A long wait for freedom

People say I'm a heartless man, that fear and pity are things I've never felt before, but going to that house to pick up the child of my most hated enemy and my closest friend I felt both.

I feared how the child would act, would he be arrogant like his father of kind and gentle like his mother? But, I also felt pity for a child that would never know his parents or what its like to be free, free of fame, free of the nightmare in which he lost his parents.

I walked down the drive to the most ordinary house I had ever seen, but I felt a feeling of dread building in my stomach with every step closer I became. I knocked on the door preparing myself for what was about to come, I knocked repeatedly waiting for somebody to answer. When nobody answered I tried the door. Dust, that's all I saw, dust and cloth covered furniture, showing that nobody had lived here for along time. I looked through every room, I found pictures of what must have been his relatives, but no sign that a small black haired, green eyed child had ever lived here.

I walked into the kitchen and paused felling the eyes of somebody watching. That was when I heard a child like giggle come from behind me, I spun around so fast I made myself dizzy, but nobody was there. I looked back around and there sat at the kitchen table was the boy I had been looking for, he couldn't have been older then five ears old, he sat there swinging his legs, smiling while eating a bowl of strawberries, he looked as innocent as any 5year old should be, but as I made to grab him he vanished.

I searched the house once again for signs of where the child had gone, I must have searched for hours, but found nothing. As I started losing hope I heard a small voice say,

"Mister?" As I looked back the child stood there at the base of the stairs, in clothes that made him look so small, so vulnerable that I couldn't think of what to do. He spoke softly holding out the bowl of fruit,

"Would you like a berry?" I reached my hand towards the bowl, but as I was about to grasp the fruit, they both disappeared once more. I turned to leave when I once again heard a whispered,

"Will you be my friend?" I turned back and he stood there with a look of such hope that I couldn't refuse, I nodded my head, and once again tried to reach for him, that's when I heard the words that would haunt me forever,

"Was I bad?"

It was said with tilted head and a sad, curious smile, showing the innocence that ony a child could have. He looked at me as though I had all the answers in the world, as though I could help him, protect him from something I didn't understand. That's when I made a decision I regret even now, I ran.


It was months before I learnt of what had happened in that house, the young boy had been abused; he was locked away by his relatives in a cupboard. A neighbour saw him one day and became suspicious and phoned the police, but they were too late. The Uncle admitted to his crimes, and told of the pleasure he got out of hurting his nephew, the pleasure he got out of how happy the child was to be let out to sit at the table and eat what was to be his last meal. Harry Potter was five years old when he was found dead in the cupboard under the stairs, his small body bruised and broken, but that's not what killed him, no Harry Potter was poisoned. It is said that to this day that small child can be seen sitting at the kitchen table swinging his legs and smiling at the world, waiting even thirty years later for somebody to save him, and I Severus Snape have never forgiven myself for not being that somebody.

A/N-I hope you all enjoyed reading this, well not enjoy it, but you know what I mean. I had a very strange dream and wrote it down and this is what I came up with :) please let me know what you think.