He’d been angrier than usual, he hadn’t noticed, but the people around him had. They’d steered clear of him, mostly, because it seemed as if Harry always had a thunderstorm brewing around him and it was just waiting for the right target to rain down on.

That target just so happened to be Ronald Wealsey.

After trying to perform a particularly tiring spell for the first time, harry had called it a night and gone back to the common room earlier than he had intended. Half the dorm was waiting up for him.

“I don’t know whether you’re insane, or just that desperate for attention that you’d do it.” Ron had said when Harry walked into the room.

“Ron!” Hermione had hissed at him and slapped his shoulder.

“I didn’t put my name in the Goblet, Ron.” Harry had tried to push his way past the crowd in the common room. They weren’t budging. Harry growled under his breath. He was tired. He just wanted sleep, and now he knew Snape was on his ass looking for some sort of addiction, he had to be careful.

“Oh yeah? Then how did it get in there?” Ron challenged. Harry snapped around on his heel and stormed over to Ron until he was as close as he could get and growled low and threateningly in his ear.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t me, and if I were you, I’d be really careful what you say to me.” Ron had the audacity to laugh at him. Harry made a move towards the stairs.

“Yeah, mate, I really believe you.” Ron had said. “And I’m Merlin’s one true heir.” He spat out. “What, exactly, are you planning to do to me if I’m not ‘careful’ what I say to you? You think being a Champion makes you something special? Well it doesn’t. You’re.” Ron took a step forward. “Nothing.” And another. He was closing the gap between himself and Harry that the latter had just created. “Special.”

Harry had felt the hot breath on the top of his head. He hated being so small. Ron towered over him in what he must have thought was an intimidating position to the younger boy. Before either boy knew what was happening, Harry threw a punch at Ron’s face. It hit and Ron went tumbling to the ground.

Looking in from the outside of the room, Hermione didn’t know which boy to help, which one deserved her loyalty, or if neither of them did. They were both acting like complete idiots at the moment. Ron shouldn’t have tried to confront Harry, it had been quite obvious that there was something going on, everyone had noticed and stayed clear; even Draco. But Harry shouldn’t be keeping secrets from his best friends. He should let them try to help. All Hermione had wanted to do was help but Harry had push her away.

Ron spat blood from his position on the floor but Harry didn’t look like he was going to back down any time soon. Fred and George had stepped in to hold Harry back from hitting their brother again. The git deserved it, they’d willingly admit it, but if their mum found out Ron had been hurt and they had done nothing to stop it… It would not end well for them.

“You’re a nutter.” Ron had said from the floor.

“Just stay away from me!” Harry threw himself out of the twins’ grasp and up to his room. He threw what little belongings he had out into his trunk and shrunk it, slipping it neatly into his pocket before heading back down.

He had heard the whispers as he walked down the corridor. They ceased as soon as he entered.

“Oh don’t mind me.” He had snapped bitterly. “I’m just leaving.” He all but ran through the portrait hole and sprinted towards the dungeons. He could stay in Salazar’s private study. His home, as he was coming to think of it, while dark and foreboding to some, was comfortable and safe to him. He hadn’t explored further than the main room yet, he’d seen the door running off to the other sides, he’d just been too busy enthralled in what was in the study area. He wouldn’t have to sneak out of Gryffindor tower anymore and he wouldn’t have to continuously look over his shoulder when he did so to make sure he was alone. As long as he was in there before curfew every night, he didn’t have to leave. He could remain in there for the foreseeable future. No one would know where to find him, he was the only person in the school who could pronounce the password, and there was nothing suspicious about there even being a secret room behind that painting. He’d read Hogwarts: A History and it never mentioned anything about the Founders having private studies or rooms. No. He suspected this was something only Salazar had.

Unbeknownst to the Gryffindor boy, Snape had put a spell on him to track his movements. There was something going on, and if it wasn’t drugs, then Severus was determined to find out exactly what it was. Even if it meant breaking his, admittedly rather flimsy, moral code, even if it meant spying on the boy.

The spell alerted him when Harry had entered his common room, and again when he’d gone up to bed, and again when he left both of those areas. But it had also alerted him to something else. He had watched Harry's footsteps after he’d left the office, and they had taken a turn down that same corridor he had seen Potter look down earlier. Then the footsteps had simply vanished. It wasn’t possible, Snape knew that, but it had happened. There was nothing down that corridor, he knew it, he’d looked down there enough to know that there wasn’t anything. He didn’t really know the purpose of building a corridor that didn’t lead to any classrooms, other than to house the portrait that sat at the end of it. That was another thing Snape didn’t understand. That portrait. It didn’t move and it wasn’t anyone he recognised from any history texts he’d read, and it surely was someone from a long time ago, and when he went searching for her he came up with nothing other than ‘a woman in green was often seen with the Founder, Salazar Slytherin, but her identity has never been confirmed’ the book had continued on without a second thought to the woman.

