A/N: Wow, sorry about the lack of updating this story.  But, I have not given up on it, and never will.  It seems that summer has gotten me to forget about my stories, and I constantly need to remind myself to write the next chapter of the story and to be loyal to the readers.  That, and we just got two kittens, who constantly play a lot, and jump up on my desk, only to walk on my keyboard the next minute!  Anyway, enough from me, here's the next chapter!

Hidden Visions, Hidden Truth: Chapter 5

     Harry appeared in the graveyard again, this time utterly aware of what was going to happen.  Cedric Diggory was standing next to him, suggesting that it was best to have their wands out and ready in case something happened.  Harry looked in the distance ahead of him: darkness and nothing more.  His dreams always started out the same: he would appear in the graveyard, the same graveyard where Cedric was killed, and no matter what he did, no matter what spell he used, he could not stop Wormtail from murdering Cedric.

     "Kill the spare," a haunting voice filled the void of Harry's thoughts.  A blinding green light rushed past Harry, the heat of the spell barely scathing his arm.  He turned around just in time to see Cedric crumble to the ground at his feet, his face, which once was full of life, now empty.

     "No," Harry muttered as he dropped to his knees.  He failed…once again…and he would fail for as long as he had these dreams.  The guilt of not saving Cedric clung onto him, and he dropped his wand, not caring about anything else in the world except that he failed.

     "Crucio!" The same haunting voice that ordered Wormtail to kill the spare appeared again.  Pain writhed through Harry's body as he shouted out.  He closed his eyes shut, only knowing that the end will come soon…

     "We're nearly there."

     Snape's voice broke into Harry's thoughts of his dream.  Harry had been staring at the round tip of his broom, thinking about his dream; not knowing how many hours had passed.  He looked up to find that there were no more clouds in sight, and that beneath him was a vast land of grass.

     "Are we out of Muggle territory?" Harry asked as he stared absent-mindedly at the wave of grass going up and down hills.

     "Far out of Muggle territory," Snape answered.  "We should be arriving at my house in ten to fifteen minutes."

     At that answer, Harry sighed a breath of relief.  He was starting to feel uncomfortable upon his broomstick, wanting to stretch his legs a bit.  "I didn't know you lived so far away," Harry said as he looked at his watch that had once belonged to Dudley, now in Harry's possession because it was missing the minute arm.

     Snape didn't reply.

     Harry could hardly conceal his excitement as, ten minutes later, they arrived at a large estate.  There was a manor located on one side, a Quidditch pitch on the other side, and a large lake, which separated the both.

     "Is this your house?" Harry asked with amazement.

     "Yes, it is," replied Snape coldly.  "I find it great to relive myself of stress by practicing Quidditch alone.  I used to be a Beater when I was at Hogwarts.  Sometimes, during matches of Slytherin v. Gryffindor, I always tried to knock your father off his broomstick."

     Harry didn't want to hear anymore…

     "…I wanted to show everybody how great and talented he was at Quidditch, when all he ever did was get on the team because he was popular.  Us Slytherin's worked hard to earn a spot on the team…once I knocked Potter off his broomstick, everyone realized he was not the talented Quidditch boy they took him for…he was a pathetic excuse for a Quidditch player.  Why Black and Lupin stood by him, I have no idea…probably their hunger for popularity deprived them so much they decided to join Potter's posse.  Every time Potter did something to almost get expelled, but he didn't even come close, only because he was popular and an arrogant little brat.  Oh, how I wish he did get expelled back then.  Then he would have left, and, furthermore, never returned."

     Harry felt anger rising inside of him, swelling, ready to be released…anytime now…

     "How Potter ever got married to that filthy mudblood, I don't know…"

     Filthy mudblood?  Harry's anger was overwhelming him to curse Snape into oblivion.  He couldn't take it anymore…Snape continued speaking, however.  Harry decided it had gone too far.

     "Shut up," Harry said in a quiet, quivering voice that was used as gently could, but full of hatred and anger toward Snape.

     Snape stopped talking abruptly.  Guilt rose up inside Harry, along with the feeling of an oncoming shout from Snape.

     "What did you say to me, Potter?" Snape's voice was hard and cold, the kind of voice to be recognized before a shout from the Potion's professor.

