What where they? Those horrific creatures of shadowed forms and frozen hearts. Those things that carelessly rip open old wounds and devastate the soul. . .

The screaming echoed throughout his head. His tears had all but run dry and a cold sweat covered his entire frame.

“Comfortable, Harry?” hissed a cold voice. “Do not fear the Dementors. They will not be the ones to harm you.”

Harry’s own scream filled the air as long, clawed fingers scratched down the length of his face.

“That’s right Harry. Scream! Scream for the Dark Lord. I want the world to hear your cries. I want the whole world to hear, and realise that a mere, pitiful child is no match for the power of Lord Voldemort!”

Harry bit down hard. He could feel his blood chill as it ran through his veins. ‘The whole world.’ A world which had bearly healed from the last fierce battle. The world he couldn’t protect. The world that he would fail to protect because he could not even protect himself or a fellow classmate.

Well. If he was to die here, so be it! But he would not let his death come easily, no. He would go down with nobility and dignity. Such that his parents would be proud of.

“Oh?” the cold voice mused. “What fire that comes to burn in those eyes. You wish to fight me Harry? Well, come on!”

The bonds around his loosened and Harry felt himself drop to the floor. His body racked in pain, but whatever survival instincts he had left in his sudden panic kicked in and he scrambled shackily to his feet.

The circle of Deatheaters closed in but widened immediately at the hard toned order. “NO! None of you will interfere! The boy is mine!”

Harry was not foolish enough to ignore the obvious threat that lingered among them however.

“Come now Harry. What do we do? We, bow.”

With that Harry felt his head and shoulders dip and his waist bend at the unexpected use of the Imperious Curse.

‘No good!’ he thought. ‘I have to be ready for everything! A plan! Yes I need a plan! Uh. . . Live! Yes, that’s a good aim. Er, get to Cedric and, uh, escape. How? The cup!! A portkey! But will it work to take us back?”

No time left to think about it. Quick reflexes earned him some dark hisses from the Deatheaters and a narrow miss from a curse.

The next attack was more easily predicted however.

‘He’s playing with me. He’s too cocky about his own advantage. Use it! . . . How?!? Shut up, just think of something!!!’

Jumping back to avoid the hit, Harry spun and brought up his wand with a disarming spell, but the Dark Lord was ready for it. He let out an attack from his own black wand and the two spells made contact in the air between them.

A communal ‘gasp’ was shared as the spells bonded and formed a golden barrier between the two duelling wizards and the circle of hooded spectators, which broke up and reformed in clumps about the barrier in various attempt to break it.

“NO! STAY AWAY!!” the Dark Lord screamed. “The child is mine and mine alone!!”

Using this distraction, Harry clutched his violently shaking wand in both hands and, for a reason beyond his understanding, began to push his magic forward.

Realisation dawning, the Dark Lord turned his attention back to the task at hand and began feeding his own dark magic down the connecting line.

Harry could feel the pressure build around him. His hands shook violently and his head felt it was beginning to split, but he refused to back down. He tightened his grip and drew up on reserves of magic that he didn’t even know he had, and catapulted everything he could muster forward!

Buckling, the Dark Lord rasped out a pained gasp as the magic forced its way into his wand.

The Dark Lord let out a horrified breath as smoky forms began to pour out from the tip of his wand and float towards a stunned Harry. Harry looked on, unable to decide whether he should allow fear or awe to preside.

One by one the figures glided over to him. The old man from his dream. . . . Cedric. . And! His, parents!

Harry could not help but smile sadly to himself. He really did look like them. . .

“We can only give you a short amount of time Harry,” his ghostly father spoke.

“Please take care of yourself my love,” his ghostly mother whispered.

With that the four figures moved forward to swarm the Dark Lord. The Deatheaters cried out in varying forms of anger, anguish and frustration.

Taking this as his cue that the level of distraction was at its peck, Harry tugged forcefully at his wand, breaking the barrier, and fled towards Cedric’s abandoned form.

More shouts and cries alerted him that the distraction was over. He threw his wand arm towards the cup while the other grabbed onto Cedric’s cold wrist and cried out “Accio Triwizard Cup!”

Curses flew towards him as his hand latched around the cups handle. He screwed his eyes shut in preparation for the lunging sensation of transportation.

But he felt nothing. . . .

Panic set in! It was a one way portkey! And the curses!. . . . Missed?

Harry threw his eyes open and searched the scene frantically for what was to come next. ‘New plan! Need a new plan, huh?’

A silvery barrier shimmered weakly before his eyes. ‘Did that stop the attacks? But it looks damaged. How long will it last? Who cast it??’

Shifting his head slightly he saw the hem of a black robe and looked up in dread.

A Deatheater! They already had him. ‘The silver thing must be a containment barrier and-!’

Harry’s mind stopped its alarmed rant and he listened in confused intensity as a harsh and cold voice spoke.

“What is the meaning of this? Was the Dark Lord not forgiving when you begged for forgiveness? Was he not merciful when you pleaded your loyalty and wish to return to him!? How dare you! I promise you that you shall suffer dearly for this Severu-”

Harry did not hear the end of that sentence. The darkly cloaked figure dipped down with immense speed, gripped tightly onto Harry and pulled something out of a hidden pocket.

Before his mind could register what was happening Harry felt a sudden ‘tug’ and pressure from acceleration as the three bodies left the graveyard.

Re-opening his eyes Harry could see that the dark figure was already up and talking to something that quickly flew out of the window.

He closed his eyes again. The pain that had been blissfully forgotten for but a breath of time racked his body with vengeance and his head swam.

‘What happened? What? Whe-? The Tournament. The cup, a portkey! Graveyard. The Dark Lord! Wormtail. And, Cedric. . . No. . . NO! CEDRIC!! Cedric’s-!!’

Panic filled him once again, but this time it was accompanied by utter despair. ‘I couldn’t save him. . .’

“Shut up!” a cold voice demanded, as if it knew what was going on inside the boy’s head. “I swear Potter, if you allow yourself to break now I shall take you back there myself!”

Harry’s eyes shot up at the sharp threat only to meet with the obsidian eye’s he so loathed.

Speechless and still shaking he took in the face that regarded him back.

Little expression was ever seen on that pale mask, but Harry recognised the slight traces of emotion that broke through now because he currently shared a number of them.

How could anyone who had witnessed what they just had not know fear?

The door burst open and an aged wizard entered with a red and golden bird perched upon his shoulder. He took in the scene before him then hurriedly strode over to kneel by a silently sobbing Harry.

“Let him go Harry,” he whispered.

‘No!’ Harry shook his head silently.

“You have done well in bringing him here Harry. You have brought him home. Now let him go.”

Harry loosened his grip ever so slightly and a strong hand made no hesitation of quickly pulling it the rest of the way from the body beside him.

Speeded footsteps sounded towards them. One had a heavy ‘clunk’ as every other step.

“Headmaster Dumbledore what on earth is goin-!!” The elderly witch stopped mid breath in a stifled scream.

