Chapter Seven.
Thank you to all my reviewers. You really are an inspiration to me. This is a record for me...two chapters in two days. Please continue to review and let me know what you do like...and even what you do not like. Blessings.
Harry awoke abruptly, his body soaked in a cold sweat, the result of another of his many nightmares. This one had to have been the worse yet, for whilst all the others had simply replayed the reality of the scene at the Ministry of Magic, this latest addition had included elements that had not been a part of the actual event. The nightmare had began normally enough, as nightmares go, with Harry stood watching in horror as Sirius was struck by that awful red light from Bellatrix's wand, but as he fought against Lupin's powerful grip, the scene became more unreal. Blood had begun to dribble from every orifice on his Godfather's face, the usually palid skin becoming a mask of glimmering dark red, as the frozen smile had changed to a pleading look of desperation. Even Sirius' grey eyes had become blood streaked, as he stretched out his long, thin hands to Harry, who was helpless to do anything.
Laying totally motionless for a few moments, Harry worked on slowing down his accelerated breathing, reaching a hand up to scrape damp hair from his forehead. That feeling of horror and dread still snaked through him, as though the nightmare had become a part of his consciousness, waiting to rear it's ugly head at any reminder of his Godfather. Once he felt a little calmer, the teen slowly sat up, confusion washing over him when he realised he was still fully clothed and wearing his glasses. He peered around in the dim light of early morning, trying to resolve the fogginess and confusion in his mind. Where was he? He Clearly was neither at Hogwarts nor at the Dursleys.
With all the force of a solid, sharp slap, the events of earlier that night came rushing back...Snape and Lupin removing him from his safe haven, Dumbledore's calm reasoning, his prospective removal to Snape's home...Snape. The memories filled him first with an aching despair, then, as he realised his own wishes had been entirely ignored, he filled with pure, vitriolic rage. No trace of the calming potion administered almost five hours ago remained, but the memory of it's effects most certainly had not left Harry. Fists clenched in tight balls, he glared about the room, taking in the bare stone floor, the bleak, naked stone walls and the unlit fireplace. This room was, in spite of it's larger size, more unwelcoming, more claustrophobic than the cupboard in which he had spent the first eleven years of his life. If anything reinforced his view of Snape as a man incapable of any act of human kindness, this was it.
Almost springing from the bed, Harry, for a few minutes, simply stood shivering, his feet sending out complaint against the icy chill of the hard floor beneath. Thoughts of every incident in which his choices had been removed whirled through his head in rotation, fuelling his rage further, adding to it, as though a wall of anger were being built brick by brick. It was almost as though years of pent-up frustration and emotion were vying for release, but there was no release other than an uncontrolled explosion.
Finally deciding to take some action, Harry strode over to the heavy oak door, with the intention of leaving this place, wherever it was. Turning the handle, he pulled, fully expecting the door to give way...after all, Dumbledore could not approve of his being locked in a room the entire Summer. On finding the door jammed fast, panic set in, competing with the already present rage, for attention. If there was one thing Harry could not endure, it was being locked in any space, with no means to escape if it was needed. To feel trapped psychologically was one matter, but to find himself physically trapped was another. He yanked on the door, putting all his weight behind it, then fumbled with sweaty fingers in the back pocket of his jeans, finally retrieving his wand, surprised that Snape had not taken that away as well as his freedom. Hand shaking violently, he raised the smooth piece of wood and incanted every unlocking charm he knew, but to no avail. Whatever had been placed on that door was not within his range, broad as it was. Still holding his wand in one hand, he began banging his fist on the rough wood, yelling out with fury, until his knuckles were red raw and his throat dry as parchment.
'LET ME OUT, SNAPE! I KNOW YOU ARE HERE. LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARD!'
