Harry Potter enjoyed the night. The nighttime gave him a quiet he wasn't used to during the day. He usually was only outside during the daytime when he worked outside. During the night he normally found himself in his cupboard. It was odd not to hear the hum of Lawnmowers and the laughter of children smaller then himself. He listened to the cricket's soft chirps as he dug his finger into the moist ground. He hadn't moved from where he was lying since he had been forced outside an hour ago. He had lain on his stomach and stared at the grass. He didn't mean to break the vase. He told them it was an accident. The hand mark on his cheek still stung from where his Aunt had slapped him. Well, he thought, at least she didn't shove him in the cupboard. He pulled his finger out and stared at the dirt-covered appendage. That was curious though. Why would his Aunt just throw him outside when she could have locked him in the cupboard? A hoot from an owl -well, he thought it was an owl, what else hooted? - Sounded above him and he glanced up into the dark treetops just as the hoot was repeated.

“An owl?” He murmured. He wondered what the owl was doing up there. Well he knew why the owl was up there. They did live in trees.

 There was another hoot, and curiously enough, there was a flap of wings as the owl landed in front of him.

 “Hoot?” The bird asked him staring at him with its giant eyes. Harry reached out slowly and carefully before hesitating right above its head. After the bird didn't attempt to nip at his fingers he rubbed the bird's head softly and it hooted in contentment.

 “Hi.” Harry whispered softly. He glanced at the bird and saw something attached to the owls leg.

 "A letter? How odd…” He slowly went to take the letter off and-

 “BOY! Get inside!” His Aunt screeched from the doorway. “Your Uncle wishes to have a word with you!” He flinched inwardly as he stood. That was never good. The owl who was shocked by his Aunt's wailing it took off into flight.

 “Wait,” He whispered softly. Don't leave me with them, he silently begged. It was to late the bird had disappeared and left him alone. He hurried inside, not yet ready to face his uncle's wrath, but he wasn't stupid enough to stay outside to face a fiercer punishment.

 Later he found himself smothering himself with his pillow trying to stifle his sobs. Crying was bad, he knew it, but he just hurt so badly and he couldn't stop crying. He was lying on his stomach in his cupboard. Uncle Vernon had been very angry with Harry for breaking the vase, and after his beating he had been shoved into the small place so they could be without his 'Freakiness.' He should've been used to the beatings by then, he had been punished like that ever since he could remember, then again, how could anyone get used to being beaten? He wasn't sure anyone could. If they could, well, Harry thought they would have to be without feeling. He wondered curiously if he could be apathetic, with a perfect façade. He doubted it, and by the time his sobs had turned into soft hiccups he was almost asleep.

 He was almost angry with himself. Perhaps his Aunt and Uncle were right, maybe he did deserve everything he was getting. He felt his brain burn with these thoughts. Harry's mind felt angry and peaceful at the same time, like he had suddenly found something important out.

 Harry was unsure as to what it was like to be a normal child-not a freak like him, or someone as spoiled as Dudley- with parents who actually cared. He felt his stomach ache in longing for parents of some sort.

 He wished for parents, or someone, who would care about him and love him.

 It was futile because, as always, because his wishes never came true.

Xoxoxoxoxo

 What do you say to someone who stares at you with awe? Harry thought glancing at a tall, Hufflepuff girl who had been staring at him for many a second. The girl's friend chattered away happily, blissfully unaware that she had lost the other girls attention. Harry wanted to know what the girl was thinking as she stared, unblinking, as if he was some kind of sideshow. When was he supposed to get used to this? The stares, the wide-eyed expressions that haunted his every move, which made him, feel uneasy. His relatives were right, he was a freak, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was true. He was still unsure, was he a freak because he was just freaky? Or was it because of his newfound fame? Maybe, it was because he was sorted into the wrong house. There were many reasons, any could've been right.

 “Katie,” the other Hufflepuff girl hissed. “Don't stare, it's rude. He's just a firsty, you're scaring him!”

 “But,” the tall girl looked at the smaller one. “Don't you know who that is?”

 “Yes, that's Harry Potter, now stop staring and pay attention to me!”

 “But, Martha,” the girl's voice lowered a little, but Harry could still hear her. “I heard he came to school with bruises, and he pas -“ Martha clapped her hand over Katie's mouth, essentially quieting her.

 “Sh! That's none of your business!” Martha scolded her and then grabbed onto Katie's arm with her other hand. She then dragged Katie away and Harry felt as though a weight had been lifted from his entire body.

 The recent week had been very upsetting for him.