She stepped backwards and looked up shakily as the limping, tattered wizard caught up to her and surveyed the scene widely. “What happened?” he growled, and snarling at Snape he added. “What have you done?”

The Headmaster pulled Harry up from the floor and half carried him to one of the soft chairs.

“Severus, I believe, has played an important role in tonight’s affairs, bringing Harry and, Cedric, back to us. Alistair, Minerva. Please take the, unfortunate boy, down to the Hospital wing. His parents and Head of House should be contacted immediately,” the Headmaster said quietly.

“I’d think it best if I stayed to hear the details Albus,” argued Moody, but the Headmaster shook his head.

“I will fill you in on any necessary information in due time. For now however. . .” He trailed off and indicated the door with an air of finality.

If he had, had the energy or care to observe the scene Harry would have noticed Moody’s obvious reluctance to leave. Instead he sat in the chair quietly patting Fawkes, and trying not to think too much on what had transpired only minutes ago.

He felt a presence approach him, but did not look up. He was too tired to do so. “Drink this,” a voice commanded. Harry felt annoyance rise within him. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He took the vial without protest however and downed its contents. Almost immediately the pain began to lessen, but his body still felt drained.

Looking up slowly Harry found that two of the Professors had left. The Headmaster regarded him for a moment and Harry found that he had to look away. “Are you alright, Harry?”

Harry closed his eyes and swallowed. How could he be ‘alright’ after all that had happened?

“Harry,” prodded the Headmaster gently. “You have shown much bravery up to this point. I ask that you continue to be brave for just a little while longer.”

The Phoenix beside the boy let out a single, but beautiful note of encouragement. Harry looked up and nodded.

He was tired, but the potion he had taken seemed to be numbing most of the pain and clearing his head.

“Severus?” the Headmaster spoke as he looked over to the silent man by the window. He did not need to ask the question. The Potions Master just nodded his head gloomily.

“Harry, I would like you to tell me everything that happened from when you entered the maze,” stated Dumbledore, turning his attention back to Harry.

Harry had been dreading the question. He had hoped that the Headmaster would simply ask Snape for the details. After all, he was the one who had been conscious throughout the entire ordeal!

Taking a deep breath he ploughed straight into the story anyway. From finding Fleur on the ground and Victor’s odd behaviour to his and Cedric’s agreement to take the cup together. Being transported and Cedric’s. . .

Harry took a shuddered breath, but carried on. Talking was easier now that he had started.

He gave details on how he was bound and Voldemort and Wormtail and how they revived the Dark Lord.

Harry had a short interval in which to catch his breath as Dumbledore looked at the gash in his arm.

When prompted to continue he spoke of the duel, the barrier and the ghostly figures. How he ran for the portkey, but nothing happened, then. . . As realisation dawned upon him, “Snape cast a defensive barrier over us. . . He-” Harry did not finish. He didn’t know how to. ‘How can that be?’ he thought. ‘Snape? Snape, saved us??’

“Professor Snape, Harry,” Dumbledore admonished gently. “Yes. I can see that he has risked a great deal tonight in order to protect you.”

Harry could hear the Potions Master shifting uncomfortable behind him, but he ignored it. All he could think of was, ‘Why?’

A sliver of guilt rose within him. He knew that Snape had endangered himself in order to save Harry, and that he should be grateful. But he was just too tired to care.

Dumbledore obviously noticed the boy’s level of exhaustion for he helped Harry out of the chair and led him towards the door. “I think for now it would be best if you got some well earned rest my boy. Thank you for telling me all that you have.”

Opening the door Harry’s heart lightened slightly. A bear sized, black dog stood mid-pace and turned its head up to look at them both. It hurried towards them, but stopped short at the sight of a third figure appearing in the doorway.

Narrowing its eyes the dog barred its teeth and let out a warning growl.

Snape eyed the dog with disdain then turned his attention to Harry, handing him another vial. “Dreamless sleep potion Potter. I suggest you take it once Madam Pomfrey has seen to you. It will help you to heal through the night and, hopefully, keep you from getting into any more trouble.”

The dog’s growl grew louder and deeper, but Harry took the vial silently and simply nodded before transferring his weight from the Headmaster to the dog.

“Please take care Harry,” said Dumbledore as he watched them walk slowly out of sight. He then shut the door. “Thank you, Severus.” Was all he could say. Snape just bowed his head. “I know that you are probably tired as well, but I ask you, once again, for a report.”

Furry paws turned into strong arms as they pulled Harry into a tight embrace. “Harry! Are you alright?” Sirius asked urgently.

Harry nodded grimly. “Yeah. . .”

Sirius looked over him thoroughly, but asked no more. Harry was grateful to his Godfather for understanding that he would only want rest. He smiled weakly at him.

“I’ll stay with you for the night, but I’ll have to come as Snuffles so that no-one recognises me.”

“Thanks Sirius,” said Harry meaningfully.

----------------- Later that night --------------------

Harry awoke in the hospital wing to the sound of a heated argument.

“He can’t be back Dumbledore. He just can’t be.!” yelled one voice.

Harry decided that it would be safer to act like he was still sleeping, so that he did.

“I am afraid it is true Minister.”

“No, no, no! Dumbledore. I won’t accept this!”

“It has been witnessed by two people I trust deeply Minister. The Dark Lord has returned.”

“Oh? And who are these ‘trustworthy’ sources? Hm?” quipped Fudge.

Harry felt anger prickle inside of him. After everything that had happened. Knowing everything that was going to happen! The Minister was going to ignore it all in hopes that it would just ‘go away’ or ‘not be true.’

Apparently Harry was not the only one who had heard enough. He heard a nearby bed creak as a figure got up and stalked over to the two quarrelling wizards.

Annoyed beyond measure and still in his nightshirt, Snape thrust his left forearm under the Minister’s nose.

“There!” he snapped. “The Dark Mark. The Dark Lord summoned his followers to him tonight in order to bear witness to his revival!”

Fudge recoiled and gaped at Snape as if he were some rouge Dementor.

“I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at Dumbledore, but I’ve had enough!” Replacing his purple bowler hat he strode meaningfully towards the door. “Good day!”

The door slammed shut leaving the hospital wing silent with the exception of Sirius’ growling and Madam Pomfrey’s angered mumblings.

Harry raised his head in concern, forgetting his ploy. “What will happen now?”

In the darkness of the room he felt a cold nose press against him reassuringly.

The Headmaster thought for a moment before speaking. “The first and most important step will be to alert those who have ears to listen as to what is happening. We must gain as many friends as possible in such a dire time.”

Three heads nodded in agreement, but no-one spoke a word.

“Also, we should start by recognising those who stand with us for who they really are.” With that the Headmaster turned his attention to the black dog. “If you could please resume your original form?”

Sirius stood and transformed back into his human self, sending Snape a step back with a look of contorted anger and disgust.

“You!” he spat.

The two dark haired men eyed each other with looks that offered nothing more than ill will and hatred.

Harry wondered briefly what could have happened for such a strong sense of loathing to have formed between them.

