As Seen Through A Mirror by Scorpia
Summary: Harry Potter stolen away from his relatives house, and Draco Malfoy the only witness. There would be some explaining to do, if Severus managed to save the brat in time.
Categories: Healer Snape, Teacher Snape > Professor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco
Snape Flavour: Canon Snape
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst
Media Type: None
Tags: Kidnapped!Harry, Snape-meets-Dursleys, Spying on Harry! Snape
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 13 Completed: No Word count: 65401 Read: 54066 Published: 07 Jul 2014 Updated: 08 Jan 2018
Chapter 6: A Revengeful Plan by Scorpia

Yes, his stubborn will told him he would be escaping, and that it would not be alone, but that smile told him something else. His escape was uncertain and only a shadow of hope in his mind, but the probability of him going through quite a lot of pain before that escape could be attempted...that was inevitable.

Severus turned the letter over in his hand, and once again read the words Draco Malfoy had uncharacteristically written to him.

Dear Professor,
I'm a bit on edge about the new school year and what academic challenges I may be faced with. It may be hard to keep up, especially considering the other things on my plate at the moment. I would greatly appreciate your thoughts on the matter, and perhaps some tutoring if you can spare the time. Preferably soon,
~ Draco Malfoy

Preferably soon? There was no doubt he was Lucius' son, even in a time of apparent need he could be annoyingly demanding.

Snape leaned against his office fireplace and rubbed one hand across his jaw in contemplation of the real reason behind the sudden letter.

The Malfoy's as a whole had an Achillean way of dealing with every type of issue. They refused to be seen as vulnerable and acquired what they wanted without doing anything so plebeian as asking for it. By writing the letter, Draco went against everything he'd been brought up to be...and that meant he was quite desperate indeed.

It was wonderfully timed though, Dumbledore still was unsure of Potter's whereabouts. Miss Figg had returned again to say that Petunia had refused to open the door even when she'd uttered Dumbledore's name. His firm stance on the state of the wards seemed to be weakening and Snape had excused himself to his rooms after assuring Dumbledore that he would notify him if he was summoned.

His Dark Mark remained cold and silent on his arm, the way he preferred it, but, it brought up questions. These questions were growing more worrisome by the minute. Snape did not like to worry. It was too tiresome.

Did the Dark Lord have Potter? If so, why had he not been aware of the plan? Surely the Death Eaters would have been called to the Dark Lord's side by now to revel in the capture of the ever allusive Boy Who Lived.

The Dark Lord was never so reserved in his victories, if he had Potter, Snape should have been among the first to know. Which brought to question his current standing in the Dark Lord's circle.

It all was putting Snape in an acrimonious temper.

His black eyes fell on the parchment he'd been studying earlier and remembered what he'd translated it to read. A spell for viewing enemies in danger. Damn.

Would Potter's whereabouts still be in question had he taken the translation of the spell more seriously?

Severus snarled and partially crumbled Draco's letter in his hand. No, he could not go there. Guilt would help no one now. He had to act, and it seemed that a visit to Draco was the best course of action. He abruptly pulled away from the fireplace and angrily marched to the middle of his living room.

Grabbing the parchment that now seemed like a cursed object, Snape threw on his traveling cloak and strode out of his rooms and towards Hogwart's entrance gate so he could apparate to the Malfoy's front door.
........................................................................

 Draco hadn't gone back to the library. He found that even thinking about it made him feel ill, and so he was sitting at his writing desk staring at blank parchment when someone knocked at his bedroom door.

The suddenness of the sound in his overwhelmingly quiet room made Draco jump and his shin hit the underside of the desk. He was cursing loudly and rubbing the painful area when the person let themselves in.

"I didn't say enter--" Draco spat before he'd fully looked up.

Snape crossed his arms and glowered. "My apologies, I was under the impression that those dreadful words that just emerged from your mouth implied permission to come in. Now that I know they aren't perhaps I should inform your mother."

Swallowing at the implications, Draco shook his head and stood up hastily.

"Sorry Professor, you surprised me," Draco gestured to the only other chair in the room, a plump, and very green lounge chair situated near one window. "Please sit."

Snape ignored him and pulled out an old and worn piece of parchment that Draco recognized almost immediately. Seeing it made him freeze, and Snape raised an eyebrow at his wide-eyed appearance.

"Did you think I had no intentions of returning it?"

Draco mutely shook his head and stayed where he was. He thought if he spoke, Snape wouldn't be so willing to give away any information he'd learnt. It was already a miracle that the man had shown up so soon after he'd sent the letter in the first place.

