Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in it.

Chapter 2

Evaluation: Starting with red

Warning: Some harsh words!

Everything in life has a purpose and a sequence. Sometimes it's hard to figure out the correct sequence but it is there.

Harry felt all the energy leave him. He was exhausted. He had to do his chores earlier and then after 'play time' for Vernon and Dudley had to fix himself up. His arm still hurt and the sting in his lip was definitely there but at least it did not show.

Deciding to evaluate his situation and life at the moment, Harry thought about how and where everything fit in.

Voldemort and the Dursleys was a definite red in his little box.

His white was non existent at the moment.

Blue he thought of as the outsiders, the observers and bystanders. They could easily decide to go either backward or forward. Nothing kept them in position.

His friends were yellow. They were his sun. His life force. There were quite a few.

The other colors were variations of peers, fans and supporters. He did not know for sure who fit in where.

Then his door opened.

He stilled his thoughts and controlled his breathing. Not wanting to upset Vernon with harsh breathing or even being awake at this hour.

The figure at the door entered. Harry opened his eyes only a fraction and quickly opened it the rest of the way as he saw whom had entered.

Severus Snape.

His potions professor.

One of his arch nemesis. One of the constants in his life. One of his anchors.

Yes, Severus Snape was an evil git of a professor but Harry knew he did what was right. What was expected of him. He respected the man for what he did. He hated the man for how he acted and he accepted the man for being the one constant in his life. The one thing that didn't change. The one who didn't change his opinion of Harry based on what others said.

No, Severus Snape hated Harry because he wanted to hate him.

Harry could live with that.

Even if it is actually his father whom Snape hated.

He was his anchor.

"Potter?"

The man sounded unsure.

Harry reflected that it shouldn't have come as a surprise. He decided that he most probably didn't look quite as well as one would have hoped.

Maybe Snape was a blue?

His family had been forcing him to diet with them when they gave him food. He had ate one piece of toast yesterday. Dudley was still on his diet and because of that everyone in the house had to suffer with him.

Harry was lucky yesterday. They actually fed him. Before that he had gone for two days without food. His stomach suddenly grumbled.

"Professor, what are you doing here?"

The man gave him and enquiring look before stepping forward.

Harry reached for his wand.

Was Snape an enemy? Was he actually a red?

"How do I know it's you? Tell me something only you and I would know."

He received a hard glare before the man spoke.

"You were in the second floor corridor above the dungeons with your invisibility cloak (the word was uttered with a sneer) in your first year. You witnessed when I threatened Quirrel and I extended my hand to snatch that damnable cloak off your head when you retreated."

Harry was first gaping like an idiot at his professor before closing his mouth and giving a weak humorless smile.

"Okay, so it is really you Professor. Sorry, just wanted to make sure"

Snape gave another long look before approaching.

Harry backed away instinctively.

As his legs collided with his bed he knew he was cornered. Would Snape hurt him? Would he stoop as low as the Dursleys? Or would he laugh? Yes, yes he would laugh. His father had laughed at Snape in their school days.

At least he could bring a smile on someone's face.

Then he looked up.

What was that in his eyes? It wasn't hatred. It wasn't malice. Was is concern? No, Severus Snape wasn't concerned about anyone. It was hope. But for what would Snape hope for?


Snape entered the room. It was dark. In one corner of the room was a little cot, a bed. There was a bundle on the bed. Maybe a blanket haphazardly thrown on the cot?

Then he saw eyes.

Those dead, lifeless eyes he saw earlier.

Was that Potter?

"Potter?"

He wasn't sure. Could this be their savior? Their hope? He looked a bit closer. There was something wrong with the boy, but what?

"Professor what are you doing here?"

He could here a little shake in his voice. Was he scared of him? Yes, he did instigate fear into the heart of students but he would never intentionally harm one of them physically. Did Potter think he would?

What was he doing here? Oh yes, Albus asked him to come check on his golden boy.

"How do I know it's you? Tell me something only you and I would know."

He gave the child a hard glare. Was he still a child? He was but 16. Almost an adult.

"You were in the second floor corridor above the dungeons with your invisibility cloak (he gave a sneer at the words) in your first year. You witnessed when I threatened Quirrel and I extended my hand to snatch that damnable cloak off your head when you retreated."

Potter's mouth fell open. Oh, this was priceless. He was gaping like an idiot.

"Okay, so it is really you Professor. Sorry, just wanted to make sure"

Well, at least the child had some brains. And he had quick reflexes. The wand was still pointing at him. He took a step forward to see Potter better.

Potter backed away.

Quickly.

Too quickly for his liking.

He heard legs hitting something solid. Potter had backed away into his bed. He was cornering this child. Their hope. Their savior. The boy would probably just stand there stock still and await his fate.

Then he saw those eyes again.

There was something in them. Was it resignation? No, it was determination. Potter wouldn't give up without a fight.

Maybe there was hope after all.

