It all started with a Pensieve
Chapter two
"Why the hell am I doing this?" Harry cursed himself as he walked down the stone, dungeon corridor. It was only days after he had first saw the haunting images in Snape's pensieve, and was unable to concentrate on anything else since. He had to prove the last image wrong. There was no way his perfect father would ever do something like this, ever.
He was lucky that the Hogsmeade weekend had been so close, he wasn't sure that he could last not knowing for much longer. Harry had overheard Snape telling the Headmaster that he was going into Hogsmeade to stock up on supplies and wouldn't be back until late. With the excuse given to Ron and Hermione that he had too much homework to do, Harry evaded going out, and was able to do what he needed to. It wasn't like it mattered to them. All they ever wanted to do anymore was snog.
So, with an entire day ahead of him, Harry turned a corner and walked down the last flight of stairs, under his invisibility cloak. He spoke the password, and the snake slithered up the wall, inviting Harry back into Snape's private chambers.
The chambers were more or less the exact same as they had been the previous night, and Harry went straight for the pensieve. It was still swirling dark pictures. Harry squinted and touched his finger to the inky water, and immediately felt the dungeon around him disappear, as he was uplifted.
He landed hard, much harder then he had when he was in Dumbledore's pensieve, he noted. When he eyes focused he saw he was in an extremely confined space. The lights were dim, and Harry felt him self nag his head on the low ceiling. He stretched out his arm and felt a stonewall, directly beside him. He was in a closet, or perhaps a type of cabinet. Then he sensed movement to his left.
Harry swirled around to see a child, no more then four or five, sitting against the cold wall, curled up in a ball, sobbing. Harry knew he had no effect here, but he couldn't help but kneel down beside him and pat his back.
The child's long hair fell in his eyes, as he buried his head in his arms and cried loudly. Harry rubbed his back a little more gently, wanting to comfort the boy in any way he could. The boy looked up, and Harry saw his face more clearly. His eyes were dark and beyond emotionless. It was Snape. It had to be Snape.
Harry then remembered that, after all, this was Snape's pensieve and being there was no one else there, it had to be him. The boy stood up shakily. Harry caught a glance at his tattered robes on his back. There were bloody scars behind the ripped robe. Harry winced as he saw dried blood tangled in Snape's hair. He went to the door and attempted to open it, using the knob. It didn't budge. He threw his weight at the door, and it shook violently under his small weight, but didn't move.
He sunk back to the floor and held his head in his hands as he stifled tears. Harry went to the door and tried to ram it down, despite knowing better. It still did nothing. He couldn't help but feel pity for the child. Why was he locked in this dreadful place anyway?
Harry was distracted from his thoughts when he saw Snape get back up again and pound on the door with his fists, still crying uncontrollably, when that did nothing, he lay his head on the cool stone door and sobbed miserably.
Suddenly, without any warning, the door flew open, sending Snape crashing back against the stonewall, with a sickening crack. A man stepped in. Harry certainly knew where Snape got his looks. He was tall, probably the same size as Snape was now, but heavier, much more filled out. His hooked nose was, if possible, even larger then Snape's.
"Get up, you sniveling idiot." He barked, roughly yanking Snape up by his hair.
"Father I swear I didn't mean to," He was interrupted by a hard punch in the face. He collapsed onto the ground and began to sob harder, wiping the blood off of his cheek, and refusing to look back at his father.
"Stupid, clumsy boy! You've just sent your mother to the hospital because of the scare you gave her. Really, knocking over her favorite painting, you'll do her in, you will," Snape was forced up from his huddled position of the floor and manhandled out of the closet.
Harry followed, unable to look away with some sick fascination, into a bedroom. It was decorated in dark wooden furniture, with forest green coverings, and a low fireplace, burning a log in the corner.
"I really didn't mean to break the picture." His was voice was squeaky and high from being so worried. All Harry wanted to do was hold the poor boy, until he calmed down. There was a creepy silence between the two for a few seconds. Harry looked over at Snape's father, who was grinding his teeth together, staring daggers into the boy. "Is mommy okay?" He asked, wiping the still dripping tears away.
