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Chapter 5- the library
Harry laughed joyfully as the brightly coloured bubbles erupted from James's wand and drool dribbled down the side of his cheek. His eyes twinkling, Harry's small fingers reached out towards the bubbles. Laughing, James lifted harrys from under his arms. Slowly gaining speed, he began to spin on the spot, harry swinging around with him.
Harrys giggled in delight," yaaaaa yeeee dada!"
Walking gracefully into the room, Lily's eyes settled upon her beautiful son, harry, and her husband, and she smiled. "James! Be carefull! Don't drop harry!"
"No worries lils!" James grinned cheekily over at his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek.
"James!"
"Lily!" Replied James, teasingly.
Harry laughed as he watched his parents banter, their easy laughter filling Godrics Hollow. The bubbles now surrounding the room, James threw his wand down carelessly on the sofa, and drew his wife in for a passionate, loving kiss.
Just as there lips joined, a sudden blast shook the house, and James and Lily drew apart sharply. Lily's glance instantly lay upon her sons tear filled eyes. Harry let out a scream and tears started to cascade down his soft cheeks.
"It's him lily, run! Take harry and run!" James shouted, trying to be heard over the blasts that were reducing the Potters warm home to rubble and debris.
Lily grabbed harry, and held him tight to her chest. She began to run, pieces of debris cutting into her flesh. Harrys head was misled into Lily's chest, as is drawing comfort from her presence. Lily could hear the snake like hiss, that could only belong to Lord Voldemort.
James stood tall in front of the darkest wizard of the age, and looked him fearlessly in the eye.
But Voldemort was unfazed, and merrily smirked, before hissing, "Avada kedavra." James fell to the ground, his eyes lifeless. He was dead.
Gracefully, Voldemort glided up the staircase, easily floating over the rubble. He could hear the desperate thuds coming from upstairs, and he cackled. The mud blood would die, and so would her filthy son, and nobody would ever doubt the power if lord Voldemort again.
Lily desperately piled boxes and furniture in front of the door, but knowing her efforts was in vain. She cursed herself for being as careless as to leave her wand lying around.
The door blasted open, the force sending lily flying across the room. She quickly placed harry into the cott behind her.
Voldemort approached her quickly.
"Stand aside girl, stand aside," he ordered.
Lily's emerald eyes glittered with tears as she spread her body over Harrys cott, shielding him.
"No please, take me instead," she pleaded, heartbroken.
"Stand aside girl, stand aside now.
"No please take me instead, anything but my harry, please."
"This is your last warning, mudblood, stand aside now, stand aside."
"No. No please," she screamed.
Voldemort casted the killing curse, and lily fell to the floor, dead, her screams lingering in the air.
Voldemort stepped over Lily's corpse, kicking it as he did. He leaned down towards harry. The child began to cry, traumatised from watching his mothers death. Instantly, Voldemort cringed. He could never stand the ear piercing whining of the younger children at the orphanage.
He turned his glare to the emerald eyes boy, and whispered, "goodbye harry potter. AVADA KEDAVERA!"
Harry woke with a gasp, and quickly managed to clench his teeth together, lest he scream out, awakening the man next door. He lay on his bead, shuddering from the nightmare. Harrys throat was raw, and his normally emerald eyes red and bloodshot. He breathed in and out with short, raspy gasps. He lay, trembling under the comforter, feeling miserable. He glanced at the window, and noted how dark it was. It was probably the middle of night.
Slowly, as he began to calm down, he realised that something was wrong. His parent hadn't been killed. They had died in a car crash. And magic didn't exist. Harry wondered if his evilness and creaminess was at work here. He began to cry again, scared and confused.
He didn't dare make any noise, petrified of awakening the moody man in the next room. The forbidding man made it perfectly clear to the terrified boy that misbehaviour would be punished severely, and harry wanted to give the man no reason to punish him. He had told harry in no uncertain terms that he was not to come whines go to him, or complaining in the man's home, and harry had no qualms that the man would dump him at the nearest orphanage at the slightest provocation.
His breath hitched slightly as he reminded himself what a freak he was. Nobody would ever love him.
