Chapter 8 Emotions
Harry sat under the willow that lined the lake. His green eyes, blank of emotions, stared unseeingly into the dark waters. Jet black hair was blown this way and that by a slight breeze, but that could not move the still boy. Nothing could reach him in his trace like state.
Not even the darkly clocked figure that stood across the lake, watching the boy with cold, unfeeling eyes. Running through the dark man's mind were thoughts of deaths, those of the past and those yetl to come. Evil flowed like water. Pools of insanity ran over. Murder and mayhem lived in this sick man's mind.
The stillness was complete, unbroken. Now, the man thought, I could take him now and that old fool would never know, never know till it was to late.
He took a step toward the silent boy, but was brought to a stand-still by an unknown force. It held him in a vice like grip, cutting off all movement; locking even his air way, not letting air in or out.
Harry stood, looking at the dark man, a million and one thoughts running through his head. The first of which was that he needed help; his energy was draining and he wouldn't be able to hold the man for long.
Help, he cried in the regions of his mind. Help!
~*
Standing at the hospital wing window, Snape watched as Harry sat in the stillness that had become 'his world'. More and more he would catch the boy just sitting and staring off into nothingness. Turing away from the window, Snape looked around to make sure no one was about. Slowly, he started to unwind the bandage that Madam Pomfrey had wrapped around the Dark Mark on his arm. There was a cooling spell on the cloth, so that the burning would not be as agonizing as it should.
Once the cloth was unrolled completely, Snape tossed it onto the bed, then took in a deep breath before looking at the skin of his left forearm. The freakish magical tattoo stared back at him, the darkness of it contrasting on his white skin.
This is what Hell must be like, he thought. Dark marks against you that can never be removed. And now the boy knew.
Snape had had a feeling that he'd known toward the end of last year, now there was no doubt. All he had to do was tell the right people and Snape would be sent packing from his sanctuary. The job he loved.
Love. Snape laughed coldly at the thought. What did he know of love? Everything he'd ever "loved" had been taken from him. That was why he'd become such a cold-hearted bastard. To save himself from pain. Or rejection.
Whichever came first.
A sudden vision of blackness flashed before his eyes. Followed closely by the silent scream of someone in danger. "Help. Help!" The "vision" was quickly replaced with a clear one of the lake, it's waters still and dead-looking.
Hastily pulling his sleeve down as he went, Snape ran out the open doors of the hospital wing and toward the great hall. Just as he was pulling the heavy doors open, Dumbledore and Hagrid joined him, seeming to come from nowhere.
All three men ran to the lake, each holding their breath and daring not to think about where the images had come from.
But each knew deep down that Harry had sent them a warning and was once again in the clutches of dangers unknown.
Harry sat under the willow that lined the lake. His green eyes, blank of emotions, stared unseeingly into the dark waters. Jet black hair was blown this way and that by a slight breeze, but that could not move the still boy. Nothing could reach him in his trace like state.
Not even the darkly clocked figure that stood across the lake, watching the boy with cold, unfeeling eyes. Running through the dark man's mind were thoughts of deaths, those of the past and those yetl to come. Evil flowed like water. Pools of insanity ran over. Murder and mayhem lived in this sick man's mind.
The stillness was complete, unbroken. Now, the man thought, I could take him now and that old fool would never know, never know till it was to late.
He took a step toward the silent boy, but was brought to a stand-still by an unknown force. It held him in a vice like grip, cutting off all movement; locking even his air way, not letting air in or out.
Harry stood, looking at the dark man, a million and one thoughts running through his head. The first of which was that he needed help; his energy was draining and he wouldn't be able to hold the man for long.
Help, he cried in the regions of his mind. Help!
~*
Standing at the hospital wing window, Snape watched as Harry sat in the stillness that had become 'his world'. More and more he would catch the boy just sitting and staring off into nothingness. Turing away from the window, Snape looked around to make sure no one was about. Slowly, he started to unwind the bandage that Madam Pomfrey had wrapped around the Dark Mark on his arm. There was a cooling spell on the cloth, so that the burning would not be as agonizing as it should.
Once the cloth was unrolled completely, Snape tossed it onto the bed, then took in a deep breath before looking at the skin of his left forearm. The freakish magical tattoo stared back at him, the darkness of it contrasting on his white skin.
This is what Hell must be like, he thought. Dark marks against you that can never be removed. And now the boy knew.
Snape had had a feeling that he'd known toward the end of last year, now there was no doubt. All he had to do was tell the right people and Snape would be sent packing from his sanctuary. The job he loved.
Love. Snape laughed coldly at the thought. What did he know of love? Everything he'd ever "loved" had been taken from him. That was why he'd become such a cold-hearted bastard. To save himself from pain. Or rejection.
Whichever came first.
A sudden vision of blackness flashed before his eyes. Followed closely by the silent scream of someone in danger. "Help. Help!" The "vision" was quickly replaced with a clear one of the lake, it's waters still and dead-looking.
Hastily pulling his sleeve down as he went, Snape ran out the open doors of the hospital wing and toward the great hall. Just as he was pulling the heavy doors open, Dumbledore and Hagrid joined him, seeming to come from nowhere.
All three men ran to the lake, each holding their breath and daring not to think about where the images had come from.
But each knew deep down that Harry had sent them a warning and was once again in the clutches of dangers unknown.