That night, Snape ventured down that corridor again to see if maybe there was something he’d missed. He wouldn’t accept that his spell hadn’t worked. His magical ability was almost flawless. He wouldn’t accept it until there was irrefutable evidence that it was true, and that meant following the boy down the corridor the next time the spell alerted him to movement.

He watched as Harry looked over his shoulder every so often to check that there was no one following him. Snape melted into the shadows and watched as Harry went down the corridor. He didn’t follow immediately, from what he had seen, the Gryffindor would be looking over his shoulder any second now, and it would not do for him to see Snape behind him or he’d never find out what it was that was down this corridor that had Harry acting so differently.

The corridor was fairly short so Snape could hear what was going on at the end of it. He heard hissing. He froze. Something about hissing always set him on edge, it was an ability the Dark Lord had, and Salazar Slytherin before that. It was viewed as a dark ability. Of course, everyone knew that Harry was a Parselmouth, but from what little Snape had gathered, the boy didn’t make a habit of using that particular ability.

Knowing that his focus was mostly likely solely on whatever it was he was talking to, Snape ventured further around the corner and down the hallway. He watched as the portrait swung open and allowed Harry to enter. He looked down at the parchment in his hand. The footsteps had disappeared. So whatever this room was, it was cloaked. Snape took a step closer and the portrait snapped shut. He would confront the boy about it when he left, Snape decided. Harry would have to leave at some point to return to his common room to get a change of clothes and his school books and it would have to be before his first lesson tomorrow.

Snape spent the night in his quarters with his thoughts whirring in his head about what it could possibly be in that corridor that had Harry so interested. It had to be something related to Slytherin, Snape had decided. There were no other notable Parselmouths who would have been able to insert such a room into Hogwarts without it being known. But it wasn’t Salazar’s chamber, which had already been found, by the same child who had found this, two years earlier. Private rooms, perhaps? Snape thought. But why would they be hidden and concealed in such a way, tucked away from history books and most likely the knowledge of the Headmaster? Unless it was something much more sinister. A dungeon, perhaps? A real dungeon? But what need would Salazar have had for a dungeon? Possibly a lot, Snape realised. They knew so little about the Founders except what they had chosen to reveal about themselves, it was possible, no, probable, that each of the Founders had things they had hidden. Deep dark secrets that remained in the family and only in the family.

Snape got very little sleep that night, and harry didn’t leave the corridor until he had to be at his first lesson so Snape hadn’t been able to corner the boy and interrogate him. But he would, that was certain, and when he did, he vowed to himself that he was going to get real answers. He wasn’t going to get pushed off by the Headmaster, he wasn’t even going to include the man in all of this. He didn’t trust Albus’s intentions.

With the promise of answers set firmly in his mind, he went about his day of teaching without once thinking about that damn portrait.

Harry had woken that morning on the most comfortable bed he had ever slept on. After close investigation of the study, he had discovered a bathroom, bedroom, kitchen and training room, fully equipped with blasting dummies and targets.

Harry had smiled for what felt like the first time. A truly, inexplicably happy smile that had him almost bouncing off the walls with glee. This was home. This was safe. He didn’t have to leave the rooms at all anymore, he realised. He had everything he needed. Except his classes. He needed to leave for those, but in all honesty, he was seriously contemplating just holing up in here for the rest of his life and letting his magic roam free. No one would find him, he’d never have to go back to the Dursley’s, and he wouldn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. Snape couldn’t spy on him, Dumbledore couldn’t try to control him, and Hermione wouldn’t be able to meddle in matters that were not hers to meddle in. In short, it was a safe haven for Harry now, and he didn’t want to leave.

He knew he would, though, because if he didn’t do what people were expecting of him, if he didn’t let them see that he was alive, there would be uproar. Saviour of the Wizarding World Kidnapped!

The Boy Who Lived Missing!

Hogwarts: Is it still safe?

He could see the headlines now. If Harry could go missing from the school, so could other students and parents would start withdrawing their children. There would also be a full scale man hunt for him that could involve spells and means that may break into his safe place. And, while he trusted Salazar to have put every ward possible on the place, he wasn’t sure if it would hold up against Merlin knows how many Aurors and teachers and volunteers blasting their magic around the place to find him. He decided it would be best if he just made an appearance in his classes and then retreated to his home.

In his office, a deep frown played on Albus Dumbledore’s face. This was not part of his plan. The boy was veering off course. He needed to be reined in again. But how? He had set him on this path but Harry was not playing his part as he should. He was supposed to come to him and then Dumbledore could teach him, manipulate him, and make it all work out.

But even the best laid plans go awry, and Albus’s was certainly not one of the best.