He repeated the words for a good five minutes, before spinning around and giving vent to his full rage. He shoved the armchair a good ten feet across the room, picked up the plain wooden chair before the desk and threw that at the oak door that trapped him within these confines then aimed an almighty kick at the door into what was apparently the bathroom. The door swung open, revealing a medium sized, but primitive room, containing an old fashioned, claw footed bathtub, a green ceramic washbasin and a circular mirror. As with the main room, the floor was of uncovered cold stone and the walls, aside from the mirror were bare. Harry entered the room and just stared blankly at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, taking in the now filthy, damp hair and the pale, drawn face. In that moment he directed all his anger, all his frustration, and the undirected hatred at that reflection, raising his fist and slamming it into the clear glass, just as the door to his chambers slammed open.
The Potions Master hurried down the narrow passageway as fast as he could, his face set in a mask of anger and loathing. He did not know how long the racket emerging from Potter's room had been going on, but it had woken him from one of the few deep sleeps he had managed to garner in the last month. Pausing only to grab a black silk dressing gown, he had almost walked into the door in his half-fogged sleepy state of consciousness which had not helped his bitterness at being woken so rudely. He had met up with Minky who had rushed up from the quarters below, her eyes panic stricken and wide, but had told her to return to her bed. This was something he needed to deal with himself. As he reached the entrance to the chamber, he muttered the spell to remove the locking charm and slammed through the door, just as he heard the unsettling sound of glass shattering in the bathroom beyond. Pocketing his wand, he stepped round the now broken wooden chair and strode towards the open door, trying to control his anger enough that he wouldn't simply throttle the boy then and there.
Harry stood in front of the mirror, his clothing, hair and the floor littered with jagged shards of broken glass, as droplets of blood fell from his injured fist. Pausing only a moment to take in the scene, Severus came up directly behind him and grabbed his wasted upper arm in a vice like grip, ignoring the exclamation of surprise and pain that escaped the boy's lips. Exiting the bathroom, he dragged Harry behind him, as though he were little more than toddler and came to a halt in the centre of the main chamber. He then spun the teen around to face him, snatching hold of the other wasted arm and shaking him violently until the boy's glasses slid off and his eyes took on a dazed expression, mingled with fear.
'Let me get this straight right now, Potter. As long as you are staying under my roof, you will not destroy my property, you will not make any noise and you will LEARN TO CONTROL YOUR ANGER. If I have to come running in here again because you decided to have a temper tantrum, you will find yourself in a room with no furniture and a pot to relieve yourself in. Do I make myself clear?'
He ended in a barely controlled soft voice, his eyes glinting dangerously in the early morning light, as he glared down at the small boy in his grip, who seemed to be glaring back now with an even more dangerous glint.
'You have no right to control me and no right to lock me in. I am not your damn prisoner. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE HERE. I HATE BEING ANYWHERE NEAR YOU. I want to return to the Dursleys. I'd be a lot safer there than I am here and at least I wouldn't freeze to death'.
Harry attempted to yank his arms out of the painful grip, grimacing as Snape's fingers dug in tighter, almost cutting of the blood supply to his hands. His injured fist had started to throb most unpleasantly, and now felt as though it had been submerged in a thick liquid, the blood was flowing so freely from the cuts.
Severus continued to tighten his grip until he could feel every bone and tendon in the boy's skinny arms. A brief hint of concern crossed his features, to quickly be replaced by the usual emotionless glare. His voice, this time, was rigid and the words slowly spoken, in spite of the cruelty contained within.
'What's wrong, Potter? Having trouble adjusting to the absence of the luxury you are no doubt accustomed to? Having difficulty tolerating the fact you are not free to run rampant here, creating chaos wherever you go ? Let me make this quite clear, Potter. Here, you will follow my rules and you will do as I tell you. There will be no midnight adventures, no snooping around into things that do not concern you and no disregard for your own safety and that of others. I know you would like to follow in your father's footsteps of arrogant foolishness, but you will not do so here. You will remain in this room at night, and unless you are studying Occlumency or doing some task for me, you will remain in this room at all other times also. Do I make myself clear?'
