As the days passed without any more sighting of the Boy-Who-Lived life at headquarters reluctantly returned to normal. Snape took his leave of the place for a much anticipated chance to ride the hunt. His foul mood had not improved as the search for Harry continued to come up empty and Dumbledore insisted that he take the chance for some pleasant distraction.

He apperated, appearing near the entrance to the farm, and waved his wand to create the glamour he used when he rode. After transfiguring his robes into boots and breeches he was ready. Snape enjoyed a quiet walk up the treelined drive then he spotted his host, Sidney, who was busily organizing the riders. The man caught sight of him and waved him over.

“How are you today, Mr. Smythe?” he asked with a welcoming smile and handshake.

“Quite well, thank you,” replied Snape levelly. He immediately dropped the man’s hand, hating the muggle custom of contact between mere acquaintances.

A stable lad walked up leading a chestnut gelding. Sidney thanked him and took the lead. “Johnny will be your mount today. He’s a real goer, I think you’ll like him,” he said as he handed Snape the reins. “We’re just about ready to go. Will you need anything?” he asked.

“No, thank you. I am prepared to go whenever the rest of the group are assembled.” Snape eyed the horse. It was well groomed and in good weight. The horse shifted his feet, obviously eager to be off. Snape smiled in anticipation. He could always rely on Sidney to provide him with a good mount for the hunt.

Sidney strode away, shouting to one of the stable lads. He was back in a few moments with his own horse, a glistening bay. A young man followed him, leading a thin, nervous looking gray. “A client asked me to have Ian here ride her horse today. Iron out a few problems if you will. Do you mind if he joins us? He’s a bit young but a competent rider.”

Snape shrugged. “I have no problem with that.” Sidney clapped him on the shoulder and turned back to the stable lad.

“There’s a jacket you can wear in the tack room, lad. Grab a helmet too.” Snape nearly fainted when he caught sight of the boy’s face. The hair was longer and he was much more tanned than the last time he had seen him but it was definitely Harry Potter. The brat couldn’t possibly know how to ride! He had seen enough of the boy’s memories to know there were no expensive equitation lessons in his past. With a curse he resigned himself to babysitting a bumbling novice throughout the hunt.

“Blast that boy! Trust him to show up and spoil my one day of relaxation!” Snape continued to mutter under his breath as the rest of the party mounted up and they walked their mounts out of the yard. Snape glanced at Potter and was surprised to see him competently guiding his horse into the field. Refusing to believe that the boy could ride Snape waited impatiently for the problems to begin.

Hours later Snape was forced to admit that the boy had ridden well. His mount had balked at several obstacles but Harry calmly but firmly convinced the horse to jump. Using the whip sparingly and praising copiously, the young wizard negotiated the ride like a professional. By the end of the day the horse was jumping willingly and the boy was obviously enjoying the ride on a quality animal.

As they walked back to the barn the group was chatting excitedly about the ride and basking in the afterglow of an exciting hunt. Snape was thinking of ways to find out how Potter had learned to ride after he dragged his arse back to headquarters and put the fear of Snape into him. He smiled in anticipation of the look of fear he would generate on the whelp’s insolent face.

The burning of the dark mark on his arm brought him abruptly out of his reverie. A glance at the boy confirmed that he had felt it too. Harry had his left hand pressed to his forehead as he continued to guide his mount with his right hand on the reins. As they dismounted in the yard Snape heard the boy explaining to Sidney that he was feeling unwell. The stable manager took the reins from Potter and excused him for the rest of the day. Impatient to leave as well, Snape handed his horse to a stable lad and after a courteous thank you to Sidney he stalked away. Once out of sight he apparated to the meeting.

After enduring hours of watching the dark lord punish and berate his followers Snape apparated back to where he had last seen Potter. Voldemort was still livid over Wormtail’s arrest and he was venting his anger that none of his minions had captured Potter. He was feeling immensely relieved to have escaped the crutiartis curse himself.

After casting a disillusionment spell Snape skulked about the yard until he found the tack room. The helmet Potter had worn hung on a peg and the potion master ran his hand around the inside of it. With a smirk he came away with a single, dark hair. Pulling out his wand Snape muttered, “Point me,” while keeping a clear picture of the boy in his mind and holding the hair against the wand. The wand obligingly pointed in direction the boy had taken.