Snape looked over the parchment and up again at Draco, who was trying very hard not to look too eager.

"When I translated the spell myself, I returned with a slightly different explanation for what the spell did than the one you had, Draco. It only takes a slight difference to change a spell and the way it works."

His words almost came off as a rebuke, and why shouldn't they? Draco had been taught Latin, he should have had the abilities to correctly translate the spell the first time.

"We can speak more on your lacking language skills later, I'm curious as to what you make of my translation. The spell read, 'to view an enemy in danger'."

His eyes pierced Draco's, and he lifted his head in a way that made the younger boy feel rather small.

"Besides the rather verbal dispute with his uncle, I didn't sense that Potter was in any sort of danger...did you Draco?"

It was wrong to write to him. Draco felt like he was being examined in the worst possible way. Snape was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters and now he could see all the thoughts running through his head--he'd know that Draco was actually worried and scared to have seen what he did, he'd know that he was second guessing so many things he'd been brought up to believe--

Oh...Merlin.

"Draco?" Snape's eyebrows were drawing in harshly, and hearing his name in that almost concerned tone did it.

"Potter was taken!"

At his sudden outburst, Snape blinked and Draco's hand clenched around his wand. It felt exhilarating to finally say it, but it was also terrifying. What if Snape already knew--or what if he was the one that had orchestrated the kidnapping in the first place.

"What do you mean?"

Draco inhaled sharply and blinked at Snape in return. "What do I mean?"

"Yes, what do you mean he was 'taken'? What did you see, Draco?"

Snape took several steps forward, his jaw held tightly in a severe frown.

"I--the Muggle, that Muggle that kept getting him in trouble with his relatives, he came in and stabbed Potter in the leg."

"What?"

Draco swallowed, he had never heard his professor sound that terrifying before. At the same time, his fierce reaction calmed him. Snape hadn't known either. Which meant he wasn't involved...which could be good, or very, very bad.

"He stabbed him, then Potter disappeared. Like he'd been Portkeyed away, and the spell just dissolved. It's not working anymore."

"A Portkey disguised as a knife," Snape sounded rather impressed, and just a bit troubled.

He caught Draco's eye, and his expression went blank. "If this is not the work of the Dark Lord...he'll be very displeased."

"Wouldn't you know if he had Potter?"

Snape did not answer him, and Draco thought his silence on the matter said more than words in any case. Was he not in good standing with the Dark Lord?

From a hidden inner pocket of his cloak, Snape drew forth a familiar crinkled letter and met Draco's eyes before lighting it on fire with the tip of his wand.

"You need to learn the art of subtlety, Draco."

Draco crossed his arms, and looked at the dark mahogany floor under his feet.

"It got you over here didn't it?"

Surprisingly, Snape only snorted at his rather dangerous statement.

"Yes, it worked...though I do think your curiosity borders on stupidity. If the Dark Lord does have Potter, he'll most likely be dead within the next twenty-four hours, and if anyone your father associates with were to think you'd rather not see Potter dead...that could be extremely bad for you, Draco."

He was warning him, not pulling him to the Dark Lord's throne so he could beg and plead for his life, and he had more than enough information to do so. Draco had come daringly close to showing concern when he'd mentioned Potter's relatives treatment of him, and not immediately bringing the spell to the Dark Lord's notice when it would have pleased him. It bordered on treachery.

Snape was watching him, but Draco didn't respond.

"Tread carefully," Snape said, and turned to the door to take his leave. With his hand on the doorknob, he paused and seemed to hesitate before saying very quietly, "Don't do anything too hasty, Draco...I did, and have been paying the price ever since."

Before Draco could even began to comprehend his meaning, Snape was gone and had left no sign that he'd ever been there.
........................................................................

Apparently Thomas had been serious in the meadow when he'd said Harry could pour his tea. Staring at the two cups in front of him, Harry glanced up at Thomas who sat across the small table from him with his arms crossed but waiting patiently.

Though Thomas looked only slightly older, when he raised his eyebrow at Harry's hesitation, it left him feeling quite young.

"It's almost midday, might as well pour yourself a cup too...who knows the last time they gave you water."

Harry jerked slightly at the almost offhand comment about the Dursleys, but poured the tea and then sat down at the stool Thomas gestured to. He had decided to go along with what was asked of him. There were other lives at stake, he had to be careful even though the act was immensely uncomfortable. Elizabeth was watching them from the side of the room designated for captives, though Harry was certain she couldn't hear what was being said.

"You're oddly quiet," Thomas said as he lowered his cup and the scent of Earl Gray wafted under Harry's nose and made his traitorous mouth water.