He did not notice as Harry's eyes once more became dull and blank, the emotion within the green light dying altogether. He did, however notice as the boy stopped pulling and simply went slack with resignation, his shoulders slumping and his head turning towards the ground. Letting go of the boy's arms, Severus stood back and appraised the state of the room, his eyes coming to rest on the splatters of blood on the floor.
'Show me your hand', he snapped, watching as Harry raised a shaking arm to hover in mid-air, eyes turned slightly to the right to avoid seeing anything other than the wall.
Severus snatched the mangled hand and held it upon one of his own, narrowing his eyes at the torn flesh around the knuckles and the profuse amount of blood. Dropping it in disgust, he clapped his hands once, and announced by a muted 'pop', Minky materialised beside him, her eyes horror- struck at the chaos around her. As her Master spoke, she peered at Harry curiously, wondering how such a small human could create so much mess.
'Minky, go to my Potions stores and bring me a basic healing salve and some bandages. Mr Potter here seems to have had an accident'
Pointing to the bed sharply, Severus ordered Harry to sit down, before disappearing into the bathroom and clearing up the remains of the mirror with a wave of his wand. Minky reappeared just as he returned to the main chamber, a small, pale green jar and ordinary looking bandage clutched in her hands. Taking both items, he informed the Elf she could go then marched over to where Harry sat rigidly on the edge of the hard mattress. With an efficiency that revealed much experience in such injuries, Severus carefully rubbed the thick, pasty substance into the protruding knuckles and tightly bandaged the hand, his mouth set in a hard, thin line as he worked. Once he was done, he stepped back and turned towards the door, secreting the small jar in a voluminous pocket, pausing once to direct a few last words at the small figure behind him.
'Since neither of us have any choice in this matter, Potter, I would suggest you get accustomed to the idea of staying here. Believe me, had I any choice, you would not be breathing in the same air as I. Breakfast will be brought to you in a few hours time, and you will eat it, even if I have to force feed you. '
Slamming the door behind him, he exited the room, leaving behind him a boy who had given up his will to live.
Thank you to all my reviewers. You really are an inspiration to me. This is a record for me...two chapters in two days. Please continue to review and let me know what you do like...and even what you do not like. Blessings.
Harry awoke abruptly, his body soaked in a cold sweat, the result of another of his many nightmares. This one had to have been the worse yet, for whilst all the others had simply replayed the reality of the scene at the Ministry of Magic, this latest addition had included elements that had not been a part of the actual event. The nightmare had began normally enough, as nightmares go, with Harry stood watching in horror as Sirius was struck by that awful red light from Bellatrix's wand, but as he fought against Lupin's powerful grip, the scene became more unreal. Blood had begun to dribble from every orifice on his Godfather's face, the usually palid skin becoming a mask of glimmering dark red, as the frozen smile had changed to a pleading look of desperation. Even Sirius' grey eyes had become blood streaked, as he stretched out his long, thin hands to Harry, who was helpless to do anything.
Laying totally motionless for a few moments, Harry worked on slowing down his accelerated breathing, reaching a hand up to scrape damp hair from his forehead. That feeling of horror and dread still snaked through him, as though the nightmare had become a part of his consciousness, waiting to rear it's ugly head at any reminder of his Godfather. Once he felt a little calmer, the teen slowly sat up, confusion washing over him when he realised he was still fully clothed and wearing his glasses. He peered around in the dim light of early morning, trying to resolve the fogginess and confusion in his mind. Where was he? He Clearly was neither at Hogwarts nor at the Dursleys.
With all the force of a solid, sharp slap, the events of earlier that night came rushing back...Snape and Lupin removing him from his safe haven, Dumbledore's calm reasoning, his prospective removal to Snape's home...Snape. The memories filled him first with an aching despair, then, as he realised his own wishes had been entirely ignored, he filled with pure, vitriolic rage. No trace of the calming potion administered almost five hours ago remained, but the memory of it's effects most certainly had not left Harry. Fists clenched in tight balls, he glared about the room, taking in the bare stone floor, the bleak, naked stone walls and the unlit fireplace. This room was, in spite of it's larger size, more unwelcoming, more claustrophobic than the cupboard in which he had spent the first eleven years of his life. If anything reinforced his view of Snape as a man incapable of any act of human kindness, this was it.
