Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter Four: Some Things Don't Get Better
Staring at the same four walls,
Have you tried to help yourself?
The rings around your eyes they don't hide,
That you need to get some rest -Dido, Slide
Snape arrived around ten o'clock the next morning. Dumbledore gave Harry a letter explaining why and when the Potion's Master was coming the night before. As expected, the Dursley's were completely livid. The pulsing vein in Uncle Vernon's temple nearly burst at the thought of another wizard "trespassing on his property".
Severus Snape eyed the house with dislike. It looked like somewhere a Potter would live. Perfect neat house, perfectly kept lawn, perfect bloody flowers with perfect bloody hedges. Damn Potter. He raised his knuckles to knock on the perfect door.
Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the collar. "Get the bloody door, boy," he hissed dangerously in his ear before shoving him roughly.
Harry fidgeted nervously. He barely had any sleep the night before and knew he looked dreadful. He raised his hand and reached toward the door. It reminded Harry eerily of his recurring dream with Sirius. Half expecting the handle to melt, he planted his hands on it and turned.
"Finally, Potter. I was beginning to wonder if you've gone deaf as well as blind," Snape drawled. His deep voice washed over Harry. It was comforting to have a wizard in the house to protect him from the Dursley's, but nerve-wracking at the same time.
Please let the Dursleys act like a real family for once, he pleaded in his head vehemently. Professor Snape raised his eyebrow at the looks of astonishment Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were giving him.
"I'm not blind," Harry suddenly spat. He angrily spun on his heel and stomped toward the kitchen.
How dare Snape humiliate me in front of my relatives! He should know how they are! Merlin knows how they are going to use that against me!
Magic, uncontrolled and unstable, was filling up inside of him. It took every ounce of energy he had to keep it in check. If he got any angrier it would spill over and he could get expelled.
Calm down, Potter, an amused voice in his mind said. Don't want to kill anyone else now, would you? Shaking his head to clear the voice, Harry's shoulders dropped. No, he couldn't be out of control again. The voice was right, he might get someone hurt, or worse, killed.
God, I really have to stop talking to myself!
Snape walked in behind him and Harry suddenly noticed the muggle like suitcase in his hand. He didn't ask what it was for because it was obvious. It most likely contained various potions and things to test him with.
What is wrong with Dumbledore? Doesn't he know how easily Snape can poison me like this?
If Snape saw this thought, he had no reaction to it. Though, he was most likely expecting it.
"Sit on the table," the Potions Master snapped finally. Harry did as he was told.
Snape pushed the black leather suitcase on the table beside Harry. Then he strolled over to the sink and without even turning, flicked his wand, and commenced washing his hands. The suitcase slowly opened, and to Harry's surprise, a metal tray rose out. And another, and another. Soon several metal trays were floating above one another, and they were all flooded with various potions and ingredients.
Harry suppressed a shudder.
"If you were capable of creating a credible potion, you would be doing this yourself. But as you are not, the headmaster saw fit to allow me to do it." He had no doubt been watching him.
Harry seethed. "I can make a credible potion anytime I damn well please, you slimy-"
Snape swooped down on him. "If you ever use that tone of voice with me again, the potions I'm working on might "accidentally" turn out poisonous," he whispered dangerously.
And your nose might "accidentally" start eating small children.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," the professor said smoothly.
"What? You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed, feeling outraged.
Snape turned his onyx black eyes on him. "And why can't I, Potter?" he asked, goading the Gryffindor on.
"You can't take points while I'm away from school!"
"I believe I can do whatever I want, Potter."
"Bastard..."
"What was that?"
"I said 'Cas...turd'."
"Really, Potter. I think your vocabulary is growing increasingly intelligent with every year."
Harry just sat, trying to burn holes into the soles of Snape's shoes.
His goal was cut short, however, by the shoes moving closer to the table. A high clinking sound was heard and he lifted his head to see what exactly the older man was doing.
Severus held up a vile to the light. Inside was a clear liquid and Harry was reminded of Veritaserum. He really hoped it was a different potion, he didn't want to say anything embarrassing to Snape. The professor set the vile down on one of the trays and lit a fire beneath it. Then he turned to Harry.
"I need to weigh and measure you next time I visit. Today I am just going to check your eyes so I can be sure of the ingredients I will be needing." Snape raised his wand so it was level with Harry's eyes.
"Open your eyes. Wider. Do not blink until I instruct you to, understand?" Snape shot at him. Harry gritted his teeth and kept his eyes open.
Snape shone a light from his wand tip into both Harry's eyes, examining them closely. Occasionally, he muttered something under his breath and bent over a piece of parchment, taking notes. Harry still could not blink. His eyes watered until they blurred his vision completely. Harry still could not blink.