He still hadn't drank his and Thomas frowned at him.

"What happened to all your questions, Potter?"

"Would you even tell me anything if I did ask?"

Thomas took a long drink of his tea and the cup almost covered his smile.

"There we go, I knew you could put words together into a sentence, and yes, to answer your question, now that you're here and out of the open I'm willing to tell you anything you want to know."

"What do you want with me?"

"Oh, except that. I can't tell you that."

Harry opened his mouth, leaning forward and getting ready to yell--when Thomas started laughing.

"I'm just messing with you, Potter. You do have a beastly temper." He smiled at Harry's furious face, eyes alight with amusement.

Harry clenched his fists under the table, frustrated beyond words, and still in pain because the bloody man hadn't even healed his leg completely.

"As for your question, you are going to get me into Voldemort's good graces--"

"I think the first way to get on his good side, would be to not say his name," Harry said sarcastically.

Thomas ignored him and continued on. "Even the way I went about capturing you is fascinating and I'm sure he'll be quite entertained to hear the story. I'm quite thrilled with how easy it all was, at first I thought I'd just find a way to pull you away from Privet Drive, but I really wanted to do something more impressive that just taking a chance you'd leave your loving relatives home--oh, but that was the thing," he said in a mockingly surprised voice. "They weren't so loving after all, which made me wonder if the wards were based around love, which they should have been because those are the strongest type of wards known to exist...why didn't I see any love in your family when they looked at you? Even at the train station, yes, Potter, I've been watching you since then, that Moody character had to basically warn them off hurting you."

Thomas gestured for Harry to re-fill his cup, and glaring at him, Harry carefully did so.

"It's really quite sad that all your so called friends seem to know you reside in a house full of people that hate you, and yet they obviously don't care enough to do anything about it."

The teacup overflowed because Harry's eyes were too busy glaring unseeingly at the table.

A thin rivulet rolled down the table where it started to drip onto the floor below. Harry blinked and sat the teapot back down.

Thomas watched, but made no move to magic the mess away. His eyes seemed to drink in the unveiled pain on Harry's face and he continued slowly.

"When I saw your interaction with the Muggle boy, I had an idea." He leaned forward, his eyes alighting with excitement at his own brilliance. "What if I used this Muggle as a catalyst to drive the dislike your relatives have toward you into flat out hatred."

Harry stood up, and the quick motion had his stool toppling over backwards. He was shaking with anger.

"You're a sick bastard! All that stuff--the cat, it was all you, and then you killed him--"

Thomas shrugged, eyes watching Harry's shaking form, and not seeming at all alarmed.

"Technically, he killed himself when he agreed to help me humiliate you for a price...it's not my fault he didn't ask what that price would be."

Harry snarled then and would have thrown himself across the table in a rash attempt to cause the man some pain...but his eyes caught sight of some movement and he turned his head. Lizzie, Elizabeth's young girl, was awake now and watching him with wide, scared eyes.

Those eyes staring at him were more affective than a bucket of water dropped over his head and his anger, though not gone, was pushed aside for the moment. Now was not the time to be rash and violent. He'd made a promise.

Thomas laughed when Harry's taught shoulders sagged in resignation.

"Don't let them watching keep you from trying to do me bodily harm. It would be funny seeing you try, considering the constant shield I wear. You can't lay one grubby finger on me."

Harry swallowed, and after a moment bent to pick up the stool that lay fallen on the stone floor.

"Go on," he said when he'd sat back down, "You used his petty attitude as fuel to turn my relatives against me...no need to wonder what Hogwart's house you belong to."

"Ravenclaw." He smiled thinly at Harry's obvious surprise. "Ah, you were thinking Slytherin? How typical. You'd be very smart to stop thinking that everyone that wants to cause you harm is from a certain group of people."

Harry had nothing to say to that and feeling a little light headed, he took a long drink from his teacup and then refilled it immediately. Though he'd never admit it, he was extremely thirsty...and some of that did have to do with his relatives lacking care.

"When Brent began to show reluctance at all I was asking him to do and say, I simply bent his will with a smaller version of Imperious. The Muggle mind is so weak when there's hatred involved. When it came down to the Portkey, part of him was happy to stab you, I just fed his anger until he believed you deserved it--and then, once it was done, he just stopped breathing."

Harry's stomach rolled.

Thomas spoke in such an uncaring manner. Brent had been a tool, unknowingly bringing about his own demise. Perhaps if he hadn't been so blinded by the thought of petty revenge...perhaps if Harry hadn't spoken to him so rudely, maybe then he'd still be alive, and Harry wouldn't be here listening to this arrogant prat rattle on about his own brilliance.

