The vast wide sky is full of oranges, reds, pinks, and purples as the setting sun dips into the horizon. Since the sun looks as if it is bleeding, it's rather eerie to look at actually. Off in the distance of the large manor are millions of crows cawing in the numerous large trees hidden by darkness. Suddenly, something scares the black birds forcing them to take flight. The sky blackens instantly. I notice this scary scene as I walk into Dad's study. It definitely adds to the atmosphere, unfortunately.

I glance towards Draco and notice his eyes downcast. He looks rather at ease, though, but I don't really take much notice in that. I'm going to blame the grisly scene outside of our manor and my unspoken fears/past for my next actions. I draw my wand instantly.

"He's not going back," I growl pointing my wand at Dad.

"Harry—"

"NO! He's not going back, Dad!" I'm glaring at him. I know it's rather stupid that I'm pointing my wand towards Dad, but Draco isn't going back without a fight from me. I watch Dad's eyes dart briefly behind me before he takes a step back from Draco and me.

"Have you gone completely mental, Potter?" Draco snaps before stepping in front of my wand. "Lower your damn wand." When I don't, he roughly pushes my arm down. "I'm not going anywhere." He then scoffs. "Jeez, Potter, Severus just told me that I don't ever have to go back to Malfoy Manor."

"Why? Did something happen?" My eyes then glance towards Dad.

"Yeah, but it's a good thing, Potter. The Dark Lord murdered Lucius and Narcissa last night."

"Draco," Dad admonishes quietly.

"No, Severus, it's a good thing. They got what they deserved. I know I'm supposed to be upset and all that crap, but I'm glad. I'm glad they're dead. They weren't any parents of mine."

"Even so, Draco, they are still your parents."

"They were more like monsters raising me to be a future Death Eater, Severus, than parents," Draco snarls. "You're ten times the father than Lucius ever was."

I glance at Dad. He doesn't react to Draco's words, but I can feel something through our link.

"Guess I get a brother who's a Gryffindor now," Draco says with a soft smile.

I nod slowly feeling a bit sorry for him. I mean, I can relate with him. If the Dursleys died, I'd be like Draco and be glad for it. Truthfully, that part scares me, though. It is so easy to hate someone and wish he or she was dead. Love, now that is something that's never been easy for me. Okay, so I act as if it is, but it takes me awhile to trust, which is probably another side effect from living with the Dursleys. So what happens one day when I decide that I'm glad that Dad or even Mum is dead? I instantly shiver at this thought. I hope that day never comes.

"You've both had a rather trying day. Perhaps it'd be best if you retired to your rooms for the night," Dad quietly says glancing at me oddly.

I briefly wonder if he overheard my thoughts, but he glances away quickly. I then close my eyes and sigh. Maybe he's disappointed because I drew my wand on him earlier. Or maybe he realizes that my mind's too messed up from the Dursleys and wants me to go away so he can have his perfect son, a son that I know will never be me. I don't know how to describe it, but something in me snaps then. It comes on so suddenly that I don't even have a chance to react.

"Yeah, you'd like it if I left, wouldn't you?" I sneer towards Dad. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I catch Dad's eyes widen for a mere millisecond before he expertly hides behind his mask again. I then snarl more hate at him. "I get it. You know, I finally get it, Snape."

"Potter," Draco says glancing at me clearly puzzled. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Go ahead, Malfoy. You can have him." I then whirl around. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm just so angry right now. I don't know where this anger came from, though. It feels almost as if something's controlling me right now. I then catch Mum's dark eyes narrowing on me suspiciously. There's no anger in her face, though, which is a bit surprising with the way I'm acting. Another surge of anger bursts through me, and I can't prevent the words from spewing out of my mouth. "I hope you enjoy screwing a Death Eater tonight, Sinistra. Of course, the way I hear it, you enjoy that immensely."

My words echo back to me. It's not me. I don't…I don't know what's happening. I mean, I know I'm the one talking, but… I then notice that I'm running out of Dad's study. It doesn't even feel like I'm in control of that. What's happening to me? Please…someone…anyone help me. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I sprint towards my bedroom. However, before I can reach the staircase, arms suddenly wrap around my midsection pulling me backwards. I feel myself start to fight, but the arms keep a tight hold on me. Faintly, I can hear someone whispering soft soothing words in my ear. However, instead of making me calm, it only angers me even more.