Dumbledore stepped up to the two men. “I believe it is time to set aside our differences and offer a truce.” When no movement ensued he added, “I will, for the time being, settle for short term toleration.”

Reluctantly the two extended a hand each and shook them so briefly that, if he had blinked, Harry was sure he would have missed it. D

umbledore sighed but decided not to press the matter.

“Sirius, the Minister will undoubtedly be avoiding me for the time being. Seek out Amelia Bones, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, the old crowed. Alert them to the current situation then lay low at Remus’ house until I contact you.”

Sirius nodded his head in understanding.

“No. . .” whispered Harry. He had only just got Sirius back. Why did he have to leave so soon? It wasn’t fair!

Sirius turned and knelt beside Harry’s bed, gripping his hand tightly. “It’ll be okay Harry. Right now I have to go, but I will be with you soon okay?”

Harry nodded. It wasn’t okay. It really wasn’t. But this was no time to be selfish. Bigger things were at risk than his own desires right now.

“Potter is a big boy now, I am sure he will survive the night,” sneered Snape.

Sirius glared at him.

Squeezing Harry’s hand one last time he reverted back to his dog form and ran towards the door.

Severus turned to the Headmaster and began to speak, but was immediately cut off.

“You have done all that you can do for us tonight, Severus,” spoke Dumbledore.

“The only thing I want for you, and Harry, to concentrate on right now is resting, and recovering your strength. I feel, that we are going to need it.”

So saying the Headmaster also left the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone in the big room with his dreaded Potions teacher.

‘Great!’ he thought viciously to himself. ‘How on earth am I to sleep now!? Alone in a room for the night with that man, I probably won’t wake up at all!’

The bed groaned as Severus got back into it.

“Stop your ramblings Potter and go to sleep. If I had wanted you harmed or dead you would not be here now!”

Harry snorted, but lay down into the pillows as instructed. His body was so tired.

Several minutes of tossing and turning told Harry that he would not be sleeping any time soon. He did not want to let his mind wander back onto past topics so he decided to think about future ones instead.

‘What’s next?’ he wondered.

Unable to come up with anything within the realms of positive outcomes, Harry desperately wished that Sirius had stayed after all. He would never admit to such a thing but in all truth he was terrified.

The Dark Lord had risen and was regaining strength by the minute! He had barely survived the last few years at Hogwarts and those attacks were made by mere shadows of Voldemorts power!

His restlessness did not go unnoticed and Harry heard an irritated voice scold him once again.

“Potter! Go. To. Sleep.”

“I can’t,” moaned Harry.

“Then lay there, stay still and be quiet!”

“How can you sleep knowing what might be happening right now!?”

“Much more easily than with your incessant fidgeting! Now are you going to be quiet or do I have to cast a full body binding spell on you?”

Harry fell silent, but only for a moment. He needed to talk to somebody, even if that somebody was a reluctant Snape.

“What’s going to happen?”

Snape was quiet for a long time. Harry thought that he was being ignored until the Professors voice sounded.

“The Headmaster will have a well contrived plan. Do not concern yourself, go to sleep.”

“But. . . What if the Dementors come?”

“There are no Dementors here Potter and I fully expect that the Dark Lord will want to keep a low profile until he has fully recovered, not to send repulsive monsters to attack schools.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“It is an intelligent guess!”

“But what if-“

“POTTER!”

“. . . . .”

Harry figured that, that was probably the end of the conversation.

He had to admit though. As much as he wasn’t really reassured by Snapes ‘intelligent guess,’ he did feel a bit better.

‘Perhaps he’s not completely evil. He did save my life. And he could have just ignored me just now rather than try to put my mind at rest. . .’

“Potter?”

“Yes Sir?”

“10 points from Gryffindor for disturbing a Professors rest.”

‘Git.’

“Headmaster I-” 

“I am sorry, Severus.  For the time being however, I think it is our best option.  Best of luck my boy.” 

Harry awoke to hear the end of a conversation. 

He heard the Headmaster leave and concluded that whatever it was about, it wasn’t good news.  Actually, anything that left him in a room alone with a harassed Potions Master was not good news.   

Rather than give the man a target on which to vent his frustration, the boy decided to feign sleep for a while. 

Madam Pomfrey came in for her morning rounds.  Thus ending Harry’s ploy set to avoid any kind of interaction with Snape.  Not all of him complained about it mind.  It was not helping him a great deal by simply lying there and doing nothing. . . 

Thoughts and memories of the previous night kept persisting in his mind.  His body felt much better after finally getting some rest, but that is not the pain he would have liked to be numbed right now.   

If Cedric could be brought back. . .  If the Dark Lord could still be nothing more than a shadow. . . He would endure just about any amount of physical pain. 

“Pity you could not have been so quiet last night,” drawled Snape.   

“What?  You knew I was awake?” asked Harry in surprise.  He thought he had pretty much mastered the art of pretending to be asleep.   

“Not for definite, but I do now,” smirked Snape.   

Harry just shot him a glare.   

“Since you are up I may as well deliver to you the ‘good news’,” Snape carried on, ignoring the indignant boy. 

“In two weeks the school term finishes.  The Headmaster, however, has seen it fit to send the students home early.”   

‘That explains why it’s been so quiet,’ thought Harry.   

“Unfortunately, as ever, you are the one exception, Mr Potter.”   

Harry just stared at him blankly.  ‘What does he mean by that?’   

“As of tomorrow evening you will be studying Occlumency by the Headmasters wishes.”   

Again, Harry just stared at him blankly.   

Snape sighed in exasperation.  “Occlumency Potter.  It is the art of protecting ones mind against external penetration.”   

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.  ‘External penetration??  From what???  Am I in danger of being possessed?’   

Snape rolled his eyes.  “Calm down Potter.  The Headmaster wishes you to learn it in the event that it may come in useful.”   

Harry gaped at him.  “But, who’s going to teach me?”   

Snape raised an eyebrow.  “I am.” 

Harry felt his insides churn.  That was all he needed. 

He had witnessed the rebirth of the most evil man on the face of the planet and the price he had to pay for his survival was extra classes with Snape while everybody else got to go home early.   

‘Fantastic!’ Harry thought sarcastically with a sneer.   

“Drop the face Potter,” snapped Snape.  “I am none too pleased with this arrangement myself, but I am not fool enough to question the Headmaster’s judgment.”   

Harry knew there was an insult with a meaning in there somewhere, but he couldn’t be bothered to look for it.  Instead he just sulked. 

‘Private classes with Snape. . . Why don’t they just stick me in a sealed room with a manticore, at least it would be a lot more friendly!’   

The day continued on, but Harry was not permitted to leave the hospital wing. 

The only bits of news he got of what was going on outside the ward were from visitors he got.   The Weasley’s came in with Hermione during the afternoon.  Some of Snape’s Slytherin visitors snickered and sneered at him as they watched Mrs Weasley fuss over him constantly.   

