A/N - I obviously don't own any of these characters, am just enjoying playing in this world! This story is going to be quite different from 'The Shadow', its much darker and more adult, with a much stronger Harry. I hope you enjoy! As usual please review and tell me what you think.

The Only Way Out Is Through

Chapter One – A feeling

He was staring into space again.

This seemed to be happening with monotonous regularity and Harry shook himself slightly and tried very hard to refocus his thoughts.

He had a feeling. It started that morning when he woke up, the sun streaming in his window and spilling across his face. He'd rolled away from it, his back to the glass wall and pulled his faded quilt over his head. Normally he would have embraced the morning sun, and the view it came with of the woods behind his home but not today.

Today he had a feeling. And he just didn't want to face it.

Since the end of the war Harry had worked very hard to become as anonymous as possible. In fact his new goal in life was to become irrelevant to the wizarding world so he could finally live in peace without being known as 'the boy who lived', 'the chosen one' or (and the most annoying) 'the saviour of the wizarding world'. After five years the whole thing still made him sick to his stomach.

In those past five years he had worked hard to be left alone by the press, and mostly by the ministry. After graduating from Hogwarts he found it easier to stay out of the limelight and years of saying 'no comment' to the press and refusing job offer after job offer had finally left Harry with a life he somewhat enjoyed.

He now lived alone in a very secluded part of England (unplottable of course) on the edge of a rather large wood not far from Godric's Hollow. He didn't venture out much, mostly just to the market or to Ron and Hermione's. With the exception of his students who would sometimes stay for up to a month he didn't have any visitors except for a stray cat named Sorrell, who would come and go as it pleased. Ron thought he was daft for living this way, and Hermione often worried about Harry being lonely, but the truth was Harry loved it. He had no desire to be or do anything in particular, instead just immersing himself in study and leisure and living as he wished for once.

He really hoped that would last.

His feeling said otherwise.

'Harry?' A voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

'Sorry Michael did you say something?' Harry asked, looking up at the tall young man standing in the doorway.

Michael was the latest of Harry's students, a Slytherin about to enter his seventh year at Hogwarts. He came to Harry at the beginning of the summer severely weak in defence against the dark arts, and with a burning desire to become an Auror. Harry was personally amazed he had even been accepted into the NEWT class in the first place. He had worked with Michael for the past two months and was now certain that the boy would not only pass his NEWT, he would pass with an O.

The majority of Harry's students weren't still at Hogwarts. People came to him from all over wanting to learn from him. Some were hopeful Aurors in need of some training before applying for the academy; some simply wanted to improve their skills. It had started after the war when several of his classmates who had such a disrupted year of teaching the year before had come to him begging for tutoring. From there it grew to the wider community, and for the past three years he had a steady stream of students living with him and learning from him. Harry found he actually liked teaching especially in a one on one environment, and it paid the bills and gave him the freedom to do as he wished.

'I was just saying that I'm all packed and ready to go.' Michael nudged him gently. 'I'm leaving today remember?'

Harry smiled. 'I remember Michael. You've done very well you know. In fact I suspect if you took your NEWT tomorrow you would probably pass it, and you still have a full year of learning ahead of you.'

'Thanks to you.' Michael replied. 'I really appreciate it Harry.'

'You're very welcome.' Harry extended his hand and Michael shook it firmly.

'I can see myself out.'

Harry nodded. 'Don't forget you can't apparate until you get past the front gate.'

'I won't.' Michael assured him, before leaving the room.

Harry turned back to the window and continued to stare absentmindedly out it. A few short minutes later there was a knock at the front door.

Harry's wards were very carefully constructed, only people he trusted completely were able to make it all the way to the front door. It was probably just Michael having forgotten something.

Harry walked the length of the room to the vestibule. 'What did you forget Michael?' He called.

'It's not Michael.' A deep voice answered.

Harry knew that voice, despite having not heard it in over three years. He waited at the front door for a moment resting his hand on the dark wood as if that would send the intruder away. Because that's what this was – an unwelcome intrusion.

Damn that feeling.

Harry sighed and opened the door. 'Kingsley.'

Kingsley Shacklebolt the Minister for Magic himself was standing on Harry's front step.

'Harry.' Kingsley answered, with a nod of his head. 'Aren't you going to invite me in?'

'That depends.'

'On what?'

'On whether this is a social visit or whether you want something from me.' Harry said warily.

Kingsley laughed. 'Let's just say it's both Potter. Now let me in, it's freezing out here!'

Harry felt something warm pressing against his legs and looked down to find Sorrell looking up at him with wide eyes. 'What do you think Sorrell? Should we let him in?' Harry asked with a smirk.

Kingsley narrowed his eyes at Harry.