Snape resumed taking notes, ignoring the boy's distress. Finally, when Harry thought his eyes could not possibly hold any more liquid, Snape commanded him to blink. The tears in his eyes quickly streamed down his face and Snape caught each one in the vial he was heating.
As soon as the tears hit the hot surface of whatever was in the vial, it all turned black. The black then quickly faded back to its original clear color.
Snape just scowled, but didn't say anything. Instead he just worked with the vial at the tray, blocking it from Harry's view. When Snape turned around this time he was not holding a potion, he was holding a giant needle.
Harry couldn't help it, he jumped. What does he think he's going to do with THAT, he thought, staring at it wide-eyed. Snape gave him a malicious smile.
"I need a blood sample if I'm to fix your sight correctly. Now sit still or I will have to stun you," he directed. The nasty smile didn't waver.
Harry shuddered. Snape's black heeled boots clicked on the floor. Getting closer. The needle was enormous. It would never fit in his arm! But it did. Snape would make sure it did. He grabbed Harry's wrist and jerked it around.
His beetle black eyes searched until he found a suitable spot. Then he grabbed the needle pushed it slowly into Harry's skin. It hurt. It felt like someone was stabbing him in the arm with a pitchfork. But it felt good, too. A painful sort of good. Like when youtake a really horrible tasting medicine,but keep taking it later on because it makes you feel better.
It was hard to explain. The pain took over his mind, so all the horrible thoughts about Sirius and Voldemort and the war were pushed back like it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Only the pain did. Blood started filling up the tube.
A spark of pleasure was ignited in the back of Harry's head. Even though it hurt, it felt so good. So good. Nothing mattered. His mind was inflamed with only one thought and he could take it; pain. He could always take pain. He could control pain. He could control this pain if he wanted to.
All too soon the sharp needle was withdrawn from his flesh. But instead of pain, an odd blankness took over his head. No thoughts at all. Snape was at the tray again, blocking his actions. The buzzing emptiness was just as good as the pain. He felt nothing. No hurting, no anger, no confusion. Nothing.
He was nothing, and it felt so damn perfect.
Snape was shoving a potion into his hands and leaving now and so was the blank feeling. The soreness in his arms returned full force along with all his dark thoughts. He drank the potion and walked after him.
All well, it was nice while it lasted... Harry thought sadly.
"Boy," Uncle Vernon called from the living room. Professor Snape lingered at the door. Vernon completely ignored him and went on.
"Go out and mow the lawn. When you are finished, go ask your aunt for a list of chores. You have a lot of stuff to catch up on this summer."
Harry felt a surge of shock. Was his uncle bossing him around, after what the order said to him? This could not be right.
"Why don't you tell Dudley to do it? He could do with a bit of exercise, soon he might not be able to get through the door." Harry's voice was calm, but his eyes burned like coals.
Snape watched the conversation from the door. He didn't bother to move. Harry's eyes flickered to him once before his uncle replied.
"Dudley's out, and I wouldn't comment on his weight if I were you. He's a healthy sized boy. You, as Marge wisely says, are a scrawny little runt. I may just take her advice and throw you in an orphanage!" The man exclaimed, his face slowly turning it's infamous bright purple.
Harry burst out laughing. The ridicule, the embarrassment, the strangeness of this moment was getting to him. Since when did his Uncle grow the balls to yell at him in the presence of wizards? When did Snape decide he was interested in Harry's home life enough to eavesdrop? Why did Vernon start talking about his sister so much? He usually avoids the subject of her completely. Unless...
"Why are you laughing? I will! I WILL THROW YOU INTO AN ORPHANAGE! I SHOULD HAVE DONE WORSE WHEN YOU WERE A BABY! I SHOULD OF HAD YOU DROWNED!" Uncle Vernon yelled, spraying spit onto the carpet.
Harry laughed some more, but this time it was for show. "I would LIKE to go to an orphanage! They would treat me better than you- you freaks!"
Freak. He had just called his muggle family freaks. They would not like that at all. That was the name they reserved especially for him.
"What did you just call me, boy?" Uncle Vernon growled.
Freaks. Freak. I called you a freak. I called you and your whole horrible family freaks, Harry thought, feeling quite stunned by his own words.
Snape just kept watching. Why wouldn't he leave?
"I called you a freak. Freak. Freak. Freakity. Fucking. FREAK!"
"How-dare-you!" Vernon took a step closer with every word and Harry was taken back into his memories. This seemed so familiar...
Uncle Vernon got closer with every step, crushing a letter with his hand. "How-dare-you!" he howled, brandishing the crumpled note. Little Harry took a few tentative steps back, feeling terrified. The older man started yelling about how he turned his teacher's wig blue and that his freakishness will get them thrown out of the neighborhood. He started saying they should have him burned at the stake. Then, BAM! A fist connected with little Harry's head.