The groups where eventually shooed out of the ward by Madam Pomfrey with Ron and Hermione making Harry promise to write to them over the holidays. 

Exhausted once again Harry settled back into the comfort of his pillows.  It was amazing how tiring doing nothing could be!   Fortunately Snape hadn’t bothered to talk to him much so Harry returned the favour. 

All he wanted right now was sleep.  He would worry about tomorrow when it came.  At least the mediwitch had promised him that he would be released from the ward by then.  Perhaps he could find a way to escape before Snape’s class?  He highly doubted it, but it was a comforting thought. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Next day ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

The day had been a rather pleasant one, considering everything.  Harry found that he slowed down at each corner in order to poke his head round and check for anything dangerous before continuing his walk, but he had a special kind of thrill run through him all the same.   

Not many had the opportunity to explore Hogwarts freely like this!  No invisibility cloak, no need to avoid being seen or having to push through masses of students to get anywhere.   

He wished greatly that Ron could be there though.  The castle walls radiated a sense of absence as well as adventure.  They where designed to hold and shelter hundreds of students, but all too soon those students had departed and left the castle feeling quiet and lonely. 

Slowly and with all the reluctance in the world, Harry made his way down to the dungeons.  A place generally associated with imprisonment and torture. 

‘An apt place for Snape to teach,’ he thought bitterly.   

Harry knocked on the large oak door wondering briefly what kind of punishment he could possibly get for skipping a class out of term time.  He decided he did not want to find out.   

“Come in,” was Snape’s curt order.   

Harry entered. 

He could see that the desk had been moved and in a corner of the room Snape was busy extracting some silvery strands from his head with his wand and placing them into what looked like Dumbledore’s Pensieve.   

“Clear your mind of all thoughts,” was all that Snape said and Harry just stared at him incredulously.   

“What?”   

Snape turned to face him and sneered.  “I said, clear your mind of all thoughts.  I doubt it will be too difficult Potter as I seriously doubt that there is much in there to clear.”   

Harry fumed at him.  “How can you expect me to just ‘clear my mind’?  Have you forgotten everything that’s just happened!?”   

Snape’s face took on a darker and far more serious expression that made Harry shiver involuntarily.  “I have not, and nor do I believe I will ever forget.  Now clear your mind!”    

Harry did not have a chance to react.  Snape uttered a word and Harry fell back a step as he felt the sudden force of a spell hit him directly.   

Images of his past ran through his head.  

‘A green light and a woman falling to the ground.  Sirius flying towards a full moon on the back of Buckbeak.  Running from a dog and jumping up a tree for safety.  Running from Dudley.’   

Harry panted and found himself on the floor of Snape’s office.  The Professor smirked, clearly enjoying himself.  “To whom did the dog belong?”   

Harry pulled himself up, answering with reluctance and annoyance.  “My Aunt Marge.”   

Snape’s smirk grew more pronounced as he readied his wand for a second round.  “You did not resist me in the slightest that time Potter.  Clear you mind and prepare yourself.”   

Harry wanted to argue, but thought the better of it and made a feeble attempt to do as Snape asked. ‘It would help if he told me how!’   

Again, Harry could see memories play through his mind. 

‘Hagrid breaking down the door of the old hut.  Fleeing from giant, man-eating spiders.’   

Trying with all his might, Harry attempted to stop the memories from flowing.  It took considerable effort as he did not even know what exactly it was that he was meant to do, but nothing else came to mind.   

Opening his eyes Harry found himself, once again, on the floor.  Snape stood towering over him.  “Better, but you still would have failed to stop me from going in deeper had I actually been trying.  Simply concentrating on pushing me out of your mind is not enough.  You have to close down your memories and, more importantly, your feelings.”  

“What?” Harry stared at him wide eyed.   

He’d heard those words before, but where?  He couldn’t remember, but a cold sweat christened his brow when he tried to do so.  It was a bad memory.  One he had obviously wanted to forget, but what was it? 

(Don’t read this bit if you’re squeamish!)             

Snape readied his wand and sent the spell towards Harry again with the order, “Close off all emotion!”   

Harry’s heart practically stopped in his chest. ‘No. . . NO!’ 

‘Heavy chains lined the bloodied walls.  A stark white room with masked figures moving in with a bright light.  Sharp metallic claws tearing through flesh and cracking bone.  A red room filled with the lifeless. . .’ 

(You can read again) 

Snape pulled back a number of steps.  Both teacher and student gasped harshly for air.   

“What was that!?” demanded Snape, visibly disturbed by what he had seen.   

Harry just shuddered and curled up on himself in the middle of the floor.   

“Potter!  I asked you a question!”   

Harry flinched at the loud words and curled up tighter, his breathing loud and haggard.            

Snape stood motionless.  He had witnessed many things in his time spent as a Deatheater, but there where still limits as to how cool and indifferent he could be in the face of such violence.  Also, this was completely unexpected!   

He looked down at the boy in front of him, unable to decipherer what to think. 

Part of him wanted to scold the boy and demand the answers he sought.  The other, overruling part, was in a state of shock, revulsion and. . . pity.  Could these truly be images from the boy’s past???   

Snapping out of this trance, Snape took a steadying breath and knelt down to the boy.  “Potter?. . .  Potter!”   He had to shake him out of it.  Harry was obviously going into a state of shock.   

“Potter look at me,” the Professor lifted Harry’s chin up so that he was looking him in the face.   

The boy flinched at his touch, but did not pull away.  Instead he sat hunched up and shaking, his eyes searching frantically for the next oncoming threat.   

Snape bit his lip.  It was true that he did not like this boy, but ridiculing and humiliating someone was completely different to devastating and breaking them.  He felt a heated anger build up within his chest at the unknown tormentor, as he reaffirmed his reasons for distrusting people so much.   

“Mr Potter, do you know where you are?” he asked softly.   

Harry did not answer, but his attention was on Snape completely now.   

“You are at Hogwarts.  This is my office, and you are in no danger here.”   The boy’s shaking lightened, but his eyes still showed distrust.   

Snape sighed.  “Do you know who I am?”   

The boy nodded slowly, his eyes wide.   

“Care to explain to me what all that was about?”   

The boy never answered.  Instead he dipped his head away from the Potions Master and proceeded to empty his stomach contents all over the dungeon floor.   

Snape’s lips tightened and he raised his eyes to the ceiling where he silently wished for strength as he counted to ten.   

“You will follow me to the hospital wing Potter.  I believe that we have done enough for tonight, and that you could use some rest and dreamless sleep.”   

Harry felt strong arms lift and support his unresisting frame.  His mind was practically null of thought and after what seemed to be no time at all, he was being sat down on something soft.   

He drank what was given to him and allowed firm hands to lay him down.   

As warm sheets where pulled over him and his eyes began to close he voiced the first thought that had entered his head since he left the dungeons, unaware of how disturbed it made the one who heard his words feel.  

“Please don’t send me back.”                                         

Harry awoke to find himself staring at a familiar sight.  He wondered what had happened this time that led him to being in the hospital wing once more.  ‘What on earth happened?  I remember going to Snape's class, but. . .  Hmm.  Did I annoy him this badly maybe?' 

