A/N: Sorry for the delay - I'm juggling writing around employment now! Many thanks to all the brilliant people who reviewed! I need to answer your questions - very neglectful of me. (Let me know what you think of this chapter. ;-) )

On with the angst -

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Why was Snape staring at him like that?

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'I've changed again, haven't I?' croaked Harry hoarsely, managing to muster enough strength to sit up.

The only response he got was a vague nod. For Snape was still staring.

Staring.

Staring. The teenager's expression hardened. 'Well? Where's my scroll?'

Snape snapped out of his trance, and frowned. 'I don't-'

'Don't start all this 'what is this rubbish Potter' crap!' snarled Harry viciously, taking Snape completely by surprise. 'I'm sick and tired - sick and tired of it! I know you took it-'

'Don't make assumptions-' began Snape hastily.

'I'm bloody NOT! Ouch!' Harry hissed through his teeth as a muscle threatened to spasm again.

Breathing evenly he forced himself to continue on in a dangerous whisper, his jaw going rigid with anger. 'You know all about that, just like you know all about who I am! Because you've got my scroll - you-'

Harry looked up and lifted his arm to point accusingly at his professor, but paled in horror as he caught sight of it. The hand he saw at the end of his shirtsleeve might as well have been a stranger's.

'You utter! -' was all he managed to choke out.

Snape's could not prevent his face flushing with anger. How dare the boy take his anger out on him? Was all this his fault? No!

But as much as he would like to have done, Snape couldn't answer back. The boy's glare was so piercing it threw him off track. It was so full of - rage, betrayal? Like Potter, but not Potter.

Potter. No - that name wouldn't do.

Boy perhaps. He would absolutely not ever be calling the kid Harry. It would be like calling his father James.

Snape huffed. Stupid fool - his father wasn't James!

'Who am I - Snape?' spat Harry venomously.

The question was answered by nothing but silence. A stifling silence full of the ticking of the hallway clock, and Dudley's distant snores.

'Who is my father?'

Snape closed his eyes and pressed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. 'Not Potter.'

'Well fancy that! One down, twenty-odd to go,' sneered Harry.

But Snape didn't seem to have heard. Because Harry was certain that if he had, the professor would have bit back.

The teenager gritted his teeth. He was in no mood for politeness. So what if he insulted Snape and he had heard? It wasn't as if the git ever respected him!

'HEY!' he yelled. 'Are you going to stop beating around the bush, or do I have to wait until I'm older because bloody Dumbledore thinks I'm not old enough?'

That did it. The initial shock that had held Snape frozen to the spot suddenly unleashed a deadly surge of temper. Eyes flashing murderous he sprang forward and with both hands snatched handfuls of the boy's shirt, hauling him roughly off the floor.

BANG! Crockery rattled as Snape slammed the boy against a kitchen cabinet. A teacup leapt off the hook and split in two on the worktop.

Snape then lifted him so only the tips of his toes brushed the floor. Harry gulped; the black tunnel eyes were now far too close for comfort.

'YOU BOY!' began the deadly hiss, lips curling back to show yellowing teeth. 'You should have felt yourself lucky all these years I thought you were Potter's!'

The Professor's eyes glittered strangely. 'But now you are -'

'Please-' whispered Harry.

'SHOW DISRESPECT FOR THE HEADMASTER AGAIN AND I'LL!' Snape bellowed suddenly, his eyes bulging. 'I'LL-' Harry winced, half expecting the man to hit him.

Instead, the professor ground his teeth. 'One moment of stupidity, one sodding charm and this is what!' he snapped. 'When I've finished with you you're going to wish you had never set eyes on any damned scroll!'

'But - w-what have I done?' stammered the lad.

'Done?' Snape almost shrieked. 'DONE!?' YOU IDIOT! YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!'

Harry gasped as he felt the sharp knuckles press into his chest. 'I'm s-'

Snape shut his eyes, his whole body quivering as it struggled to contain the fury breaking out inside him. 'Except for that you,' he breathed, making an attempt to calm down. 'You - have reminded me of-'

'I'm sorry, please-you're-hurting-me-please!' wheezed out a desperate Harry

Snape froze, and for the first time in the confrontation dared himself to look directly into the teenager's face.

'You have-'

Harry's wide, fearful, terrible eyes stared right back.

Right in.

Snape turned deadly pale, feeling the breath catch in his throat. It had been a mistake to look at him. This was no art of Occlumency, yet it felt as if the boy held the ability to see through to his very soul. To know all of him in one glance. All his fears, all his thoughts-

And it frightened him unendurably, he had to look away.

'Merlin,' he whispered.

When Harry felt Snape shiver, he presumed it was from revulsion, because soon after it happened the professor suddenly released him and quickly backed away, clutching his hands together.

'Sorry,' he muttered, backing away, almost stumbling over Petunia in his haste to get out of the kitchen.

There was a flurry of black robes before the living room door slammed shut.

Harry stared at the closed door rubbing his bruised chest. That man was mad and dangerous, - and Dumbledore trusted him to teach eleven year olds?

Stepping gingerly over Aunt Petunia, he paused outside the living room door. He hadn't the courage to go in there.

So what now?

He shivered, dreading what he had to do. It was up to him to find out what sent Snape spare. And that meant looking in the mirror.