"Fool of a boy," he father declared, swiftly backhanding Snape onto the floor. "This is the forth time she's been to the hospital this month, and it's all your fault." The man stood, looming over the child, fists clenched in anger. "You'll be the end of her!" He shouted. Then he pointed to the door, at the other end of the room, "Get the hell out of here, boy." Snape didn't need to be told twice. He bolted from the room, and ran down a long hallway. Harry followed closely behind. Snape, weeping openly, flew down a flight of stairs, and tripped on the last stair, falling painfully on his ankle. Harry kneeled beside him, and watched as the boy cried out loudly as he attempted to move his swelling ankle.
Harry felt his body being rushed up above the scene unfolding before him, and he landed hard on grass. His eyes opened to see the sky shining a bright blue, and white clouds floating far above him. Then he heard a light giggle. He turned off of his back to see a pretty young girl. She was tall, with pale skin and very dark hair, cut short in what looked like a pixy cut. She wore black tight fitting shorts, and a blue tank top, with an outer summer robe. She looked like she was in her early teens, thirteen, maybe fourteen. Harry watched curiously as she ran fast and did and cartwheel. Then he heard something else from behind him. He turned again to see Snape, not much older then he had been in the previous image.
"Come here, love," She motioned for him to come over, and he ran into her open arms and snuggled down against her. Harry got to his feet and looked closer, to see Snape had a large bruise forming just below his eye. The girl picked Snape up and swung him around, before letting his small frame rest against her hip, with his short legs wrapped around her waist. "How's you cheek, love?" She asked, caressing the swollen flesh.
"It'll be okay," He whispers, and then cuddles closer to her. "Syria?" He asks, gazing up into her face.
"Yes, Sev," She responds, placidly.
"When do you have to go back to Hogwarts?" His voice is clearly nervous, and vibrating with worry and dread.
"Not for two weeks still, love. Don't fret about it yet," She giggles and falls to the soft grass, bringing Snape down with her. She rolls on her back and looks up at the clouds, "What do you see, love?" She inquires, as Snape rolls his head onto her shoulder.
"They're too wispy today," He says quietly.
"They are, aren't they?" Syria smiles and presses a kiss to Snape's forehead, and Harry watches as Snape closes his eyes.
"I love you, Syria." His voice is so hushed that Harry can hardly hear it.
"I know you do, love. I love you too." With that Harry can feel his body being uplifted and he comes into hard contact with the familiar surroundings of Snape's private chambers. He looks back at the pensieve and shakes his head.
He didn't see what he had wanted to see, but he had certainly learned quite a lot. Harry stands and checks the clock on the wall. It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. He feels a tinge of hunger in the pit of his stomach, and wraps his invisibility cloak tight around him, and he leaves the cold dungeons. Footsteps, coming from no one visible make their way up to the school kitchens, then twenty or so minutes later, make their way back down to the dungeons.
Harry, once again, immerges from his cloak into Snape's chambers, in front of his pensieve. With a deep breath he touched his finger to it and feels the now familiar sensation of floating above the dungeon, and landing in a place he has never seen before.
He's back in the bedroom, the one where the first vision lead to, but not in the closet. A boy, just a bit younger then him, sits at a desk fiddling with a piece of parchment. Harry approaches him closer, to see that the boy is clearly Snape. His lengthy black hair is tied in a clasp at the back of his head, and his robes are thick, probably to block out the freezing temperatures of the bitter wind. Harry sees that out the window it's snowing heavily. He suppresses a shudder, and turns his attention back to Snape. He's crying.
Harry takes a step closer, wanting to validate what he thought he saw. Snape was indeed crying. Streaks of tears fall from his watery black eyes, and down his pristine cheeks, yet he makes no noise. He sets his head on his desk, and sobs openly, not holding back any longer. Harry walks up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling that it was too warm, much to warm. Harry walks to face him and sets his cool hand on Snape's forehead. It's burning up. Harry does nothing, wanting to comfort him, but knowing he can't.
Snape continues to cry onto his desk, hardly breathing, except for the gulps of air he takes every few minutes in-between wails of pity. Harry can't help but wrap his arms around him from the back, and smooth his hair out. When Harry realizes who he's doing this for, he jerks back and remembers that Snape probably deserved what he was sobbing about.
A knock at the door makes both Harry and Snape jump. He watches as the greasy haired youth wipes his tears away frantically and stands up, straightening his crinkled robes. "Come in," He manages with a steady voice.
In walks the man from the other vision, Snape's father. Harry feels more unexplained anger for the barking man. "Were you crying?" He snaps, marching towards his son, grabbing his face and looking at his red, swollen eyes.
