A/N: I know I've been vague with everything. I rather meant to be. : )
Thanks to my reviewers! You guys are great! I'm trying to get these out faster, but I don't think I'll be able to. Not with work the way it is.
Wicked Kiwi- I looked it up and I'm pretty sure it's Wisteria
Walk now.
ResQgal- Thanks! I kinda liked that part too!
carpathia1- Thanks for the vote of confidence! Really made my
day.
Potter Reader- Some are figuring it out now. I've got a good
idea on how to make him Snape's, but I'm checking other stories to see
if it's been done before. Hopefully not, but I'm going to use it even if
it has.
'these' are thoughts
**this** is parseltongue
*~*~*~*~*~*~ is a new perspective or scene
Chapter Three: Tea time with Voldemort
When Mrs. Figg came in with the tea, she noted with amusement that Harry and Severus sat as far away from each other as they could. Harry was on the couch with Minerva and Severus was opposite Minerva in an armchair. She set the tea tray on the coffee table and sat in the remaining chair, across from Harry.
"Now, why don't you tell Harry and I why you're here?" she asked the professors.
Snape nodded for McGonagall to proceed.
"As we have told Mr. Potter, Albus sent us to check on him. He's worried about what Harry wrote in his letter." She turned to Harry as she said this. "Harry, what did you mean when you wrote that you could feel it? And when you told Severus that you should be used to the Cruciatus?"
"I... I.. umm. Well, when Voldemort casts the Cruciatus on his victims, I can feel it. Only some of it, but it still hurts. And I can only feel it when he casts it, not when his Death Eaters do." His eyes flew around around the room, looking at each person there before settling for staring at his feet. "But..." his emerald gaze suddenly locked with Snape's obsidian one. "Did it happen?" he whispered. "Was there-" his hand flew to his forehead, pressing against his scar as his free hand seized into a fist. "NO!" he shouted. Then his vision went black, and when he could see again, he wasn't sitting in Mrs. Figg's living room, he was standing in a dark room, with only a fire in the hearth to light the room. There was one chair by the fire, with a pale, skeletal man sitting in it. His crimson, snakelike eyes were narrowed on the circle of five figures before him, all with the cloaks and masks of Death Eaters.
"So, Bellatrix. What news have you for me?"
One figure stepped forward and knelt before Voldemort, his head bowed.
"My lord. We have learned who the traitor is."
"Good Bella. Who is it?"
"My lord, it is Snape. He has been reporting back to that muggle-loving fool, Dumbledore."
"Excellent, Bella. We shall call for him and take care of it."
"Yes, my lord." With a wave of Voldemort's hand, Bellatrix Lestrange stepped back into the circle of her comrades.
"Wormtail!"
"Y-y-yes, m-my lord?"
"Your arm, Wormtail."
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Back in Mrs. Figg's living room, three people watched as a black haired boy slowly rocked on the floor, his hand clutching the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. For one moment, though, it looked as if he was coming back to them as his eyes opened, the green lucid and clear. Then he launched himself over the table, spilling the tea and knocking the table on it's side. One hand, slender yet strong, grasped the wrist of his hated Potions Professor as he rasped out, "Don't go. Trap." Then his vision took him over again, his hand still wrapped around Snape's wrist. Then the Mark on his left forearm began to burn. The worse it was, the more the boy at his side whimpered.
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Harry fought hard to get out of his vision long enough to warn Snape not to go. He was proud of himself for accomplishing that much, but his scar seemed to burn with greater intensity, as if it didn't like him fighting it. His sight cleared to show him Voldemort and his lackeys again. And the Dark Lord was angry.
"Why does he not come? Bellatrix! Does he know you know?"
"No, my lord! I didn't tell him. No one knows except us, my lord. I swear it!"
"Goyle!"
"My lord." A tall, heavily built man, not unlike his son, stepped forward and prostrated himself before Voldemort.
"Goyle, what news of Potter? Has your son or his friends been able to find anything?"
"N-no, my l-lord."
"No? Very well, Goyle. Crucio!"
Goyle writhed on the floor, screaming his pain, and back on Wisteria Walk, a silencing charm was hastily erected as Harry Potter screamed and writhed in tandem with Goyle. Thankfully, for our Mr. Potter, the pain brought him out of his vision and back into the familiar confines of Mrs. Figg's house.
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"Potter! Kindly let go of me!" with a glance at his colleague, he murmured, "He is calling."
