What is your secret?

Disclaimer: The whole universe of Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

Dedication: To you my dear friend, Unfading, because you were the one who asked me to write a HP fanfiction

Part 1: The picture

He was unhappy…

There were many reasons for that, but he had no desire to analyze them properly, because they have been the same for the whole year already…

The constant squabbles and quarrels between Ron and Hermione, followed with no less frequent snogging amid of the Gryffindor Common Room – that could drive anyone mad…

There were those unceasing provocations of Slytherins. Especially from Malfoy. As if that flaxen-haired Slytherin could not live without any caustic words and stinging remarks about Harry. It seemed that, though it had not become as necessary as air for him, Malfoy nevertheless regarded that verbal fight as his favorite daily routine...

"Well, well, well. Whom do we have here? Isn't that the one and only all-mighty Potty?" - The voice without any doubts belonged to the same Slytherin whose pointy face just a moment ago flashed across Harry's mind.

"Sod off, Malfoy."

The blond in question folded his hands over chest and smirked arrogantly. "Oh, our little Saviour is not so eloquent today. Maybe he just tired after another oh-so-long interview about himself. Say, Potter, in which newspaper do we have to look for that new article about you? Will there be another 'I cry, remembering mummy' revelations?"

"SHUT UP, Malfoy!" Harry boiled with anger.

But Malfoy, supported by Crabbe and Goyle, just smirked. "Or else what? Will you call those friends of yours, so they could fight for you?"

"At least I have the real friends, not sycophants like yourself," Harry turned around and rushed away. It always was like that. Harry did not ever have any energy left to argufy with the Slytherin. 'Petty ferret!'

There also were Snape's continuous quibbles... For the whole duration of Harry's stay at Hogwarts, there was no single Potion lesson at which Snape would not turn his live-coals-eyes towards Harry. As a rule, that burning glare soon followed with an equally burning, scathing comment...

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing here at the time like this?" Speak about devil and here it is. "The school rules prescribe all students to be in their bedrooms after curfew. As I see you think yourself to be beyond those rules." As always, Snape's voice was low and malicious. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Now you have exactly five minutes to get from my sight, and nowhere but to your room. Am I clear, Mr. Potter?"

Fuming, Harry stared at his Potion teacher, but could not do anything, because any remarks would have cost more points from Gryffindor. So he settled on just saying aloud - "Yes, professor."

Feeling Snape's inimical stare on his back, Harry hastened toward the Gryffindor tower. 'The spiteful grease sadist!'

Theoretically, it is possible to get used to anything. Even to the maltreatment. Still, somehow Harry felt unhappy.

The weather also had not been pleasing. There was a cold and gloomy rain outside. For several days already, the whole England and Wales had been sinking in the steady autumn downpours. Moreover, the weather forecast bode not good…

Harry wandered the corridors aimlessly. Forward. It was unimportant where to. The main thing was not to stop. That because as soon as he stopped, depression and despondency overwhelmed him like a big tidal wave. Sneaking up inconspicuously, at first. Then overpowering completely…

Suddenly Harry understood that for a long time already he had been standing and staring at some desert landscape painted on a big canvas. Fathomless blue sky above the boundless sand dunes. In the distance, every now and then the undulating hazes over fervent sands produced some fuzzy mirages. At one moment there was a lake, at another - a grove or mountains... As if an invisible artist could not decide what to paint there, on the horizon.

'It is interesting, is there a room hidden behind the picture, or that picture is hanging here for no particular reason?'

The moment Harry thought so, the scenery before his eyes became wavy. It was similar to ripples in the water after a stone dropped into it... The ripples dispersed, revealing a door hidden behind (or maybe "in"?) the picture.

Without thinking twice, Harry took the door-handle. Wariness never was a Gryffindor distinguishing feature. However, curiosity was among the main three ones, along with bravery and foolhardiness.

The door opened with a low creak. From over there, a gentle music reached Harry's ears. Enchanting, fascinating sounds, bearing peace and calmness...

Intrigued, Harry took a step forward. With the same low creak, the door closed up after him. In a split second, it disappeared without trace, dissolving into Sands of Time painted on the picture...

TBC.

Are you intrigued? Do you really want to know what happened to Harry? Then please review! Your comments feed my inspiration!

© Star Mirage