That night, Snape, unconsciously, had confirmed Harry's deepest and darkest fears. In the lowest part of his heart, in that part of his soul that his mother and father had imprinted with their unconditional love and attachment to their son, Harry had somehow held onto that scrap of hope, that his relatives' hatred towards him was their problem, not his. However, the harsh, traumatising rejection by his new guardian threw a wrench into that theory, unconscious as it was, and Harry was left to wonder if he really was a freak, undeserving of anyone's love or affection– even his parents, had they survived the car crash.
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The sun gleamed through the panelled windows, and illuminated Harry's bedroom. Outside, the birds tweeted, and morning was upon them. The boy lying under the plain white comforter began to rouse. His tired eyes fluttered open slightly.
Harry felt exhausted. All night he had been plagued with horrific nightmares, each more horrifying than the next. Harry stretched his limbs slowly, easing the aches out of them. He yawned quietly, and sat up, leaning his sore back against the wooden headboard of the bed.
Hoping that today would be a better day than yesterday had been, harry swung his legs over the side of the bed. Wincing slightly as his legs touched the mattress, he softly stood up. The 8 year old padded quietly across the creaking floorboards. He quickly went to the toilet, and changed into his old, ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Quietly, he walked down the stairs, and tried to remember which room was the kitchen. He knew that he had to make breakfast, but he did not want to agitate the man, by walking into a forbidden room. Holding his breath, he turned the door handle of the first room. Relieved, he released his breath, as he walked into the dirty kitchen. Harry looked around in astonishment. He had never seen a room so messy and dirty. Aunt petunia had always been sure to make harry clean any mess as soon as it we made.
Harry wondered if this was why the man had brought him here. Maybe he needed someone to clean his house. Considering this thought, harry quickly set to work.
He began to look for the cutlery, pots and pans, and plates on the cupboards. He efficiently piled them in neat stacks on the wooden table. He found a rag in the drawer, and quickly set to work, cleaning all the surfaces, cupboards and doors, as quick as he could. He then walked over to the sink. He turned the hot water tap. Instantly, the water began to pour out, and harry plunged the dirty dishes in. One by one, he cleaned them, washing the mould and grime of them, ignoring the water scalding his flesh.
Finally, he finished, and, paying no heed to his burned hands and wrists, he started putting everything back where he found it. Not pausing for a second, he started to look in the fridge, for any food that was not spoiled and could be used for breakfast. He managed to locate some eggs.
Looking in the now clean cupboards, he found some bread and canned beans. He heated the beans in the microwave, and put the bread in the toaster. He then took a pan out, had began to scramble the eggs.
Harry payed special attention to the food, ensuring nothing burned or got over heated. Intense training at the Dudley's made sure that he would never make that mistake again.
After about 5 minutes, he had a steaming plate of eggs, toast and beans lying on a plate. Frowning, harry realised that the food would get cold if the dark man did not come down soon. Hesitating, harry wondered what to do.
His confusion was quickly solved as the man in question came gliding into the room. Harry quickly looked down, careful not to meet the mans menacing stare.
"Well, what have we here?" Asked Snape calmly, but harry could here the threatening question underneath. "What are you doing potter? What mischief are you up too, brat?" Snape's voice began to rise.
Seeing the child looking at the floor made him feel even more furious. Probably sulking, thought Snape, viciously. Just like the spoilt brat, he thought. No respect for his elders and betters.
"Sit down potter. I see that's you have decided to eat by yourself, and not wait. Therefore, you shall now sit and wait for me to also finish my breakfast. Harry trembled slightly. He had not eaten anything. And he was hungry. But he knew freaks like him deserved nothing. So he said nothing. Harry sat, and watched as snape dug into his meal.
Snape wondered who had made the breakfast. Nobody had access to the house apart from himself. Perhaps a house elf from Hogwarts had taken it upon themselves to work for him. House legs had been known to do this before. He sighed, but knew that house elfs always stayed out of sight. It was virtually impossible to stop an elf from cleaning and serving wizards. It was easter to just accept it.
