BEYOND SECRETS AND LIES
By: Chiki Yumeshisa

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter…all original characters/ideas are mine to claim though.

AN: Here's the next chapter update, sorry for the wait everyone. Just a quick recap before reading on: Malfoy is intent on learning everything he can about Harry now that he has gotten a glimpse of Harry's medical files. Will he catch on? Please enjoy!

CHAPTER 14

-When Wishes are Said –

Deeming it was safe, Harry cautiously stepped into the living room. It was a mess! There were so many books strewn about the place that Harry didn't know where to look first. Math equations, potion books, loose leaf papers, bottles, glasses – name it, it was there. It was a wonder that Snape could still be seen beneath it all. At the moment, the man had his hooked nose bent over a page, busily scribbling away.

It was a while before Snape looked up, and when he did, he jumped upon seeing the teenager standing in the room. "Merlin! How long have you been standing there?"

"What was Malfoy doing here?" Harry demanded, ignoring the man's question.

"It doesn't matter; he's none the wiser about anything." Snape said knowingly, as he corked the very last test tube. He held it up, checking its contents before returning to scribble on the same page. "For the meantime, how are you feeling?"

Harry scratched at his shoulder. "Better." He thought it strange that Snape would bother to express concern.

Snape nodded curtly. "Then, get dressed at least! Honestly, walking about with nothing but a pair of pants." He shook his head, mumbling something about common sense and ignored Harry, returning to his obsessive research.

Feeling himself flush with both annoyance and embarrassment, Harry turned to go back to his room, pulling on the first shirt he laid his hand upon. The memory of the night before was still vivid in his mind, and as if to protest the reminder, his scar seemed to throb. Rubbing at it absently, Harry went about making up his bed and straightening out his room all the while thinking deeply about the nightmare and about how Snape had had to be the one to come to his rescue.

He was just fixing his alarm clock when a knock came at the door, and he was betrayed into a jump. His nerves felt like they were all scrambled, and he looked up at Snape who stood just outside of the doorway. "Potter, are you always so inattentive?"

"Sorry?" He asked, blinking.

"I've been calling you out for the last five minutes. Are you telling me that you're now deaf as well?"

"I've always chosen to be deaf to the likes of you." Harry snapped, putting his clock back down with a bang. It gave a little clang, but he paid it no mind.

Snape smirked, and it surprised the teen only slightly. He had thought that Snape would start yelling back. "Is that so? Then don't complain to me when I take another five points off of Gryffindor for it."

Harry got to his feet. "You wouldn't dare."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes I would, Potter – and there would be nothing you could do about it."

"I hate you." Harry growled, his blue eyes fixed on the man's face.

The smirk never left Snape's mouth. "Oh, you already told me that. And I've already told you that the feeling's mutual."

Harry let loose a word that shall not be repeated, and Snape's smirk turned into a frown. "That's five points from Gryffindor for real, now, for your language young man." He straightened to his full height, the menacing air about him again. "That's already a fair few that you've lost for your house."

That did it for the teenager. He got to his feet. For some reason, he could feel nothing but pure hate for this man in front of him. He wanted to hit him! Just as he was about to do something he probably would have really regretted, an ice cold feeling spread through him, all the way down to his fingertips and he took a deep breath – he had seen himself in the mirror.

And he paled visibly.

Staggering, the back of his legs hit the baseboard of his bed and he almost toppled over. His hands came up to touch his face, in a disbelieving way.

Another change…

Snape did not seem ruffled at all by his reaction. "If you're quite done sulking, come out to eat when you're ready. I will not wait on you hand and foot, do you hear me?"

But Harry was still so lost in his shock that he did not hear those words. Snape left in a huff, and the boy was alone again, once more to his deep thoughts. He buried his face in his hands, feeling the weight of his secrets on his shoulders.

It took all of his will power to pull himself together again. He was being shattered slowly and surely, but he would not let himself get crushed. The only thing he was sure of was that he did not want to be there – he needed to get out.

But how could he get past Snape?

He felt like he was going to be sick again when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It was like seeing a stranger looking back at him and he quickly looked away, not wanting to see it again.

How much worse could it get?

Maybe it would be better if he ended it all…his pills were kept safely from him and were the hands of Snape, but his wand lay on the table top, ready for use and with just a flick, he could be free. His hand began to reach for it.

