Second Sight

By, Tigerlily

Timeline/Spoilers: Takes place after Order of the Phoenix

Summary/AN: One-shot! My take on the "Snape visits the Dursley's" story. Yeah it's trite and overdone, but I wanted to work it out my own way. This is also my first story that is told in first person narrative. I tried to remain faithful to Snape's character, but it was really difficult! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot.


"We have only to believe. And the more threatening and irreducible reality appears, the more firmly and desperately must we believe. Then, little by little, we shall see the universal horror unbend, and then smile upon us, and then take us in its more than human arms."

-Pierre Teilhard de Chardin-


First impressions can be deceiving. They certainly were when I first met my,. no, THE Dark Lord. He is no longer any Lord of mine. I suppose I should have noticed my error in judgment then and changed my behavior, but I am nothing if not a creature of habit.

When I first met the boy he was eleven. A smaller, more gangly version of a man I had loathed most of my adolescence. A man I still bore a grudge against.

Then there was the fact that he had done nothing. Everything in the world had been given to him on a silver platter. True he had defeated the Dark Lord in a single battle, but that was not a conscious effort. He is the wizarding community's golden boy. He is their puppet.

And I was jealous of his ease, resented his pride.

Ah yes, his notorious pride. His pride in being a Gryffindor, his pride in his parents and his friends, the list goes on. I resented his ease of trust. I had long since lost this ability.

Yet in all of his glory I sensed sadness. No, sadness is not the right word. Rather I sensed a sort of subdued undercurrent. As though there was more to the boy than I or anyone else could possibly comprehend.

Nevertheless I was cruel to the boy, but he was strong, much stronger than I would have previously guessed. The pride burned in him and made the impossible possible. Every time I pushed him he pushed back. I'm not sure if I resented his actions or secretly admired them. Either way I was intrigued. No one had dared to defy me in years.

I began to watch the boy. I looked for a weakness. There were many. There was his foolish trust. There was his carelessness. There was his temper. There was something else I couldn't put my finger on.

Years passed. My rage at the boy did not quiet. Nor did his fury at me ease. Then there was the awful day with the pensieve. That day he learned of my pain. That day my carefully constructed walls fell.

I was livid. How dare the fowl little brat delve into my mind, my past, my memories. Those memories were my own and not to be seen by some petty little brat, especially THAT particular little brat.

I expected to be made fun of. I expected the "fun" to start the next day. It didn't. I waited for the next day. Still nothing. He didn't do anything with the knowledge.

To say I was surprised would be the understatement of the year. How could he possess such information, such power and yet do nothing with it.

I followed the boy from Kings Cross at the end of the year. I watched his base interactions with his pathetic friends. I watched him get in a car with that disgusting muggle.

Upon arriving at the house the boy was nearly thrown through the door. I was intrigued, but the house was quiet. I left the house and returned the next day near noon.

There appeared to be a new, rather hideous, boulder in the yard of the muggles. On closer inspection I realized it was the boy. He was dressed in clothing large enough to fit a small yacht. I wondered who could possibly fill such massive clothes.

With the arrival of the boy's cousin I was given an answer. I had once overheard talk of the boy's cousin who looked like a whale. The boy did resemble a whale. In fact his waddling was so awkward I was positive that he would in fact "beach" himself in the effort to walk down the front stairs.

A brief exchange followed. Although I was unable to hear what was being said, the fact that the boy's cousin was beating him to a pulp did not escape my attention.

Granted my fingers had itched to exact that same punishment. Yet the fact remains I have never hurt the boy. His cousin who is a foot taller as well as a good two hundred pounds heavier could hardly be declared the underdog.

The Gryffindor notion that this situation was "unfair" was briefly entertained in my mind.

Though the scene before me was admittedly disturbing I labeled it a one time occurrence and carried on.

Yet the uneasiness remained. The irritating thought that I was acting decidedly Gryffindor in wanting to check up on the boy was counteracted by the fact I was getting little done. My work was suffering. I was distracted to say the least. I carried on in such a way for a month, my stubbornness at work, before I decided to return. I needed to set my mind to rest.

I returned to muggle house. Unfortunately or fortunately as the case may be the boy was not in the yard this time.

