Disclaimer:
I don't own anything apart from the plot. JK Rowling owns the characters,
except for those I have created. I don't make any profit from this and I
really don't own anything that belongs to JK Rowling.
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have if it is something that appeals to you.
Disappearing
-Chapter one, No one left to loose-
Shocked and on the verge to tears he ran down the corridors of the almost empty school. It was Christmas and he was one of the few students who had chosen to stay over the holidays. Most had chosen to go home because it was wartimes and people wanted to spend time with family. Well, it wasn't outright war yet, but it was in the air. Everyone felt it, but no one talked about it. People didn't want to spoil the last days or weeks of peace with talk of war.
The reason he ran was a letter he had gotten just a couple of minutes before. It said that he had no family left. The only family he had left had been killed in a car crash, for real this time. It had all been most unfortunate. They had been driving home pretty late after a birthday party at a relative's and had not seen the car driven by a drunk driver racing towards them in the speed of light in a crossing of two major roads. They had all been killed almost instantly and they had felt almost no pain at all.
Now, he didn't like this family he had lost, but they were still a big part of his world. He had known them all his life and they were all the family he had left since his godfather died. As he ran he wondered what he had done to deserve all these bad things happening to him. He wondered why it couldn't have been somebody else's relatives or even more, somebody else's godfather. He ran out on the courtyard and set course towards the lake. By the time he got there the tears were flowing freely. He cried for his relatives and he cried for Cedric, but mostly he cried for Sirius. He cried because he hadn't been able to do something to prevent it and he cried because he just didn't want to Ibe/I anymore. He had never cried like this before, in fact he didn't want to cry like this now either, but he couldn't help himself. It was like someone had opened a door in his mind and all the locked up feelings he had ever had just flowed out in one big wave.
Everything just spilled out into the cold December air. He didn't notice the cold until he felt the trails of his tears starting to turn to ice on his cheeks. He started to shake and hack his teeth in between the sobs, but he didn't go back to the warm inviting castle. The cold somehow fitted his mood so much better.
Neither did he notice someone watching him from the other side of the lake. He didn't notice when this someone out of curiosity of what the boy was doing started to creep closer, only to hear his sobs all too well. When the intruder had gotten so close he, for it was a he, could see the miserable look in those green eyes he stopped. He watched for a while and, puzzled he walked away towards the castle. What did the Potter-boy have to be so miserable about? Could he be mourning Black still, or was he just fishing for attention like he always did? Probably the latter, but he had to talk to Albus about this. The boy was after all a student of his and a student's mental health was his concern, even if the student happened to be an obnoxious brat.
A while later, he had no idea how long, Harry felt as if he was never going to be able to move again. His hands and feet were numb from the cold and he had frost in his hair, which he had let grow longer over the past year, and on his eyelashes from the tears and his own breath. His stomach was rumbling loudly and he realized he was pretty hungry. It had to be around lunchtime. He looked at his wristwatch and indeed it was, he had been standing out there for almost two hours. Slowly he began to walk back to the castle, not at all feeling up to being around other people, but he had to if he wanted a decent lunch. All the house elves ever gave him was sweets.
Two pairs of eyes watched him closely as he entered the Great Hall for dinner. One pitch black and one light blue. They watched him as he seated himself at the end of the table, a few seats away from everyone else. They saw that his eyes were red from crying and his lips slightly blue from the cold. One pair of eyes were concerned and the other quite indifferent.
Snape had talked to the Headmaster just before dinner about Potters doings, or not doings, by the lake and he had found out about the sad demise of his only remaining relatives. What he couldn't understand was why he cried so hard for them, he hadn't thought the boy even Iliked/I them. But he was going to find out soon enough, Albus was going to talk to the boy and he wanted Severus to be present since Potter's own Head of House couldn't be there. She had, like the majority of the staff gone home to visit her family over Christmas.
It felt like some kind of block in Harry's mind had been lifted. Everything felt so much clearer. He felt cleansed and it was a wonderful feeling to no longer be weighted down by all these unreleased feelings. He could see things with a distance ha hadn't had before and he knew he had had enough. Enough of losses and deaths, enough of vicious rumours and reporters that spread them, enough of everything. He did not want to be the hero on which the whole wizarding world relied on, nor did he want to have all the attention it gave him. He was sick of it and he wanted change. He wanted revenge on Sirius's behalf and revenge for all the years that had been stolen from his childhood. It was no longer a war to save the wizarding world for Harry, it was a much more personal matter and somehow this seemed to give him strength and fuel him on in a task that to most people seemed rather impossible to complete. How much of a chance did a seventeen-year- old boy really have against the most powerful wizard in the world? To think that a bit of crying could be so productive.
It was a very determined and yet thoughtful Harry Potter that almost bumped in to the Headmaster and Professor Snape on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He mumbled his excuses and was going to slip by them when the Headmaster called his name.
"Could you come to my office for a minute, I'd like to talk to you." He said.
"Sure." Was all Harry thought of saying. He followed the Headmaster towards his office. He had a feeling he wanted to talk about his relatives. He wondered what Snape was doing there. Was he going to be there too? Maybe it was something else they wanted to talk about, but what could that be? Occlumency lessons? Well, that would be useful to know, Harry thought, maybe he could even stand having lessons with Snape. He definitely preferred that to having Voldemort penetrating his mind. But on the other hand, how could it not be about his relatives? They had died just last morning. It had to be about them, but maybe he could bring up that he wanted to take up the occlumency lessons. He would, he decided, if the opportunity was given. Although the dreams he had about the Dark Lord had become fewer over the past months they had once again become more forceful, almost as vivid as they were in his fifth year, when he had first been introduced to the subject of occlumency. The more he thought about it the better of an idea it seemed to be. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice; he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Well in the Headmasters office Harry seated himself in the comfortable chair in front of the large, rather messy desk. Dumbeldore sat down behind him and Snape, for some reason, decided to stand up a bit on the side.
"I understand that you received a letter this morning, Harry." Dumbeldore said.
"Yes, I did." He thought for a moment then he said. "It came as quite a shock to me, I." He hesitated. "I definitely didn't need that after all that's happened." He said quietly. He didn't know what else to say and he thought everything he said sounded stupid. This was much harder than he had expected it to be.
"It came as a shock to me to." Dumbeldore answered. "It is very sad and I hate to say this to you now, like this, but the death of your aunt leaves us with a bit of a problem. The charm I put on you when she took you in is now broken. You are no longer protected by your mother's sacrifice, Harry." Harry looked up at Dumbeldore, the man looked very regretful to say the least. Harry didn't know how to react, he didn't know what to say and he certainly didn't know what would happen next. He just sat there, staring into nothingness, his thoughts spinning. Dumbeldore continued.
"This means we have to think of other ways to protect you. One potion would be to move you to a safe house where."
"No, I want to stay here at Hogwarts, it's the closest thing to a home I have." Harry interrupted.
"That was the other choice I was going to present. You can stay here at Hogwarts, but you can't stay in your dorm, it is much too unprotected. You would have to stay in the dungeons, where the wards are the strongest." The dungeons?! Why did it have to be down there? It was cold and slippery and slimy and Snape lived there. Harry didn't know why really, but the man seemed to hate him. He guessed it was because of his father, but as far as Harry was concerned he wasn't very much like him, at least not like the little bits and pieces he had seen of him. "I know it's not near as much fun as the Gryffindor tower or very close to it either for that matter, but it's that or the safe house." It was an easy choice.
"I'll stay here." He simply said.
"Good, good. I hoped you'd say that, it will be much easier for you to finish school if you stay here. You will also have a bigger idea of what is going on around you, both outside the school, in the Order. One of us will always be nearby in case something should happen." Harry sighed.
"I hate this." He mumbled under his breath, not intending for the other two to hear him. But apparently the Headmaster had heard Isomething/I.
"Sorry Harry, I didn't hear that."
"I said I hate this!" He burst out. "I hate not being able to control my own life and I hate being watched every move I make. If it isn't by the papers it's by someone else who doesn't know the meaning of the word privacy. I hate having everyone I love dying and I hate not being able to do anything about it. My whole life is a mess because that good for nothing fortuneteller had to make one prophecy that actually was for real. I hate it! I hate this damned scar and everything it means! I hate not being able to know who are my real friends and who are friends with me because I'm Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived." He had to catch his breath; he realized he had almost been screaming at the headmaster, who looked at him and smiled a sad smile.
"I had a feeling it would come to this," He said. "but there is nothing we can do about it. You have to try to make the best of it. You have Mrs Granger and Mr Weasley and you know that you can always talk to me or any of the teachers if it is anything."
"Yeah, I guess." But he didn't know if he could talk to Ron or Hermione anymore. They seemed so caught up in each other ever since they became a couple in the beginning of sixth year. It felt almost like he had lost them too, but he didn't say anything about that.