Almost springing from the bed, Harry, for a few minutes, simply stood shivering, his feet sending out complaint against the icy chill of the hard floor beneath. Thoughts of every incident in which his choices had been removed whirled through his head in rotation, fuelling his rage further, adding to it, as though a wall of anger were being built brick by brick. It was almost as though years of pent-up frustration and emotion were vying for release, but there was no release other than an uncontrolled explosion.
Finally deciding to take some action, Harry strode over to the heavy oak door, with the intention of leaving this place, wherever it was. Turning the handle, he pulled, fully expecting the door to give way...after all, Dumbledore could not approve of his being locked in a room the entire Summer. On finding the door jammed fast, panic set in, competing with the already present rage, for attention. If there was one thing Harry could not endure, it was being locked in any space, with no means to escape if it was needed. To feel trapped psychologically was one matter, but to find himself physically trapped was another. He yanked on the door, putting all his weight behind it, then fumbled with sweaty fingers in the back pocket of his jeans, finally retrieving his wand, surprised that Snape had not taken that away as well as his freedom. Hand shaking violently, he raised the smooth piece of wood and incanted every unlocking charm he knew, but to no avail. Whatever had been placed on that door was not within his range, broad as it was. Still holding his wand in one hand, he began banging his fist on the rough wood, yelling out with fury, until his knuckles were red raw and his throat dry as parchment.
'LET ME OUT, SNAPE! I KNOW YOU ARE HERE. LET ME OUT, YOU BASTARD!'
He repeated the words for a good five minutes, before spinning around and giving vent to his full rage. He shoved the armchair a good ten feet across the room, picked up the plain wooden chair before the desk and threw that at the oak door that trapped him within these confines then aimed an almighty kick at the door into what was apparently the bathroom. The door swung open, revealing a medium sized, but primitive room, containing an old fashioned, claw footed bathtub, a green ceramic washbasin and a circular mirror. As with the main room, the floor was of uncovered cold stone and the walls, aside from the mirror were bare. Harry entered the room and just stared blankly at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, taking in the now filthy, damp hair and the pale, drawn face. In that moment he directed all his anger, all his frustration, and the undirected hatred at that reflection, raising his fist and slamming it into the clear glass, just as the door to his chambers slammed open.
The Potions Master hurried down the narrow passageway as fast as he could, his face set in a mask of anger and loathing. He did not know how long the racket emerging from Potter's room had been going on, but it had woken him from one of the few deep sleeps he had managed to garner in the last month. Pausing only to grab a black silk dressing gown, he had almost walked into the door in his half-fogged sleepy state of consciousness which had not helped his bitterness at being woken so rudely. He had met up with Minky who had rushed up from the quarters below, her eyes panic stricken and wide, but had told her to return to her bed. This was something he needed to deal with himself. As he reached the entrance to the chamber, he muttered the spell to remove the locking charm and slammed through the door, just as he heard the unsettling sound of glass shattering in the bathroom beyond. Pocketing his wand, he stepped round the now broken wooden chair and strode towards the open door, trying to control his anger enough that he wouldn't simply throttle the boy then and there.
Harry stood in front of the mirror, his clothing, hair and the floor littered with jagged shards of broken glass, as droplets of blood fell from his injured fist. Pausing only a moment to take in the scene, Severus came up directly behind him and grabbed his wasted upper arm in a vice like grip, ignoring the exclamation of surprise and pain that escaped the boy's lips. Exiting the bathroom, he dragged Harry behind him, as though he were little more than toddler and came to a halt in the centre of the main chamber. He then spun the teen around to face him, snatching hold of the other wasted arm and shaking him violently until the boy's glasses slid off and his eyes took on a dazed expression, mingled with fear.