He sighed inwardly. Already he was beginning to feel stressed. If only the boy could just do as he was told, instead of trying to be difficult on purpose. For a second, he felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe the child was hungry, and had wanted some food. Maybe, just maybe, the boy hadn't been up to mischief. Snape pondered on this for a minute, before dismissing the thought. He reinforced his previous suspicions in his mind. Harry potter was an arrogant child, who had no right to standing on this earth, living when lily hadn't. Surviving when lily had been killed.
As usual, this line of thought brought the normal anger to him. Fighting it down, not wanting to begin the day with a bad atmosphere, he speared the food onto the fork and quickly finished the food. He then opened his mouth to order the child to take his dishes to the kitchen. "Potter, take these to the sink and wash them up. Make sure you do it properly boy."
"Yes s-sir," whispered harry
"Speak up boy," Severus barked, angrily.
"Yes sir," harry said, louder.
He walked towards Snape. Picking up the plate, he took it to the sink and the 8 year old began to swiftly wash it up. As he was doing this, Snape sat and watched him from the watched as harry began to struggle with the high sink, yet made no sound of complaint. He watched as the boy determinedly washed the plate, then dried it with the dish cloth. He felt a little bad for treating the boy so callously. He really needed to get his temper under control, he thought.
"Potter, follow me," directed Snape, as harry finished cleaning. The boy began to follow Snape, trailing behind him. Freaks should never walk alongside there betters, remembered harry. Snape stopped at the doorway to a room. He turned the rusty door handle, and pushed the door open.
Snape walked in, and harry followed closely behind, curious, although he wouldn't dare show it. Inside were shelves after shelves filled with books! They filled the entire room, and harry looked around in awe. The books were all neatly devised in genres, and it looked like a lot of time had been taken to make it of such high quality.
Suddenly, harry flinched, as a voice behind him spoke. "You will sit in here and choose a book to read. You will sit and read it until I come back to get you. Do not cause and misbehaviour," snape warned the child.
Yes sir. Thank you so much sir!" Harry chirped, happily. A little more subdued, he added," Ill behave well sir."
"We will see." And with that, snape turned on heal and stalked out of the room.
Snape decided, while the urchin was behaving, he might as well go down to his lab to brew some potions. Poppy had been nagging him to brew some cold draughts, muscle relaxer and anti nausea potions for a few weeks now. The infirmary was running low, and now seemed like the perfect time to get working on them.
So he left potter in the library, and went down to his lab. Quickly gathering his ingredients and cauldron, he made his way over to the flame. He began heating the cauldron. Instantly, he lost himself in the methodical chopping and slicing, and soon forgot about everything else, including the child upstairs.
Finally, all the potions were finished. Filling the vials up with the potions, Severus sighed. He was exhausted. Looking down at his watch, he noticed that the time was 6:43. He decided to go upstairs and... Shit. He had forgotten about Harry.
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Harry looked up. He had finished his book, and was feeling rather bored. The man had not yet come back to get him, and harry did not dare to go looking for him. So harry decided to choose another book to read, and hoped that the man would come back soon.
He replaced his previous boom, and began to wander around the shelves, searching for an appealing book to occupy his time. Eventually, he saw a brightly decorated book that looked interesting. The only problem was, harry was only eight, and the book was on the top shelf. And, king to his malnourished he was, harry could not reach anywhere near it.
Looking around, harry saw a wooden chair, in the corner if the room. He dragged it over to the bookshelf, and stood on it, hoping it would be tall enough for him to reach the book. Harrys short arms reached upwards, and brushed ago and the spine of the book. Harrys fingertips closed around it.
Suddenly, the door burst open. "Potter," roared a voice. Harry started badly, and toppled of the chair. The chair fell with him, as did the book, and both made a loud clattering doing in the floor. As quick as lightning, snape was beside him, the forbidding man loomed over him, and heat waves were pouring of him. Harrys teeth were clenched in terror, and his eyes were wide tearful. They darted around the room, looking for an escape, but it was fruitless. He was trapped.
The man spoke, dangerously.
"What do you think you are doing, Mr Potter?"
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