     "I said," Harry began, choosing his words carefully, "to shut up." Harry left no time for Snape to start shouting, and immediately went into why he said that.  "You have no right to make fun of my dad.  You wished that he left and never returned.  Well, congratulations, you got your wish.  Except he didn't get expelled, did he?  He's dead…both my mom and dad, so…your wish is granted.  Your life is complete, while my life is without my parents."

     Snape thought about what Harry had said for a minute, and felt slightly guilty.  He had grown up with parents, which was true for most times.  Other times they just fought until Snape got fed up with the arguing and finally ran away at age 19 to join the Death Eaters.  It was a dark past for Snape, but possibly even darker for Harry, not even growing up with two loving parents.

     Snape pulled himself out of the past and said in a quiet, but seething, voice, "Potter, I would be saddened by what you just said, but I'm quite angered by what you had first said.  You, being the pupil, will not tell a teacher, especially me, to shut up."

     Harry ignored him, and looked at the horizon.  The sun was beginning to sink behind the faraway mountains, covering the land in a golden color that seemed to shine upon the mansion, reflecting off the windows and casting an image on the dark colored lake.

     "We'll land here," Snape said suddenly.

     They landed upon the front lawn of the mansion, the lake pounding waves up on grass.  Harry craned his neck up to see the entire mansion.  It was at least three stories—possibly four stories—high.  A large balcony set itself out from the last story, while the entrance carried two wide oaken doors, with a stained glass window on one.

     "Why is your house so large?" Harry asked with amazement.

     Snape didn't answer him.  Instead, he just swept past Harry and up the five steps to the oaken doors.  "Come along, Potter," he commanded as he opened the doors and went inside.  Harry followed immediately and gasped once he was inside.  The room, which he figured must be the living room, stretched twice more than the size of his dormitory.  He was in complete awe.  There was a slick, marble staircase in the corner.  Right underneath it was a door, while both on his left and right side was another door.  Two small bookcases lined the walls, with two red satin chairs and two couches in the middle of the room, and two small fireplaces at the end.

     "Kitchen's off to your right, while the library is on your left.  The door at the end is my laboratory, where I will be contemplating to either make a potion to help you fight those dreams, or not.  You are not allowed down there," Snape finished with ease as he lit up one of the fireplaces with just a flick of his wand.

     "Where will I sleep?" Harry asked as he watched the flames dance in the fireplace.

     Snape sighed and sat down in one of the red satin chairs.  "You will be sleeping two floors up from here.  You are also not allowed to go up to the fourth floor."

     "Why?" Harry asked as he began up the stairs.

     "That is for personal reasons, Potter," Snape answered simply.

     Harry was halfway up the staircase when he realized that he had left his broom outside, along with his trunk.

     "Sir, what about my stuff?" He asked.

     Snape sighed again, head in his hands.  "I will send the house-elf to fetch them."

     Harry could sense that Snape was beginning to get agitated, so he decided to not ask any more questions, and to find his room.

     Harry wandered a bit on the second floor before continuing to the third floor.  He at least saw a dozen or so talking portraits lining one side of the hallway.  As he passed by one talking portrait, the portrait shouted out, "Harry Potter!" which caused a chain reaction.  All the other portraits started shouting out Harry's name also, so he just decided that he had to get out of there before Snape heard the commotion.

     Harry was almost out of breath once he reached the third floor.  Thankfully, there were no portraits on the third floor.  But since there was a great lack of portraits, there were many doors.  He had no idea where his room was located.

     "Hello!" Harry shouted out to the dark, lonely corridor.  He was hoping for some response that could guide him to his room, but none came.  "Hello!" He shouted again.  His voice was carried down the corridor, bouncing off every wall.  Again, he waited for a response…waited…and waited until he heard something.  He listened harder, searching for the noise he heard.  Suddenly, he heard it again.  It was a hoot, an owl call.  It sounded strangely familiar, and Harry figured that it must be Hedwig.

     "Hedwig!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief as Hedwig neared him and landed on his outstretched arm.  "Oh, Hedwig, I missed you," Harry whispered to the owl, petting her.  Hedwig hooted, and flew off again.  "Hedwig, wait!" Harry shouted after his owl, and followed her. 

     He ran straight down the corridor, whizzing past doors so fast that they looked like blurs.  He panted, wondering how long the corridor was.  Hedwig finally perched above a doorway.  Harry looked back, and saw nothing except darkness.