"No, sir," Harry sees that Snape is beginning to shake.
"Weak little boy," His father pushes him hard in the stomach, sending Snape flying into the desk. "Stupid pathetic fag. You never stop crying!" He bellows at the top of his voice. He grabs him by the scruff of the neck and punches him in the gut. "Be a man! Men don't cry." Snape in shaking hard, fighting back tears, but refusing to let them fall. "Do you hear me?" He screams, when Snape says nothing.
"Yes, sir." Now his voice is unsteady, and quavering. His father narrows his eyes and shakes a fist in his face. Then he forces him harder against the desk and presses his forehead against his son's.
"If I ever see you snivel again, I swear I'll take you out, you sick little pansy." The older man once again shoves the smaller boy into the desk, and stalks out to the door. Before leaving he turns and say, "Get dressed. The funeral is in an hour." With that he leaves and slams the door behind him.
Snape stands weakly and goes to his closet, the same one, Harry notes that he had been locked in earlier. Then a thought hits him. Before it had sounded like his mother was ill. She had to be the one who died, and that was probably why he was crying. Snape pulls out a set of clean black robes, and pulls the ones on his back off. Harry turns around, feeling slightly dirty that he could watch his own Professor undress. He didn't turn quite quick enough because he caught sight of scars on his back. Harry whipped around seeing grotesque jagged lines, some of them looking fresh, on his back.
Harry felt sick to his stomach as he wondered who he could have gotten them. Snape finishes dressing, and leaves his room, Harry following him. He heads down the same hallway as before, but instead of going down the stairs, he stops at the last room in the hall. The door is closed and Snape knocks. Harry watches as a girl, who Harry recognizes as the young teenager from the previous memory, answers the door. She's much older now, probably in her mid twenties, but looks much the same.
"Sev, you okay? You look sick," she says, rubbing his back soothingly. Snape shook his head, and with her arms wrapped around him, she lead him into her room, Harry snuck in quietly.
Harry was immediately reminded of the pictures in muggle magazines of teenage girl's rooms. The walls were painted a light pink, as was all of the furniture. Posters of bands and singers Harry had never heard of plastered the walls, and clothes as well as other junk covered the floor.
She led Snape over to her bed and let him lay down, while sitting next to him. Do you want me to get a potion?" She asked tenderly, wiping the sweat off of his face. In the better light of her room, Harry noticed just how sick Snape looked. He shook his head, weakly, closing his eyes. "Okay." She responded calmly.
Snape turned against her body and cuddles close. "I know you're very upset, love, but you have to remember that your life isn't over. She's been gone for over two weeks, love, you need to start living a little." Snape makes no movement; he doesn't even look like he's heard any of it. There is silence for a long time. The girl holds Snape a little closer and kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have said that." Snape still does nothing. He's looking off into the distance, paying no attention to anything around him. Syria sighs, knowing she's not doing any good and gets up. "We should get going soon. Father will be angry at us if we're late." She goes and opens her door, but still Snape doesn't move.
With a sigh she walks back to Snape and brings him into her arms. "Love, oh love, just cry it out. You need a good cry," She whispers, rocking him back and forth.
"Men don't cry," He finally speaks. His voice is still quivering, but isn't quite as bad as it was before.
"What bullshit is that?" She asks, turning his head so it faces her. "You've been listening to father again," She sighs, exasperated. He nods, burying his face into her robes. "Don't listen to him at all, ever. You can cry whenever you want to and it doesn't make you any less of a man." Snape doesn't move or speak again. After a few seconds of lying against his sister, doing nothing, he gets up, shaky on his feet and moves to the door.
"We don't want to be late." He whispers, motioning for his sister to follow. She gets up and holds his hand against hers, while walking out of the bedroom.
Harry feels himself being torn from the scene, and lands forcefully back on Snape's private chambers. The clock reveals it to be after five, and Harry, not wanting to push his limits, walks back up to the Gryffindor common room, under his father's old invisibility, seriously pondering over Snape's sanity.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So here's my second chapter. It came out pretty fast, don't you think? Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed my first chapter, they were a really big help. Please review again, or even better, review for the first time. I need all the help I can get! With Easter holidays coming up I'm hoping to get two chapters posted, so keep a look out for them soon.