His thoughts where broken when he noticed the presence at the end of his bed. 

The Headmaster looked over him carefully and moved closer to the boy before speaking in concerned tones.  "How are you feeling, Harry?" 

Harry looked back in confusion.  ‘What on earth is going on?  How do I feel?'

 Thinking on the question he brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them. 

"Scared. . ." he whispered.  ‘Why do I feel so scared?' 

Harry felt the bed dip as the Headmaster sat down.  "Is there anything you would like to speak to me about?" Dumbledore asked softly. 

Harry looked up at him.  There was something.  Something that nagged at him.  Something he feared.  But he couldn't remember. . . 

"What happened?" he asked. 

The Headmaster seemed taken back by the question, and looked at Harry for a moment.  "You have no recollection of yesterday's events?" 

"No Sir. . . I mean, I remember going to study that Occlu- thingy with Sna- Professor Snape.  But that's all I can remember."

"I see. . ." the Headmaster looked at him thoughtfully, then closed his eyes. 

Harry was really beginning to worry now.  What was this all about??

The Headmaster took a breath and smiled kindly at him.  "I apologise for any discomfort I may have place on you Harry.  Please put yourself at ease, and get some rest." 

Patting Harry on the shoulder, the Headmaster rose and headed towards the door, pausing briefly to look back and smile at him before leaving the ward. 

Harry lay back down and curled up tightly.  A shiver coursed through him.  He lifted his hand to wipe away a stray tear.  ‘Why am I crying?  Why do I feel so scared?' 

Confusion accompanied by a feeling of seer helplessness washed over him.  It almost felt like his body was remembering something that his mind could not quite get a hold of. 

Folding his arms around himself Harry rocked himself back into a sound sleep.  Tomorrow was another day.

----------------------- Four days later -------------------------

Harry walked the silent halls.  He enjoyed his time at Hogwarts, but alone there was only so much joy to be had. 

Despite his curiosity and strong sense of adventure, his need for companionship was greater, and the school corridors where so cold and empty without all the shouts and laughter there to fill them.  Also, with so much free time to himself, Harry could not help but let his mind wander over the past recent events. 

The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became, and the more unsettled he became, the more he thought about what was to come.

            Harry was lost within his own concerns.  So much so, it seemed, that he did not even realise where his feet where taking him. 

Coming to a halt he looked up and was surprised to see the oh so familiar, grungy door of the potions class.  ‘What did I come here for!?' the boy berated himself. 

However, before he could completely turn around to head off to another location the door was forcefully opened and a black clad figure looked down at him curiously.  "Mr Potter.  And what, may I ask, brings you here?"

Harry stared back at the man, unable to come up with and answer.  "I don't know Sir." 

Snape looked at him in contempt.  "There is an ongoing list of things that you ‘don't know' Mr Potter.  Still, I find it highly questionable that you would simply ‘happen upon my door,' or ‘drop by for a social visit'." 

Harry doubted it too.  There were fewer social skills in this man than a blast ended skrewt!

The Potions Master regarded him for a moment before stepping aside and indicating that Harry should enter. 

Harry thought that all his past endeavours combined held less danger and fewer ‘idiotic risks,' as said teacher liked to call them, than willingly entering this room alone with this man.  Yet enter he did.

Closing the door firmly behind him the Professor bypassed Harry and went to sit at his desk.  Instinct told Harry to take a place at one of the student desks whether that was what he was expected to do or not. 

Snape looked at him across steepled fingers then spoke.  "The Headmaster informs me that you have no recollection of our last class." 

It was a statement, so Harry did not trouble for an answer, he simply nodded his head in the affirmative.  Snape regarded him for another moment then picked up his quill and turned his attention back to his previously interrupted task. 

"You will find several books that have been left by past students by the cabinet containing Amaryllis leaves and Dionaea teeth.  Rather than wasting time dwelling on what cannot be undone, or getting into trouble I suggest looking over them and preparing yourself for the upcoming year."

Harry moaned inwardly.  ‘Study!?  Now?  And even if I where to study, the last subject and place I would choose is potions under Snape's nose!' 

Grumbling quietly to himself, Harry dragged himself over to the book shelf.  In the least this would give his mind something else to concentrate on.  Also, Snape wouldn't be able to accuse him of slacking off if he personally witnessed Harry's efforts.

Taking a number of random books, Harry began to flick through them in an attempt to find the ones that would be easiest to read. 

He found a number with notes jotted down the pages and took them deciding that if he did not understand something he would at least be able to read through the notes before consulting Snape.

Harry made a new record for himself.  He was able to study for a full ten minutes before he got bored and allowed his mind to wonder. 

Apparently the students who once owned these books had lost interest at some point as well as the ‘notes' that Harry had thought where jotted down the pages turned out to be various forms of graffiti and doodles. 

Harry read through the material before him.  Some things he couldn't follow, others where conversations between two people that had been sharing the book. 

He found one such conversation that stretched across a full page.  Something about transfiguring a certain Slytherin into something round and bouncy and rolling him down the grand staircase.

Harry thought back to a particular episode in the last year and giggled to himself. 

He could still remember the sheer bliss in Ron's humoured voice as he dubbed Draco with the title of ‘Malfoy.  The amazing, bouncing ferret.'

Harry's short lived mirth did not go undetected.  "Something amusing Mr Potter?"

"Sir?" Harry tried to ask innocently.

"There has been a task put to you.  I expect you to have read enough by the time I have finished writing up these documents for you to brew perfectly any which potion I may decide to set for you.  Am I understood?"

"Yes sir. . ."

Snape turned his attention back to the parchment before him, and Harry to his books.  He reluctantly closed the one he had been reading, knowing that he would be easily distracted by the running commentaries one again.  Instead he opened up the most battered and seemingly well used tome and began reading.

About five minutes into his study Harry began to feel frustration nagging at him again.  He could not understand how Hermione did it!  All he could see where words, and none too useful ones at that. 

‘Mix a quarter of a spoonful of Dragon's egg yolk with a handful of Amaryllis leaves.  Stir clockwise until the mixture turns sunset orange.  Add three fine Dionaea teeth and bamboo shoots cut one inch by two inches.  Boil cauldron to three hundred degrees Celsius then stir in grated lemon skins and leave to settle for. . . .'

Harry sighed.  How anybody could make something out of that was beyond him. 

Never the less, he spent the next hour looking over the books and ingredients before he finally gave in and let his attention be drawn to the scribbled notes along parts of the page. 

It was necessary to read them through a number of times before Harry was able to make even a basic understanding of them. 

‘Turn  anti-clock wise every third turn, except at the full moon - then use a reduced pace.'

‘While heating stir slowly.'

The boy looked at the page as if it was some sort of cross between an impossibly difficult riddle and the answer to all his lives problems. 

