling after me, ignorant of all and everything.
Smiling slightly, I whisper a soft 'alohomora' to open the door and step into the warmth of home. And for once, I'm not overcome with pictures of the past, but feel only concern for the very sleepy fifteen year old staggering after me.
Seeing to that he let his trunk loose, I lead him to one of the bedrooms, the one which once belonged to my beloved Alisha. He promptly falls onto the bed, asleep as soon as he touches the cover, leaving it to me to bed him down, haunted by the memories of when I did the same thing to another child. A dark blonde little girl with the bluest eyes in the world. My daughter Alisha. The second victim by my hands in my service to Voldemort.
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