I then watch Mum walk up to me, which makes me know instantly that Dad must be the one holding me. There still isn't any anger visible on her face. Shouldn't she be upset? I mean, I've gone completely psychotic. More rage then bubbles to the surface. Where is all this anger coming from? Inside, I'm trembling with fear. Outside, I'm shaking in fury. Forcing me to look her in her eyes, I feel her gently hold my face in between her hands.

"You are Harry James Potter," she says calmly, keeping her hand firmly against my cheeks. I can feel myself continuously trying to fight. Why am I trying so hard to get away from her when she's trying to help me? Something's really wrong with me. Why am I so angry? "You are the son of James and Lily Potter." I don't know how to describe it, but I can faintly hear the sounds of glass breaking nearby. Am I doing that? "You are fourteen years old and attend Hogwarts as a fourth-year Gryffindor. You're friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who both love you so much, Harry." I can feel the tears sliding down my cheeks.

Please, Mum, help me, I cry through our link, praying that they can hear me. I then feel my magic building right alongside the fury inside myself. No, no, please…please…I beg. I can feel the floor underneath my feet shaking as if it is an earthquake. I'm not in control anymore. Someone else is.

Ah, Harry, so you've finally figured it out, a cold voice whispers in my mind. That's a good boy, Harry. Your dear sweet Mudblood mother would be so proud of you if she were alive today. Then again, we both know what happened to her, don't we, Harry?

I then hear loud cruel chuckling in my mind, which makes me whimper softly. The chuckles don't have any of the warmth Dad's have. In fact, this voice can only belong to one person, Voldemort. He's in my head. Please, please get him out, Mum, I whimper, hoping Dad or Mum can hear me.

Say goodbye to your second mummy, Potter, the malicious voice snarls in my mind. For a split second, Dad's arms loosen slightly, but I don't know why. I then watch in terror as my wand rises slowly. I can feel the hatred, the anger, the pure rage and spite directed at Mum, but it's not me. It's Voldemort. I can just feel the coldness and hatred in him. My mouth then opens to cast an unknown spell at her, but it doesn't leave much to the imagination which curse he'll use.

"Keep fighting, Harry," Mum says still locking eyes with me. Numbly, I notice that he has stopped for a second for some reason. I use that second instantly.

"I…" I then inhale deeply. It's taking almost all my strength to say the few words. "I can't," I cry softly before feeling Voldemort's presence in my mind shove me violently backwards in my mind. I then feel Mum yank me from Dad's arms towards her before wrapping her arms around me in a maternally way. If I didn't have a wand currently trained in her chest, I'd be relishing the embrace. I try to focus on her embrace, though, hoping it will give me an edge over Voldemort.

"I won't let you go, Harry," Mum whispers fiercely as she holds me. "I won't let you go."

I hear myself laugh against her, but it's Voldemort's laughter coming from me, not mine. I can't stop wondering how he can do this, how he can control me like this. I'm supposed to share a link with Dad and Mum, not this murderer. I notice my wand digging more into her chest, but she keeps holding me tightly against her as if she's trying to protect me.

Glancing at her shoulder where she's holding my head against, I notice a pale blue glow around her, whereas I have black smoky aura. No doubt, it's from Voldemort controlling me. Softly whispering, a lullaby perhaps, makes her glow brighten gradually. Slowly, the ethereal light that surrounds her transfers into me. I can feel some control over my body returning, which makes me glance up. She's concentrating intensely with her lips barely moving. She's casting a spell on me, which seems to be a pretty powerful one by the looks of it. I watch her eyes lighten to near white as she continues to whisper whatever she's casting. I nearly smile when I feel the darkness leave me. It's working.

"You think that you are a match against me, the one true Dark Lord?" I hear myself hiss as Voldemort forces my lips to speak. "You'll lose, Sinistra. Just like always."