He wanted to test the alternate set of instructions for himself, but he highly doubted that Snape would be all too pleased if he started making up his own solutions in class.  ‘Best hide the book and look at it later.'    

 Snape stood up from his desk and walked over to the quiet student.  "You know where the equipment is kept Potter.  Set out a table and I shall hand your instructions to you."

Harry did so without a word, but without any enthusiasm either.  Much to his expectations Snape, the git that he was, had chosen the hardest possible draught for Harry to make. 

‘At least I was able to talk him into giving me something to copy from.  Not that it helps!'

Also as expected, the session ended with Harry's ‘none too amber green, but more pastel grey sludge' being vanished by a flick of Snape's wand, and a mean sneer. 

"For someone who held concerns about the safety of the future only a short few days ago, you have shown absolutely no interest in attaining skills that could very well save lives in said future.  Where exactly did all that freshly revised knowledge go hmm?  Or is a full two minute span too much for your memory to keep up with?"

Harry flamed.  "It wasn't like I wasn't trying!  You saw me yourself!  I followed the instructions exactly!" 

"Obviously not Potter because if you had, you would now be bottling a perfect sample of The Draught of peace!" Snape snarled back.

Shaking angrily Harry gritted his teeth.  No way was he going to back down from this injustice.  He really had tried! 

"It's not my fault that the instructions aren't clear enough!"

He waited the blow.  Surely Snape would pin this all down to his ‘arrogant nature,' saying that ‘only Harry would think himself better than years of study and practice.'  He was greatly surprised, therefore, at the lack of an immediate reprimand and insult.

Snape stood quietly for a moment thoughtfully before he asked, "And why, Mr Potter, would you presume that the problem lies within the pages of professionally recommended documents and not your incompetent self?"

Harry glared at the insult but decided not to bite back, instead he stated the simple truth of what had been on his mind since his first ever potions class.

"They don't make sense!  The things we are told to do could be done in so many different ways it's impossible to follow!" 

Seeing that Snape wasn't looking to interrupt any time soon he took a breath and slowed his speech, thinking more on what it was he wanted to say.

"I mean, ‘a quarter spoon of Dragon eggs yolk.'  Well how big is the spoon supposed to be?  Or, ‘turn clockwise for three minutes.'  How fast?  Why clockwise?  Around the edges or in the middle??"  Harry finished his rant with a sigh.  No doubt he had just made a complete fool of himself and now Snape was, yet again, going to ‘put him in his place.'

"Not bad Mr Potter."

‘Wha-!???'

"Not many students realise the problems you have just pointed out, however-"

‘Ah.  Here it comes.'

"Those who do usually possess the intelligence needed to work through these problems.  While it is probable that I am taking a shot at the impossible, I want you to re-look at this draught and bring back an emended version of the published directions in two days."

Never in one day had Harry felt such an array of conflicting emotions. 

He was annoyed that his Professor found it necessary to insult him in every sentence he spoke, but thrilled that for once Snape had considered one of his thoughts to have real meaning.  He felt hard done by that he only had two days in order to prove himself, but excited at the prospect of finally doing something that the man would have to accept as good work.

After being dismissed from the dungeon, Harry headed straight for the library.  He wanted to take some books with him to Gryffindor tower.  Of course he had also brought the fabulous tome that had started all of this.  He had shoved it into his robes while putting the other books back onto the shelf, and fortunately Snape had been to preoccupied to notice.

‘Property of the Half-blood Prince.  I wonder who that is?  Well, whoever it is, I owe them one!'

--------------------- Two and a half days later ------------------------

Harry made his way sleepily down to the dungeons.  He had hardly slept at all while working on his ‘assignment.'  Although not one for study, he had been determined to make Snape eat his words by proving that he could succeed when he really wanted to.

Of course, it was necessary in the end to get some outside ‘help.' 

‘Nothing wrong with it.' Harry had reasoned with himself.  ‘Nobody can be expected to learn things on their own anyway, and ‘interviewing' the right people is just another form of research.' 

That was his excuse anyway.  What all that really meant was that he had gotten stuck and written to Hermione explaining what he was doing. 

Of course she was somewhat indignant in her letter back about him disregarding school books in the way he had done, she had said that she was pleased to help and proud of him for his ‘realisation of the value of hard study.'

With her return letter she had sent Hedwig back to Hogwarts with a package that took about four other owls to carry. 

Harry's shoulders slumped when he opened it to find a whole array of science and chemistry books.  ‘What?  I have to study muggle science as well?  When will it end?'

Never the less, Harry opened each of the books in turn and attempted to absorb whatever knowledge they had to offer him. 

Funnily enough it was only after he had reached the end of his patience for it all and thrown a heavy volume across the library table one day that a revolutionary piece of information fell into his lap.

‘CRYPTOZOOLOGY - A Study of magical and mythical creatures.' 

It was a muggle book about the wizarding world.  Originally Harry only picked it up for laughs.  A sort of curiosity as to how the wizarding world was seen by normal muggles. (‘Normal' being, not magic hating, heartless people like is relatives.)

The revolution came on a page about werewolves.  The curse was likened to a form of muggle illness that infects the blood and is affected greatly by the gravitational pull generated by a full moon.

Harry flipped clumsily back to the page about ‘stirring on a full moon,' and laughed.  It was so obvious! 

Magic is a force like any other.  Gravity, friction, the lot!  But different in its own right, which is why only certain people could use it. 

Potion making involved ‘putting different ingredients in a pot and mixing it all up,' but anybody can do that.  If it was as basic as simply ‘cooking something up' even muggles would be doing it!  For a potion it took that little bit extra to make it work to perfection.

Harry smiled to himself.  This was a feeling that he never expected he could get from studying.  He would have likened it more to, winning his first Quidditch match, or for the first time in his life having woken up to having Christmas presents! 

He wondered briefly if this was the feeling that Hermione always sought out in her relentless swotting. 

       ---------------

            Parchment complete and head held high Harry knocked on the large oak doors in the darkened hall of the dungeons.  He heard the Professor order him in and obeyed readily.

As usual, Snape was sat at his desk with a quill in hand.  He looked up at Harry as the boy neared him. 

Wordlessly Harry handed over what felt like his greatest achievement to date and Snape read over it carefully. 

After what seemed like hours Snape lifted his gaze from the parchment turned it to Harry.  "Not bad Potter.  You have still failed to grasp some of the finer details that truly make Potion making such a meticulous and fascinating art, but you have undoubtedly shown at least some skill in the subject."

Harry's jaw dropped as he gaped, first disbelievingly then furiously at Snape.  "Not bad?  Not bad!!!?  I spent an entire two days on thinking up an entirely new formula and all you can say is ‘Not bad!?'" 

Snape's jaw set and ice filled his words despite his obvious efforts to appear calm and indifferent.  "In light of your history in my classes Mr Potter, you have made an improvement.  However, if you came here with the expectation that I was going to shower you with praise for a ‘flawless masterpiece' after two days of studying what you have had four years to figure out, you were sorely mistaken."