 Everything had all started with his sorting…

 “SLYTHERIN!” The loud voiced boomed in his ears and he felt faint. It was to loud, everything was to bright, and then with the name of his house called out, it became all to quiet. No one spoke, no one moved, if he were to be brash, he would say no one even brought in or let out a breath of air. Everything was wrong. He felt hot then cold, then hot, then cold, and with each change of temperature he shivered. His body shook and he felt like curling up and dying. He stood, shakily, and then tentatively pulled the sorting hat off his head and handed it back.

 It was still to quiet as he headed to the Slytherin table. He stared at their faces, some looked happy, others looked angry, and the rest looked uncaring or unreadable. His breath was loud in his own ears. One, two, three, he counted his steps, four five si- Suddenly, he felt as though something was very wrong, more so then usual. The floor seemed to be coming towards his face! How odd, he thought as gasps went around the room, the floor didn't usually jump up. Then again, the floor could've been different for wizards. Then, just as he was about to meet the floor, it all faded to a dark black, and he felt, and saw nothing.

 When he awoke, the world seemed to be upside down. He wondered briefly where his glasses were.

 “Malnourishment, dehydration, bruises, and more.” A woman's voice floated across the room. Whoever she was speaking about seemed to cause the woman great worry.

 “What do you want me to do?” The voice sounded smooth, and irritated.

 'Secrets will forever hinder you.' The Sorting hat's voice bounced off the inside of his head.

 “I think you shou-“ She was cut off by the sharp voice irritated man.

 “There's nothing we can do.”

 “But we need to help him,” her voice was soft now. 

 “This never happens with any other students.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “You don't treat any other abused student this way.” His voice was a low hiss. “It's because he's Harry bloody Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived.”

 “That's not it!” She was starting to sound irritated as well.

 “Now you're just lying." The air of finality sent a shiver down Harry's spine. "Dumbledore said that the boy is safest there. We mustn't treat the child like he is special!” The man's voice was down to a low growl.

 Harry was unsure as to whether or not had done something wrong. This man seemed very angry with him, and he didn't know why. He was upset. He reached down and gripped his stomach tightly. His short nails dug into his skin sharply. He bit his bottom lip to keep from making noises. For some odd reason he felt guilty for causing this man to dislike him.

 "Now Severus," they moved farther away from his bed. "Don't allow your old grudges to get in the way! This is Harry! He is not James."

 Harry closed his eyes and stopped squeezing his stomach. One salty tear strolled down his cheek. Severus, Harry's brain murmured. His eyes flew open, and something in his mind pieced together. Severus Snape. His Head of house.

 "You have no bloody clue what you are talking about! We will not speak of this again!" Harry could hear the anger spewing out of his Professor.

 Severus Snape, Harry nibbled his bottom lip. This man already disliked him, and they had never even met before. He knew the answer then, he could feel the freak rolling off of him. His relatives were right. He was a stupid freak, and everyone hated him.

 No! His brain screamed. He would not allow this! This school was his saving grace. From that moment on Harry Potter vowed that Severus Snape, head of Slytherin house, would see that Harry Potter was no freak. He would prove this to him, even if it took him his very last breath. 

September 3rd

"How is he?" The low hum of a voice asked sharply, stirring Harry from his daydreams. Although the voice startled him, he didn't look in the direction of the speaker. As if he had to, he thought. Harry had become oddly familiar with that voice. If he were to be blunt, he would say that he would know that voice anywhere. But he wasn't blunt, and he wasn't sure if he could find the man's voice in a sea of others. It was Professor Snape's fourth visit in the last two days. Professor Snape seemed to like repetition, because the man showed up around the same time in the morning and in the evening.

"Better physically, but..." Madam Pomfrey's voice was soft and testing. It seemed as though she was daring Professor Snape to challenge her. "I'm unsure how he is... Mentally." She said the word 'mentally' very softly and Harry had to strain to hear it.

"I see." The sudden change in voice volume startled Harry. It was odd going from Madam Pomfrey's hurried whisper to Professor Snape's loud but smooth voice. Harry shot a shy glance at his Professor, to see his Professor observing him closely.

"He seems mentally stable to me." Professor Snape said after a moment.

"He just sits there, void of any emotion, and quiet as a mouse, sometimes I forget he's here. He does whatever I want him to without complaint. He also drinks the potions without so much as a grimace, it's as if he doesn't know how to feel." Madam Pomfrey's voice became softer. He looked to see them walking into the hall. He did not hear Professor Snape's response.

He suddenly felt exhausted. Not physically exhausted, but mentally. His brain was upset with thinking, and feeling. Thoughts ghosted through his brain, murmuring soft horror stories as they lurked in the deepest parts of his brain.

