Chapter Five

Again?!

By MissBubblez

—

Harry stirred with a muttering of groans leaving his mouth, his endeavour of trying to raise his head up from where it rested being met with the harsh result of failure as a pervasive migraine struck his brain, preventing him from further recovery of sitting upright. He couldn't make out his surroundings, only noting down that the area was severely dark, a mixture of shaded grey and listless colours blearily making his sight. Where was he?

With the unpleasant migraine finally settling down into a meagre throb in the back of his head, he found himself stable enough to crane his neck around without hurting himself accidentally. Of course, his movements were very limited from where he was lying down, but he could just faintly make out the sight of a crackling fireplace and the sound of rain pattering against a window to his right. Swallowing once, his ears popped and the variety of sounds around him intensified into something more crystallized and well defined.

The rain hitting against the window, the sizzling hiss and sputter of the fireplace, the howl of the wind creeping through the house, the ominous tapping of heavy footsteps— hold on.

Harry snapped his head up with more ease this time, whipping around in one direction and then the next, searching vigorously for the source of the distinguished sound. There was nothing but the fireplace and the window that he finally located and the towering bookcases scattered about the room — god, how many bookcases were there here? Eventually, he found himself looking up at the timber planks of the ceiling with his mouth slightly opened, closing it as he gulped.

Out. I need out, NOW!

Hastily, he threw the blanket that almost covered his entire body — a velvet green blanket he noted — and leapt off the couch he was supposedly resting on. His feet met the warmness of the woollen carpet and he felt himself falter in the touch, almost sinking into the unusual feeling of comfort before promptly snapping out of his trance and instead focusing on his more significant intention. Finding a way out. Footsteps resounded from above again. FAST!

With the speed of what was clearly abnormal to any ordinary human, Harry scrambled across the floor before planting both hands on the bottom of the window frame, desperately trying to lift it, pull it, and even pushing it. He didn't want to smash it — although, some part of him did — as it would cause too much noise, which would immediately alert his capturer's — Snape was it? — attention. And he was pretty certain of just who that was.

And much to his own neverending misfortune, the window didn't budge, didn't move, didn't even creak at his desperate attempts of pulling it open. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought that it was magically spelled shut. Probably is, he thought emphatically. Because at this point in time, he was coming to terms with the fact that magic existed, and that he, yes he, had it. But now wasn't the time to dwell on deep ruminations. Not when he still needed to escape.

But how! Harry's hands flew up into the air and onto his head, closing them as he took in large amounts of his hair and pulled them. He scrunched his head up in contemplation, thinking, and thinking, though he mentally punched himself for being so stupid in the first place. Lowering his hands to his sides, he pivoted on his feet and quickly, but quietly, trod towards the front door. With a hand now hovering just above the handle of the door, he waited for a moment.

Silence.

Nodding to himself, he felt the building trepidation in himself water down considerably as he turned the knob and fled the vicinity, feet stomping against the damp pavement as the rain crashed against his threat-bare clothes. He didn't pay any mind to how harsh it was hitting against him, or the fact that his heart was racing dangerously fast, he just focused on getting away. Somewhere far, far away from wherever the hell he was. There was no way in hell he was going to stay with that stranger, that- that Snape person.

"YOU INSOLENT BRAT! GET BACK HERE NOW!" Snape was yelling a variety of different curses in indistinguishable languages that Harry wasn't even aware of that existed. He staggered, risking the chance of looking over his shoulders to spot an approaching image of something darkly black running up to him.

Oh, shi—

He quickly silenced the thought when the man reached two large arms towards him fiercely. Harry, abruptly being pulled to obey his primal instincts that were kicking in once again, whipped his body around on the tip of his shoe and started into another swift dash, just narrowly avoiding the situation of being captured.

Snape cursed loudly this time, an action which made Harry frown for a second before picking up his speed, unwilling to look over his shoulders anymore. I'm not doing that ever again! He decided determinedly, parting his mouth open to reign in more oxygen to fuel his lungs. Oh, how he wished he could just pop away and disappear from this place, to escape—

Pop!

—

Severus Snape was not happy. No, oh no, he was furious. And to his own self-pleasure, he had the pleasant choice to destroy everything that annoyed him; the reason being that nothing in the room belonged to him. Oh, yes, he'd get a good obstinate lecture from his mentor once he was over — to which god knows how long his temper tantrum was going to last for — but the sheer contentment he would feel afterwards would be all too worth it.

"Severus—" Dumbledore began, swiftly being cut off by a booming explosion that resulted in the process of incinerating several stacks of papers. He didn't know whether to feel displeased or grateful for the uncontrolled action: heaven knows how satisfying it was to see those blasted unwanted papers that were sent from the Ministry.