Harry blushed.  Snape was right, of course.  The man always was. . .  But it still hurt that he didn't show some kind of genuine approval to his efforts.  Even if he was slow in getting to this point, he had still worked hard on it. . .

"Maybe if you where to teach me better I would have figured it out sooner." Harry spat bitterly.  Then he panicked.  He didn't mean for that to come out, it just did!

"What?" Snape spat back.

"I don't know Sir! Okay?  Are you happy now?  I'm not as good at potions as you are!"

Snape's lips twisted into a strange cross between a sneer and a smirk.  "Clearly." he said silkily.  "But I assure you Mr Potter, as much as you seem to believe it true, I am not here to watch you fail."

‘Yeah.  Right.'

"Lose the face Potter!  If you actually applied yourself once in a while you would not be scraping D's all the time.  You have proven that you are capable of understanding the complex nature of this subject, but are continually let down by your infuriating stance that if you do not reap the rewards of hard work immediately, you allow for your laziness and impassiveness to take over.  Thus!  Causing you to fail completely!" 

Harry stood momentarily shocked for a moment. 

‘Snape care's if I pass?  I wonder what Dumbledore told him. . . Maybe he'll get sacked if I do fail.'  

He then slumped again at the reality of his situation.  ‘If I want to pass I have to keep up all this study?  And this was without my other subjects.  Stuff that!  But, if I fail now Snape'll never let me live it down. . .  Ugh!  Stupid revelation!  Why couldn't I just be stupid and fail potions easily!' 

The Professor broke his trail of thought.  "Of course, I shall be expecting much more out of you from now on."

Harry groaned.  An action that the Professor was not at all impressed with by the look of his face. 

"Of course," he sneered.  "We could not expect the great ‘Boy-who-lived' to be burdened with the tedious and average task that all common students are expected to carry."

"It's not like that!" Harry flared.  "I study!  A lot in fact!  I just-  . . I just. . ."

Snape watched him, but said nothing.  "I-" 

‘Don't say it!  Don't tell that!!!'

"I can't do it on my own. . ."

‘NOoooooo!  What on EARTH did you do that for!?!  Why don't you just hand over your journal and let him read it out in class!'

Harry didn't look up.  His fists where scrunched up tightly at the pain of revealing that information to that man.  He could not bear to look up and see that contemptuous grin that the Professor was sure to have.

Instead he could hear it in the mans voice.  However, strangely, there was no mockery to be heard there. 

"Well, I suppose that responsibility would fall to me, wouldn't it."

Harry looked up, unsure as to where the Potions Master was going with this. 

Snape looked at him without expression and continued.  "You will report here at ten Am tomorrow morning Potter, and be sure to bring your school equipment with you."

For a short while longer Harry stared before Snape leaned forward to clarify what his next action was to be.  "You are dismissed Mr Potter." 

Harry did not need telling twice.  He aimed for the door at a hurried pace and headed on up to Gryffindor tower to get some well earned rest.

‘More lessons with Snape?  Why can't I get away from that man?  Why did he seem so concerned about how well I did in class?  It's not like he has any reason to care!  But then why did he save my life?  Agh, I'm too tired for this.  Time for bed.'                 

The cauldron bubbled away quite happily.  The potion smelled well made, but the colour was still off.

"Hmm.  You cut the Scabiosa too thickly," Snape commented.

"No I didn't!" replied Harry hotly.

"Mr Potter.  What have I told you repeatedly about this class?"

Harry sighed, but knew that a response was needed or that Snape would start into his lecture, again.  "Potion making is a delicate art which requires time, knowledge and patience.  I have to concentrate and keep an awareness of the potion's balance at all times and must always refer to you as ‘Professor' or ‘Sir', sir."

"Good" said Snape shortly, choosing to ignore Harry's lack of enthusiasm.  "What can you do to correct this?" he then asked, indicating the potion.

Harry thought on it for a moment.  They had been working on his potion skills, or rather the lack of, for the last week. 

He knew the different qualities most common ingredients had and how they could affect certain potions.  Now he was learning how to ‘balance' these affects in order to get the most out of them in which ever potion Snape decided to put to him whilst simultaneously wishing he could just drown either himself of the Professor in the cauldron's contents and get it all over with.  

"Put more dried nettles in, Sir?" Harry suggested. 

Snape did not answer, which generally meant that Harry was supposed to try it and see what happened.

Unsure of how much to put in he grabbed a handful and slowly sprinkled them in until the colour changed from a yellowy green to a dark green.  ‘What?  Ugh.  Now there's too much Scabiosa AND Dried Nettles. . .  Now what?  Hmm.  Well, how about. . .'

Pulling out the rest of the ingredients Harry added a ‘bit more of everything' to try and equal out the amounts in the pot.  He thought that it was a pretty logical idea.  That is, until it started to expand and quickly boiled over.

Snape emptied the cauldron's contents with a flick of his wand and fixed Harry with a stare that clearly asked ‘what was that?'  Harry looked away sheepishly, trying to ignore the gooey substance that now adorned the dungeon floor.

"Well?" demanded Snape.

"Um.  I got it wrong?"  Harry asked, trying to look innocent but failing.

"Obviously.  But what did you get wrong?"

Harry shrugged and prepared for the Professor's oncoming lecture with a hidden sigh.

"When I told you that you had added too much of something you should have searched for ideas of possible ways to rectify the problem.  Yet, once again, your lack of patience got the better of you and you simply took the first option that came into your head!" Snape berated him.

"It wasn't a bad idea!" Harry defended.  "It was working until . . ."

"Until it didn't work?" questioned Snape.  "This is not like cooking a meal Potter.  One does not simply ‘add more of everything' and just make a bigger batch in order to level out the ingredients!  For one, your cauldron was much too small for that and two, there is such a thing as overkill.  Too many ingredients can make any potion completely useless."

Harry sighed.  He was tired and he had only been with Snape for an hour that day.  "What should I have done then?"

"Observation should have told you that.  The smell was right, which meant that the components where mixing nicely.  However, the colour was too light, meaning. . .?"

"There was too much Scabiosa," Harry finished.

"Correct.  Conversely the fact that it was still light in colour means?"

"The- er. . . Uh?"

Snape rolled his eyes.  "That the components had not yet bonded Mr Potter.  Now, what does that mean?"

"We- er, can. . . take it back out?"

"Well done.  I am glad you caught up, I was beginning to fear that you lacked intelligence," Snape chided sarcastically.  Harry just glared at him.

"By increasing the temperature the ingredients would split, enabling you to extract any unwanted particles and clean up your potion."

"Like cream?" Harry piped up without thinking.  He recoiled at Snape's withering glare.

"This is not a cooking class!"

----------------------- Two hours later ------------------------

Harry held a vial of freshly brewed healing salve.  He let out a heartfelt sigh of relief as he looked at it.  ‘Finally!  I did it!  My first usable potion.  Heh.  It actually feels pretty good.'

"Put that vial on my desk and go for a break Potter before you drive us both over the edge," sighed Snape as he sunk into his chair.  However, Harry had found a new burst of energy and enthusiasm at his success.

