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

Chapter 4

Warning: Some harsh words!

White? What is white?


" headmaster. We would have to ask Severus if he has any idea how he got them."

"Will he recover Poppy?"

"Yes Albus, he will be fine. It's not that serious but if he were to stay wherever he received those, he would most likely have been in a very serious condition by the time term started."

Harry lay still as a board on the bed. At first he was a bit disorientated about where he was but as soon as he heard the headmasters voice, memories began swarming back.

He was at Hogwarts. In the infirmary no doubt.

And madam Pomfrey was going on about how something was not very serious. What could that be about? His injuries were gone, wasn't it? Yes, the pain was still there mostly but the physical evidence of his injuries was gone.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to have a look at his arms and gasped.

Dumbledore and Poppy had been talking the whole time but now turned around at the sound of Harry's gasp.

"Mr Potter. How do you feel?" Madam Pomfrey approached him as she spoke.

"er, well, em, I feel fine. What happened? Why aren't I at the Dursleys?"

"Relax dear boy. You were taken from your relatives because of the condition you are in. Could you perhaps tell us how it happened?" Dumbledore's voice was soft and gentle but Harry still had so many things swirling inside his head and memories of what had happened in Dumbledore's office that he couldn't summon the energy to reply in a normal voice. He opted to stay quiet.

Then he remembered.

He remembered those eyes. Piercing into his. Piercing through his mind and into his soul. He hated those eyes.

Harry quickly turned his head as he felt the tears gather. He would not cry in front of the headmaster or madam Pomfrey.

"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"

"Headmaster, could you give me a few minutes to check my patient?" Pomfrey's voice held a warning to it that even the esteemed headmaster could not ignore. He knew that Poppy was an exceptional witch and a very valuable asset in the time of war.

"Very well Poppy. I'll be in Severus's chambers if you need me."

Harry heard the door close but still kept his head turned away.

Madam Pomfrey stepped closer and Harry could feel her wand hovering over his body. It took every will power in his body not to jump up and run out of the room.

He didn't like it if people were this close to him. Especially with their hands.

"Well Mr Potter, everything seems okay. The wounds on your chest and back are healed and the gashes on your arms have been healed. Your right arm is still broken so you would have to drink the bone mending potion. It's not as bad as skelle grow but you will still have to be here for the rest of the night."

Harry turned to face the nurse and could see that she looked quite ragged and tired. He surmised that she had probably been attending to him since he got there.

"Madam Pomfrey? How long have I been here?"

"Severus brought you in yesterday evening. It's now 23:30 at night so I think it best that you get some rest. You were not too seriously injured but if those gashes were left unattended for a while longer it would have become infected. Now rest."


Harry lay awake for about two hours. He couldn't sleep. How did they know about the wounds? Why did it open up again? Didn't I heal them with this mysterious new power?

'No.' a little voice in his head said. 'You didn't heal them did you? You closed them up. You brought your bones in your arms together but you didn't heal them. You couldn't heal the bruises.'

Harry hated the rational part of his mind.

The part which always pointed out to him that he did have white pieces on his side of his little box. The part which pointed out that family wasn't necessarily blood related. That family could be his friends, his mentors or his peers. If only he was willing to let them be.

But no, he couldn't get too close to anyone.

Every other white piece was gone. Dead. He had no more white pieces. He was alone.

The next time Harry awoke it was to the sun streaming down through the window. He was groggy with lack of sleep and something nagged at his mind that he was supposed to be even angrier than he felt. But why?

Harry hear footsteps and at first wanted to crawl to the corner of his room and become invisible but then remembered that he wasn't in his room. He was at Hogwarts. He was safe.

No, he wasn't safe.

Those eyes were here.

Snape was here.

Snape, who had invaded the most private, most precious part of his mind. He hated Snape for that. He hated Snape for disturbing his sequence. His blocks were now all in the wrong places. Snape had turned from blue to red. His white pieces had wanted to make an appearance but he had pushed them aside. He didn't have white. He didn't like white.

He had a lot of red.

Snape was in the red. No, that shouldn't be. Snape was a constant. Snape was an anchor. Snape wasn't supposed to change position or worse, colour.

His life was way out of order.

And it was all Snape's fault.


Severus sat in his favorite armchair in front of his dying fire. He didn't know how long he had sat there. Albus had come, as he knew he would. He had asked a few questions. Severus had answered. Albus had left.

Why did he answer those questions? Why did he disclose those very private memories and moments? Why did it have to be Potter's most private memories that he disclosed? Potter had always disliked him, he knew. But now? Now Potter will definitely hate him, loath him. Why did that sound so bad?

Why did he care?

'Because Potter is nothing like what you thought he was. He is nothing like his father. He's much more like you than he is his father.'

Oh, he wanted to have a surgeon remove his logical brain. He didn't do logical. He was a strategist. He was a planner. His life was all planned out.

Torture the children. Try to put some knowledge into their half brains. Do your part in the war as a death eater turned spy and then die while protecting those you tortured.

Yes, his life was nicely planned out.

But now a new piece had raised its ugly head.

Conscience.

He hated the logical part of his brain.

The part which now so vividly pointed out that someone out there needed him. Him? No, not him, a mentor. Any mentor. Any father-figure. Not him. No. He was not the fatherly type.

'You owe it to the boy.'

"I owe nothing to that brat. He invaded my privacy. He's an obnoxious self-centered brat and I want nothing to do with him."

'You invaded his privacy' his mind pointed out.

"Severus! You know that Harry is not an 'obnoxious self-centered brat' as you so eloquently put it."

Severus only now realized that he had spoken out loud. He wanted to bury his face in the deepest hole on the earth. Maybe the hole would be big enough for his whole body to fit in. He could always hope.

Severus turned to where he had heard Albus's voice. Just as he was about to respond that he definitely meant every word he saw those eyes peering at him from behind the headmaster. Blood shot eyes.

Oh, now he really wanted to find that hole.


A bit short but I'll write the new chapter and try to put it up later today or tomorrow.

Review!