Snape was muttering under his breath with baring teeth, words that sounded oddly similar to a few swear words in French and Russian. Dumbledore had to hand it to the man, he most definitely knew how to put a bomb explosion to shame. He simply sighed and waited out the Potions Master's undignified fit, no doubt knowing that the man was going to be apologizing profusely for his outrageous control over his emotions in his office. Dumbledore didn't particularly mind his lashing out sessions with him there — although, it did cause him to worry copiously for his spy's wellbeing — seeing as he was able to repair anything that was damaged with the flick of his wand, it actually amused to see the cold-hearted Potions Master cause such a ruckus over their little runaway situation with one Harry Potter.

"The Aurors," Snape blurted suddenly, bringing about the Headmaster's attention back to his unyielding student. "Have they found the boy yet? Have they found anything with their pathetic, little sorry excuse of a team?" His voice increased several decibels at the end of his query, Dumbledore wincing at the overall volume as it very nearly shook the entirety of the room.

"No, Severus. They have yet—" One of his levitating trinkets exploded and whirred dangerously high before silencing itself as it fell apart, the once turning gears clashing against the ground with a resounding clatter of metal. "Oh, dear…" That was one of his favourite little souvenirs that came from the muggle world. At least it can be repaired easily enough — at least he thought so hopefully.

"How is it that a group of fully-trained Auror's cannot carry out the task of searching for one small boy? Not to mention that they could easily track the child down with a single spell!"

Albus held his hand up to stop him from rambling on any further, the answer to his agitated question on the tip of his tongue. "That is explicitly why they are unable to find young Harry; their tracking spells result in failure for leading them to their objective, to which they have concluded that it must be the boy's magic in concealing his location." He took a deep breath and sighed, leaning across his desk with his arms crossed together. "A majority of the Auror's have begun to assume that Harry has disguised himself entirely, as in appearance-wise as well, meaning that identifying the boy is made to be ten times as challenging as it originally already was."

A heavy silence settled over them uneasily, Severus having widened his eyes a fraction or two, those deep obsidian eyes of his once more showing something other than pure loathing and anger in them. Concern. Oh, how he dreaded the utter emotion and feeling it brought along with it — he wondered if this was how Albus was feeling at this very moment, concerned and worried. Those were so foreign to him, and he hated them with every bit of his soul. Because the last time he felt them was when—

"Severus," Dumbledore brought him out of his own sorrowful ruminations just in time, and he couldn't have been any more grateful for that than he already was. Truly, he didn't want to go wallowing into his own less than ideal life in his mind, not when there were other matters more prominent and significant to think about. "We will find him, you need not worry yourself over the child." The cryptic old fool gave a warm smile, practically grinning at the thought of the cold-hearted Potions Master finally melting down the walls that ensnared it. "I'll be addressing a request to broaden the searching parties, possibly even call Alastor Moody into this little goose hunt. That would be certainly interesting, wouldn't you agree—"

Snape cut in with a sharp, long drawl, "No," raising his volume to evenly demonstrate just how much he despised the idea of bringing that old, limping oaf of an Auror. Dumbledore simply smiled ingeniously, his cerulean eyes scintillating dangerously bright with hilarity. The Potions Master easily gave a well-practised sneer without hesitation his way, greatly expressing the irritation that look gave him.

With his earlier raging anger finally depleting into a mere puddle and not an overflowing dam, Snape spun on the heel of his boot and made for the door. "I shall be returning to Spinners End to assist in the search. Should you need to address me with anything significant, my floo will always be open to you." He paused in the doorway, turning his head slightly over his broad shoulder, the curtain of his hair covering a majority of his face gracefully. "Any word of Potter's whereabouts, any at all," he enunciated rather loudly, "Are to immediately be reported to me. No matter how negligible it may be."

Dumbledore had a wry smirk portrayed across his lips, not at all fazed by his spy's austere manner or attitude, causing Snape to stifle an urging snarl at the mere sight of the ancient coot and his mocking expression. "Good day, Headmaster." He grounded out, just managing to keep his face cold and composed. Just.

"Likewise, Severus."

Senile old man.

—

So, maybe running away twice was a bad idea, Harry thought half-heartedly, swinging his feet back and forth whimsically against the park bench. He was loitering about in another, drastically different park from the other one he had arrived in before, seemingly lost in his own musings with a blank look. On the other hand of running away from his relatives, he was liberated from the everlasting list of chores, so that was good. He didn't have to sleep in his cupboard anymore either, no longer having to be confined within the small walls with his only company being that of the occasional spiders that decided to take refuge inside. Not that he was bothered by it really, he actually revelled in the unusual, if not comforting presence of the eight-legged creatures. He especially cherished the black widow spiders, only coming to despise the frequent appearance of the cellar spiders (daddy-long-legs spiders in other words).