"No," Mum replies, holding me even tighter. I then feel her take a deep breath against me, which makes me wince internally. My wand appears to be almost impaling her. "You will not harm my son," she says with fierce determination in her voice.

Within seconds, a bright white light surrounds me. I feel the warmth envelop my entire body as loud screams echo in my head. Whatever Mum has cast, I can tell makes Voldemort quickly flee out of my mind. The light then fades away, and I instantly drop my wand. I watch the brown slowly return to Mum's eyes before she glances down at me. I can see the love she has for me in her eyes. However, a few seconds later, she starts to pitch forward with a soft moan. I keep holding her upright even though she's now unconscious, though. Well, as best as I can, that is.

"I've got her, Harry," Dad quietly says, glancing at me as soon as he wraps his arms around her. There's no anger in his eyes. Why aren't they angry with me? Because that wasn't you, Harry, Dad instantly replies through our link. "Draco, remain with Harry for a moment."

As soon as Dad disappears with Mum in his arms, I start to break down and sob uncontrollably. I drop to my knees and tightly hug myself. I know that Dad only wants Draco to stay with me because he has to check Mum over, but I can't help it. I nearly killed her. Voldemort was in complete control of me, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. That powerlessness frightens me the most, but the fact that I nearly killed her completely scares the hell out of me. With Dad gone, am I going to lose my mind to Voldemort again and nearly kill Draco this time? My sobs then turn into wails as I cry like a banshee.

"It's all right, Potter," Draco whispers a few seconds later as he awkwardly hugs me. "You're safe. Sinistra made sure of that." He then gently pats my back, which makes me think for a split second that the Slytherin hasn't received that many hugs before in his life. Then again, considering who his parents were, he probably didn't. "You're safe, Harry. You're safe."

I can't help it. Draco's reassurances somehow calm me. In fact, it calms me so well that I start to give into the exhaustion that I don't realize I have. Minutes later, I rest my head against his shoulder. He doesn't tense up at all. Instead, he sighs and rests his head against mine. I don't know how any of them can stand to be near me. I nearly became a murderer. With those happy thoughts, I drift off to sleep.

My nightmare that I know isn't really a nightmare but a memory instantly takes over. Haven't I been tortured enough tonight? No one responds, but then again I don't expect anyone to. I know why I'm dreaming this, but I really wish I wasn't. I don't need any more reminders.

It's been storming all day and nearly all night too on Privet Drive. I've just finished washing the dishes that somehow just strangely appear. Honestly, they haven't even had supper yet, which is only because Uncle Vernon supposedly has to work late again tonight. My portly cousin suddenly bumps into me. I watch the dish that once was in my hand fall towards the floor, but I quickly grab it before it shatters into a million little pieces. I'm already sore enough, thank you. I so do not need any more reminders from Uncle Vernon about what happens to freaks like me who break valuable dishware. I sigh softly and quietly dry it, ignoring Dudley's laughing. I can't wait until I get out of this hellhole.

I actually feel rather good about myself today because I've finished all my chores for once. That good feeling instantly disappears, though, when the front door opens. I hear the quiet grumbling from Uncle Vernon as he shakes out his umbrella rather violently. His eyes then catch mine, and I notice the familiar look of hatred in his eyes towards me.

"What are you looking at, boy?" he snaps.

"Nothing, sir," I quietly reply, making sure to glance away. Yet even more clothes I have to wash before Aunt Petunia notices, I think grumpily as he tosses his clothes carelessly in the laundry basket near me. A few seconds later, he roughly grabs my upper arm and whirls me around.

"Do I need to remind you, boy, what will happen to you if Petunia finds out?"

"No, sir," I respond instantly. He rewards me with a violent slap across the face.

"Good, boy, so get to it," he growls glaring at me.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." As soon as he releases me, I quickly whirl around and grab the laundry basket. The smell is pungent and nearly makes me retch. Why couldn't he just burn the damn things if he didn't want Aunt Petunia to know he was having an affair? Why does he force me to wash the damn clothes that he soiled? Luckily, the laundry room is rather far away from their dining room, so I know that I won't have to contend with Uncle Vernon's punishment for my stomach growling tonight. That also means that the Dursleys are on their own for once to get their supper. Serves the bastards right, though, I silently think with a soft smile. After all, this isn't my home, and it never will be with them.