"I wonder how your relatives responded to the dead body in their house and their nephew no where in sight."

Turning his head away, Harry took a slow deep breath. He was feeling ill from Thomas's vile words and the recent memories it brought back. Killing Mrs Figg's cat, every conversation aimed to make Harry look bad, everything Brent had done since that day in the garden, it had all been because of this awful, scum sitting across from him, all because he wanted to get on the good side of the Dark Lord.

"You said you're using me to get in Voldemort's good graces, why?"

"Oh, finally caught on to that, did you?" Thomas stood up from his stool and went across the room to a jar sitting atop the stove Harry had earlier boiled water on. He brought the jar back and pushed it towards Harry who leaned away from it immediately.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas took the top off and revealed chocolate biscuits.

Harry felt his cheeks redden and heard Thomas snort as he sat back down on the other side of the table.

"What better way to say 'I'd like to be your humble and all admiring servant' than presenting him with the Boy-Who-Always-Get's-Away. I've already given him Stormius Murdock, whose treachery had him quite peeved."

Shaking his head, and wondering if there was any use even bothering to argue, Harry had to ask, "Did Brent stab my eardrums too? Did I just hear you say you wanted to be a servant? To Voldemort?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I said."

"Besides being a complete maniac, he tortures those that do serve him, for the smallest things--I thought you said you were a Ravenclaw? It doesn't sound to smart to me."

"Oh," Thomas chuckled, but the sound was utterly humorless, his lips were turning up in a snarl.

"Silly Potter, he does worse than torture. He will kill even the most loyal of servants if he believes he has enough reason to do so, even when that evidence is completely false."

Harry stared at his twisted face.

"My father," Thomas spat, "was completely loyal to him. He thought Voldemort would lead us into a better future. Father was so committed to the cause, and so excited to be serving the one that would change the Wizarding world that he named me in honor of him, and then he left my mother when she didn't see things the same way he did."

He turned bright eyes on Harry, "Tell me, Potter. How do you think his dedication was repayed?"

Not about to answer verbally, Harry shook his head mutely and watched as Thomas pushed away from the table.

Breathing heavily and stalking back and forth across the stone floor, Thomas glanced at Harry, who still didn't dare speak. "No? No idea what he could have done? Then, let me tell you."

"Among the growing ranks of the Death Eaters, there were some that were more desperate than others to be among those considered 'most valued' by Voldemort. My father was at the top, not because of any special skills he possessed, but because his honesty and true belief in all that Voldemort preached. But...The Dark Lord," Thomas seethed, "grew paranoid, there were rumors of his approaching downfall, and when one too many Death Eaters whispered to him that one of his own was going to turn against him...he snapped. Decided to make an example as to what exactly would happen to anyone that turned against him. His mind had been polluted with falsities whispered to him by those he thought better of than my father. Though he'd only ever been loyal, my father was tortured to the brink as a warning to the others."

A log cracked in the fireplace and shot burning embers over the stone floor that glowed momentarily before turning black.

Thomas sighed deep and long and sat back down at the table, steepled his fingers and stared at Harry.

"He was never the same, couldn't even feed himself. Mum came back and took care of him, until he died a few years later."

The disgust was clear in his voice, and Harry was unsure if it was directed at his father's mental state or how he'd become that way.

"Er," Harry began, "I'm a bit lost--you kidnapped me to give to Voldemort, even though he tortured your father--"

"Potter, I wasn't finished, though I can see why you're looking at me odd when you explain it like that. Make some more tea."

Standing up, Harry waited until he'd turned his back to Thomas before rolling his eyes. He could feel Elizabeth watching them both, studying Thomas and trying to work out what he was so passionately talking about.

Placing the kettle back on the stove, Harry turned the heat on high and turned around to look expectantly at Thomas, his arms crossing in his irritation.

"After my father died, I was looking through his things and I found a small journal. I flipped through it, not expecting much because my father was always one for jotting things down--and I discovered that during his time as Voldemort's favorite lapdog, he'd learnt some things about how the man had come to power."

Thomas smirked when he caught the intrigued look on Harry's face.

"He wasn't born immensely powerful, he found ways to increase his power--magical ways, and he revealed some of this to my father who was sworn to silence, but that didn't stop him from writing it down. Voldemort even believed he had found the way to escape death itself."

He was now waiting on Harry to respond.

"Your father wrote all Voldemort's secrets in an unprotected diary, and you think that wasn't reason enough for him to get killed?"

The smile fell off Thomas's face, and Harry backed into the stove as he stood up, furious.