There were, at the same time, a lot and not many benefits that came from the results of running away from the Dursleys. One of them, that he was eternally grateful for, was that he no longer had to suffer under the intense stress and physical aching that his Uncle was responsible for most of the time — Dudley, his son, being the other half that made his life ten times harder both in public (at school and such) and at home. Aunt Petunia didn't involve herself in their 'little' roughhousing with him, and sometimes she even stood up for her on those rare occasions.

One of the many, yes, many disadvantages of no longer being within the care of the Dursleys were being homeless, constantly hungry (which wasn't that much of a difference from living with them), and having to always be alert for lingering strangers. He was especially wary of that Snape person, knowing that he had somewhat similar abilities to Harry. Hell, he could probably pop out at any second if he let his guard down.

In the very least of his benefits, he was able to discover another one of his unique — part of him almost called it 'freakish' — abilities. Perhaps, if he hadn't run away from 'home', he wouldn't have ever found it. He always knew that he was different from other people, from his 'family', if you could even call them that. Talking to snakes clearly wasn't a normal thing that normal people do when they're bored out of their minds in the garden, sluggishly slaving away to perfect it the way their shrieking Aunt instructed them to do it.

As for the bizarre ability that he had only found out about a couple of hours after narrowly escaping the grasp of Professor Snape, it was, as he could describe as, a shapeshifting talent. Not that he could fully change into say, an animal for instance, that was utterly impossible and quite painful for his first experience. By what he had found out so far, the only kind of morphing he could currently do to his knowledge was changing his appearance. The changing of his hair, the colouring of his eyes, and the small subtle features of chiselling his facial details. There wasn't much else that he could do as for growing taller or shorter (not that he wanted to shrink any smaller than he already was), because once he had tried, the results ended up just as the same as his attempts of transforming into an alleyway cat. Painful. Apparently, the stretching of the bones excruciate the victim severely, as Harry had found out the most difficult and uncomfortable way. Thankfully, he was able to stop it before his legs literally snapped off.

All in all, he wasn't too sure of what to think about it, but often found himself wandering back to those eccentric comics that his cousin would always ramble on and on about with his friend (they really just his lackeys), something about the characters having some sort of superpowers. Was that what he had? Superpowers? Magic?

"Any idea of why he ran away?"

Harry froze on the spot, his legs pausing in mid-air as a trickle of trepidation ran down the back of his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck, arms, and even his legs standing up simultaneously. The cold combined with his anxiety was a dangerous concoction, for the goosebumps growing across his skin were acting as the first signs of an atomic bomb preparing to explode.

There was an eerie silence before a response was returned to the person asking the question with a chafed grunt, clearly indicating that whoever was being queried didn't appreciate the attempt of starting a conversation between the two of them. Unfortunately, it didn't seem that his partner had picked up on his disgruntled mood and instead pushed on further with another question.

"Where do you think he might be?"

Perilously familiar to Harry's ears, the warm baritone of a male's voice induced another bout of panic in the child's chest. "I do not know," he spat irritably, "Now, if you are satisfied with your inadequate efforts of starting up a favourable conversation with me, I would considerably appreciate it if you direct your struggles to keep your mouth shut. It truly is a wonder of how numerous groups of 'skilled' Aurors have failed time and time again of finding a mere child."

"Uh, well-"

The other man cut through his pitiful words effectively with his own, "Then again, perhaps the reason simply lies within the complete incompetence of being a mindless, unhelpful dunderhead!" The last of his words were hissed even more viciously than the last, an outburst of livid emotions clearly laced in like real venom. "Let me remind you of just who we are searching for; we are seeking for The Boy Who Bloody Lived, Harry Potter! So, if by any small chance that you have even a vestige of capability in that minuscule brain of yours, you will do well to pay attention, or so help me."

Harry was practically biting down on his tongue to keep his teeth from chattering too loudly, jumping every once and a while whenever the man enunciated his words emphatically. By the way his words hung openly in the air like that, clearly open for an unsaid threat, made Harry wonder just how terrified the targeted victim must be right now. He himself was beyond frightened at just how vicious the voice was, even more so than he was when Vernon was yelling at him — and this man was only hissing his threats in a quiet whisper. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine how vile this man could be if he began yelling.

But damn, why did they always have to meet up in the most convenient of places? Did he have some sort of tracking device on him or something? Harry self-consciously patted himself down briskly, not even daring to check his bag when he knew that it would cause too much noise to thoroughly clean it out. Why were they searching for him anyway?

"Y-Yes," the fearful Auror stammered, adding a quick "sir" at the devastating glare his (unfortunate) partner was giving him.

—

A/N: I know that rushed works aren't exactly the best, but please, bear with me! Review!