'What are you doing? Shut down, forget, don't move, and don’t breathe. Just sit there suffering, dying, and miserable. There is no impressing him. He hates you.' He flinched, physically and mentally shuddering with realization. 'Always wanting to have someone like you, you're pathetic.' 

"Mr. Potter."

"Sir?" Harry mumbled, as he stared at his hands, and chewed his bottom lip. He didn't look at Professor Snape. He knew that it would probably end up with him in trouble, but he couldn't look just then, not with his face so full of emotions. He swallowed down every feeling he had, and pushed them into a box in his mind. Leaving his face and mind free of emotion. Or so he thought.

"Look at me." The order was simple.

Harry looked up at him slowly. Obsidian eyes stared back at him penetrating his soul with a coolness that both shocked and annoyed Harry. There was a slow calculation in the way he stared. Harry wanted to look away. He wanted to run, scream and hide, but he couldn’t. He had to stay and he had to be perfect. He had to be the person that was wanted. He had to stop feeling, and start thinking. His feelings were threatening everything.

At that moment, gazing into those dark eyes, he felt the worst need to cry.

‘We will keep you safe, but I need you to promise me something. Promise me you’ll stay strong, Harry.’ The Headmaster’s voice laced his thoughts. The Headmaster had seemed so worried, and he seemed like he really cared. Harry really wanted to make him happy. To be honest, Harry wanted to make anyone happy.

000

Vacant, was the only word Severus could use to describe the look in Potter's eyes. Poppy may have been right. The boy looked like he didn't know what emotions were. If he was to inform Dumbledore of the boy’s real progresses he needed to get a rise out of the boy. Dumbledore had visited Potter the first day

"I'm glad you're not incompetent, Mr. Potter." He hissed, placing his best sneer on his face.

Nothing.

There was nothing, not even a flicker of emotion. Where was the spunk? Where was the utter defiance? Where was the 'I can conquer anything' look? Where was the lopsided grin? Where was the James Potter twin? Damn women and their unnatural ability to be right. Damn Harry Potter for not being James Potter. Damn those empty eyes that ensnared him relentlessly. Damn everything! Damn himself for feeling a tiny bit of pity for the boy. And Damn Dumbledore for putting him in this position!

"Yes, sir." There was nothing behind that voice. What made Dumbledore put Potter in the hands of muggles? Blood wards were what he often said was why, but Severus wasn't sure that was the whole truth.

The boy was broken, and soulless. Then it suddenly dawned on Severus. The boy was easily manipulatable in this position. He tasted something sour in his mouth at that thought. Dumbledore would never... He sighed deeply.

"Mr. Potter, you may leave the hospital wing tomorrow." Severus sensed an unknown edge to his voice. Suddenly, something clicked in his mind. Potter could be the perfect soldier without emotions.

"Yes, sir."

No one would have to worry about his mental health, or if he was lonely, or if he wanted to die. No one would have to do anything. Who was he kidding? Harry Potter was eleven. He was a child, a small, and abused child. Savior or not, the boy needed guidance, and protection. He wasn't saying he cared for Potter’s wellbeing, oh no that would never happen. He was just doing his duty as an adult.

Even in Severus's worst moments as a child he was never this calm. There was something ultimately wrong with this. The child seemed unruffled, and tranquil. The boy wasn’t cowering, or whimpering. Something inside of Severus twitched. He felt himself wanting this child to be James Potter. He wanted the child to be anyone but the emotionless creature sitting before him.

Potter was breathing slowly. By the way his shoulders were tensed it showed that the perfect tranquility he was exhibiting was a facade. The boy was so young and already able to fake it with such experience. Severus smirked. Ah, so the boy did have slytherin qualities. Harry Potter was still a mystery.

"Very well then." He turned on his heels and left, deciding to investigate The-Boy-Who-Lived further. 

000

Harry stared at Professor Snape's back as he exited the room. He sighed deeply when he lost sight of him. Harry hated being a specimen, and so far everyone had been analyzing him with a microscope. They searched for his flaws relentlessly. At the moment, all Harry wanted to do was curl up under the bed and disappear into the floor.

September 6th

To say that Harry was used to Hogwarts would be a bold faced lie. He wasn't used to gossip mouthed children, the pesky teachers with their all-knowing looks, the girls that glanced at him open-mouthed, the confusing classes, the too rich food that mad him sick, the candy-coated Headmaster, and the bat-like Professor Snape.