"Well, I think it's best that we moved your things down to your new rooms right away. Professor Snape will show you the way down there and the house elves will bring your trunk." For the first time in quite a while now, Harry looked at his Potions professor. He looked indifferent as usual, but Harry thought he winced a bit when the Headmaster had told him to show Harry to his new rooms. The he remembered. The occlumency lessons, he had to ask the Headmaster about taking them up again.
"Headmaster, There was one more thing I've been meaning to talk to you about."
"Yes Harry, what's that?"
"Well, I've been dreaming again. I always dream, but the dreams have started to change recently. They're becoming more and more like the dreams I had in. right before. When I got Sirius killed." The Headmaster looked at him like he had said something really horrible.
"Harry, listen to me. Sirius's death was not under any circumstances your fault! Don't you ever say that again."
"But if I hadn't been so stupid and learned to close my mind it had never happened and that's the reason I want to take up occlumency again." There, he said it.
"You cannot think that way Harry, what happened, happened and neither you or I can change that."
"But I can learn not to make the same mistake again." He said with determination.
"Yes." Dumbeldore said with a sigh. He suddenly looked very old and tired. "But I am afraid I don't have the time to give you the lessons myself, but if Professor Snape is willing to take you on as a pupil again everything would work out fine anyway." Harry looked at his Potions Professor assuming the worst, an outburst of anger, an affirmation of how lousy he had been in the subject, anything but what he got.
"Yes." Harry just looked at him. "I am willing to do that, on the condition that you do exactly as I say and that you take it as seriously as you should have from the beginning. The lessons will end immediately if I see you're not paying attention." The Potions Professor looked at him with the most piercing stare, as if he was trying to get in to Harry's mind even now. Harry shivered and thought that he had some long, unpleasant lessons ahead of him if he didn't change his mind very quickly.
"Thank you Professor Snape. I will not fail this time." He was very determined not to and he became even more determined now that Snape was going to teach him. He didn't want to be more humiliated in front of that man than absolutely necessary. He'd been humiliated enough today already by his outburst earlier and then by admitting he blamed himself for Sirius's death. It Iwas/I true that he had laid some of the blame for Sirius's death on himself; he just hadn't meant to say it to Dumbeldore and certainly not in front of Snape. But on the other hand he had said a lot of things the last half hour that he hadn't meant to say. He didn't know what had come over him earlier. Maybe it was a good thing that all those things had been said, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it had changed Snape's image of him wallowing in his fame at every chance he got, but he hardly thought it had. That image was so deeply rooted that it would take much more to get Snape to re-evaluate it. At least that's what Harry thought. It's not like he wanted to become best friends with the Potions teacher, but he didn't like the idea of Ianyone/I hating him like that, not when it could be avoided, or in this case, repaired.
"Well, now that's settled it might be a good time to go see your new rooms." The Headmaster suggested. "Would you show him the way Severus?" Snape moved towards the door and Harry rose from his chair.
"Follow me Potter."
They walked under silence and Harry had a bit of a hard time keeping up with the other man's pace, even though he was quite the athlete after having practiced quidditch almost every week for the last seven years. He thought the silence was awkward, but he didn't want to make it even more so by trying to start a conversation.
They walked down the dungeons, past the Potions classroom and down a corridor to the left. Snape stopped in front of a large portrait of a man Harry didn't recognize.
"This is it. The password is "Potter", for now, but you can change it if you want to. If you do you have to tell either the Headmaster or me what the new password is, in case something should happen. " Snape turned his back to Harry and continued walking down the corridor. He stopped in front of what Harry presumed to be another portrait and said something to it. The portrait swung open and Snape stepped in. Maybe it was Snape's private chambers. He was going to live next to Snape?! He shook his head and turned to take a closer look at the portrait.
The man in the portrait was fairly young, maybe five or six years older than Harry. He had brown, nicely cut hair and greenish-brown eyes with thick lashes. The one ear that was visible was pierced and in it hung a beautiful blue, oval stone. He had nice clothes, not all that old fashioned, like some of the portraits had, but more timeless and stylish in a way. His mouth was rather thin, but well shaped and you could see the traces of dimples in his cheeks. The man was attractive, no doubt about that and there was something slightly familiar over him, but Harry couldn't point out what it was. He looked like someone, not strikingly like anyone, but enough to make one look twice. He moved very little and didn't seem to notice Harry at all.
"Hello." He tried. "I would like to change my password."
"Oh, hi! I didn't see you there, young man." The portrait had bright voice for a man. "You were saying?"
"I live, ehrm, behind you and I would like to change the password."
"Oh, so you're the new resident. Well, I need to have the old password before you can do any changes." The portrait smiled and Harry thought it was studying him awfully close, almost checking him out. It's just a portrait he thought to himself, it's Inot/I checking you out.
"Potter." He said.
"That's it indeed, what do you want instead?" Harry thought for a while.
"Disappear." He finally said because that's what he had felt like doing most of the day. He told the portrait to open and he went in to inspect his new home.
Severus Snape scowled as he went into his rooms. Why did the brat have to live down in the dungeons? Now there'd probably be Gryffindors all over the place, upsetting the calm in the otherwise so quiet corridors. He would have to make his rooms soundproof and he would probably have to tighten the wards around them too. Now that Potter knew where he lived he probably wouldn't hesitate to try to break in to his rooms, whether to play him a prank or to steal something. On top of all that he had to teach the boy occlumency. If Dumbeldore hadn't been there when he asked he would have said no without thinking twice and never told anyone about it, but the old man wouldn't have accepted no for an answer up in his office. So he said yes, but he had, however, very much meant what he said when he told the boy that he would quit the lessons if he didn't pay attention and do his best. He was not willing to waste time on having private lessons with a student that didn't want to learn. He did that all day anyway. Ungrateful brats. Potter had seemed eager to learn earlier though, and what was that he had said about Black? Did he really take the blame for his godfather's death or did he just feel sorry for himself? Snape didn't want to know because it meant he had to ask and he certainly didn't want to look like he cared, because he didn't.
When Harry got in to his new rooms he was surprised by how liveable they seemed. The first room was a small living area with a fireplace with a couch placed in front of it. There was a small table beside the couch to the left and the wall on both sides of the fireplace was covered with shelves that could be filled with books. On the floor lay a thick cosy rug and in the left upper corner seen from the door stood a small table and two chairs. The walls didn't look slippery and the floor wasn't cold. He continued to the bedroom and was pleasantly surprised by a large four- poster bed with dark blue covers. It looked very soft and inviting. He realized that crying and telling people what he really thought was quite exhausting. His trunk stood by the foot of the bed and in it were all of his things. The house elves had even brought the dirty socks from under his old bed. Why hadn't they cleaned them? In the bedroom there was also a desk for him to do his homework by and when he walked through a smaller door opposite of the bed he found that he now had his own bathroom. He didn't have to share showers with anyone anymore. He had never found that very comfortable for several different reasons, but he didn't want to think about that now. It wasn't the fanciest bathroom he had seen in his life, but it was private and that was really all he could ask for.
He went back out to the living space and looked around once more. The walls were a bit empty, but that could be remedied fairly easy. All in all he was pretty happy with the rooms, even though they didn't have the most preferable location.
He didn't have anything in particular to do, so he just sat down on the couch for a while, but that got boring pretty quickly so he decided to go out for a fly. He grabbed his broom and went out the portrait hole. He had just gotten a few paced down the corridor when he heart someone calling for him. This someone had a very squeaky voice. It was the portrait. Harry went back to the painting and looked questioningly at it.
"How come you've moved down here anyway?" It asked.
"I. Well, it's a long story and I really don't feel like talking about it right now. It's very miserable, at least from my point of view and I've had enough of that for one day."
"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you." The painting said in a defensive tone.
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way at all, I'm just tired. I was going to go flying, it usually clears my mind. Maybe we could talk when I come back." Harry had to admit he was curious about his door watch. Who was this person and what had he done to end up down here? The dungeons wasn't exactly a nice place and there weren't much people down there to talk to either, and the portrait seemed to be fairly social.
"Sure we could. I could tell you my story if you don't want to tell me yours." As if it had read his mind.
"See you in an hour or so then."
Outside on the courtyard Harry kicked off from the ground and flew straight up towards the sky. He loved flying as high as he possibly could. It gave him a sense of freedom he had never been able to get anywhere else. It was very cold up there on the clear winter day so he decided to go a bit lower. He dived near the edge of the lake and turned his broom to upright position just before he hit the icy surface. He raced so fast the wind screamed in his ears just above the lake until his face was numb, then he rose a couple of feet and took it a bit slower. He loved looking at the world from above. The castle looked fantastic from the sky, especially covered in sparkling white snow. Everything seemed so peaceful, almost like a muggle painting, completely still.