It took some time but Snape managed to track the brat down. He stalked into Potter’s campsite, wand out. The camp appeared deserted. A small fire burned in the center and a cup of tea sat cooling nearby. Snape used his boot to prod a pile of blankets that obviously served as a bed. It was empty. Cursing under his breath, the potions master spun slowly with his wand out defensively.

A soft cough brought him around to face a tree stump that stood just outside the fire’s dim circle of illumination. Snape looked around twitchily for the source of the noise. With sudden inspiration he barked, “Accio cloak,” and a silvery mass of cloth jumped into his extended hand from the direction of the stump.

Harry looked up from his seat on the ground. He glared at Snape from beneath his fringe then coughed and swallowed with a grimace. His right hand held his wand but he lowered it from its initial position of pointing at Snape’s heart. Then, with uncharacteristic venom, he began to systematically insult Snape.

“So, what brings you out here, Snivillus? Better fly on home before your master misses you.” When this got no response he continued. “Looking for something to torture? Probably have more luck finding muggles in London. Better try there. Shove off!” Snape continued to stare at him menacingly as he sorted through his observations. Something just didn’t fit. The boy hadn’t risen to his feet when he thought he was about to duel with an enemy. The single cup of tea sat cooling by the fire, untouched. He mused over these seemingly unrelated facts and tried to find the link as he stared into the boy’s mutinous face.

Another aborted cough with a wince and then another insult, “So don’t you have some potions at home that need to be tended to? I think I hear your mum calling you, better dash on back to the bat cave!”

A faint odor, vaguely metallic, teased Snape’s senses. Then he saw the sweat beading on Potter’s face and the trembling of his wand hand and he knew. As clearly as if he had shouted legilemens and ripped the information from the brat’s mind, he knew. The boy was in pain, probably too hurt to even stand and get the tea he had poured before collapsing against the tree trunk that now supported him. He inventoried the shaking limbs, lack of visible injuries, and the pale, sweaty face and concluded that it looked like multiple cruciartis.

He pondered this information as he sneered automatically at the boy’s next slur. Another shot of insight provided him with the realization that the insults, so out of character for the boy, were a desperate attempt to get him to leave.

“What’s wrong, Snivillus? Can’t decide what to do without Voldemort pulling your strings?” Harry sneered up at him in a fair imitation of the Malfoy leer. It looked vaguely disturbing on his normally benign countenance.

Moving swiftly, Snape knelt in front of Harry. He noticed with satisfaction that the boy involuntarily moved back hard against the stump. Glaring into the boy’s startled eyes he said softly, “You can’t even stand, can you, Potter?”

Harry winced away from his gaze then shouted, “Shove off!” as he pushed weakly against Snape’s shoulders. This outburst elicited another cough, which Harry could not suppress. He held his forearm over his mouth as he wheezed and hacked. When he finally managed to stop he pulled the arm away and looked up blearily. His face was even paler and his eyes were unfocused. “I just need to sleep this off,” Harry muttered thickly. He let his head lean back against the trunk and closed his eyes wearily. “Go away, Snape.” The whispered words were laced with a strong scent of blood.

“How did this happen, Potter?” Snape demanded.

Harry smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Grinding his teeth with impatience Snape snarled, “Do not play your games with me. How is it that you are suffering from the crutiartis curse when all the dark lord’s followers were at his side?”

A burst of coughing shook the boy then he swallowed and said, “Yeah, Snape. I saw your greasy head there too. You managed to steer clear of curses tonight.” When the potion master looked disbelieving Harry continued. “My visions. You’ve heard of them, right? Well if there’s enough energy behind the curses they seem to rebound back on me.” Swallowing another cough he bit out, “Fucking great, isn’t it?” He smiled fiercely with bloody teeth then leaned back against the stump with his eyes sliding shut.

“I have to take you back to headquarters, boy,” said Snape.

Harry’s eyes focused momentarily on the potion’s master. “Don’ call me boy.” He attempted to rise but only managed to start another coughing fit. “I’m my own guardian now,” he slurred.