"You know nothing, he was loyal to him--and he was driven to insanity for that loyalty."

Thomas stalked around the table, eyes alight with intense anger. Harry could feel the heat from the stove behind him, but stayed perfectly still. He knew that anger went hand in hand with violence, and he had already been injured once because of this man.

"Voldemort doesn't repay loyalty with loyalty--he treats his followers as lesser beings, when he's really the half blood, and now he's going to fall. I may have been named after Tom Riddle, but I am nothing like him, I will be better than him in every way...it all starts by getting close enough to learn his secrets...then, I'll do what my father should have done. I'm going to destroy him."

Harry watched and listened, trying to keep his doubts hidden.

It was all well and good to speak of all you planned on doing, but Voldemort was feared by the large majority of the Wizarding World, and he hadn't come to be so feared by being someone who was easily brought down. Thomas's father had probably been killed just because Voldemort decided he didn't like anyone knowing any of his secrets.

He couldn't say these things out loud, but in his mind, Harry only wondered how Voldemort would kill Thomas when his plan failed.

Heaving a big sigh, Thomas looked regretfully at Harry who was taking the kettle off to pour more tea and trying to keep his eyes on his capturer as well.

"I do hate the fact that I told you all this knowing that you can't be trusted to keep it to yourself."

Harry hit the teapot against his cup in his surprise and looked up with wide eyes.

"I'm not going to tell Voldemort anything--that would be like helping him."

"Oh, you wouldn't tell him on purpose, but you'd do it accidentally because you have no control over your mind," and with that last word he drew out his want and Harry stepped backwards, the kettle still in hand.

"Then--teach me how to block my mind--"

Thomas snorted, "There's not enough time for that, Potter. Nice try though. Don't worry, if he doesn't kill you, and I take his position, I'll retell you all that I've said tonight. Though your shocked face probably won't be as humorous the second time."

There was no place to run. Harry looked around quickly anyway, like a scared rabbit backed into a corner by a much larger wolf.

Looking at him pityingly, Thomas heaved a sigh. "You might want to sit down for this Potter, it can be a bit of a shock--"

Harry caught sight of the fire poker at the same instant that Thomas realized he truly intended to fight back. He began to raise his wand as Harry chucked the teapot at Thomas's head and dove for the length of iron that could save him and give him back his freedom and those with him.

Knees hit the stone floor painfully as Harry's fingers wrapped around the iron rod--but even as he turned, he felt that it was too late. As the shouted, "Obliviate!" rushed toward him, Harry tried to summon forth those mental shields he'd been practicing so hard over the summer.

The spell hit him with such force that his body was flung back into the brick fireplace. In his already kneeling position he had no chance to protect himself by curving his body, and his head was forcibly slammed back.

An immense amount of pain rushed through his skull and Harry gasped once before his eyes rolled back in his head and he was surrounded by darkness.
........................................................................

Arms folded tightly across his chest, Severus Snape's face was hidden in shadow as he stood facing away from the door to his chambers.

He could not let the doubts he had circling his mind get to him. They'd been increasing ever since he'd left Draco a few hours ago.

"Wouldn't you know if he had Potter?"

No, he wouldn't know anything until the Dark Lord called him to his side, if he chose to do so. The doubt of his standing in the Dark Lord's inner circle was like a disease, it was always there, just lurking under his skin, always ready to make him question if he would live another day.

When the Dark Mark suddenly burned where it lay ingrained into his skin, Severus was both relieved and filled with dread.

His eyes closed for a long second. He had to be careful, he had to be smart, if Potter was with the Dark Lord than Severus may be the boy's only chance of escape. This could be the day Severus was forced to reveal himself as a traitor of the Dark Lord.

Eyes flashing open, he sent a warning to Dumbledore that he'd been called, and after summoning his Death Eater robes and casting them invisible, Snape set off to once again play the ever faithful servant.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Hello dear readers, please review! Here's a rather belated Christmas present for you all (or an early New Year's present, whichever you prefer). I'd love to hear your thoughts, and the ideas about who exactly Thomas is were very interesting to read. Obviously, you know now that he has nothing to do with a Horcrux, a young Tom Riddle, or a clone. I had no idea that when I named him Thomas everyone would go nuts, hahah! By the way, the 31st of December is Voldemort's birthday! ^_^ I thought the idea of someone (who was not on the side of the light) also being against Voldemort was really intriguing, and that's where Thomas came in at with his plot to get in the Dark Lord's inner circle. Hope you all have a fantastic and magical New Years! Any resolutions? Mine is to finish all my current stories! ^_^
Please read and review! Thank you so much for your continued support!


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3077