Harry hadn't expected it to be so cold outside and after only half an hour of flying he thought his ears was going to fall of from the cold and he couldn't feel most of his fingers and toes. He landed on the courtyard and went in to the warm castle. Once inside he couldn't see a thing, his glasses were covered with mist. He wiped them off with the hem of his robes, but it didn't help. The mist was back as soon as he had put them on again. He just had to wait for it to go away by itself. If Hermione had been there she had surely known some neat spell to keep his glasses from getting misted in the first place, but she wasn't. She was probably in the Burrow with all the Weasleys having a wonderful Christmas. She and Ron would probably be even tighter when they got back and Harry would be stuck down in the dungeons with what? A portrait that was checking him out and Professor Snape. The flying hadn't made him feel any better today; it seemed to have made him worse. Or maybe it wasn't the flying, it could be that he was all alone in Christmastimes, that his only living relatives had died and that he was going to take lessons with Snape. It didn't exactly make way for happiness.
Harry was about to go straight in to his rooms when he remembered his promise to the portrait. The problem was that the portrait wasn't in his frame. That meant he couldn't go to his rooms either. He had no one to give the password to. He called for the portrait a few times, but nothing happened. He didn't want to sit in the corridor and wait so he thought he could go ask Snape when the lessons were going to start and tell him the new password, not that that would be any use when the portrait wasn't there. He went up to Snape's door, but hesitated just before he was about to knock. What would he say? Would it really be smart to bother the man? Maybe he should just go to Dumbeldore instead, but Dumbeldore was very busy, he had said so himself. He knocked. Snape opened.
"Yes, Mister Potter. What is it?" He looked very annoyed. He scowled.
"I was just wondering when the lessons is going to start and I wanted to tell you that I changed the password to my rooms." He said very quickly. For some reason he became nervous in front of the Potions Master, he always had.
"Eager to start are you? I'll send word for you sometime tomorrow afternoon, Make sure you're available, there will be no second chances." Snape looked Harry straight in the eyes and Harry could not do anything but look back. If he turned away he would loose, he had played this game with Dudley won. When he looked away first Dudley had hit him really hard right in the chest. He continued looking.
"The password?" Snape said and continued looking.
"Disappear." Harry replied. They just stared for a few moments more before Snape told Harry to expect him sending for him the next afternoon. The closing door broke their eye contact. No one had lost, yet.
Harry went back to the empty frame watching his rooms, not letting him in. This was hopeless he thought. He had to talk to the portrait about not leaving the frame unless it was an emergency, he needed to be able to get in to his rooms whenever he wanted to. Just as he was about to leave the dungeons he saw out of the corner of his eye how something in the painting changed. He heard some loud breathing and the rustling of moving fabric. He turned to look at the painting and indeed, there the portrait was.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I kept you waiting," it said when it saw Harry "I just didn't think you'd be back so soon." It looked genuinely apologetic.
"It's all right, but I would prefer if you didn't do it again." Harry said, trying to look annoyed. "Where were you?" The painting seemed to blush and looked down on his out-of-picture feet.
"Well, I ehrm. was visiting a friend, we hadn't seen each other in quite a long time and I lost track of time." It almost stuttered a bit.
"I was early, but I had expected you to be here." Harry replied excusing himself and at the same time blaming the portrait for not being there. He was still in a bad mood, but he was also curious about the portrait. He decided to ask.
"So, do you still want to tell me your story?" The portrait stopped blushing and looked a lot brighter.
"Of course I will." it said, "Although I do hope you have an open mind." It smiled nervously. Harry was puzzled, whatever did the picture mean by that? And he did, didn't he?
"I guess." He answered.
"Well, I'll just start then." The portrait said. "My name is Samuel Mc Gonogal and when this portrait was painted I was 23 years of age." Harry had to interrupt him, now he knew whom the portrait, Samuel looked like.
"Mc Gonogal, as in professor Mc Gonogal? Are you related to her?" He asked quite surprised.
"Yes, I am her nephew." Samuel was about to continue telling his story when Harry interrupted him with more questions.
"Then how come you ended up down here, I mean, why aren't you hanging closer to her office or rooms?"
"We. had a little family quarrel about certain. habits of mine. We don't get along very well, but I will come to that if you let me continue my story." He looked a bit accusing, but in a quite playful way.
"Right, sorry. Please continue."
"As I said, I was twenty three when this portrait was made and that is how far I can tell you my story with accuracy. I haven't really kept up with what the 'real' me have been doing since, so as you understand we have to start a bit earlier than that.
The right place to start might be when I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I was eleven like everyone else is and was and I was overcome with joy and excitement like most kids. I had grown up in a big house as the only child in the family and it got quite lonely from time to time. Going to school and meeting other kids was like a dream to me. You see, my father, Minerva's brother was a very stern man. If you think Minerva is stern you should have met my father.
Anyway, I loved it at Hogwarts and I always stayed for Christmas and Easter even though I had somewhere to go home to and I was very reluctant to leave even for summer break. I just loved this place, I still do. I was sorted into Ravenclaw, which was a bit of a surprise for the family, who had always been predominantly Gryffindor. I spent a lot of time in the library both at home and in school and I didn't have many friends, I didn't feel I needed them that much, I had my books and my imagination. I was definitely a dreamer.
In fourth year I think it was I realized that the other boys in the dormitory started talking about other things than pranks, quidditch and candy. They had discovered that the opposite sex had a certain appeal and I had totally missed it. I was stuck in my books and studies and thought them quite silly for always paying attention to such trivial things. Have in mind that I had by this time in my life read more than the average adult had and I knew very well what was happening when boys hit puberty. I just couldn't see it happening to me and I didn't think more of it. I kept in the library or some other place quiet most of the first four years of my schooling. It was quiet at home too, but it wasn't the same kind of quiet, I couldn't seem to find the same sort of peace there as in Hogwarts. It's just something special to find somewhere private in a building that holds more than 1500 school kids." At this point Harry smiled and nodded in recognition.
"In the end of my fifth year though I started to feel a bit left out. I was the boy who was always considered to be an oddball or just plain strange. I didn't have any close friends, but I didn't have any enemies either. Anyhow, I was starting to feel a bit lonely, so I tried to make contact with some of my classmates. Strangely enough I had most success among the girls. The thought I was adorable with all my dreaminess and distance from the world. They said I lived in my books, which partially I did.
Eventually the inevitable happened and one of the girls fell in love with me, I didn't look that bad after all and she was rather pretty so I decided to give it a go. I think her name was Sophia. We mostly held hands and did some kissing every once in a while, which I thought was very nice. The summer between fifth and sixth year I invited her home to our big house for a week. We had a great time, but we came to the conclusion that we would be better off as friends. Neither of us was really prepared to go beyond kissing and we didn't do much girlfriend-boyfriend stuff together anyway. We stayed friends throughout all of school, but I have no idea of what became of her when we quit.
We could however talk about most things with each other and she was the first person to know the only really big secret that I have ever had. Are you sure you are open-minded Harry, because I'm about to spill the beans here." Samuel said all of a sudden. He looked inquiringly at Harry and having a feeling about where this was going said that, yes, he definitely was. The portrait continued his story.
"Okay. You see, I had, without really knowing how, fallen into some kind of love or lust with a person in the year above me, which was seventh since I now was in the sixth. She noticed of course that I had my eyes on someone, she just didn't know who it was. She tormented me for weeks about it, but I wouldn't tell her because I thought she wouldn't want me to be her friend if she found out who it was. I thought she would think I was disgusting, or even worse hate me for it.
Eventually though, being a clever girl she figured out who it was, a boy named Timothy Newton, present captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. She told me everything was quite all right and that she actually had suspected me being gay for some time. I couldn't understand how for the life of me, I thought I had been hiding my feelings so well and if I thought her repelling me would be bad, it was noting towards her trying to find me a boyfriend. She actually went as far as setting up a support group for lost gay wizards and witches just so I could get in contact with others who felt the same way. It was all quite the spectacle, but it worked. I got my first boyfriend through that support group and even though it was a very awkward relationship it gave my self-esteem a boost.
After that I had some pretty nice relationships, but I don't think I ever really fell in love with anyone. I finished school single and went off into the wide world with an open mind and an open heart. I set out to see all of it, everything that was worth seeing I wanted to see.
I had been travelling around, staying only a short while in every place when I met a boy in India called Robert. He was English like me and later on I found out that he too was gay. We travelled together for quite some time before we realized we had fallen in love with each other. My life couldn't have been any better, I was doing what I loved most, which was travelling, with someone I loved and who loved me back. I was young, just turned twenty, and I thought we had the whole world before our feet. For another year or so, maybe more, we roamed the world.
One day Robert told me he wanted to go home to see his family and that he wanted me to go with him. I was overjoyed, he really loved me and he wanted me to meet his family. Everything was great. His family was great. They welcomed me with open arms and took me in like a son of their own. They were completely okay with Robert being gay and, well, they were just fantastic.
I however wasn't sure of how my family would take the news of me being gay. They had always been conservative. Now, my family at this moment consisted of my mother, my father and Minerva, who was my father's younger sister. Minerva didn't yet work at Hogwarts and therefore she lived in the big house with us. My mother was the quiet type and my father was lord and master of the property. Minerva was just there at the moment and she was probably my favourite person in the household.