Chapter two
"Why the hell am I doing this?" Harry cursed himself as he walked down the stone, dungeon corridor. It was only days after he had first saw the haunting images in Snape's pensieve, and was unable to concentrate on anything else since. He had to prove the last image wrong. There was no way his perfect father would ever do something like this, ever.
He was lucky that the Hogsmeade weekend had been so close, he wasn't sure that he could last not knowing for much longer. Harry had overheard Snape telling the Headmaster that he was going into Hogsmeade to stock up on supplies and wouldn't be back until late. With the excuse given to Ron and Hermione that he had too much homework to do, Harry evaded going out, and was able to do what he needed to. It wasn't like it mattered to them. All they ever wanted to do anymore was snog.
So, with an entire day ahead of him, Harry turned a corner and walked down the last flight of stairs, under his invisibility cloak. He spoke the password, and the snake slithered up the wall, inviting Harry back into Snape's private chambers.
The chambers were more or less the exact same as they had been the previous night, and Harry went straight for the pensieve. It was still swirling dark pictures. Harry squinted and touched his finger to the inky water, and immediately felt the dungeon around him disappear, as he was uplifted.
He landed hard, much harder then he had when he was in Dumbledore's pensieve, he noted. When he eyes focused he saw he was in an extremely confined space. The lights were dim, and Harry felt him self nag his head on the low ceiling. He stretched out his arm and felt a stonewall, directly beside him. He was in a closet, or perhaps a type of cabinet. Then he sensed movement to his left.
Harry swirled around to see a child, no more then four or five, sitting against the cold wall, curled up in a ball, sobbing. Harry knew he had no effect here, but he couldn't help but kneel down beside him and pat his back.
The child's long hair fell in his eyes, as he buried his head in his arms and cried loudly. Harry rubbed his back a little more gently, wanting to comfort the boy in any way he could. The boy looked up, and Harry saw his face more clearly. His eyes were dark and beyond emotionless. It was Snape. It had to be Snape.
Harry then remembered that, after all, this was Snape's pensieve and being there was no one else there, it had to be him. The boy stood up shakily. Harry caught a glance at his tattered robes on his back. There were bloody scars behind the ripped robe. Harry winced as he saw dried blood tangled in Snape's hair. He went to the door and attempted to open it, using the knob. It didn't budge. He threw his weight at the door, and it shook violently under his small weight, but didn't move.
He sunk back to the floor and held his head in his hands as he stifled tears. Harry went to the door and tried to ram it down, despite knowing better. It still did nothing. He couldn't help but feel pity for the child. Why was he locked in this dreadful place anyway?
Harry was distracted from his thoughts when he saw Snape get back up again and pound on the door with his fists, still crying uncontrollably, when that did nothing, he lay his head on the cool stone door and sobbed miserably.
Suddenly, without any warning, the door flew open, sending Snape crashing back against the stonewall, with a sickening crack. A man stepped in. Harry certainly knew where Snape got his looks. He was tall, probably the same size as Snape was now, but heavier, much more filled out. His hooked nose was, if possible, even larger then Snape's.
"Get up, you sniveling idiot." He barked, roughly yanking Snape up by his hair.
"Father I swear I didn't mean to," He was interrupted by a hard punch in the face. He collapsed onto the ground and began to sob harder, wiping the blood off of his cheek, and refusing to look back at his father.
"Stupid, clumsy boy! You've just sent your mother to the hospital because of the scare you gave her. Really, knocking over her favorite painting, you'll do her in, you will," Snape was forced up from his huddled position of the floor and manhandled out of the closet.
Harry followed, unable to look away with some sick fascination, into a bedroom. It was decorated in dark wooden furniture, with forest green coverings, and a low fireplace, burning a log in the corner.
"I really didn't mean to break the picture." His was voice was squeaky and high from being so worried. All Harry wanted to do was hold the poor boy, until he calmed down. There was a creepy silence between the two for a few seconds. Harry looked over at Snape's father, who was grinding his teeth together, staring daggers into the boy. "Is mommy okay?" He asked, wiping the still dripping tears away.