For a moment Snape considered his options then he grasped Potter’s jumper and pulled the boy to his feet as he rose from his crouch. The boy struggled weakly trying to push the older man away. With a wave of his wand and a muttered incantation Snape conjured ropes to bind Harry’s wrists behind his back.

Snape looked into the boy’s eyes and said, “You will go with me for treatment of your injuries. If you stay here you will surely die from internal bleeding or suffer permanent nerve damage.” Potter swayed slightly but seemed incapable of further speech. With a growl of impatience Snape enveloped the boy in his cloak and clasped him to his chest. He pulled a port key from his pocket and they were transported immediately to the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. Snape pushed Harry into one of the chairs surrounding the table.

“Accio potions,” muttered Snape, and two vials sailed through the door and smacked softly into his outstretched hand. He turned to Harry and said, “You need to take these immediately, before you suffer permanent damage from the curses.”

Harry eyed the potions and shook his head. “First rule for being Harry Potter, don’t take any potions Snape offers you.” His head wobbled drunkenly and his gaze was unfocused.

“Take it, it will stop the bleeding in your lungs.”

“Gotta go.” The boy tried to rise. Snape put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back into the chair. With one hand he grabbed Harry’s hair and forced his head back. With the other he raised one of the vials to his mouth and removed the stopper with his teeth. Swift as a snitch, he dumped the contents into Harry’s gasping mouth and, tossing the vial aside, he clamped the boy’s mouth shut and covered his nose at the same time. It happened so fast Harry swallowed the potion before he realized what was going on. Snape released him and he pitched forward onto the table, gagging on the bitter taste.

“You have one more to take. Do you want it the hard way?” Snape looked at him grimly. At this point Harry couldn’t form a coherent thought. He shrugged off Snape’s hands and tried to rise from the chair. The older wizard easily forced him to remain seated.

“Last chance, Potter.” He held the remaining vial in front of Harry’s face. The boy jerked his face as far to the side as he could, jaws clamped shut. Snape looked into his eyes and saw nothing but panic. With a sneer Snape grabbed Harry’s hair and quickly forced his head forward, banging his forehead roughly on the table. The boy’s mouth opened to cry out in protest and Snape forced his head back again and dumped in the second potion. He held Harry’s mouth and nose until he was forced to swallow.

As the boy choked and gagged Snape dragged him to his feet. With a flick of his wand he eliminated the rope binding Potter’s hands and pulled him, more than half supporting his weight, toward the door. He glanced up as they exited the kitchen and saw the Granger girl standing in a corner. She was motionless and silent, obviously stunned by what she had witnessed. With a silent snarl he ushered the boy from the room without a backward glance. When they reached an empty bedroom the boy fell forward onto the bed and before he could protest the elder wizard commanded, “Sleep.” As Harry succumbed to the spell Snape turned and exited the room.

As he strode toward his rooms, Snape reviewed the events of the evening. Had Potter not been found the boy would have died that night but now the brat should recover quickly and completely. Unfortunately that combination and strength of potions was guaranteed to cause the drinker to become violently ill in about 20 minutes. By that time the healing effects would already be completed so it would not negate the benefit of ingesting them but it would not be pleasant.

Snape scowled as he thought of what was to come. He threw his cloak on his bed and considered changing his clothes but decided to wait. The upcoming scene would not be conducive to staying clean. With a resigned sigh he headed back to Harry’s chamber.

Potter lay sprawled on the bed in much the same position he had been left in. Snape sat down in the chair next to the bed to wait. It wasn’t long before Harry began to groan and twisted up into a ball, clutching his stomach. Sweating and trembling he pressed his face into the pillow to muffle his moans. Severus was vaguely disturbed that the boy would seek to hide his distress even when he was in such condition.

The potions master stood and moved beside the bed. He summoned a bucket and as the boy began to retch he held it before him and rubbed his shoulders as he vigorously lost his lunch. When the sickness had passed he helped him rinse his mouth and wiped his lips. As Harry sank back into unconsciousness Snape heard him whisper, “Thanks.” Snape scowled at that and stood up quickly to leave. He cast an unbreakable charm on the windows and then a locking charm on the whole room as he left. Before taking to his own bed he returned to the campsite and retrieved Potter’s belongings.