But anyway I thought we might as well give my family a try. I was fairly sure of myself and I was fairly sure that my mother wouldn't disagree and if she did, she would never say so. Minerva had always been kind to me and I didn't thing she would like me less because of my sexuality. It was my father that I was unsure of, but I though I would just have to find out what he thought when I told them all.
So I just went into the house one Saturday afternoon, hand in hand with Robert and told the he was my boyfriend and that we were very much in love. My father threw a fit. He was absolutely outraged; no son of his should be a fucking fairy, to use his exact words. He practically threw Robert out of the house and locked me up in my room. I cried and cried until my mother came up with some food for me later in the evening, then I cried some more. I couldn't understand how someone so close to me as my own father could be so cruel, I had never really experienced homophobia before and I was in a state of shock. I think I cried myself to sleep that night. In the morning it was Minerva who came to me with breakfast. She listened to me and she comforted me in her own subtle manner and it was good to know that someone was there to do that, although she didn't once mention Robert or my sexual orientation.
Eventually I came out of my room, but I didn't talk to my father. My mother and I didn't talk much either. Our communication mostly consisted of her looking at me with compassion in her sad eyes. When Minerva, later that year left to work as a teacher at Hogwarts living under the same roof as my father became unbearable so I just left. First I thought of seeking out Robert again but I changed my mind, He would be better off with someone else, I thought.
I got myself a small apartment in London and I took a job in Diagon Alley as a clerk in a small supply store called 'Miranda's'. It was there that I got the idea for this portrait. I thought it would be a fitting birthday present for my mother. I knew I would never go back to that house and I knew she'd probably never leave it. What better then, than to sent her a portrait of me to remind her that I loved her. I thought it would be the next best thing to having me there in person. Apparently my father didn't like the thought as much. He positively hated the portrait and he would not have it hanging in his house, so my mother gave it to Minerva on one of her visits, because she didn't want to throw it away.
Now, to start out with I did hang in her chambers here at Hogwarts, but not for very long. I had by now noted that she seemed quite content with not mentioning my sexuality or anything that would lead to the subject and I was curious to why. So one evening I very boldly asked her about it. At first she didn't want to answer me, but I eventually got her to confess that she didn't like it and from there on I only made it worse. I wanted to know why and she said it was unnatural. Then all hell broke loose. I started lecturing her about human rights and every ones equal value and she countered by moving me down in the dungeons. And that's pretty much it. I have been here ever since."
"You've had one hell of a life." Harry stated simply. He didn't really know what else to say. He wasn't sure about how much he wanted to tell Samuel about himself, but there was quite a lot in his story that Harry could relate to quite easily.
"Yeah, you could say that. So you don't think I'm a freak or anything, like the rest of the world seems to do." Samuel looked a bit worried.
"No, I don't." Harry said with a slight smile. "I know exactly how you must have felt." The portrait's expression changed from worried to curious and Harry decided that it couldn't hurt to tell him just a little bit.
"Well, I've gone through similar things." He said.
"Meaning?" Harry knew Samuel knew what he meant, but he spelled it out for him anyway.
"Meaning that I'm gay too and that my family didn't take it very well." He remembered being discovered by Dudley while kissing his boyfriend goodbye not far from Privet Drive and he remembered the hell that had broken loose when he got home and his cousin had told aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. It was a memory he tried very hard not to think about.
"You are? I could never have guessed." Samuel sounded genuinely surprised, although he probably wasn't.
"Actually, you are the first person I have told by myself and you are the only person here at Hogwarts that knows." Harry felt a bit sad when he said this. Was he really that alone? Had he no one he could confide in? Maybe he could tell Hermione, but the Ron would find out sooner or later and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
"Wow, so this is kind of big to you, isn't it? Telling me and all, I mean. Why did you do it?"
"I guess it is, but I had to tell someone sooner or later, hadn't I? And you seemed like a good person to start off with, at least you won't be mad at me or laugh at me because you have been through the same thing. It was an easy decision really."
"I see your point, I probably would have done the same thing." Harry decided he liked his doorkeeper and that he really would like to talk some more with him later on, but all he wanted to do now was to go inside and take a long shower and then go to bed. It had been a tiring day.
"I think it is time for me to go inside now." He said.
"Yes, you do that, but before you go I would like to know your name." Samuel smiled.
"Of course. It's Harry Potter." Harry now expected the worst. What would he do if Samuel knew who he was and decided that some gossip about the Boy Who Lived was in order. The whole school would know in a matter of hours, not that it had many residents now over Christmas, but everyone would find out when they got back.
"Hmm, It's vaguely familiar, but I can't seem to remember quite how just now. You care to tell me why I have a feeling that I should know who you are?" The portrait looked puzzled.
"Another day Samuel, some day less eventful." He said with a smile of relief. It felt good not to be recognized. To Samuel he was still just Harry Potter. "Then maybe I will tell you. Now let me in."
It was still early when Harry went to bed that evening. It had after all been a hard day. All that had happened had not yet had time to sink in. It took quite a while before he fell asleep, mostly because of the events of the day. He went through it all in his head over and over again. The Dursleys were gone and so was Sirius. He had been gone for almost two years now, but Harry still remembered the day he died like it was yesterday. He thought about the occlumency lessons and what it would mean taking them up again. It would definitely mean more work on top of what he already had from his regular classes and less time to figure out a way to get rid of Voldemort. He still couldn't understand that he was all alone now. He didn't want to believe that now that Ron and Hermione had each other they would probably forget about him. As he went through it all for the third time he was very close to crying, but he promised himself that the next time he cried it would not be out of unhappiness or misery.
And then there was the story Samuel had told him. It had been such a relief to know there was someone else at Hogwarts he could talk to because he really didn't want to bother Dumbeldore with his love life, or lack thereof. Samuel seemed like a nice guy and Harry could see himself actually talking freely to him one day. It was just too bad he was a portrait and not a real person.
The next day all Harry did was wait for Snape. He was really nervous about the lessons, he remembered how poorly he had done the last time and he wondered how in Merlin's name he was going to do any better this time. Maybe if he had read up a bit on the subject, but it was to late for that now and where would he find the books for that anyway? They would surely be in the restricted section and Madam Pince wouldn't let him just waltz in there without permission. Maybe he could ask Snape if he had any books he could borrow, if he dared. Harry wasn't sure, even with all his Gryffindor spirit that he had the courage to do that. He had the feeling that if he upset Snape the least, there would be no lessons. But to ask for books was a good thing, wasn't it?
Lunch wasn't any more exciting than any other day. Snape wasn't there and the food tasted good as usual, only this particular day everything seemed to go in slow motion. It was almost as if time had stopped and it made Harry very restless. He went back to his rooms and tried to sit down and just take it easy for a while, but that didn't work out. He tried reading a book in front of the fireplace and when he had read the same three sentences at least five times without understanding what he read he gave up. Why did this have to be such a big deal? It shouldn't be, for God's sake, it was Snape and it wasn't the end of the world if he didn't get the lessons. He would just have to think of some other way to keep the Dark Lord from his dreams. That's exactly what he'd do, he didn't Ineed/I Snape. He realized he was pacing around the sofa and that he had become rather sweaty, whether it was from the nervousness or from the pacing he didn't know. Anyhow, he decided to take a shower. Maybe that would consume some of the seemingly endless wait till "sometime in the afternoon" whenever that was.
He looked at his wristwatch before he took it off and stepped into the shower. It was a bit after three pm and Harry realized that Snape could step into his rooms any minute now. Three pm was definitely classified as afternoon. He washed himself as quickly as he could, he didn't bother to shampoo his hair, put on a towel and went to his trunk to find something to wear. He grabbed a pair of jeans that had a decent fit and an old Harley Davidson t-shirt he had got from Sirius. He put on the jeans and went to the living room to get his glasses, t-shirt in hand and water still clinging to his now shoulder-long hair. He found them on the little table beside the sofa; on top of the book he had tried to read earlier. He put them on and realized he was not alone in the room. Professor Snape stood on the other side of the room, like he just had gotten through the door.
Harry quickly put on his t-shirt and dropped his glasses in the process. Fortunately they didn't break and he bent down to pick them up. How embarrassing, to just walk around half naked not noticing that Snape was there. What would he think? Harry hoped the Professor wasn't offended and started to excuse himself.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't hear you come in. I was in the shower." He said hesitantly.
"I'm rather surprised that you're here at all, Potter, you usually don't mind being late." The Professor's voice was like stone. Harry suddenly became angry, why did the man always have to mock him, where did all that malice come from? And besides, how could he possibly be on time today when he didn't know when on time was? It was just luck that he had been in his rooms when Snape got there. He quickly changed the subject to keep his anger from showing.
"Is there anything apart from my wand that I need to have for the lesson?" He asked. He kept his voice steady and tried to control himself. That was after all what the occlumency lessons were about, to learn how to control one's emotions and to keep them from surfacing while facing the enemy. Maybe Snape was provoking him on purpose to make it harder for him to control his feelings when the lesson started. Harry decided that he would try his hardest not to give him that satisfaction. He would not fail.