I wordlessly start to remove the stains and try my hardest not to vomit in the trashcan beside me. At this point, I would so much rather I was in detention with Snape than be here doing this. A soft noise behind me makes me turn around. Aunt Petunia's eyes glance down at the filthy pants that I've been scrubbing before she glances back up at me.

"So it's true then?" she asks with little emotion.

"I…um…no, it's not," I quickly lie. Oh, this isn't good.

"Don't lie to me," she snarls before slapping me hard across the opposite cheek that Uncle Vernon had earlier. "He's been with that…" She then whirls around and quickly rushes out of the room.

For the lack of anything better to do, I drop the offensive clothes and glance at the door. Any minute now, Uncle Vernon's going to barrel through that door giving me the beating of the lifetime. Then again, he did say something about making me bleed like a stuck pig. I really hate that simile.

Well, I'm not going to wait right here for that. Maybe I'll run away again. Of course, that never works, though. I then sprint towards my bedroom upstairs. He doesn't like to cross that threshold because I might have some weird curse on the room. I get as far as the last step up when Uncle Vernon's beefy hands latch onto my shirt and yank me backwards. I can't catch my balance in time so I go tumbling down the stairs. The side of my head slams against one of the steps, but I'm not that lucky to pass out, unfortunately.

Numbly, I feel Uncle Vernon lift me up before shaking me like a rag doll. My teeth chatter from how hard he's shaking me. I can see the vein throbbing in his neck, which strangely enough looks the same as when Snape's vein on his temple throbs manically. However, nobody can do an Oompa-Loompa look like my Uncle Vernon can. Hmm…maybe they're not purple on second thought.

"I told you, boy!" he roars sending tons of spittle towards me. It's rather pathetic, but this is the first shower I've had in weeks. "I told you what would happen to you if you told her, boy!"

Technically speaking, I didn't say anything. However, I'm not about to tell Uncle Vernon that. No, sirree, I'd much rather walk up to Snape and tell him he's a greasy git than to tell Uncle Vernon. I then notice the nasty smirk on his face. That's definitely not a good sign.

Once we're in my room, Uncle Vernon releases me. I quickly jump back and try to find a way to escape. Unfortunately, my whale of an uncle blocks the door. My eyes, however, continue to dart around the room. That is until I hear the soft clinking of him undoing his belt. My head whips back towards him, and my eyes widen in fear. The belt is always the hardest to take, especially that one he's wearing.

I've passed out sometime during my punishment. Yet another bad sign of things to come, I groan. Uncle Vernon always punishes me even worse when I pass out on him…or when I scream, or when I cry, or when I do anything other than just take it like the good freak I am. His words, not mine. However, when I cautiously open my eyes, I notice instantly that Uncle Vernon isn't in my room anymore. Slowly, I roll onto my side and yelp from the sudden pain in my abdomen. I glance at myself and moan softly when I notice that my ripped shirt and pants. Gradually, I crawl towards my clean clothes if you could even call clothes that I haven't washed since returning to my own personal hell. I glance down and notice that I'm dragging my leg along my soiled carpet, but I ignore it.

Even though, I know I risk getting an infection from my numerous cuts, I still change into my cleaner clothes. I wince at some of the marks and bruises on my body. My knee is already badly swollen. I then glance towards my mirror before glancing away. I hardly recognize myself anymore.

"I'll heal," I quietly mutter to myself. "I always do."

"Is that right, Mr. Potter?" a voice drawls behind me.

At first, I think the man's Snape, but I notice the frequent flicking of the tongue. Definitely not Snape then, I groan in my mind. The man then yanks me up and holds me a few feet off the floor.

"Hmm, you poor thing, you," he drawls with a smirk. "Is the poor Boy-Who-Lived hurt? Don't cry, Potter. I'll make you all better," he says in a feigned saccharine voice.

Yeah, sure you will. And I secretly wish Snape were my dad, I think sarcastically. The far wall then quickly appears before I slam against it. Once more, I feel fists pound against my face.

