The Shadow of Solitude
The house on Spinner’s End didn’t seem to welcome anyone. There were no laughter, no warm light inviting company. Only shadows and cold walls. The silence was oppressive, like a blanket too heavy, wrapping you up without leaving room to breathe. Every step Harry took down the hallway seemed to echo louder than his own heartbeat.
Snape walked in front of him, his steps sure and heavy, but his tall, wiry body seemed almost stripped of any emotion. He moved like a figure who was never truly present, as if his very existence was just a sequence of automatic gestures.
When they reached the living room, Snape waved his hand as if simply indicating where Harry could stop, without particular regard for how Harry would react.
“Sit,” he said, his voice low, almost a command. There was no courtesy in that tone. Only a coldness that seemed to have pervaded every word he spoke.
Harry looked around. There was nothing welcoming. No place that felt safe, no hint of home. He sat on the couch, feeling the rough fabric and the smell of dust that seemed to come from every corner of the room. It was as if time had stopped in this place, as if no one had ever lived here.
The silence that followed was heavy. Snape didn’t come any closer, didn’t try to make conversation. He stood by the window, as if needing a moment to reflect on something that had nothing to do with Harry.
Harry tried to slow his breathing, but the feeling of helplessness was growing inside him. It was as if he had ended up in a place that didn’t even make sense to call home. A place where no one wanted him, not even Snape, who had “saved” him for reasons Harry didn’t understand.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the Dursleys, the humiliations, the beatings. About everything he had suffered. His mind kept returning to those days spent locked in that dark room, with no one ever looking at him. But there, in that empty house, he still felt just as invisible.
Finally, Snape turned toward him. His dark eyes scrutinized Harry with an intensity that seemed to look beyond his defenses, as if he were searching for something Harry didn’t want to show.
“You’re probably wondering why I brought you here,” Snape said, but his voice wasn’t as cold as Harry expected. There was something more, as if Snape were weighing every word that left his mouth.
Harry didn’t answer. He couldn’t find the right words. The thought that Snape had done all of this for him seemed impossible. He had seen too much, endured too much from those who were supposedly responsible for him. And now he was here, in this house, with a man who didn’t even know how to behave around him.
“It’s not for you,” Snape continued, interrupting the silence. “It was never for you, Potter. But don’t think you’re the only one who has to face this.”
Harry raised his eyes. Snape’s words were sharp, but not as sharp as the reality they described. Snape wasn’t trying to explain anything. He was just saying that he, too, had his burden to carry. And that Harry wasn’t different.
But Harry didn’t want to hear that kind of talk. He didn’t want to know that Snape, in his own way, had suffered. He would never have the chance to choose, to change. He had only learned how to survive.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though his growing frustration was evident.
Snape remained silent for a moment, as if the question hadn’t been addressed to him. Then, he slowly approached, never taking his eyes off Harry. His presence was so overwhelming that Harry felt the urge to step back, to run away.
“Nothing you can understand,” Snape replied, his voice rough. “You’re not here to understand anything. You’re here because there’s nothing else we can do.”
Harry stared at him, his eyes full of rage and confusion. He had seen so much in his life, but he had never had an answer for what he had endured. And now, right here, in front of Snape, he felt powerless, as if no one had ever truly understood him.
“I don’t want to be here,” he said, his words almost suffocated by his frustration. “I don’t want to…”
Snape interrupted him with an imperious gesture of his hand. “You’re not here to ask permission, Potter. No one has ever asked if you wanted to be here. Now enough with the questions.”
Snape’s tone brooked no argument. It was the same tone Harry had heard a thousand times from the Dursleys. The one that told him his opinion didn’t matter, that he had no value.
Harry stood up abruptly, but Snape didn’t move. He stayed still, observing Harry as if he already knew what was going to happen. Every word Harry tried to say seemed to crash against an invisible wall, without effect.
The young Potter felt reduced to silence. Reduced to nothing.
Snape looked at him for another moment, then turned away without adding anything. The door to the room closed behind him, and silence once again became the absolute master of the house.
Harry remained there, alone. He couldn’t tell if it was the loneliness that was destroying him or something worse. But that house, that place, didn’t bring him peace. There was nothing to tell him he would be safe, that he would find a place to breathe. No one had ever made him feel truly loved.
And now, once again, he found himself invisible. Suspended between two worlds that didn’t want him.