Warning: This story contains slashy elements. If that offends you I suggest you leave. If you don't know what that means, I suggest you find out and come back when you have if it is something that appeals to you.
Disappearing
-Chapter one, No one left to loose-
Shocked and on the verge to tears he ran down the corridors of the almost empty school. It was Christmas and he was one of the few students who had chosen to stay over the holidays. Most had chosen to go home because it was wartimes and people wanted to spend time with family. Well, it wasn't outright war yet, but it was in the air. Everyone felt it, but no one talked about it. People didn't want to spoil the last days or weeks of peace with talk of war.
The reason he ran was a letter he had gotten just a couple of minutes before. It said that he had no family left. The only family he had left had been killed in a car crash, for real this time. It had all been most unfortunate. They had been driving home pretty late after a birthday party at a relative's and had not seen the car driven by a drunk driver racing towards them in the speed of light in a crossing of two major roads. They had all been killed almost instantly and they had felt almost no pain at all.
Now, he didn't like this family he had lost, but they were still a big part of his world. He had known them all his life and they were all the family he had left since his godfather died. As he ran he wondered what he had done to deserve all these bad things happening to him. He wondered why it couldn't have been somebody else's relatives or even more, somebody else's godfather. He ran out on the courtyard and set course towards the lake. By the time he got there the tears were flowing freely. He cried for his relatives and he cried for Cedric, but mostly he cried for Sirius. He cried because he hadn't been able to do something to prevent it and he cried because he just didn't want to Ibe/I anymore. He had never cried like this before, in fact he didn't want to cry like this now either, but he couldn't help himself. It was like someone had opened a door in his mind and all the locked up feelings he had ever had just flowed out in one big wave.
Everything just spilled out into the cold December air. He didn't notice the cold until he felt the trails of his tears starting to turn to ice on his cheeks. He started to shake and hack his teeth in between the sobs, but he didn't go back to the warm inviting castle. The cold somehow fitted his mood so much better.
Neither did he notice someone watching him from the other side of the lake. He didn't notice when this someone out of curiosity of what the boy was doing started to creep closer, only to hear his sobs all too well. When the intruder had gotten so close he, for it was a he, could see the miserable look in those green eyes he stopped. He watched for a while and, puzzled he walked away towards the castle. What did the Potter-boy have to be so miserable about? Could he be mourning Black still, or was he just fishing for attention like he always did? Probably the latter, but he had to talk to Albus about this. The boy was after all a student of his and a student's mental health was his concern, even if the student happened to be an obnoxious brat.
A while later, he had no idea how long, Harry felt as if he was never going to be able to move again. His hands and feet were numb from the cold and he had frost in his hair, which he had let grow longer over the past year, and on his eyelashes from the tears and his own breath. His stomach was rumbling loudly and he realized he was pretty hungry. It had to be around lunchtime. He looked at his wristwatch and indeed it was, he had been standing out there for almost two hours. Slowly he began to walk back to the castle, not at all feeling up to being around other people, but he had to if he wanted a decent lunch. All the house elves ever gave him was sweets.
Two pairs of eyes watched him closely as he entered the Great Hall for dinner. One pitch black and one light blue. They watched him as he seated himself at the end of the table, a few seats away from everyone else. They saw that his eyes were red from crying and his lips slightly blue from the cold. One pair of eyes were concerned and the other quite indifferent.
Snape had talked to the Headmaster just before dinner about Potters doings, or not doings, by the lake and he had found out about the sad demise of his only remaining relatives. What he couldn't understand was why he cried so hard for them, he hadn't thought the boy even Iliked/I them. But he was going to find out soon enough, Albus was going to talk to the boy and he wanted Severus to be present since Potter's own Head of House couldn't be there. She had, like the majority of the staff gone home to visit her family over Christmas.
It felt like some kind of block in Harry's mind had been lifted. Everything felt so much clearer. He felt cleansed and it was a wonderful feeling to no longer be weighted down by all these unreleased feelings. He could see things with a distance ha hadn't had before and he knew he had had enough. Enough of losses and deaths, enough of vicious rumours and reporters that spread them, enough of everything. He did not want to be the hero on which the whole wizarding world relied on, nor did he want to have all the attention it gave him. He was sick of it and he wanted change. He wanted revenge on Sirius's behalf and revenge for all the years that had been stolen from his childhood. It was no longer a war to save the wizarding world for Harry, it was a much more personal matter and somehow this seemed to give him strength and fuel him on in a task that to most people seemed rather impossible to complete. How much of a chance did a seventeen-year- old boy really have against the most powerful wizard in the world? To think that a bit of crying could be so productive.
It was a very determined and yet thoughtful Harry Potter that almost bumped in to the Headmaster and Professor Snape on the way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He mumbled his excuses and was going to slip by them when the Headmaster called his name.
"Could you come to my office for a minute, I'd like to talk to you." He said.
"Sure." Was all Harry thought of saying. He followed the Headmaster towards his office. He had a feeling he wanted to talk about his relatives. He wondered what Snape was doing there. Was he going to be there too? Maybe it was something else they wanted to talk about, but what could that be? Occlumency lessons? Well, that would be useful to know, Harry thought, maybe he could even stand having lessons with Snape. He definitely preferred that to having Voldemort penetrating his mind. But on the other hand, how could it not be about his relatives? They had died just last morning. It had to be about them, but maybe he could bring up that he wanted to take up the occlumency lessons. He would, he decided, if the opportunity was given. Although the dreams he had about the Dark Lord had become fewer over the past months they had once again become more forceful, almost as vivid as they were in his fifth year, when he had first been introduced to the subject of occlumency. The more he thought about it the better of an idea it seemed to be. He didn't want to make the same mistake twice; he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
Well in the Headmasters office Harry seated himself in the comfortable chair in front of the large, rather messy desk. Dumbeldore sat down behind him and Snape, for some reason, decided to stand up a bit on the side.
"I understand that you received a letter this morning, Harry." Dumbeldore said.
"Yes, I did." He thought for a moment then he said. "It came as quite a shock to me, I." He hesitated. "I definitely didn't need that after all that's happened." He said quietly. He didn't know what else to say and he thought everything he said sounded stupid. This was much harder than he had expected it to be.
"It came as a shock to me to." Dumbeldore answered. "It is very sad and I hate to say this to you now, like this, but the death of your aunt leaves us with a bit of a problem. The charm I put on you when she took you in is now broken. You are no longer protected by your mother's sacrifice, Harry." Harry looked up at Dumbeldore, the man looked very regretful to say the least. Harry didn't know how to react, he didn't know what to say and he certainly didn't know what would happen next. He just sat there, staring into nothingness, his thoughts spinning. Dumbeldore continued.
"This means we have to think of other ways to protect you. One potion would be to move you to a safe house where."
"No, I want to stay here at Hogwarts, it's the closest thing to a home I have." Harry interrupted.
"That was the other choice I was going to present. You can stay here at Hogwarts, but you can't stay in your dorm, it is much too unprotected. You would have to stay in the dungeons, where the wards are the strongest." The dungeons?! Why did it have to be down there? It was cold and slippery and slimy and Snape lived there. Harry didn't know why really, but the man seemed to hate him. He guessed it was because of his father, but as far as Harry was concerned he wasn't very much like him, at least not like the little bits and pieces he had seen of him. "I know it's not near as much fun as the Gryffindor tower or very close to it either for that matter, but it's that or the safe house." It was an easy choice.
"I'll stay here." He simply said.
"Good, good. I hoped you'd say that, it will be much easier for you to finish school if you stay here. You will also have a bigger idea of what is going on around you, both outside the school, in the Order. One of us will always be nearby in case something should happen." Harry sighed.
"I hate this." He mumbled under his breath, not intending for the other two to hear him. But apparently the Headmaster had heard Isomething/I.
"Sorry Harry, I didn't hear that."
"I said I hate this!" He burst out. "I hate not being able to control my own life and I hate being watched every move I make. If it isn't by the papers it's by someone else who doesn't know the meaning of the word privacy. I hate having everyone I love dying and I hate not being able to do anything about it. My whole life is a mess because that good for nothing fortuneteller had to make one prophecy that actually was for real. I hate it! I hate this damned scar and everything it means! I hate not being able to know who are my real friends and who are friends with me because I'm Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived." He had to catch his breath; he realized he had almost been screaming at the headmaster, who looked at him and smiled a sad smile.
"I had a feeling it would come to this," He said. "but there is nothing we can do about it. You have to try to make the best of it. You have Mrs Granger and Mr Weasley and you know that you can always talk to me or any of the teachers if it is anything."
"Yeah, I guess." But he didn't know if he could talk to Ron or Hermione anymore. They seemed so caught up in each other ever since they became a couple in the beginning of sixth year. It felt almost like he had lost them too, but he didn't say anything about that.
"Well, I think it's best that we moved your things down to your new rooms right away. Professor Snape will show you the way down there and the house elves will bring your trunk." For the first time in quite a while now, Harry looked at his Potions professor. He looked indifferent as usual, but Harry thought he winced a bit when the Headmaster had told him to show Harry to his new rooms. The he remembered. The occlumency lessons, he had to ask the Headmaster about taking them up again.