Coward…

The voice echoed somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind and Harry froze, his eyes lingering on the wooden stick. He was reminded of what Cecil had done to himself. Slowly, he retracted his hand and stared at it in horror.

Jumping to his feet, he bolted out the door, not wanting to go anywhere near his room, or his wand.

He nearly crashed headlong into Snape, who was just rounding the corner, coming to look for him. He didn't stop at the surprised gasp, nor did he slow down when he heard him calling, "Where are you going? Potter? Potter!" The portrait door slammed behind him as he rushed out, Sir Cadogan's voice calling out after him too, but he paid that no mind as well.

Blindly, he moved, his mind full and yet, at the same time, strangely empty. Moments later, he found himself standing by the entranceway of Professor Dumbledore's office, his chest heaving because he was winded from running up all those stairs.

He hadn't even noticed that he had run past his friends and several other students who had just returned from their vacations.

What did he plan on doing? He stared at the gargoyle, his breathing shallow. The cold feeling was spreading slowly and he wondered if he'd collapse.

Feeling absolutely foolish, he began to turn away. The Headmaster could not make things any better – if anything, he'd make things worse. He jumped when the Gargoyle suddenly sprang aside and the old man himself exited.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh, Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"N-nothing." Harry mumbled, stepping back. "I was just…" He did not finish his sentence because the Headmaster was now eyeing him critically.

"Where is Severus?"

"Who cares?" Harry said, angrily, his eyes flashing as he clenched his fist. He started to feel light-headed. "I can't stand him; I'm not going back."

"But you must." Dumbledore told him, moving back inside his office and unconsciously, Harry followed.

Once safely inside the room, the Headmaster turned to face him again. "Harry, you need to relax. You must control your emotions. If you don't, you'll only speed up the process and your personalities will become more liberated. The harder it will be to reign them in, and I know that Bryce is just waiting for that to happen." As he spoke, he conjured up a cup of tea for the boy.

Harry sat himself down on the armchair and took the cup gratefully. The warmth of it began to instantly start warming his hands, bringing with it a soothing, relaxing feeling.

The portraits on the walls were watching with keen interest.

"You are of age now." Dumbledore said, calmly. "I will not tolerate you flying into rages."

"But Professor, you don't understand - " Harry began to protest.

" – You're right, I don't, and I can't even begin to imagine what you must be feeling. But for Merlin's sake, Mr. Potter, you must remember that you are in a very difficult condition.

"Your emotions are critical and you must not let them get away from you. At least try to come to terms with Severus."

Harry looked up to see Dumbledore peering down at him expectantly. "If I'm of age now, then I don't need him to tell me what to do." The teen said, tightly.

"He's your legal guardian and until the spell which James has placed upon you has disappeared and this whole predicament is over, it is your duty to listen to Professor Snape. After that, it is up to the both of you to decide what you will do from there."

The boy looked down at the cup in his hands. The china was thin and fragile, much like he was feeling. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"You have to give him a chance, Harry. It must be hard on him too."

Nodding, Harry absently rotated the cup in his hands around and around, before raising it to his lips and draining its contents. Dumbledore was right, as usual – his attitude was not helping matters any. He only resulted in making himself look like a weak fool and a spoiled brat; he would have to call for another truce. He got to his feet, smoothing his robes out as he did so. "I'm sorry, sir, for my behavior." He said, blushing slightly and when he did, he looked very handsome indeed. "It won't happen again."

"Let's hope not." The Headmaster said, kindly, motioning him to leave. "It's hard to keep these secrets to yourself. Remember: no one is stopping you from telling who you want. Sometimes it's better to have friends to rely on in times like these."

Smiling weakly, Harry nodded once, and took the opportunity to leave, excusing himself.

When he was back in the dungeons, certain that no one had followed him, Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself down before entering.

Snape had cleaned up the earlier mess, the papers now neatly stacked, the books put back onto their shelves and a row of brightly colored test tubes and glasses lined the back desk easily, all topped and labeled clearly. There was a funny smell in the air, of something that was burning.

The man was standing next to his cauldron, cleaning up, wringing the rag he had in his hands out and looking up as Harry entered.

"Professor, we need to talk." He said, his voice sounding strangely distant in his ears. As Snape's lips turned up into its characteristic sneer, Harry took a step forward. He did not want to hear the snide comment, nor see Snape's eyes glitter so maliciously as they always did. He hurriedly said, "I'm going to be frank: this operation isn't going to work if we don't come to some sort of agreement with each other."