Harry didn't know what to do. Here was Snape, his most hated professor, the one who instilled fear in every student's heart, his anchor, hovering over him like an over grown bat.

He couldn't let Snape see him weak. That would bring his world crumbling down. That would change Snape's opinion of him. He would think him weak. He would cease to be his anchor.

No, he couldn't let Snape see him weak.

"Professor?"

Snape started at the voice. He was wondering how to proceed. Potter was definitely not well but the only reason he could see that was because he had experienced pain enough times to know the symptoms. Even when concealed.

Potter was in pain. But why? Who instilled that pain?

"Potter. Are you hurt?" Why did he ask that. Did he really care for the answer?

Harry didn't know what to think. Did Snape care whether or not he was okay? No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. Snape was not supposed to change suddenly.

"I'm fine professor. Why are you here?"

Why was he here? To check on Potter, yes, that was it.

"The headmaster asked me to come check on you. Believe me it was not my idea to waste my time which I could spend brewing a potion looking after a brat like you." Well, at least he hadn't lost his mind completely, he was back to his usual charming self. He had just begun to wonder if someone had possessed him. He usually bated, insulted and undermined Potter from the moment he saw him. Was he possessed?

Harry gave a small smile.

No, the world wasn't coming to an end.

Snape still hated him. Everything was according to the universal bylaws. Snape and Potter hated each other. That is just how it was.

He moved his hand to pick up his glasses but winced as a sudden pain hit him. His arm hadn't mended yet. He clutched it protectively to him.

"What is it now Potter? Did you sprain a muscle to reach your glasses. Are you looking for sympathy?" The sneer was back in his voice.

"No sir, I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. I merely forgot that I hurt my arm earlier. I was trying to reach my glasses."

He hurt his arm earlier. Moving out of the moon's light he could see the streak of light falling on Potter. Potter tried to back out of the light but wasn't quick enough.

He could see a black eye.

Maybe the arm and eye were related in some way.

"And how exactly did you hurt your arm Potter? Signing fan mail and being stacked with too much letters?"

Oh he loved baiting Potter.

He could see that Potter was trying to think of a quick and easy exit. So maybe he was wrong. It wasn't the fan mail.

"I don't get fan mail. I fell off the stairs. Clumsy I know but it happened."

Potter was lying. He could see it in his eyes. He wasn't a ligilemens for nothing. Grabbing Potter by the shoulder he forced the boy to look him in the eye.

He could feel the boy struggling with him. Trying to break free. Potter was bordering on hysteric. Had something like this happened before? Is that why Potter was scared?

The boy closed his eyes before he could read deep enough into them.

Oh yes, the boy definitely had brains. Who would have thought?

"Open your eyes Potter." His voice sounded like a growl.

The boy complied.

Then he saw it. He wished he didn't. He delved deeper. He couldn't stop. Something in him felled compelled to look deeper. He could see all the abuse. The big fat man, the boy of a whale, both making a punching bag out of Potter.

It started at the beginning of the summer. He found himself in a small closed off environment. It was dark. Very dark. Then there was light. Then a hand. He was lifted off his feet. No, not his, Potter's. He was Potter.

Then he felt it. The first blow. Connecting with his jaw. His stomach was next then his ribs and on and on it went.

He couldn't brake away, but he had to. He had to get away from the two pigs. Retreating his mind he found himself staring into eyes filled with hatred.

Potter hated him. Hated him for delving into the most sacred, most secret part of his mind. He couldn't blame him. He felt ashamed. No, that wasn't right. Snape was never ashamed.

He felt a limp body fall onto his chest. Potter had fainted.

Now there was something to laugh about. He tried to. He really did. But he couldn't. He couldn't laugh at this boy, no man, he couldn't laugh at someone so like himself.

Did he just think that?


He lay Potter on the bed and began assessing him. What he found shocked him. There was only a few fading scars, a few bruises and his arm which was broken earlier that same day was not at an odd angle. How did that happen?

How could there not be more scars? More bruises?

He looked at Potter and could see bags under his eyes. The boy was clearly exhausted. He would take him back with him. Back to Hogwarts. Poppy could take care of him. Or Albus. Or Manirva. Anyone but these people he calls family.

Speaking of which. Maybe he should play a little with them. He cast a mild sleeping charm on the boy and left the room.


The whale would be first. How about we add some more weight to him. Especially in his breast area. And then just lengthen the hair a bit. Oh yes, quite a charming young lass he is now.

The pig next. Lets see what he does with those hands of his broken. And his mouth glued shut. Maybe he'd loose some weight? We could always hope.

That leaves the bitch. She did shite to protect her nephew. That's even worse than doing it herself. It means she has no morals. No heart. Maybe she could do with a guilt charm. Yes, that will do. She would feel everything that her nephew had felt by the hands of her husband and son. Let's see how they would react to her screams. Knowing that they are the cause. Yes, I'd cast a revealing charm on their minds so they could see.

Feeling his work was done. Snape made his way back to Potter's room just to hear piercing scream.


Chapter 2 finished.

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