"Headmaster, There was one more thing I've been meaning to talk to you about."
"Yes Harry, what's that?"
"Well, I've been dreaming again. I always dream, but the dreams have started to change recently. They're becoming more and more like the dreams I had in. right before. When I got Sirius killed." The Headmaster looked at him like he had said something really horrible.
"Harry, listen to me. Sirius's death was not under any circumstances your fault! Don't you ever say that again."
"But if I hadn't been so stupid and learned to close my mind it had never happened and that's the reason I want to take up occlumency again." There, he said it.
"You cannot think that way Harry, what happened, happened and neither you or I can change that."
"But I can learn not to make the same mistake again." He said with determination.
"Yes." Dumbeldore said with a sigh. He suddenly looked very old and tired. "But I am afraid I don't have the time to give you the lessons myself, but if Professor Snape is willing to take you on as a pupil again everything would work out fine anyway." Harry looked at his Potions Professor assuming the worst, an outburst of anger, an affirmation of how lousy he had been in the subject, anything but what he got.
"Yes." Harry just looked at him. "I am willing to do that, on the condition that you do exactly as I say and that you take it as seriously as you should have from the beginning. The lessons will end immediately if I see you're not paying attention." The Potions Professor looked at him with the most piercing stare, as if he was trying to get in to Harry's mind even now. Harry shivered and thought that he had some long, unpleasant lessons ahead of him if he didn't change his mind very quickly.
"Thank you Professor Snape. I will not fail this time." He was very determined not to and he became even more determined now that Snape was going to teach him. He didn't want to be more humiliated in front of that man than absolutely necessary. He'd been humiliated enough today already by his outburst earlier and then by admitting he blamed himself for Sirius's death. It Iwas/I true that he had laid some of the blame for Sirius's death on himself; he just hadn't meant to say it to Dumbeldore and certainly not in front of Snape. But on the other hand he had said a lot of things the last half hour that he hadn't meant to say. He didn't know what had come over him earlier. Maybe it was a good thing that all those things had been said, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it had changed Snape's image of him wallowing in his fame at every chance he got, but he hardly thought it had. That image was so deeply rooted that it would take much more to get Snape to re-evaluate it. At least that's what Harry thought. It's not like he wanted to become best friends with the Potions teacher, but he didn't like the idea of Ianyone/I hating him like that, not when it could be avoided, or in this case, repaired.
"Well, now that's settled it might be a good time to go see your new rooms." The Headmaster suggested. "Would you show him the way Severus?" Snape moved towards the door and Harry rose from his chair.
"Follow me Potter."
They walked under silence and Harry had a bit of a hard time keeping up with the other man's pace, even though he was quite the athlete after having practiced quidditch almost every week for the last seven years. He thought the silence was awkward, but he didn't want to make it even more so by trying to start a conversation.
They walked down the dungeons, past the Potions classroom and down a corridor to the left. Snape stopped in front of a large portrait of a man Harry didn't recognize.
"This is it. The password is "Potter", for now, but you can change it if you want to. If you do you have to tell either the Headmaster or me what the new password is, in case something should happen. " Snape turned his back to Harry and continued walking down the corridor. He stopped in front of what Harry presumed to be another portrait and said something to it. The portrait swung open and Snape stepped in. Maybe it was Snape's private chambers. He was going to live next to Snape?! He shook his head and turned to take a closer look at the portrait.
The man in the portrait was fairly young, maybe five or six years older than Harry. He had brown, nicely cut hair and greenish-brown eyes with thick lashes. The one ear that was visible was pierced and in it hung a beautiful blue, oval stone. He had nice clothes, not all that old fashioned, like some of the portraits had, but more timeless and stylish in a way. His mouth was rather thin, but well shaped and you could see the traces of dimples in his cheeks. The man was attractive, no doubt about that and there was something slightly familiar over him, but Harry couldn't point out what it was. He looked like someone, not strikingly like anyone, but enough to make one look twice. He moved very little and didn't seem to notice Harry at all.
"Hello." He tried. "I would like to change my password."
"Oh, hi! I didn't see you there, young man." The portrait had bright voice for a man. "You were saying?"
"I live, ehrm, behind you and I would like to change the password."
"Oh, so you're the new resident. Well, I need to have the old password before you can do any changes." The portrait smiled and Harry thought it was studying him awfully close, almost checking him out. It's just a portrait he thought to himself, it's Inot/I checking you out.
"Potter." He said.
"That's it indeed, what do you want instead?" Harry thought for a while.
"Disappear." He finally said because that's what he had felt like doing most of the day. He told the portrait to open and he went in to inspect his new home.
Severus Snape scowled as he went into his rooms. Why did the brat have to live down in the dungeons? Now there'd probably be Gryffindors all over the place, upsetting the calm in the otherwise so quiet corridors. He would have to make his rooms soundproof and he would probably have to tighten the wards around them too. Now that Potter knew where he lived he probably wouldn't hesitate to try to break in to his rooms, whether to play him a prank or to steal something. On top of all that he had to teach the boy occlumency. If Dumbeldore hadn't been there when he asked he would have said no without thinking twice and never told anyone about it, but the old man wouldn't have accepted no for an answer up in his office. So he said yes, but he had, however, very much meant what he said when he told the boy that he would quit the lessons if he didn't pay attention and do his best. He was not willing to waste time on having private lessons with a student that didn't want to learn. He did that all day anyway. Ungrateful brats. Potter had seemed eager to learn earlier though, and what was that he had said about Black? Did he really take the blame for his godfather's death or did he just feel sorry for himself? Snape didn't want to know because it meant he had to ask and he certainly didn't want to look like he cared, because he didn't.
When Harry got in to his new rooms he was surprised by how liveable they seemed. The first room was a small living area with a fireplace with a couch placed in front of it. There was a small table beside the couch to the left and the wall on both sides of the fireplace was covered with shelves that could be filled with books. On the floor lay a thick cosy rug and in the left upper corner seen from the door stood a small table and two chairs. The walls didn't look slippery and the floor wasn't cold. He continued to the bedroom and was pleasantly surprised by a large four- poster bed with dark blue covers. It looked very soft and inviting. He realized that crying and telling people what he really thought was quite exhausting. His trunk stood by the foot of the bed and in it were all of his things. The house elves had even brought the dirty socks from under his old bed. Why hadn't they cleaned them? In the bedroom there was also a desk for him to do his homework by and when he walked through a smaller door opposite of the bed he found that he now had his own bathroom. He didn't have to share showers with anyone anymore. He had never found that very comfortable for several different reasons, but he didn't want to think about that now. It wasn't the fanciest bathroom he had seen in his life, but it was private and that was really all he could ask for.
He went back out to the living space and looked around once more. The walls were a bit empty, but that could be remedied fairly easy. All in all he was pretty happy with the rooms, even though they didn't have the most preferable location.
He didn't have anything in particular to do, so he just sat down on the couch for a while, but that got boring pretty quickly so he decided to go out for a fly. He grabbed his broom and went out the portrait hole. He had just gotten a few paced down the corridor when he heart someone calling for him. This someone had a very squeaky voice. It was the portrait. Harry went back to the painting and looked questioningly at it.
"How come you've moved down here anyway?" It asked.
"I. Well, it's a long story and I really don't feel like talking about it right now. It's very miserable, at least from my point of view and I've had enough of that for one day."
"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you." The painting said in a defensive tone.
"Oh, I didn't mean it that way at all, I'm just tired. I was going to go flying, it usually clears my mind. Maybe we could talk when I come back." Harry had to admit he was curious about his door watch. Who was this person and what had he done to end up down here? The dungeons wasn't exactly a nice place and there weren't much people down there to talk to either, and the portrait seemed to be fairly social.
"Sure we could. I could tell you my story if you don't want to tell me yours." As if it had read his mind.
"See you in an hour or so then."
Outside on the courtyard Harry kicked off from the ground and flew straight up towards the sky. He loved flying as high as he possibly could. It gave him a sense of freedom he had never been able to get anywhere else. It was very cold up there on the clear winter day so he decided to go a bit lower. He dived near the edge of the lake and turned his broom to upright position just before he hit the icy surface. He raced so fast the wind screamed in his ears just above the lake until his face was numb, then he rose a couple of feet and took it a bit slower. He loved looking at the world from above. The castle looked fantastic from the sky, especially covered in sparkling white snow. Everything seemed so peaceful, almost like a muggle painting, completely still.