"Fool of a boy," he father declared, swiftly backhanding Snape onto the floor. "This is the forth time she's been to the hospital this month, and it's all your fault." The man stood, looming over the child, fists clenched in anger. "You'll be the end of her!" He shouted. Then he pointed to the door, at the other end of the room, "Get the hell out of here, boy." Snape didn't need to be told twice. He bolted from the room, and ran down a long hallway. Harry followed closely behind. Snape, weeping openly, flew down a flight of stairs, and tripped on the last stair, falling painfully on his ankle. Harry kneeled beside him, and watched as the boy cried out loudly as he attempted to move his swelling ankle.
Harry felt his body being rushed up above the scene unfolding before him, and he landed hard on grass. His eyes opened to see the sky shining a bright blue, and white clouds floating far above him. Then he heard a light giggle. He turned off of his back to see a pretty young girl. She was tall, with pale skin and very dark hair, cut short in what looked like a pixy cut. She wore black tight fitting shorts, and a blue tank top, with an outer summer robe. She looked like she was in her early teens, thirteen, maybe fourteen. Harry watched curiously as she ran fast and did and cartwheel. Then he heard something else from behind him. He turned again to see Snape, not much older then he had been in the previous image.
"Come here, love," She motioned for him to come over, and he ran into her open arms and snuggled down against her. Harry got to his feet and looked closer, to see Snape had a large bruise forming just below his eye. The girl picked Snape up and swung him around, before letting his small frame rest against her hip, with his short legs wrapped around her waist. "How's you cheek, love?" She asked, caressing the swollen flesh.
"It'll be okay," He whispers, and then cuddles closer to her. "Syria?" He asks, gazing up into her face.
"Yes, Sev," She responds, placidly.
"When do you have to go back to Hogwarts?" His voice is clearly nervous, and vibrating with worry and dread.
"Not for two weeks still, love. Don't fret about it yet," She giggles and falls to the soft grass, bringing Snape down with her. She rolls on her back and looks up at the clouds, "What do you see, love?" She inquires, as Snape rolls his head onto her shoulder.
"They're too wispy today," He says quietly.
"They are, aren't they?" Syria smiles and presses a kiss to Snape's forehead, and Harry watches as Snape closes his eyes.
"I love you, Syria." His voice is so hushed that Harry can hardly hear it.
"I know you do, love. I love you too." With that Harry can feel his body being uplifted and he comes into hard contact with the familiar surroundings of Snape's private chambers. He looks back at the pensieve and shakes his head.
He didn't see what he had wanted to see, but he had certainly learned quite a lot. Harry stands and checks the clock on the wall. It's only three o'clock in the afternoon. He feels a tinge of hunger in the pit of his stomach, and wraps his invisibility cloak tight around him, and he leaves the cold dungeons. Footsteps, coming from no one visible make their way up to the school kitchens, then twenty or so minutes later, make their way back down to the dungeons.
Harry, once again, immerges from his cloak into Snape's chambers, in front of his pensieve. With a deep breath he touched his finger to it and feels the now familiar sensation of floating above the dungeon, and landing in a place he has never seen before.
He's back in the bedroom, the one where the first vision lead to, but not in the closet. A boy, just a bit younger then him, sits at a desk fiddling with a piece of parchment. Harry approaches him closer, to see that the boy is clearly Snape. His lengthy black hair is tied in a clasp at the back of his head, and his robes are thick, probably to block out the freezing temperatures of the bitter wind. Harry sees that out the window it's snowing heavily. He suppresses a shudder, and turns his attention back to Snape. He's crying.
Harry takes a step closer, wanting to validate what he thought he saw. Snape was indeed crying. Streaks of tears fall from his watery black eyes, and down his pristine cheeks, yet he makes no noise. He sets his head on his desk, and sobs openly, not holding back any longer. Harry walks up behind him and puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling that it was too warm, much to warm. Harry walks to face him and sets his cool hand on Snape's forehead. It's burning up. Harry does nothing, wanting to comfort him, but knowing he can't.
Snape continues to cry onto his desk, hardly breathing, except for the gulps of air he takes every few minutes in-between wails of pity. Harry can't help but wrap his arms around him from the back, and smooth his hair out. When Harry realizes who he's doing this for, he jerks back and remembers that Snape probably deserved what he was sobbing about.
A knock at the door makes both Harry and Snape jump. He watches as the greasy haired youth wipes his tears away frantically and stands up, straightening his crinkled robes. "Come in," He manages with a steady voice.
In walks the man from the other vision, Snape's father. Harry feels more unexplained anger for the barking man. "Were you crying?" He snaps, marching towards his son, grabbing his face and looking at his red, swollen eyes.