'Fine.' Harry huffed and stepped backwards into the vestibule extending his arm out. 'Won't you please come in?'

Kingsley refrained from comment, instead simply following Harry through the house to the sunny Kitchen. Harry flicked his wand casually and a chair pulled out from the table for Kingsley to sit in.

'Thank you.' Kingsley said sincerely.

'You're welcome.' Harry replied.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

'If this isn't a purely social visit may I ask why it's you who have come to see me?' Harry asked. 'I'm sure whatever you want could have been delivered by owl?'

'It's rather a sensitive issue.' Kingsley said.

'But why you?' Harry pressed. 'It's not exactly usual for the Minister to make house calls.'

'As I said it's sensitive. That, coupled with the fact that your wards won't let anyone you don't trust past the front gate made me think it would be easiest to just come myself.'

'You know that?' Harry asked raising his eyebrows slightly.

'Mr Weasley told me.'

Harry sighed, he would have to have a chat to Ron about that. 'What made you think you'd make to my front door then?' He queried.

Kingsley smiled. 'Let's just say I hoped I would make it, rather than assumed I would. I thought I'd have more chance than anyone else in my office.'

'Well that's true.' Harry said. And it was true; Kingsley had more than proven himself worthy of Harry's trust, not only during the war but in the subsequent 5 years.

Kingsley ran his eyes around the kitchen, taking in the neat bench top, the sun streaming in through the glass wall, and the clock on the wall whose big hand was currently pointed at 'relax or else'.

'Why are you here Kingsley?' Harry asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.

'You certainly seem to have built yourself a good life here Harry.' Kingsley commented, ignoring the question. 'A little secluded, but comfortable all the same.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Secluded works for me.' He said evenly. 'Which you are well aware of, so get on with it and tell me the reason for this visit.'

Kingsley sighed, then withdrew a folder from inside his robes and placed it on the kitchen table. 'This is why I'm here.' He said, gesturing to the folder. 'I was hoping for your insight, and perhaps even your assistance.'

Harry pulled the folder towards him and opened it. A few seconds later he wished he hadn't.

The folder was filled with photographs of crime scenes. Murder crime scenes to be precise. Harry had never seen anything so gruesome, there were photographs of several bodies, as well as blood spatters, foot prints, and any number of random shots that the photographer thought may or may not be relevant.

Harry had always thought wizard photographs were far superior to Muggle ones, but looking at these photos made him change his mind. It was more horrifying and disturbing to actually see the blood drip from the bodies to the floor or in one particular photograph where a wizard was vomiting violently into a rose bush while the victim hung gruesomely swinging from a tree two feet away. He fervently wished the pictures were stationary.

From what Harry could tell all the victims were wizards as there was a broken wand found lying next to each body, and all had died in a gruesome fashion. These weren't quick deaths; they seemed to have been designed to inflict pain on the victims for quite some time before their deaths. And the methods used differed from case to case.

Harry couldn't look anymore despite having only seen half the photos.

'What is this?' He asked shakily.

'I'm sorry to spring it on you like this, I know it's quite a shock to see, but this has been happening over the last several months. The last six months in fact, and we have little idea who is responsible or why they're doing it or even how they're doing it…' Kingsley trailed off.

'What do you mean how?'

'As near as we can tell the actual murders are committed in muggle fashion. Using either a knife, or by fire or by those funny shaped metal things that leave holes everywhere.' Kingsley said.

'Guns.' Harry supplied the word.

'Guns. That's it, one was by a gun.' Kingsley confirmed

'I don't understand, why didn't the wizards fight back? How could a muggle get close enough to even threaten a wizard let alone incapacitate one and then torture them?' Harry asked confused. 'Unless you think it was a wizard who did this?'

'That's what we suspect yes.'

'But why kill them like a muggle? Why not use Avada Kadavra?' Harry questioned. 'If they want to torture why not Crucio them first?'

'We don't know Harry. As you can see it makes little sense. The only thing we can think is that this is the work of a wizard who must hate magic.' Kingsley looked bleak. 'It's not something we've seen before and we are not sure how to proceed. The only thing we do know is that this appears to be the work of an individual rather than a group.'

'A serial killer.' Harry nodded, and then shuddered.

'A what?'

Harry sighed. 'A serial killer. It's what the muggles call them. An individual who murders multiple people.'

Kingsley nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Harry got up from the table and moved towards the glass wall, gazing out into the woods. 'Kingsley this is all terrible and very concerning, but what does it have to do with me? I'm not an Auror, nor am I a mental Healer, or anything else that could help. I don't understand what you want me to do.'

Kingsley sat back in his chair. 'Harry despite your age and lack of formal training you are still one of the best defenders of dark magic there is –'

'But they're not using magic.' Harry interrupted, turning back to face him.