It was very early. Snape was finishing dressing when he heard a bang from Harry’s room. He immediately went to the door and entered after negating the locking spell. As he came into the room Harry, who was attempting to pry the window open with a poker from the fireplace, spun around to face him.

“Let me out of here,” Harry spat. He looked strangely feral, not like his standard jovial, Gryffindorish self. The usual look of trust was replaced by one of suspicion and wariness. He glared at Snape through eyes that seemed unnaturally wide in his dirt streaked face. Blood dripped from a large cut on his right hand and several scarlet handprints decorated the window panes.

“You’ve cut your hand, Potter. Let me see it.” Snape started to advance on the boy. Potter immediately went into a defensive crouch.

“Stay back,” he ordered, brandishing the poker. His eyes flicked around the room, searching for an escape route. His gaze returned to Snape and he spoke again. “What did you say to me at the end of our last occlumency lesson?”

“What are you babbling about now Potter? Put down the poker and let me heal that cut on your hand.” He pulled out his wand and took another step toward the boy. Potter suddenly pointed his finger, still dripping blood, at Snape.

“Answer the question!” he barked.

“Watch your tone with me, Potter.”

“Expelliarmus!” shouted the young man, still pointing the bleeding digit. Snape’s wand flew from his hand to Harry’s. Harry swayed slightly then pulled himself upright with determination. He pointed the wand at its owner and smiled grimly at Snape’s thunderstruck expression. “Not bad for a wizard with no exceptional ability, eh Snape? Maybe fame is everything. Now, answer the question.”

“Potter, give me my wand and I may consider letting you live to see your sixth year.”

oOoOoOoOo

“I gave you two chances.” Harry’s lips thinned with resolve and he swung the wand in a smooth arc while he barked, “Petrificus totalis.”

Snape’s body stiffened and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. Harry staggered to the open door and muttered, “Accio wand.” His wand flew from the room across the hall and landed in his hand with a satisfying smack. With distaste Harry dropped Snape’s wand on the floor and continued toward the door. “Wonder where my bike is.... He looked in the room the wand had come from and found the motorcycle and his trunk sitting on the dresser, both miniaturized. “Cool.” He pocketed both and headed out again. He heard Snape stirring in the other room. “Shit!”

He broke into a shambling run and half tumbled down the stairs. He stood up at the bottom and looked across the room right at Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. They were both staring at him open mouthed with shock. He bared his teeth in an attempt at a reassuring grin then he turned to continue his escape.

He kept going at best possible speed but the events of the previous evening coupled with the wandless magic were taking their toll. He stumbled to his knees just as a curse shot over his head. He looked back and saw Snape standing at the top of the stair and pointing his wand at him with a murderous expression. His heart thundered in his chest as he struggled to his feet and ran in a zigzag pattern toward the front door. A lucky curse from Snape’s wand finally brought him down. It glanced off his left shoulder and he fell to the ground with a startled yelp. Still conscious but dazed, he tried to rise.

Suddenly, the twins apparated into the middle of the fray. Hermione broke free from her daze and pointed up at Snape. “Bludger!” she shouted. The twins took one look at the situation and grinned. Simultaneously they reached into their pockets, extracted a handful of pellets and slung them toward Snape. A dense wall of smoke immediately formed and Snape was hidden from view. He could be heard coughing and cursing but the hexes had stopped.

Harry made it to his feet, bleeding from the wound on his shoulder and unable to lift his arm. He grinned fiercely at the twins and Hermione. “Thanks, I needed a little interference there,” he rasped as he reached into his pocket and drew out the miniature motorbike. Setting it on the floor he stepped back, waved his hand at it and muttered, “Finite incantatum.” The bike immediately regained its full size.

Harry jumped on and kicked the starter. With a roar the bike came alive. The young wizard pointed his finger at the door and shouted, “Alohamora!” As he gunned the engine he saw Fred mouth, “Nice one,” at Hermione then apparate away with George at his side. Seconds later he was bouncing down the front steps and speeding away in the early morning fog.