A/N: My brain's coming up with loads of crazy ideas for fics at the moment. Here's one of the ideas that actually makes sense, or at least it does compared to the others.

Disclaimer: Not mine.


Windows To The Soul

Chapter one - Instincts


 I walked down Privet Drive (A/N: Don't ask me why he's walking, just seems to fit), the street that that blasted Potter lives in, my cloak swirling behind me, as usual.

I can't believe Albus is making me go there. We hate one another, but he's making me check up on him. Though I suppose it will be worth it to see Potter's face when he finds out his most hated Professor (with the possible exception of Trelawney. I can see why he hates her), Severus Snape shows up to enquire about his well being.

I've never fully understood why he wants people to check up on Potter. He's probably being treated like a king by his muggle relatives. I wouldn't doubt it for a second, but Albus had that damn twinkle in his eye that said 'I-know-something-you-don't' when he told me, though his face was sad. Yes, he did know something I didn't know, and now I wish I hadn't found out, but more about that later.

I stopped in front of a house. Potter lived at number four, if my memory served me correctly. Just before I went up and knocked on the door I looked around. It was horrible! Nice, neat square lawns perfectly cut. I suppressed a shudder. No wizard could be this neat. It's a proven fact. It was obvious Potter was the only one of our kind living here.

I walked up to the front door and banged my fist loudly on it. There was no response. I frowned. I knocked again. Still no response.

This time I waited a few minutes, them knocked once again. It was the same as before. No response.

I made up my mind. Albus had told me if there was no response I should go straight in. He doesn't seem to like Potter's relatives much. I wonder why? At that point in time I was clueless about it.

I quickly apparated into the hallway there. It was empty. It didn't look like it had been lived in for several days.

Under normal circumstances I would have just left it, but for some strange reason I felt compelled to stay, as if my instincts wouldn't allow me to leave until I saw something in this house that would totally change my life forever.

Most of the time I ignore my instincts - and I mean most. Sometimes something tells me to follow them, though not always. And when it does, it's right to do so.

I entered what looked like a living room, though it was hard to tell with no furniture. It was just like the hall - empty and had probably been so for days. Next I moved onto the kitchen. It was the same as the other rooms.

After a few minutes I had check all the downstairs rooms, but my gut was telling me that there was still something I had to find out from here. I climbed the stairs and the landing was the same as the rest of the house that I had seen so far. By now I wished my instincts would just bugger off - they can get bloody annoying after a while.

I walked into one room. It was the bathroom - unused again, as were the three bedrooms I checked next. Finally I came to the last room. It had lots of padlocks and bolts on it, and if I hadn't checked every other room in the house, I would still have somehow known that what I was looking for was in there.

I quickly withdrew my wand and pointed it to the locks.

"Alohamora," I whispered, and there were several clicks, showing that the locks were undone. Next I unbolted the door. I opened it and was knocked back by the smell.

It was a terrible stench, and it made my eyes water. It was so bad, even worse than any of the stanches I had encountered during my time with Voldemort, when he went down to the cells to torture some poor, defenceless victim that had been there for months, never leaving the cell.

 I looked into the room and it was pitch black. My instincts (bloody things, I wish they would just leave me alone) were going into over-drive.

I walked into the room and lit up my wand with a quick 'Lumos'. I turned and saw why the room was so dark. The window had been bricked up. Then I looked around the room. It was totally bare, nothing on the walls. They were a disgusting colour, sort of like the colour of Lord Voldemort's cells.

All of this, though disturbing to me, wasn't the worst of it. There was still more to come, and as I turned to the bed I saw the person I had originally been sent to check up on.

H--Potter was lying on the bed. His arms were manacled to the bedpost, and were cut and bright red. His shirt was torn and his ribs were easily visible. His back was faced towards me and I could see scars, cuts and bruises all over.

He turned his head to me and I saw fire reflected in his eyes. This was strange. There was no light in the room except for the light my wand was emitting, which most certainly did not look like fire.

I puzzled over this for a few seconds, and then I remembered reading somewhere that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if you looked into them at certain times you could see the truth about a person. So Ha--Potter was still fighting, still not giving in. Typical Gryffindor, though now I think about it, Slytherins are like that too. If they weren't, then the old feud between the houses would have ended years ago, and not still be going on.

"Professor?" Potter asked. His voice was cracked, as if he hadn't drunk anything in the last couple of days, which I reasoned with myself, he probably hadn't.

"Sit back Potter," I said, scowling. I wondered how anyone could do this to their own flesh and blood. I remembered my childhood. I had been beaten by my father, and forced to watch my mother under going the same treatment. "I'm getting you out of here."

I wasn't going to leave him. I couldn't. Even if I wanted to. I had been through this, though not to this extent.

I unlocked the chains around his arms and picked him up. As I did so I was alarmed by his weight, or rather, the lack of it. He should definitely have not have been so light.

Ha--Potter was awake for a bit longer, as I took him out of the house, but passed out after a few more seconds.

I walked round to Arabella Figg's house and knocked on the door. The answer was quick, and her old face appeared at the door.

"Severus, what--" she cut herself off from asking what had brought me there when she saw Ha-Potter in my arms. "Come in, quickly," she said after a few seconds of recovering.

I entered the house, still carrying the worryingly (A/N: Don't you just love words like that?) light boy.

"I need to get to Hogwarts quickly," I said in a rush. "Albus sent me to check up on H-Potter, and I found the house empty, looked as if it had been so for several days. I also found him, chained to his bed and locked in his room."

"Yes. Go quickly," she said, realising the urgency of the situation. "I knew that Number four had been quiet the past few days, but I never..." her voice broke off, as if ashamed of herself. I knew exactly how she felt. All these years I had thought of Potter as a spoilt brat, with fame gone to his head, but I had been wrong, oh so wrong.

I walked into the living room and placed the boy down for a second as I with drew my wand.

"Incendio," I whispered, pointing to the fire place. Flames lit up immediately, and I took some of the floo powder Arabella had beside it. I then picked up Harry and walked into the fire place.

I dropped the powder and said, "Hogwarts Infirmary."

I felt the familiar feeling of travelling via floo, one which I had always hated though I was never sure why.

I stepped out of the fireplace in the Hogwarts infirmary and saw Albus and Poppy standing there. Their expressions were grave, and though I was shocked to see them, for some reason it didn't surprise me. It was as if I knew they were going to be there.