'They have to be using some to get past the wards, to immobilise their victims. Come on Harry, do you really think that you can't help?' Kingsley asked.

Harry shrugged.

'Not to mention that you also are very good at finding things, at tracking. You found the horcrux's after all.'

'I had help.' Harry snapped. 'And I also had a connection to them, and a place to start.' You aren't even giving me anything to go on here, I can't believe you're expecting me to go chase a wizard serial killer with no formal training and no help! Are you insane?'

He paused for a moment, suddenly realising something. 'You're not insane though so there's something you aren't telling me. You must have teams of Aurors already on this, you wouldn't rely on just me, but there must be something you need that you think only I can do, or you wouldn't have bothered coming here… What is it?'

'Harry there was a scrap of parchment found at one of the crime scenes. There's a photograph of it, which you would have seen had you looked through the whole file. It's the only piece of evidence we collected which could lead to the killer.' Kingsley said quietly.

'So follow it.' Harry said.

'That's the problem, we can't.' Kingsley got up from the table and joined Harry at the glass wall. 'It appears to be a record of potions he bought from an owl order potion service. The piece of parchment we recovered doesn't show the buyers name, only part of the potion name and the supplier.'

'Who was the supplier?' Harry asked.

Kingsley turned back to the file on the table and pulled out a photograph. He silently handed it to Harry.

The photograph was of a small torn piece of parchment. There were two words written along the bottom and part of another at the top. Felicis was the word at the top. 'Severus Snape' was written along the bottom.

'Snape?' Harry said in surprise.

'That's correct.' Kingsley confirmed.

'Snape has a potions business?'

'Yes. He's been running it out of his home for about 3 years now.'

'This is bad.' Harry said dimly, still looking at the parchment.

'Yes.' Kingsley said.

'You don't think Snape has anything to do with this do you?' Harry asked.

Kingsley shook his head. 'No we don't. His name was completely cleared after the war thanks to your testimony and the collection of his memories, but the problem is he is extremely hard to contact.'

'Of course he is.' Harry murmured.

'His house, like yours is secluded and very strongly warded with trust wards like your own, he won't accept or answer owls and has completely blocked of his flue to all fire calls.' Kingsley continued. 'We know roughly where his house is but have no way of getting to it as we know of no one he trusts. Except perhaps you.'

'Ah.'

'We'd like you to take this file to him and ask for his help on this case. It may be that the parchment belonged to the victim and not the killer, but if that's the case we want to know all the same. He must have records of all the potions he's sent and that information would be invaluable to us.'

'What makes you think Snape trusts me?' Harry asked bluntly. 'He hates me, he's always hated me, even his memories confirmed it.'

'He gave them to you though didn't he? He wouldn't have done that if he didn't trust you.' Kingsley said seriously.

'He didn't have much of a choice though did he?'

'Harry I know you don't want to do this, I know you just want to be left alone but I beg you, please, go to see Severus and see what you can find out. People have died and we have no idea who might be next.'

Harry looked at Kingsley and could see the frustration and concern in his face. 'Ok I'll go.' He said quietly. 'But I'll do this my way Kingsley. I have no idea how he will respond to seeing me again but I guarantee it won't be pleasant. I'll have to tell him everything, including that I'm there to gather evidence for you.' He added.

'That's fine Harry, do what you have to do. I'll wait to hear from you, go as soon as you can won't you?' Kingsley asked, gripping Harry by the shoulder.

Harry nodded. 'I will. I assume you have coordinates or something to at least guide me to where he's living?'

Kingsley reached once again into his robes and withdrew another piece of parchment. 'Here.' He said handing it to Harry. 'I can find my way out. Take some time to go through the file fully, as unpleasant as it is. I hope you can find Severus and convince him to cooperate.'

Harry barely noticed Kingsley leave. He was too busy once again looking at the photographs, this time he got through them all and at the back found several inches of notes he could only assume had been made by the Aurors working the case.

As he immersed himself in the file Harry wondered just what he had got himself into. There was something so horrifying about these murders, so unexplainable. While Voldemort was twisted and evil at least you could see some sense to what he did, an order, an objective even. But this? This was just senseless killing with no order or plan to it at all. It just didn't make sense.

Harry shook his head as he replaced the images in the file. He wasn't as sure as Kingsley that he'd be able to reach Snape, and he had absolutely no desire to see the man again. Despite having nothing but respect for Snape now the war was over, Harry had no illusions that his personality wouldn't be as caustic as ever.

Still Kingsley was right in saying it was their only lead.

Harry sighed. As much as he was dreading it, he knew tomorrow he'd have to go and find Snape.

He just hoped that Snape wouldn't have any more jars of cockroaches conveniently lying around…

A/N - Hope you liked it! Aofie