He hadn't spoken much to Ron. The other boy seemed to avoid him like he had the plague. Harry thought that Ron figured him to be evil. Not everyone in Slytherin was evil, right? He didn't know. He was starting to believe it to be true. All the other students in his House were sly, and calculating. They gave him devious smirks, and whispered hate-laced words that made him want to run for cover.

He figured at least this much. Everyone in Slytherin either hated him, didn't care, or they were watching and waiting to see if he was all everyone said he was.

Harry avoided everyone at all costs. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't want anyone to look at him. He attempted to do well in his classes. Professor Quirrell made his scar hurt. Professor McGonagall surveyed him so closely it felt like every move he made she watched. Professor Snape ignored him. Professor Snape's ignorance made him unhappy. He wanted his approval, or his hate. He wanted anything. Not those cool and uncaring looks that screamed worthless to him at every turn.

He had to admit it. Hogwarts was no longer wonderful. In such a short time the magical place turned into a horror house of creatures and murders.

Harry was avoiding sleeping at all costs. He had been barely sleeping. It seemed that every-time he closed his eyes he saw horrific flashes of something he couldn't explain. All he knew was that he ran a lot in these nightmares. From some kind of monster he couldn't identify. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing away bad dreams.

Like always, he couldn’t sleep. Something was keeping awake. Something was torturing him. He was so restless, so upset, so tired, and so confused. He was tired but his body wouldn’t sleep. He felt like he had suddenly become full of sugar.

What he was doing now was stupid. He was walking err running down corridors. He had to get outside! He felt this intense burning to be outside in the open air. He was so hot. He knew how cool night air was. He needed to be outside, in the air. He needed, and wanted to be immersed in it.

He was going mad with heat.

When he finally made his way outside he collapsed onto the ground, breathing in the cool air. Then, as if something had broken inside of him, he sobbed. He cried brokenly, selfishly, eagerly, and desperately. He let every emotion in him out into the lonely night air.

He heard the footsteps first.

“Mr. Potter.”

God. Great. Professor Snape, Harry thought angrily, go away. He wasn’t going to answer. No. No.

“Sir?” He replied weakly. He responded because he had to. Or that’s what he told himself.

000

Harry Potter was no savior, Severus growled to himself. He scowled down at the first year that had decided it was perfectly fine for him to crumble himself up into a ball at his Professor's feet in the middle of the night. The child was stupid, or blind with sickness, either way, he shouldn't have been out past curfew, and didn't Pompey say the boy was well? Severus sighed deeply, and the child looked up at him, eyes wide in unbridled horror. Honestly, it was as if the boy had no desire to hide anything he felt.

 Harry Potter wasn’t James Potter. James Potter would have never looked at him with such despair. James Potter would have glared back, eyes blazing with hate, wand out, and a spell on the tip of his tongue. This Potter, this savior, this child, laid below him, his eyes wide with fear, could barely save himself. Harry Potter could barely protect himself.

 Severus held out a hand slowly. He had suddenly come to a decision that would most likely make James Potter roll in his grave with utter disgust.

 The boy at his feet was different. He was a new Potter, entirely.

 He was a Potter that would grow under his supervision, in the exact way Severus wanted. How easy would it be, he mused, to cultivate the child? He was young, naive, and barely aware to the world around him. Severus wasn't sure how long it would have taken the boy to find out his future by himself. If, perhaps, Severus managed to teach the child, and nudge him in the right direction then this child was going to have the small amount of a chance to do what he wanted. Dark or light, prophecy or not, the boy needed to grow, but not into a soldier. He needed to grow into someone that could hold his own against others, that didn't need to rely so much on the opinions of others. Severus Snape was going to be the one that taught the boy, but while Dumbledore used smiles, sickly sweet candies, and twinkling eyes to get what he wanted, Severus had another method. The boy was going to only trust him, and treat everyone else with wary, and cynical expressions. He wasn’t going to run in headstrong, wand blazing. Oh, no. The child was going be taught things no one dared to talk about. He did have seven years with the boy why not make them interesting?

 Harry Potter stared at his hand as if he didn’t understand the purpose of the body part.

 “Stop sitting there, and take it.” Severus growled, annoyed by the boy’s idiocy. He was a little bit amused at the wariness the boy exhibited. It meant that the child didn’t just blindly trust someone, not ever professors. It might have been the rumors and horror stories about him that caused Harry Potter to be wary, but he was sure of the boy's distrust of adults. While the boy obeyed blindly, much to Severus's annoyance, he did so with a careful thoughtful expression that suggested much more than anyone else had assumed.