Despite the fact the thought disgusted me I decided to knock on the door. My curiosity is perhaps my greatest fault as well as my greatest gift. Such is the way of most personality quirks.

Perhaps there was in fact a sadistic part of me looking forward to the look of shear horror I would receive from the boy.

But the real reason remained that I knew I would be unable to achieve peace if I could not reconcile the old information with the new.

As any true spy would I dressed as a muggle so as not to arouse suspicion.

I was prepared for the worst. That is to say I prepared for disgusting soppy muggles and the boys insufferable stupidity.

I can "honestly" say (ah the irony of such a statement) that I have never been more surprised in my life than I was at that day.

After ringing the door there were thundering footsteps and harshly ground out orders. Just as I was about to try once again to ring the doorbell the front door swung open.

Merlin! The man that greeted me was even larger than that infernal whale of a child I had seen earlier. He gazed at me with a greedy sort of interest and I did what all good spies do, I lied.

After a rousing round of verbal tag I managed to convince him that I was in fact with some sort of awards society. The prospect of money very much interested him and the fool let me into his home.

I would have to tell Dumbledore of this. The houses wards would do nothing if the damned muggles LET the Deatheaters onto the property and even they, stupid though they are, would be able to lie to that idiot!

The family assembled in the living room. It did not escape my notice that the boy did not appear. It also did not escape my notice that there was no sign the boy in fact DID live there. Hundreds of pictures of that hideous blob they called son were scattered, rather too liberally to my liking, about the room. Of the boy there was no trace.

There was a soft thump from behind me and I scanned the stairs to the back. I was convinced the infernal boy was about to make a grandiose entry. He did not deliver.

I enquired about the sound. The muggle's face turned a highly unnatural shade of purple. He appeared more than a little agitated about my questioning the origin of the sound.

Another thump was heard. This was closely followed by a muffled moan. I knew that voice. Merlin knows I've been around often enough when the boy has been in pain to be able to recognize the sound. The boy was there after all. I thought for sure he was avoiding me, that his pathetic excuse for family tried to cover his arse for him.

The man spat at his wife to offer me refreshments while he "dealt" with the problem. Watching discretely I discovered he was walking not in the direction of the entrance to the stairs as I had supposed, but rather into the stairs. No, not into them, there was a door there. Small. I assumed it was some sort of closet or cupboard. No doubt they were holding illegal animals or immigrants, I didn't really care.

I wasn't surprised when he kicked the door and harshly hissed "shut-up now or you'll get it." I WAS surprised when he added one little word.


As if in a dream I stood and walked towards the man. He moved to stand forcibly in front of it but I was not to be deterred and my mere look stopped his actions.

I opened the door. The man didn't try to stop me. He was obviously frightened of me, most people are.

With a creak the door opened and out rolled the boy.

At first sight he didn't appear all that much changed from when I'd last seen him, but on closer inspection I realized that there was something very much wrong with the boy.

I knelt and turned his head towards me.

To say the boy was emaciated would be the understatement of the year. The hollows in his cheeks were unnatural and his skin had acquired a translucent quality.

I had to get him to Hogwarts and fast. Of this much I was certain. I picked the boy up. He was delirious, feverish, and mumbling incomprehensible things. Occasionally his left leg would spastically kick out as though it had a will of its own.

The journey to Hogwarts was a blur. I did not chance using magic because of the wards. I had broken many rules in bringing the boy to Hogwarts and it was necessary for no one to know that the boy had in fact left the house.

Dumbledore had assured all the staff that the boy would be safe at his home and the Deatheaters new this as well. It would be best if they continued to believe that the boy was still in the protection of the muggles.

I found it highly ironic that the one place the boy was "safe" was also the one place he was not. Oh the muggles couldn't kill him I knew that well. Actually it was later revealed that any other person wizard or no would have undoubtedly died from the conditions he endured, but the boy did not.

When I arrived at Hogwarts I was immediately relieved of my burden. Apparently Dumbledore in his omnipotence had been able to see that I was coming. Madam Pomfrey bore the boy away and I followed Albus up to his tower for some of his patented "interrogation tea".

All was right with the world.


There is a second part to this story. It's from Harry's point of view and will continue where this story broke off. It hasn't truly even been started yet though. Check back later to see it if you're interested.

P.S. Please review! (