"What's this, maturity?" Snape asked, dryly, moving briskly towards a stack of papers which did not appear to be as neatly piled as the others.

"I'm serious, Severus."

That caused Snape to turn around. "What did you call me?"

Harry did not look the least bit ruffled by his indignant glare. It seemed as if Snape would fly into a righteous rage of his own, but he never moved. "If you think that I'll start calling you 'dad' any time soon, you're mistaken." He said, evenly. "Now are you willing to listen?"

"You've got my attention." The man snarled.

"I want to be out of your presence as much as you want me out of yours." He leaned against the couch as he spoke, never breaking eye contact with the elder man. "So, until that time comes, can we try to get along?"

Snape was silent, measuring his every word silently. This boy actually differed from James, whom he thought was an exceedingly arrogant git that would never propose such an offer.

Finally, he decided: "If we are to have an agreement, then the terms stand as these: first, if you're not going to call me anything more intimate, you will resume addressing me as 'Professor' or 'sir' at all times." Snape told him, shuffling the pages together, in an almost nervous fashion. "Second, you're to follow any medical instructions I give you. And you must tell me where you're going – you have a nasty habit of disappearing when you want to without telling a soul. I want to know where you are at all times. Do we have a deal?"

"Only if you promise me that you won't try to follow me wherever I go." Harry said.

"Very well, I promise." Snape muttered. "You shall have the personal space you require. However, I will not tolerate you getting yourself into unnecessary danger."

"Then it's a deal." Harry said, sticking his hand out. "Truce?"

Severus stared at it for a few moments before grasping it in his own, the size very different. They held the handshake for a few moments before letting go.

"Now that that's settled," Snape fished out a page and began leading him over to the desk, "follow me."

Harry did so, walking a few paces behind the man, eyeing the vials on the desk. There was an abundance of dark green substance more so than the others.

"Is that…polyjuice potion. Sir?" He added quickly.

"Glad to see that you were paying attention to something in my class." Snape remarked, nodding.

"I pay attention in every class." Harry said, irritably. "You're always such a jerk to me, though."

Snape crossed the room toward the drink. "I've ever reason to be, when you look half asleep in nearly all of them. You can never produce anything worth marking." He picked up another vial of clear fluid and began to pour it into the vial of green glop slowly. It began to turn purple and smoke. As it did so, a sweet smell in the air took the place of the burning one from earlier.

He held it up, saying proudly, "You're to drink this, the finished product." He handed it to the teen, who looked at it skeptically.

"What did you do to it?" Harry demanded. "Sir?" He added again.

" It's two potions in one." Snape explained, picking up one stack of papers and thumbing through it. "The polyjuice potion and the reverse-age potion." That left Harry completely baffled.

"Of course," Snape continued, "it's not smart to combine two potions but I've figured out the solution and have yet to see if it works. I'm certain it does though – your blood was very difficult to work with." He found the page he was looking for and set it aside.

"It took a while to reverse the ageing potion," Snape said, re-stacking the pages in his hands, "but there was a way." He pulled the sheet he had set aside closer to himself, scanning the contents of the sheet which seemed to be covered in small, scraggly writing that did not seem to be legible. Then, he spoke again. "I tested its compatibility with your blood. At first, it didn't work well at all, but after I revised the formula quite some bit, it worked like a charm." His voice sounded excited, and the grin that suddenly spread on his face actually became him.

Harry glanced at the vial again, his mouth still pulled into a frown. Before he could speak, Snape was back to ruffling through the papers once more and speaking, "I don't expect you to understand everything," he was saying, "but I'm just giving you the facts: it's not poison."

Harry still did not make a move. He wasn't sure if he trusted Snape with this. He had betrayed him before – what if….?

"If you don't want to take it, that's fine with me, but don't go getting yourself worked up if you have another major change tomorrow." Huffed Snape.

"And how exactly do you know that tomorrow I won't be having another change if I take this potion?" Harry demanded, forgetting to add any address to the elder man whatsoever.

"I don't know." Snape said, shrugging, as he continued to search for another sheet. "But I'm fairly positive that it will work. I had to sort your blood with whatever blood of James remained in you. There was not a lot to work with. The polyjuice potion should hold for a day at most, so if you take the potion daily, the reverse-age potion should kick in and slow the process of your changes.