 Harry Potter did as he was told, grasping onto his Professor’s hand. The brat gasped with surprise when he was helped to his feet. He let go of Snape’s hand as if it was scalding hot to the touch. Obviously, he hadn’t expected that. Severus smirked a moment at the thoughts whirling through his mind.  The boy gave him a look of confusion at his sudden mirth, but Severus ignored it.

 All he had to do was acquire the boy’s trust in him. It wouldn’t do well for him if Potter had other trusted forces influencing him throughout the course of his school career. As far as he thought, it would only take smooth talking to put one Harry Potter into the clutches of the bat of the dungeons, but unlike others, the boy would trust him.

 Severus flinched inwardly, what in the seven hells was he doing? He was being a manipulative bastard just like Dumbledore. Was he any better than the headmaster? He didn't feel any sort of malice in his own intent, but after having lived in the bad intent for so long it was hard to decipher between his motives for some acts.

 “Follow me.” Severus said stiffly, turning away from the child and heading back towards the castle. He hoped the boy was following behind him just as swiftly. It wouldn’t do either of them any good if the younger didn’t know how to follow simple orders. Obedient or not, some idiots always ended up confused.

 Severus felt a tad giddy about the plans for the future, but for now Severus would settle with building the small bridge of trust that would keep Harry Potter pinning to keep himself in good terms with his professor.

 This wasn’t James Potter. They only seemed alike in looks now. This child wasn't sure which way was up unless told, and Severus was about to point him in just the right direction.

 -0-0-0-

 Professor Snape seemed a little odd, and his eyes gleamed dangerously, or at least to Harry they did. What are you thinking, Professor? Harry glanced from Professor Snape’s back to the grass at his feet. There was something dark and terrifying about his Professor. Was he a dark being? Harry sort of assumed that to be obvious. Maybe it was the clothes, or the rumors, but there was something dangerous brewing under that calm.  People said things about Professor Snape, rude, rude things. He had overhead a few Ravenclaw seventh years talking about ‘death eaters’ and how Professor Snape used to be one of them. Harry didn't know what 'death eaters' were, but something about it made him think that it made Professor Snape a very powerful wizard. He wasn’t sure what it was that made him crave his Professor’s approval but repulsed him and intrigued him at the same time.

 He had been listening to everyone. It was a habit of his to hide away, and listen. He learned many things by this, and stayed out of the older children’s way. Harry stared at Professor Snape's back as he walked and wondered if he was lonely. He didn't see many people hanging around him. In Harry's innocent mind he assumed that everyone wanted friends, just like he did, and were just to shy to find some. He thought that maybe he could be Professor Snape's friend.

 He had learned a few things about Professor Snape: He liked smart people. He liked quiet people. He liked obedient people. He liked people who didn't blow up their potions. (He had overheard a few third years’ laughing about someone blowing up a potion. Professor Snape was angry, but everyone else seemed happy, and it ended with someone with blue hair.)

 He wanted Professor Snape to like him. He decided to study, and never ever blow up a potion. He was going to get Professor Snape to approve of him, and then in the end, they would both have a new friend.

 0-0-0-September Seventh-0-0-0

 Professor Snape had escorted him back to the dungeons, sentenced him to detention for the rest of the week, and then sent him on his way to his dorm.

 Later, he had found himself being stared at by another first year. This particular Slytherin didn't mill around with the likes of Draco Malfoy, and Harry had noticed his liking to be alone. Theodore Nott had a very intense stare, one that made drew Harry in yet pushed him away at the same time. They stared at one another, sizing the other up. Harry was confused, this was the first Slytherin that had showed honest interest in him, excluding Draco Malfoy, because he didn't really know what to think about him. The common room felt achingly empty, and only a few students milled around, more interested in better things than Harry Potter who had resigned himself into sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room. No one had been particularly nice to him, and students of other houses seemed curious, but a little afraid of him. He heard the whispers spreading around the castle, 'He killed you-know-who, can we truly have a savior in Slytherin? That's such a dark house. He could become the next you-know-who!"

 Theodore had a very unchanging stare; it was impassive, and schooled carefully, but still radiated intelligence. Harry was lonely. It was a normally a natural feeling to him, but now that he was always surrounded by people, the feeling hurt more. Theodore stood, and walked slowly over to Harry. He was tall, a tad awkward, but still held the pureblood air that many others in Slytherin had, but some didn't even compare to Theodore Nott. He didn't walk cockily, like he thought he owned the place, but more with a sense of wary.

 Theodore Nott sat across from him, his face impassive. "Hello."

 "Hi." Harry whispered. Maybe Theodore Nott wanted to be friends?

 "What do you know about the forbidden forest?" Theodore's eyes took a new light to them, like he had suddenly felt a chill of excitement.