"Knock it off, Crouch," a voice growls somewhere near me. "We've got a job to do, remember?"

Spit then lands on me, which makes me painfully grimace. My entire body aches, and I can see now that I'm badly bleeding. When a heavy weight drops onto my chest, I jump into panic mode. Pain forgotten, I start fighting as hard as I can against the man. Someone, however, grabs my arms and wrenches them backwards against the floor before holding them there.

"Don't worry, Potter. It'll all be over soon," whispers the man in my ear.

I then feel something cutting my arm deeply, which makes me glance towards the new pain. I watch in utter disbelief as he slices my forearm before collecting my blood. What? I wasn't bleeding enough for you, so you had to cut into my arm, I snarl in my head. I then hear sounds of fighting downstairs, which makes me wonder if they're killing the Dursleys.

"You about finished?"

"Yes, why?" hisses Crouch. Loud thumping outside of my room draws the man's attention momentarily. "Dammit," he growls before cutting even deeper into my arm. It doesn't take long then for him to collect an entire vial full of my blood. "The Dark Lord would thank you in person, but he has his rebirth ceremony. And you, Harry, have just given us the last ingredient needed to resurrect the Dark Lord." As my door bursts open with a flash of white light, Crouch and the other person disappear.

"Holy hell," I hear a woman whisper before rushing towards me. Unfortunately, I can't really tell who she is, though, because she has her hood up. And, well, for the millionth time in my short life, my glasses have been shattered yet again, leaving me blind as a bat. I hear the woman softly mumble spells towards me. I can just tell that she's healing me because it's getting rather easier to breathe. I then hear soft clinks, which makes me wonder for a split second if Uncle Vernon's back to finish my punishment. However, when I feel a cool vial pressed against my lips, I revise that thought. A witch obviously is healing me, but which witch? "It's all right, Mr. Potter." She then lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I promise you that you will not remain here if I have anything to say about it," she quietly growls. The voice sounds oddly familiar as if I've heard it dozens of times before.

"All clear in here?" a gruff voice speaks from the doorway.

"I don't know. Would I be on my knees with my back turned if it wasn't?"

"No need to get your knickers in a bunch," the man responds. "Constant—"

"Oh, yes, how could I forget, constant vigilance always," she mutters in annoyance.

"Is every—great Merlin's ghost, is that Harry?"

"Idiots, the whole lot of them," the witch mumbles under her breath.

It instantly makes me laugh softly. She reminds me of Snape. My eyes then squint at her to see if it maybe is. Unfortunately, her hood is still up. She then brings yet another vial to my lips, and I greedily accept it. Whoever she is, I'll thank her profusely some day.

"My dear, will he be all right?"

"Physically or mentally speaking, Albus?" she growls. "I don't give a damn what you say. Mr. Potter isn't spending another goddamn night here or you can find yourself a new professor."

"I understand, my dear. I shall find a new guardian for him immediately."

"We'll take him, Albus. He's always welcome," a man, who I believe is Mr. Weasley, says.

"I'm afraid that you know my answer on that, Arthur," Dumbledore replies somberly.

"Unless I'm mistaken, Albus, there is another whom you trust to take Mr. Potter. One that would ensure he receives the care he needs," the witch says stressing some unknown point. "Don't give me that look. He'll take Mr. Potter. And if he doesn't, then I'll hex his bastardly ass all the way to the Forbidden Forest for being a goddamn idiot," she snarls before gently carding her fingers through my hair.

A few moments later, when I'm completely relaxed, I feel someone lift me up on feet. I have to admit that I'm in a state of shock right now. I can't really see anything, with or without my glasses.

"Shh," whispers the kind witch. "Severus will take care of you, Mr. Potter."

I glance at her with wide eyes just as I start to feel strange. Moments later, I'm standing in front of a huge scary black manor with Dumbledore. I watch him knock on the door. It seems a lifetime before the door finally opens, and I come face-to-face with Severus Snape, greasy bastard of the dungeons. I watch anger morph into annoyance before rapidly turning into pure shock. Oh, goody, Dumbledore really wants to kill me tonight. I then wake up from my remembrance, drenched in sweat.