"No, sir," Harry sees that Snape is beginning to shake.
"Weak little boy," His father pushes him hard in the stomach, sending Snape flying into the desk. "Stupid pathetic fag. You never stop crying!" He bellows at the top of his voice. He grabs him by the scruff of the neck and punches him in the gut. "Be a man! Men don't cry." Snape in shaking hard, fighting back tears, but refusing to let them fall. "Do you hear me?" He screams, when Snape says nothing.
"Yes, sir." Now his voice is unsteady, and quavering. His father narrows his eyes and shakes a fist in his face. Then he forces him harder against the desk and presses his forehead against his son's.
"If I ever see you snivel again, I swear I'll take you out, you sick little pansy." The older man once again shoves the smaller boy into the desk, and stalks out to the door. Before leaving he turns and say, "Get dressed. The funeral is in an hour." With that he leaves and slams the door behind him.
Snape stands weakly and goes to his closet, the same one, Harry notes that he had been locked in earlier. Then a thought hits him. Before it had sounded like his mother was ill. She had to be the one who died, and that was probably why he was crying. Snape pulls out a set of clean black robes, and pulls the ones on his back off. Harry turns around, feeling slightly dirty that he could watch his own Professor undress. He didn't turn quite quick enough because he caught sight of scars on his back. Harry whipped around seeing grotesque jagged lines, some of them looking fresh, on his back.
Harry felt sick to his stomach as he wondered who he could have gotten them. Snape finishes dressing, and leaves his room, Harry following him. He heads down the same hallway as before, but instead of going down the stairs, he stops at the last room in the hall. The door is closed and Snape knocks. Harry watches as a girl, who Harry recognizes as the young teenager from the previous memory, answers the door. She's much older now, probably in her mid twenties, but looks much the same.
"Sev, you okay? You look sick," she says, rubbing his back soothingly. Snape shook his head, and with her arms wrapped around him, she lead him into her room, Harry snuck in quietly.
Harry was immediately reminded of the pictures in muggle magazines of teenage girl's rooms. The walls were painted a light pink, as was all of the furniture. Posters of bands and singers Harry had never heard of plastered the walls, and clothes as well as other junk covered the floor.
She led Snape over to her bed and let him lay down, while sitting next to him. Do you want me to get a potion?" She asked tenderly, wiping the sweat off of his face. In the better light of her room, Harry noticed just how sick Snape looked. He shook his head, weakly, closing his eyes. "Okay." She responded calmly.
Snape turned against her body and cuddles close. "I know you're very upset, love, but you have to remember that your life isn't over. She's been gone for over two weeks, love, you need to start living a little." Snape makes no movement; he doesn't even look like he's heard any of it. There is silence for a long time. The girl holds Snape a little closer and kisses his cheek. "I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have said that." Snape still does nothing. He's looking off into the distance, paying no attention to anything around him. Syria sighs, knowing she's not doing any good and gets up. "We should get going soon. Father will be angry at us if we're late." She goes and opens her door, but still Snape doesn't move.
With a sigh she walks back to Snape and brings him into her arms. "Love, oh love, just cry it out. You need a good cry," She whispers, rocking him back and forth.
"Men don't cry," He finally speaks. His voice is still quivering, but isn't quite as bad as it was before.
"What bullshit is that?" She asks, turning his head so it faces her. "You've been listening to father again," She sighs, exasperated. He nods, burying his face into her robes. "Don't listen to him at all, ever. You can cry whenever you want to and it doesn't make you any less of a man." Snape doesn't move or speak again. After a few seconds of lying against his sister, doing nothing, he gets up, shaky on his feet and moves to the door.
"We don't want to be late." He whispers, motioning for his sister to follow. She gets up and holds his hand against hers, while walking out of the bedroom.
Harry feels himself being torn from the scene, and lands forcefully back on Snape's private chambers. The clock reveals it to be after five, and Harry, not wanting to push his limits, walks back up to the Gryffindor common room, under his father's old invisibility, seriously pondering over Snape's sanity.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So here's my second chapter. It came out pretty fast, don't you think? Anyway, thanks to all those who reviewed my first chapter, they were a really big help. Please review again, or even better, review for the first time. I need all the help I can get! With Easter holidays coming up I'm hoping to get two chapters posted, so keep a look out for them soon.