Gasping, blood seeping from the scar on his forehead, Harry tightened his grip on Snape's wrist and said, "No."
"No, Potter?" he sneered.
"No. He knows." and Harry, unable to deal with the after effects of the Cruciatus any more, passed out, his head resting on Snape's knee.
Arabella Figg and Minerva McGonagall watched, McGonagall finally breaking the tense silence. "Severus, what does he mean, he knows?"
"The Dark Lord knows." he answered, his face drained of any color there might have been.
"You-know-who knows? About you?"
"According to Potter, yes." He glared at the boy, or rather, at the boy's head, trying to figure a way to get him off of him.
Mrs. Figg just looked back and forth between the boy and the man, seeing what apparently no-one else could. The similarities were remarkable. The boy was looking more like the man than his own father. The sculpted cheekbones, the longer face, the straight, aristocratic nose. Although that wasn't much like Severus', it was more like Lily's father's than like James' nose. The hair, which before had stuck up all over his head, was now straight, and lay against his shoulders. Still inky black, but no longer wild. He had grown, too. Not much, only about two inches, but having seen him the week before, she knew it was far too quick for normal growth. Deciding on a course of action, she turned to her long time friend.
"Minerva, could you please inform Albus that we require his presence?"
With a nod, Minerva McGonagall disappeared with a *pop*.
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Harry awoke to find himself laying on the couch, voices drifting to his ears from the direction of the dining room.
"Severus, don't you see? You must quit this now."
"No, Headmaster. I don't see why you think this way."
"If Voldemort knows, then your life is forfeit! I will not allow you to do this any longer!"
"My life was forfeit the moment I took the Mark. I will not quit when I can be of use to you."
"Severus, child, you are of more use to us alive then dead. You have exceptional skills that would be very difficult to replace."
'What is Dumbledore doing here?' Harry thought. 'Is Snape trying to go back to Voldemort? Stupid git!' Harry tried to get up so he could hear more, but his body protested any movement and a groan escaped from his lips before he could bite it back. He heard the sound of chairs scraping against the floor, then footsteps accompanied by the rustle of robes announced that the others knew he was awake.
"Potter. Drink this." Snape thrust a vial in Harry's hand, unaware of the astonished gaze of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall as they too saw the resemblance between himself and Harry. For Harry's part, he sniffed the liquid in the vial and turned to Snape with a look of disgust.
"What is it?" he croaked, his throat sore from screaming.
"A potion for the effects of the Cruciatus. Now drink!"
Harry took a breath and held it, trying to drown the taste as he slammed the potion back. It didn't quite work, and he grimaced in disgust.
"Blech!"
What could have passed for amusement danced through the Potions Master's eyes before he pulled his customary mask back on and sneered at the boy.
"Harry." Harry turned towards Professor Dumbledore, a glare firmly fixed on his face. Were it not for Albus' innate ability to remain calm, he just may have showed the shock he felt at seeing one of Severus' trademark looks on the boy's face. With nothing more than a moment's hesitation, he continued. "Harry, I need you to tell us what you saw."
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry nodded and began his recital. "They were at the Riddle House, you know, where he killed his father and grandparents. There were five Death Eaters there, and he called one forward. Bellatrix Lestrange." He spat the name as if it were a curse, which, to him, it was. "She told him that the traitor was Snape, and then he called Wormtail and used his Mark to call for Snape." Green eyes flicked to black ones before returning to Dumbledore's blue ones. From there, he recounted everything that happened, shuddering when he spoke of Goyle getting the Cruciatus placed on him.
"Goyle's son? He's got Goyle's son looking for you?" exclaimed an incredulous Professor Snape. "That half-wit couldn't find the bathroom if Draco didn't lead him there!"
Harry snickered as he silently agreed, but then remembered that Voldemort asked after Goyle's son and his friends. "But he said his friends, Sir. Isn't Malfoy one of his friends? If his father wasn't in Azkaban, Voldemort would probably have had Lucius asking Draco to do it."
The four adults exchanged glances before Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "I am sorry, Harry, but you have to return to-"
He was cut off by a groan from the boy, causing everyone to stare at him. Turning red from embarrassment, he asked, "Do I have to go back to my aunt and uncle's?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, my boy, I was going to say you need to return to Hogwart's, where you'll be protected. Now, let's return to your relative's house and collect your things, shall we?"
Harry grinned an infectious smile and nodded. "Yes sir!"
A/N: Please review and tell me what you think!