"I've made a couple of vials only, but if I need to, I'll make more. The most you need a day is a mouthful anyway, so this one vial could last you up to 3 days." He looked expectantly at Harry, who was still holding the glass aloft.

For a few minutes, Harry thought hard on whatever Snape said. True, he didn't understand all the mechanics of the potion, but he had nothing else to rely on at the moment. If he changed again tomorrow, people were bound to see the difference.

The professor had gone back to searching for the sheet, and Harry caught a glimpse of whatever had been written on the first sheet. Equations galore mounted it easily, in complex formulas that Harry could not begin to try to understand.

Hesitantly, he sniffed at the vial. The sweet smell reminded him of walking into the candy store back in Hogsmeade. Still, it looked as if he would not be able to swallow the gunk as it was so thick.

Experimentally, he tasted it. He expected to retch and find it disgusting, but he found he quite liked the taste. Whatever Snape had done to the potion had really worked. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, he downed it in one go, hoping that he wouldn't gag and throw it back up. He didn't. The taste held a mint flavor, going down like water, and his stomach accepting it with ease.

Snape was watching him, with his beady black eyes. Harry handed back the bottle slowly. "Is that all then, sir?"

Snape nodded, his greasy locks bouncing. "For now, yes. I've got some sleep to catch up on, so do your best not to set anything on fire while I do so."

Harry glowered and Snape gestured to the door. "If you want to leave, be my guest – but I expect you back by tonight."

Harry frowned again. "But sir, what about Gryffindor Tower?"

"-When I am certain that the potion has worked, you can return there promptly. Now," His face took on a weary look, the dark circles under his eyes very visible despite the curtain of hair that usually hid them from sight, "let me rest."

(0-0-0-0-0)

They laughed as he fell, his glasses skittering across the floor. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the ground, face first.

"Who do you think you are, Potter?" Mihail sneered. "I heard you threaten Andrey! Did you really think you could get away with it? Do you care to repeat what you said to him?"

Harry sat up, feeling as though the room was spinning. All he could see were fuzzy bodies standing around him. "I didn't threaten anybody!" He protested again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, blinking. All he had been aware of was being pulled out of The Square and being shoved around by the other boys. He didn't even remember talking with Andrey, let alone know who he was.

He cried out as Mihail delivered a well-aimed kick to his side. "I was there!" He shouted, angrily. "Don't pretend you don't know anything." He kicked him again, enjoying Harry's agonized cry.

"I really don't know anything!"

But his protest was useless. This time, Tsankov punched him, splitting his lip open. "I say we teach the Potter bug some manners." There was a collective agreement and some cracking of knuckles.

And so they began, and Harry lost track of where or who the punches and kicks were coming from. It was when he saw blood that he began to start feeling cold. His breathing became erratic and heavy as he fought down panic. His right eye was swollen and probably black, his lip bleeding. Somewhere, a few feet away, his glasses lay broken.

"Stop!" he was screaming, pitifully. He brought his hands up to cover his head, but it didn't help much. By this time, a crowd of other students had come to watch, a few calling out that they should stop while the others were egging them on. Two of them ran to get a teacher.

He heard Filip scream, "Stop it! You'll kill him!"

They didn't stop. If anything, it only served to enrage them more, and soon, Harry was so cold, he began to turn numb. And then, he blacked out completely.

Or so he thought.

The next thing he knew, he woke up again, 3 days later, to find out that he had somehow sent three boys to Durmstrang's Hospital ward.

The worst thing was…he did not remember doing anything.

To Be Continued….

AN: The next chapter should be out in about two weeks time, and as always, I thank you for your constant support and for your reviews. Sorry it was so short.

Preview for the next chapter:

"Surprise, surprise, he's early." Snape said, more to himself than to Harry.

"Excuse me, sir…" Harry leaned forward as the carriage came to a stop. He peered out again at the platform and still saw nobody. "Who exactly is 'he'?"

Snape pushed himself out of the carriage, and Harry stumbled after him, lugging his trunk with him, now full in size. "Your Uncle." And he nodded at the dog.

Harry pushed his glasses up, wondering if he was quite sane. His uncle was….a dog?

Please do review for me again, and thanks for reading!

-Chiki