'Let me get this straight right now, Potter. As long as you are staying under my roof, you will not destroy my property, you will not make any noise and you will LEARN TO CONTROL YOUR ANGER. If I have to come running in here again because you decided to have a temper tantrum, you will find yourself in a room with no furniture and a pot to relieve yourself in. Do I make myself clear?'
He ended in a barely controlled soft voice, his eyes glinting dangerously in the early morning light, as he glared down at the small boy in his grip, who seemed to be glaring back now with an even more dangerous glint.
'You have no right to control me and no right to lock me in. I am not your damn prisoner. I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE HERE. I HATE BEING ANYWHERE NEAR YOU. I want to return to the Dursleys. I'd be a lot safer there than I am here and at least I wouldn't freeze to death'.
Harry attempted to yank his arms out of the painful grip, grimacing as Snape's fingers dug in tighter, almost cutting of the blood supply to his hands. His injured fist had started to throb most unpleasantly, and now felt as though it had been submerged in a thick liquid, the blood was flowing so freely from the cuts.
Severus continued to tighten his grip until he could feel every bone and tendon in the boy's skinny arms. A brief hint of concern crossed his features, to quickly be replaced by the usual emotionless glare. His voice, this time, was rigid and the words slowly spoken, in spite of the cruelty contained within.
'What's wrong, Potter? Having trouble adjusting to the absence of the luxury you are no doubt accustomed to? Having difficulty tolerating the fact you are not free to run rampant here, creating chaos wherever you go ? Let me make this quite clear, Potter. Here, you will follow my rules and you will do as I tell you. There will be no midnight adventures, no snooping around into things that do not concern you and no disregard for your own safety and that of others. I know you would like to follow in your father's footsteps of arrogant foolishness, but you will not do so here. You will remain in this room at night, and unless you are studying Occlumency or doing some task for me, you will remain in this room at all other times also. Do I make myself clear?'
He did not notice as Harry's eyes once more became dull and blank, the emotion within the green light dying altogether. He did, however notice as the boy stopped pulling and simply went slack with resignation, his shoulders slumping and his head turning towards the ground. Letting go of the boy's arms, Severus stood back and appraised the state of the room, his eyes coming to rest on the splatters of blood on the floor.
'Show me your hand', he snapped, watching as Harry raised a shaking arm to hover in mid-air, eyes turned slightly to the right to avoid seeing anything other than the wall.
Severus snatched the mangled hand and held it upon one of his own, narrowing his eyes at the torn flesh around the knuckles and the profuse amount of blood. Dropping it in disgust, he clapped his hands once, and announced by a muted 'pop', Minky materialised beside him, her eyes horror- struck at the chaos around her. As her Master spoke, she peered at Harry curiously, wondering how such a small human could create so much mess.
'Minky, go to my Potions stores and bring me a basic healing salve and some bandages. Mr Potter here seems to have had an accident'
Pointing to the bed sharply, Severus ordered Harry to sit down, before disappearing into the bathroom and clearing up the remains of the mirror with a wave of his wand. Minky reappeared just as he returned to the main chamber, a small, pale green jar and ordinary looking bandage clutched in her hands. Taking both items, he informed the Elf she could go then marched over to where Harry sat rigidly on the edge of the hard mattress. With an efficiency that revealed much experience in such injuries, Severus carefully rubbed the thick, pasty substance into the protruding knuckles and tightly bandaged the hand, his mouth set in a hard, thin line as he worked. Once he was done, he stepped back and turned towards the door, secreting the small jar in a voluminous pocket, pausing once to direct a few last words at the small figure behind him.
'Since neither of us have any choice in this matter, Potter, I would suggest you get accustomed to the idea of staying here. Believe me, had I any choice, you would not be breathing in the same air as I. Breakfast will be brought to you in a few hours time, and you will eat it, even if I have to force feed you. '
Slamming the door behind him, he exited the room, leaving behind him a boy who had given up his will to live.