Harry began the slow journey to the bathroom. Finding that he needed to hang on to the stair rails, he took care to cast his eyes downwards. He would be able to cope with seeing his arms again, just as soon as he saw his face.

When he reached the top step he paused. The bathroom was directly opposite the top of the stairwell, the large wall mirror on the left hand wall running almost from floor to ceiling.

Dudley was still snoring loudly.

'Calm yourself! Show some Gryffindor courage!' urged a voice in his head.

'Gryffindor courage? More like Gryffindor stupidity,' mumbled Harry, stepping into the bathroom. In the darkness he could make out a black shadowy outline in the mirror.

His outline.

This was it then.

Taking a short breath Harry reached for the light cord and clicked it on.

The chill begun at the top of his spine, and continued to creep slowly up and down his back as he gazed, unblinking.

He gazed first at the dark green eyes, which were given a more haunted look by the grey rings of tiredness surrounding them. The long nose and thin eyebrows were recognisable from before, but now, bar his skinniness, all Harry's resemblance to a Potter had gone.

Nervously, Harry brought a hand up to feel his hair. Normally it felt rather wiry and dry, with its tendency to stick up no matter how many times he tried to smooth it down.

Now it felt very smooth, and it seemed to cling to his head like never before. Harry cautiously picked up a small clump of strands and pulled them upwards, before letting them go.

They fell flat once again. Harry went to raise his eyebrows in surprise, yet where his usual thicker ones used to travel directly upwards, the stranger's eyebrow's seemed to arch slightly to the side.

Harry caught sight of his hand in the mirror again. He brought it down from his head to stare at it. His fingers were longer, certainly, and the knuckles less knobbly. The thumbs seemed horribly long to him.

He flexed his hands to watch how the skin moved over them, then looked back up into the mirror. As he met his reflection's eyes, he was caught by their look of horror - and felt a strong nausea pass over him.

Shivering, but fighting his faintness, Harry leaned in closer to the mirror, lifting the eerie hand back up to his face.

His vision became slightly blurred, as he got closer to the mirror, which he wasn't used to. The weak bathroom light and sunny yellow walls didn't help matters either, for they tended to give the skin a rather sickly sheen.

Harry swallowed. The face was similar to another's, but he could also see some obvious differences. His face was squarer for a start, and his mouth wider. It was not that much of a likeness.

Except for one thing perhaps?

Squinting to keep his face in focus, Harry gingerly bent the end of his perfectly straight nose down with a fingertip and angled his head slightly to the side.

He only stared one moment. It was more than enough. Harry snatched his hand away as if he had been stung.

If what he fancied was true lead him to turn rather pale, then the turning pale only served to make his imagination run even wilder.

Shuddering uncontrollably, Harry backed off and grabbed hold of the sink for support. The strange reflection copied him.

The porcelain was cold to the touch. Harry tore his eyes away from the reflection and slowly bent over to rest his cheek on the chill tiles of the windowsill.

He breathed shallowly, sensing sudden waves of dizziness as the shock took him. Clutching the sink with all the strength he could, Harry quivered, feeling sure that he might well be sick any moment.

'No. This is only a vision' Harry gasped to himself over and over. He had to tell himself that - he had to believe the talisman would know. And when it declared he had, he would happily be carted off to St Mungos, or wherever they put loony wizards.

'This is only a vision.'

But no - he couldn't read the talisman because his eyes were blurred. And Voldemort's tricks were never like this. Something had truly gone horribly wrong. Unless he was having a vision of a vision and then the talisman would be in it and-

Harry groaned. Oh God, he had to stop thinking like this! It was driving him completely mad.

But he might be mad already strapped down to some bed in St Mungo's.

But he wasn't, he was awake, answered the resolute voice in his head. It was four thirty in the morning of his sixteenth birthday. There had been a thunderstorm earlier. He had received a scroll from his mother, who had told him James wasn't his father and that Dumbledore would visit. But Snape appeared instead of Dumbledore. Snape, who had confessed to being at that party, and who also took the chance to steal his scroll the moment he realised -

'This is only a vision.'

Harry froze his chain of thought right there. 'Accio wand,' he whispered faintly.

There was several moments of silence, and then an odd tapping sound.

His heart pounding, Harry guessed what had happened. Damn. Tonks had shut his bedroom door, and now the wand couldn't get out of his room!

Feeling himself beginning to panic, his allowed his thoughts to stray to Sirius. He screwed his eyes up tightly, feeling wave after wave of misery wash over him. If only Sirius were here! Sirius would help him!

Fighting back the urge to sob, Harry called out for the only other person who might help him. If he could wake him up.

'Dudley!'

The snores continued as loud as ever.

'Dudley?'

He called out twice more. But when it was clear the boy wasn't going to wake up, Harry lowered himself slowly to the floor.

'What use would my wand be anyway?' he thought miserably 'Could it fix this mess?'

As the skies slowly grew lighter outside, and the birdsong announced a new day, the residents of Privet Drive began to think about getting up for work.

But in number four it was all different from usual.

And it was a very groggy Dudley who was the first to discover the bedraggled teenager sleeping fitfully on the bathroom floor.

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A/N: As clear as mud, aren't I? It's been a long angsty night, but poor Harry will be getting out the Dursleys' house very soon!

Next Chapter: That's not mine, it's Dudley's!