Harry hadn't expected it to be so cold outside and after only half an hour of flying he thought his ears was going to fall of from the cold and he couldn't feel most of his fingers and toes. He landed on the courtyard and went in to the warm castle. Once inside he couldn't see a thing, his glasses were covered with mist. He wiped them off with the hem of his robes, but it didn't help. The mist was back as soon as he had put them on again. He just had to wait for it to go away by itself. If Hermione had been there she had surely known some neat spell to keep his glasses from getting misted in the first place, but she wasn't. She was probably in the Burrow with all the Weasleys having a wonderful Christmas. She and Ron would probably be even tighter when they got back and Harry would be stuck down in the dungeons with what? A portrait that was checking him out and Professor Snape. The flying hadn't made him feel any better today; it seemed to have made him worse. Or maybe it wasn't the flying, it could be that he was all alone in Christmastimes, that his only living relatives had died and that he was going to take lessons with Snape. It didn't exactly make way for happiness.
Harry was about to go straight in to his rooms when he remembered his promise to the portrait. The problem was that the portrait wasn't in his frame. That meant he couldn't go to his rooms either. He had no one to give the password to. He called for the portrait a few times, but nothing happened. He didn't want to sit in the corridor and wait so he thought he could go ask Snape when the lessons were going to start and tell him the new password, not that that would be any use when the portrait wasn't there. He went up to Snape's door, but hesitated just before he was about to knock. What would he say? Would it really be smart to bother the man? Maybe he should just go to Dumbeldore instead, but Dumbeldore was very busy, he had said so himself. He knocked. Snape opened.
"Yes, Mister Potter. What is it?" He looked very annoyed. He scowled.
"I was just wondering when the lessons is going to start and I wanted to tell you that I changed the password to my rooms." He said very quickly. For some reason he became nervous in front of the Potions Master, he always had.
"Eager to start are you? I'll send word for you sometime tomorrow afternoon, Make sure you're available, there will be no second chances." Snape looked Harry straight in the eyes and Harry could not do anything but look back. If he turned away he would loose, he had played this game with Dudley won. When he looked away first Dudley had hit him really hard right in the chest. He continued looking.
"The password?" Snape said and continued looking.
"Disappear." Harry replied. They just stared for a few moments more before Snape told Harry to expect him sending for him the next afternoon. The closing door broke their eye contact. No one had lost, yet.
Harry went back to the empty frame watching his rooms, not letting him in. This was hopeless he thought. He had to talk to the portrait about not leaving the frame unless it was an emergency, he needed to be able to get in to his rooms whenever he wanted to. Just as he was about to leave the dungeons he saw out of the corner of his eye how something in the painting changed. He heard some loud breathing and the rustling of moving fabric. He turned to look at the painting and indeed, there the portrait was.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry I kept you waiting," it said when it saw Harry "I just didn't think you'd be back so soon." It looked genuinely apologetic.
"It's all right, but I would prefer if you didn't do it again." Harry said, trying to look annoyed. "Where were you?" The painting seemed to blush and looked down on his out-of-picture feet.
"Well, I ehrm. was visiting a friend, we hadn't seen each other in quite a long time and I lost track of time." It almost stuttered a bit.
"I was early, but I had expected you to be here." Harry replied excusing himself and at the same time blaming the portrait for not being there. He was still in a bad mood, but he was also curious about the portrait. He decided to ask.
"So, do you still want to tell me your story?" The portrait stopped blushing and looked a lot brighter.
"Of course I will." it said, "Although I do hope you have an open mind." It smiled nervously. Harry was puzzled, whatever did the picture mean by that? And he did, didn't he?
"I guess." He answered.
"Well, I'll just start then." The portrait said. "My name is Samuel Mc Gonogal and when this portrait was painted I was 23 years of age." Harry had to interrupt him, now he knew whom the portrait, Samuel looked like.
"Mc Gonogal, as in professor Mc Gonogal? Are you related to her?" He asked quite surprised.
"Yes, I am her nephew." Samuel was about to continue telling his story when Harry interrupted him with more questions.
"Then how come you ended up down here, I mean, why aren't you hanging closer to her office or rooms?"
"We. had a little family quarrel about certain. habits of mine. We don't get along very well, but I will come to that if you let me continue my story." He looked a bit accusing, but in a quite playful way.
"Right, sorry. Please continue."
"As I said, I was twenty three when this portrait was made and that is how far I can tell you my story with accuracy. I haven't really kept up with what the 'real' me have been doing since, so as you understand we have to start a bit earlier than that.
The right place to start might be when I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I was eleven like everyone else is and was and I was overcome with joy and excitement like most kids. I had grown up in a big house as the only child in the family and it got quite lonely from time to time. Going to school and meeting other kids was like a dream to me. You see, my father, Minerva's brother was a very stern man. If you think Minerva is stern you should have met my father.
Anyway, I loved it at Hogwarts and I always stayed for Christmas and Easter even though I had somewhere to go home to and I was very reluctant to leave even for summer break. I just loved this place, I still do. I was sorted into Ravenclaw, which was a bit of a surprise for the family, who had always been predominantly Gryffindor. I spent a lot of time in the library both at home and in school and I didn't have many friends, I didn't feel I needed them that much, I had my books and my imagination. I was definitely a dreamer.
In fourth year I think it was I realized that the other boys in the dormitory started talking about other things than pranks, quidditch and candy. They had discovered that the opposite sex had a certain appeal and I had totally missed it. I was stuck in my books and studies and thought them quite silly for always paying attention to such trivial things. Have in mind that I had by this time in my life read more than the average adult had and I knew very well what was happening when boys hit puberty. I just couldn't see it happening to me and I didn't think more of it. I kept in the library or some other place quiet most of the first four years of my schooling. It was quiet at home too, but it wasn't the same kind of quiet, I couldn't seem to find the same sort of peace there as in Hogwarts. It's just something special to find somewhere private in a building that holds more than 1500 school kids." At this point Harry smiled and nodded in recognition.
"In the end of my fifth year though I started to feel a bit left out. I was the boy who was always considered to be an oddball or just plain strange. I didn't have any close friends, but I didn't have any enemies either. Anyhow, I was starting to feel a bit lonely, so I tried to make contact with some of my classmates. Strangely enough I had most success among the girls. The thought I was adorable with all my dreaminess and distance from the world. They said I lived in my books, which partially I did.
Eventually the inevitable happened and one of the girls fell in love with me, I didn't look that bad after all and she was rather pretty so I decided to give it a go. I think her name was Sophia. We mostly held hands and did some kissing every once in a while, which I thought was very nice. The summer between fifth and sixth year I invited her home to our big house for a week. We had a great time, but we came to the conclusion that we would be better off as friends. Neither of us was really prepared to go beyond kissing and we didn't do much girlfriend-boyfriend stuff together anyway. We stayed friends throughout all of school, but I have no idea of what became of her when we quit.
We could however talk about most things with each other and she was the first person to know the only really big secret that I have ever had. Are you sure you are open-minded Harry, because I'm about to spill the beans here." Samuel said all of a sudden. He looked inquiringly at Harry and having a feeling about where this was going said that, yes, he definitely was. The portrait continued his story.
"Okay. You see, I had, without really knowing how, fallen into some kind of love or lust with a person in the year above me, which was seventh since I now was in the sixth. She noticed of course that I had my eyes on someone, she just didn't know who it was. She tormented me for weeks about it, but I wouldn't tell her because I thought she wouldn't want me to be her friend if she found out who it was. I thought she would think I was disgusting, or even worse hate me for it.
Eventually though, being a clever girl she figured out who it was, a boy named Timothy Newton, present captain of the Slytherin quidditch team. She told me everything was quite all right and that she actually had suspected me being gay for some time. I couldn't understand how for the life of me, I thought I had been hiding my feelings so well and if I thought her repelling me would be bad, it was noting towards her trying to find me a boyfriend. She actually went as far as setting up a support group for lost gay wizards and witches just so I could get in contact with others who felt the same way. It was all quite the spectacle, but it worked. I got my first boyfriend through that support group and even though it was a very awkward relationship it gave my self-esteem a boost.
After that I had some pretty nice relationships, but I don't think I ever really fell in love with anyone. I finished school single and went off into the wide world with an open mind and an open heart. I set out to see all of it, everything that was worth seeing I wanted to see.
I had been travelling around, staying only a short while in every place when I met a boy in India called Robert. He was English like me and later on I found out that he too was gay. We travelled together for quite some time before we realized we had fallen in love with each other. My life couldn't have been any better, I was doing what I loved most, which was travelling, with someone I loved and who loved me back. I was young, just turned twenty, and I thought we had the whole world before our feet. For another year or so, maybe more, we roamed the world.
One day Robert told me he wanted to go home to see his family and that he wanted me to go with him. I was overjoyed, he really loved me and he wanted me to meet his family. Everything was great. His family was great. They welcomed me with open arms and took me in like a son of their own. They were completely okay with Robert being gay and, well, they were just fantastic.
I however wasn't sure of how my family would take the news of me being gay. They had always been conservative. Now, my family at this moment consisted of my mother, my father and Minerva, who was my father's younger sister. Minerva didn't yet work at Hogwarts and therefore she lived in the big house with us. My mother was the quiet type and my father was lord and master of the property. Minerva was just there at the moment and she was probably my favourite person in the household.