     "This is my room?" he asked Hedwig.  His owl responded with only a hoot, and what looked like a nod.  Harry grinned.  "Thanks," he said, and opened the door to reveal a room filled with light.  It was an enormous room, and looked just like the living room, except for a big bed located off to one side, and only one door, besides the entrance door, located off to the side of where the big bed was.  The room was filled with red—everything was red.  The bed, the two chairs, the fireplace was lined with red, and the walls were a splash of red and gold.  Harry's eyes sparkled as he looked over the room again.  "Wow," he said in amazement.  His trunk and Firebolt were laid out on the bed, along with a new pair of pajamas, trimmed with red and gold.  "Wow," he said again as he walked over to his bed and sat on it.  Hedwig hooted in agreement, as she flew to her red and gold cage.

     Harry stretched out on his bed, and looked up at the ceiling.  "Boy," he sighed, "this is wonderful." He yawned, a bit tired and hungry, so he decided to go downstairs to get some food.

     Unfortunately, he had to pass those same portraits on the second floor, which hadn't forgotten who he was, and they all started to shout out his name again.

     The living room was completely empty.  The fire in the fireplace was beginning to flicker out.  Harry, wondering if stained glass windows were also alive, as the witch in the stained glass window was following his every move, decided to go to the kitchen right away without any questioning to the stained glass witch.

     Half the kitchen was the dining room.  A long elegant table sat in the middle of the kitchen, completed with assortments of plates, silverware, napkins, and a vase of flowers that marked the middle of the table.  Harry went to the fridge, wondering if someone had just eaten at the table, and pulled out an apple.  Just as he neared the door, he heard the doorbell ring.  Harry stopped in his tracks, clueless as who could be ringing the doorbell at night.  He heard footsteps nearing, the door unlocking and opening, and a greeting from the Potions professor of, "Good evening, Lucius."

     Lucius!  Lucius Malfoy!  Harry groaned, despite thinking that someone could have heard him.

     "Hello, Severus," Lucius greeted back with bitterness deep in his throat.  "I'm glad that you're back so soon.  I have important news.  Anyway, I trust that you have heard the notice from the Dark Lord."

     "About Potter?  Yes, I have."

     Harry eagerly waited for a reply from Lucius, or from Snape.

     "Please, do come in," Snape offered.

     Each footstep vibrated the floor beneath Harry.  He heard the door close, and the crackling of the fire starting again.

     "How will this plan work out?" Snape asked.  "I didn't really read all of the notice, just a paragraph or two."

     Lucius sighed, and said, "We will kidnap Potter from his relatives house.  We bring him to the Dark Lord, and there, we will take turns torturing him with the Crutacious curse, until the final curse comes in.  You will be there, won't you?" Lucius asked as an afterthought.

     "What gives you the right to think that I won't be there?" Snape asked.

     "Nothing, except that the past four years, you were turning soft.  You hardly showed up at any meetings at all."

     About a minute passed before Snape said in a hushed voice, "I am not going soft.  I will be there, also.  You think I'm going to miss the day when Potter finally dies.  I will not."

     "Okay, then, see you there then," Lucius said.  Harry figured that Lucius was getting ready to leave.  The door opened.  Snape and Lucius said their good-byes, and Harry waited for the door to close.  However, it didn't.  Instead, Lucius' voice wafted through the air.  "Just answer me this question.  Why didn't you show up at any of the meetings the last four years?"

     Harry breathed in quickly.  So quickly, in fact, that he was having a fit of coughs.  Harry tried the best he could to cough quietly.

     "Because Dumbledore was getting suspicious," Snape answered and closed the door.

     Harry waited for Snape to leave the living room before going back to his room.  There was a strange empty feeling inside him, like a feeling that you can't trust anyone anymore.  Harry thought about that while he ate his apple.  How could Snape do that?  Offer him to live at his house one minute and then betray him the next.  And Dumbledore.  Does he know that Snape is still a Death Eater?  That he's evil?  Once Harry finished his apple and had thrown it away, he went back upstairs.  The portraits on the second floor shouted out his name again, but Harry made no move to stop their shouting.

     On the third floor, Hedwig was flying around.  He didn't even acknowledge her as she gave a hoot.  Instead, he just went to his room, climbed onto his bed, threw the trunk, broomstick, and pajamas on the floor, put his glasses on the bedside table, and went to sleep, clothes still on and the lights still on.

A/N: Okay!  Hope you liked this chapter!  I'll try to get the next one out as soon as possible.  Hmm…maybe reviews would help me to get chapters out quickly…