Harry was torn out his memory by his Uncle approaching fast. But he didn't move, just blinked, cocked his head, and smiled at him.
"When is Aunt Marge coming?" he asked innocently.
Uncle Vernon dropped his raised fist, and gaped at him. Harry saw Snape return his wand to his robe pocket. Seeing this as his chance to escape, Harrystalked slowlyup the stairs and into his room.
Harry threw himself on his twin sized bed. If his door could lock from the inside, he would have definitely bolted it. The scene downstairs was one of the weirdest he encountered since he left Hogwarts. Snape visited him during the summer and stabbed him in the arm with a needle, Uncle Vernon had the audacity to yell at Harry in front of Snape, then Harry realized Aunt Marge was coming for one of her infamous visits.
"My life just keeps getting better and better," he moaned into his pillow.
Why did Snape have to treat him like dirt in the Dursley's house, too? Now Uncle Vernon is going to think the wizarding world hates me! There's no telling what he's going to-
Uncle Vernon burst into the room, his face still a very bright purple. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? ACTING LIKE THAT WITH VISITORS! YOU THINK YOU CAN PUSH THIS FAMILY AROUND JUST BECAUSE OF YOUR FREAK FRIENDS?" With the word "friends" Vernon's temple gave a nasty throb.
Harry barely flinched. Instead, he observed his uncle coolly.
"Yes. Yes, I do," he replied, an insolent smirk guarding his anger.
He had it with his relatives. The way they treated him, like vermin, like the way the Malfoy's treated Dobby. It was unbearable. He was the Boy-Who-Lived! Harry didn't usually like special treatment, but he was human and at least deserved respect and love from his only family! The Dursley's never acknowledged a single good thing he has done!
When I do something good, they always forget. When I do something bad, they always remember, he thought while staring his uncle down.
"YOU-YOU DISGRACE THIS FAMILY! YOU DISGRACE ALL LIVING HUMANS, YOU AND ALL THOSE FREAKS!" He continued.
"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Harry burst out. He could not take this crap- this abuse- any more. It was tearing at his sanity like it was a cheap piece of parchment.
"Excuse me?" Uncle Vernon's voice was dangerously low. It was worse than his yelling.
Harry ignored his change of tone. He saw red. Crimson red. Like Gryffindor house colors, or blood. Like the blood Snape has right now.
"I SAID, GET OUT OF MY ROOM! GET OUT AND NEVER COME BACK! I'M SICK OF YOU, YOUR BONY WIFE, AND YOUR FAT WHALE SON! GET-OUT-OF-MY-LIFE!" Harry trembled with his fury. Finally, a chance to tell this bastard how he felt.
He opened his mouth to deliver more insults but Uncle Vernon was already on him. His fat, beefy hand grabbed Harry's frayed shirt collar and yanked it up. Hard. Harry struggled to breathe. The shirt dug into his neck, cutting of his supply of air. Vernon's face was level with his own. An eerie twinkle in his eyes scared the younger part of Harry out of his wits. This seemed familiar too...
Uncle Vernon held onto little Harry's shirt collar tightly. His loud words were so angry and rushed Harry could not understand any of them. When Vernon saw that Harry wasn't listening, he threw little Harry against the wall. Little Harry's head banged against the wall and saw black.
"Gerroff," Harry growled. His lungs screaming for release. Small white lights danced in his vision while he struggled with his Uncle's large hand.
Vernon was beyond anger. He was maniacal.
"All those years in that ruddy school undisciplined you. That's why you come back every damn summer, isn't it? They need you to be tamed because you wreak havoc at that freak place. None of them can tame you, can they? So they send you back to US because only WE can! But it doesn't last, does it? No, no... You make even MORE trouble so you can come back and terrorize MY family!"
Everything was fading to black. He wanted to breathe, needed to breathe... But there was another good feeling he got out of this pain. It was like he was flying... flying on his firebolt where he felt so light... he could just float on without it... he was floating away...
But before he fell into a peaceful darkness like he wanted to, Vernon cruelly dropped him on the floor. "Haha, no, I'm going to tame you. Then you never have to come back," he snarled.
Vernon kicked Harry in the head and left him in a pile on the floor; gasping for air and no longer feeling weightless. Harry felt like he used to, like his problems were crushing him into the dirt.
A/N 6/19/05: This chapter has been EDITED, yeah baby! XD Fortunately, Aunt Marge is coming, but Harry won't be there to see her. She'll be coming when both Harry and Dudley are back in school for obvious reasons ;) No flying Marge in this story!