But anyway I thought we might as well give my family a try. I was fairly sure of myself and I was fairly sure that my mother wouldn't disagree and if she did, she would never say so. Minerva had always been kind to me and I didn't thing she would like me less because of my sexuality. It was my father that I was unsure of, but I though I would just have to find out what he thought when I told them all.
So I just went into the house one Saturday afternoon, hand in hand with Robert and told the he was my boyfriend and that we were very much in love. My father threw a fit. He was absolutely outraged; no son of his should be a fucking fairy, to use his exact words. He practically threw Robert out of the house and locked me up in my room. I cried and cried until my mother came up with some food for me later in the evening, then I cried some more. I couldn't understand how someone so close to me as my own father could be so cruel, I had never really experienced homophobia before and I was in a state of shock. I think I cried myself to sleep that night. In the morning it was Minerva who came to me with breakfast. She listened to me and she comforted me in her own subtle manner and it was good to know that someone was there to do that, although she didn't once mention Robert or my sexual orientation.
Eventually I came out of my room, but I didn't talk to my father. My mother and I didn't talk much either. Our communication mostly consisted of her looking at me with compassion in her sad eyes. When Minerva, later that year left to work as a teacher at Hogwarts living under the same roof as my father became unbearable so I just left. First I thought of seeking out Robert again but I changed my mind, He would be better off with someone else, I thought.
I got myself a small apartment in London and I took a job in Diagon Alley as a clerk in a small supply store called 'Miranda's'. It was there that I got the idea for this portrait. I thought it would be a fitting birthday present for my mother. I knew I would never go back to that house and I knew she'd probably never leave it. What better then, than to sent her a portrait of me to remind her that I loved her. I thought it would be the next best thing to having me there in person. Apparently my father didn't like the thought as much. He positively hated the portrait and he would not have it hanging in his house, so my mother gave it to Minerva on one of her visits, because she didn't want to throw it away.
Now, to start out with I did hang in her chambers here at Hogwarts, but not for very long. I had by now noted that she seemed quite content with not mentioning my sexuality or anything that would lead to the subject and I was curious to why. So one evening I very boldly asked her about it. At first she didn't want to answer me, but I eventually got her to confess that she didn't like it and from there on I only made it worse. I wanted to know why and she said it was unnatural. Then all hell broke loose. I started lecturing her about human rights and every ones equal value and she countered by moving me down in the dungeons. And that's pretty much it. I have been here ever since."
"You've had one hell of a life." Harry stated simply. He didn't really know what else to say. He wasn't sure about how much he wanted to tell Samuel about himself, but there was quite a lot in his story that Harry could relate to quite easily.
"Yeah, you could say that. So you don't think I'm a freak or anything, like the rest of the world seems to do." Samuel looked a bit worried.
"No, I don't." Harry said with a slight smile. "I know exactly how you must have felt." The portrait's expression changed from worried to curious and Harry decided that it couldn't hurt to tell him just a little bit.
"Well, I've gone through similar things." He said.
"Meaning?" Harry knew Samuel knew what he meant, but he spelled it out for him anyway.
"Meaning that I'm gay too and that my family didn't take it very well." He remembered being discovered by Dudley while kissing his boyfriend goodbye not far from Privet Drive and he remembered the hell that had broken loose when he got home and his cousin had told aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon. It was a memory he tried very hard not to think about.
"You are? I could never have guessed." Samuel sounded genuinely surprised, although he probably wasn't.
"Actually, you are the first person I have told by myself and you are the only person here at Hogwarts that knows." Harry felt a bit sad when he said this. Was he really that alone? Had he no one he could confide in? Maybe he could tell Hermione, but the Ron would find out sooner or later and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
"Wow, so this is kind of big to you, isn't it? Telling me and all, I mean. Why did you do it?"
"I guess it is, but I had to tell someone sooner or later, hadn't I? And you seemed like a good person to start off with, at least you won't be mad at me or laugh at me because you have been through the same thing. It was an easy decision really."
"I see your point, I probably would have done the same thing." Harry decided he liked his doorkeeper and that he really would like to talk some more with him later on, but all he wanted to do now was to go inside and take a long shower and then go to bed. It had been a tiring day.
"I think it is time for me to go inside now." He said.
"Yes, you do that, but before you go I would like to know your name." Samuel smiled.
"Of course. It's Harry Potter." Harry now expected the worst. What would he do if Samuel knew who he was and decided that some gossip about the Boy Who Lived was in order. The whole school would know in a matter of hours, not that it had many residents now over Christmas, but everyone would find out when they got back.
"Hmm, It's vaguely familiar, but I can't seem to remember quite how just now. You care to tell me why I have a feeling that I should know who you are?" The portrait looked puzzled.
"Another day Samuel, some day less eventful." He said with a smile of relief. It felt good not to be recognized. To Samuel he was still just Harry Potter. "Then maybe I will tell you. Now let me in."
It was still early when Harry went to bed that evening. It had after all been a hard day. All that had happened had not yet had time to sink in. It took quite a while before he fell asleep, mostly because of the events of the day. He went through it all in his head over and over again. The Dursleys were gone and so was Sirius. He had been gone for almost two years now, but Harry still remembered the day he died like it was yesterday. He thought about the occlumency lessons and what it would mean taking them up again. It would definitely mean more work on top of what he already had from his regular classes and less time to figure out a way to get rid of Voldemort. He still couldn't understand that he was all alone now. He didn't want to believe that now that Ron and Hermione had each other they would probably forget about him. As he went through it all for the third time he was very close to crying, but he promised himself that the next time he cried it would not be out of unhappiness or misery.
And then there was the story Samuel had told him. It had been such a relief to know there was someone else at Hogwarts he could talk to because he really didn't want to bother Dumbeldore with his love life, or lack thereof. Samuel seemed like a nice guy and Harry could see himself actually talking freely to him one day. It was just too bad he was a portrait and not a real person.
The next day all Harry did was wait for Snape. He was really nervous about the lessons, he remembered how poorly he had done the last time and he wondered how in Merlin's name he was going to do any better this time. Maybe if he had read up a bit on the subject, but it was to late for that now and where would he find the books for that anyway? They would surely be in the restricted section and Madam Pince wouldn't let him just waltz in there without permission. Maybe he could ask Snape if he had any books he could borrow, if he dared. Harry wasn't sure, even with all his Gryffindor spirit that he had the courage to do that. He had the feeling that if he upset Snape the least, there would be no lessons. But to ask for books was a good thing, wasn't it?
Lunch wasn't any more exciting than any other day. Snape wasn't there and the food tasted good as usual, only this particular day everything seemed to go in slow motion. It was almost as if time had stopped and it made Harry very restless. He went back to his rooms and tried to sit down and just take it easy for a while, but that didn't work out. He tried reading a book in front of the fireplace and when he had read the same three sentences at least five times without understanding what he read he gave up. Why did this have to be such a big deal? It shouldn't be, for God's sake, it was Snape and it wasn't the end of the world if he didn't get the lessons. He would just have to think of some other way to keep the Dark Lord from his dreams. That's exactly what he'd do, he didn't Ineed/I Snape. He realized he was pacing around the sofa and that he had become rather sweaty, whether it was from the nervousness or from the pacing he didn't know. Anyhow, he decided to take a shower. Maybe that would consume some of the seemingly endless wait till "sometime in the afternoon" whenever that was.
He looked at his wristwatch before he took it off and stepped into the shower. It was a bit after three pm and Harry realized that Snape could step into his rooms any minute now. Three pm was definitely classified as afternoon. He washed himself as quickly as he could, he didn't bother to shampoo his hair, put on a towel and went to his trunk to find something to wear. He grabbed a pair of jeans that had a decent fit and an old Harley Davidson t-shirt he had got from Sirius. He put on the jeans and went to the living room to get his glasses, t-shirt in hand and water still clinging to his now shoulder-long hair. He found them on the little table beside the sofa; on top of the book he had tried to read earlier. He put them on and realized he was not alone in the room. Professor Snape stood on the other side of the room, like he just had gotten through the door.
Harry quickly put on his t-shirt and dropped his glasses in the process. Fortunately they didn't break and he bent down to pick them up. How embarrassing, to just walk around half naked not noticing that Snape was there. What would he think? Harry hoped the Professor wasn't offended and started to excuse himself.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't hear you come in. I was in the shower." He said hesitantly.
"I'm rather surprised that you're here at all, Potter, you usually don't mind being late." The Professor's voice was like stone. Harry suddenly became angry, why did the man always have to mock him, where did all that malice come from? And besides, how could he possibly be on time today when he didn't know when on time was? It was just luck that he had been in his rooms when Snape got there. He quickly changed the subject to keep his anger from showing.
"Is there anything apart from my wand that I need to have for the lesson?" He asked. He kept his voice steady and tried to control himself. That was after all what the occlumency lessons were about, to learn how to control one's emotions and to keep them from surfacing while facing the enemy. Maybe Snape was provoking him on purpose to make it harder for him to control his feelings when the lesson started. Harry decided that he would try his hardest not to give him that satisfaction. He would not fail.