"I think I get it now though Sir!  Can't I try another one?  I'll do it on my own this ti-"

Snape cut him off.  "Enough.  One accomplishment and you think you have mastered everything.  It shall take a lot more time and effort for you to truly grasp the concept of decent potion making, though, admittedly, you have shown some progress. . ." 

Snape seemed to think a moment before he added.  "Get some fresh air and return here this afternoon.  If you are really serious about wanting to learn more, I suggest that you read up on a few things before returning."

Harry left with a huff.  He couldn't quite place it, but for some reason Snape always, always managed to put a dampener on everything and make him feel. . . inadequate.  Like whatever he had achieved wasn't worth anything. 

-------------------------------------------------------

The sun bore down on the school grounds as he sat beneath a sturdy tree.  Eating some sandwiches that Dobby had made for him, Harry began to flick through his books.  He must have read the scribbled entries over a hundred times.  He knew most of them by heart so that he could use them if Snape ever chose one of the referenced potions, but still had no ideas as to who his silent aid was.

Opening his eyes the familiar figure of the school Headmaster stood before him.  Harry sat up quickly.  "Oh, er Professor Dumbledore.  I, um, must have dozed off. . ."

The Headmaster smiled at him warmly.  "Quite understandable, my dear boy.  I sometimes find myself nodding off in the sun too."

Harry smiled back at the ancient wizard as he sat down beside the boy.  "I see you are studying hard," the Headmaster commented.  "Very commendable."

Harry blushed slightly.  "Yeah, um.  Professor Snape is helping me to get better at potions."

"Is that so?  Well I hope you thank him properly, Harry.  Professor Snape does not make a habit of giving up his free time unless he considers the student fit to share his skills."

Harry looked up at the Headmaster, confusion evident in his face.  "Are you sure he's not just bored or something?  I mean, I know I'm no good at potions, he keeps telling me that, and I doubt that he'd freely choose to spend extra time with me."

The Headmaster returned Harry's look with a bemused one.  "Has Professor Snape actually said ‘You are no good at potions?'  And why indeed do you believe he has chosen to spend some time with you?"

This caused Harry to ponder for a moment.  ‘Why is the Headmaster always so cryptic?  And what is he talking about?  Snape ALWAYS says my potion making skills are dismal. . . Although, not recently. . .  And why DOES he keep making me go to extra classes?  To keep me out of trouble?  To keep an eye on me?  That sounds about right.'

"He hasn't said I'm bad at it for a while," Harry admitted.  "But he never says anything good about it either!  I keep trying and work as hard as I can but all he ever says is ‘not bad' or ‘adequate.'  Never ‘well done, you've done really well' or, or...."

"I'm impressed" offered Dumbledore.  Harry looked up sharply, causing the Headmaster to chuckle lightly.  "Yet you do not, thankfully, seem to be giving up."

"Of course not!  I'm going to make him see that I can do it!" Harry stated before thinking. 

The Headmaster chuckled again.  "Then I believe that Professor Snape has found a very effective persuasion for you.  Rather than give up completely, you try harder to succeed."

For a second time Harry had to sit and ponder the words he had just heard.  ‘Snape wants me to try harder?  Well that would make sense.  If he's trying to teach me something he's bound to expect me to work hard.  But why?  He's never bothered before?'

"Professor?"

"Harry?"

"How come Professor Snape is trying so hard?"

Dumbledore just smiled.  "Professor Snape, Harry, is a Hogwarts teacher.  As such, he will teach his students to the best of his ability.  If you have shown some kind of skill in his proffered subject, it is only natural that he would want to push you to your greatest abilities."

"Not if he hates you. . ."  Harry grumbled.

The Headmaster looked saddened by the darkness of the boy's words.  "I am sure that he does not hate you Harry."

"Yes he does." Harry growled back.  "He hated my dad and now he looks for even the tiniest of things that I do wrong just so that he can insult me about it!"

"Ahh.  Well, it is true that he and your father never saw eye to eye Harry, but has Professor Snape ever told you that he hated you?"

"No. . . But he doesn't need to!  What he does is enough to tell me that!"

"And what is it, exactly, that he does?"

"He- well he. . . he. . .  he always insults me for everything!"

Dumbledore quipped a smile.  "He tends to do that with most people."

"Well, he. . .  Er.  He's always trying to catch me at something and get me expelled!"

"I do find that expelling you could be used as a fearsome threat, but we all know that only Professor McGonagall or myself are able to expel you.  And, if I may say so, is there not always something to ‘catch you at'?"

Harry blushed.  "W-well, yeah. . . but. . ."

The Headmaster smiled at him knowingly.  "I must beg your pardon Harry.  Whilst I would love to spend the afternoon with you, there are many things that require my attention.

Harry had no doubt that he was telling the truth, but now had a lot on his own mind to be dealing with too.  He nodded politely and watched the wise old wizard retreat back towards the castle. 

‘This is Snape we're talking about.  Of COURSE he hates me!  But. . . If so, why is he helping me?  Why did he save my life?'

 --------

  "You are late Potter," the stern voice spoke across the room.

"No I'm not.  You just said to come back this afternoon, not what time to come back.  Sir," he added as an afterthought. 

Snape's mouth twitched upwards to form his trademark sneer.  "Less cheek Potter.  I expect you to hold to your previous statement and produce a perfect potion without my assistance.  Get your equipment set out."

For the next two hours Harry worked on the potion that he had been tasked with. 

He had expected Snape to come up with the hardest one he could think of.  Something that he knew that Harry was bound to mess up but, grudgingly, Harry had to admit that it wasn't too bad a choice.  Not too difficult but not too easy.  Just enough to get the boy thinking.

Of course, Harry had to hide a smile when the potion he was to brew was named to him.  ‘The Draught of Peace' - the very one that had started all of this.  The one that he had memorised completely from the battered old school book that he had found just over a week ago.

Corking the vial with a triumphant grin that he could no longer hide, Harry placed the only slightly off colour potion before Snape.

The Professor eyed it for a moment then looked at Harry with a face that clearly showed that he was struggling with something.  "You have done better than was expected.  I see for once you actually have studied hard."

Harry's smile remained in place but his feeling of triumph faded a little.  He had wanted to impress this man.  He had wanted to be acknowledged for skills he did have rather than being constantly sneered at as if he where a worthless pest.  He was getting to that point now but. . .  the work was not entirely his own. . .

‘Stupid guilt!  Don't cheapen it!  I did work hard.  I completely deserve to have that fact recognised for once!'

‘Ahh' responded the ‘other' little voice in his head.  ‘But the work you're being recognised for isn't your own.  You just copied it from someone.'

‘So?  I copy Hermione all the time!'

‘That's different.  You get into trouble for that, not praised.  Just think. . . the poor student who must have slaved for hours coming up with those changes, just like you did with that first assignment from Snape. . .'

‘Alright alright.  Tut.  Stupid Gryffindor pride!  Always making things difficult!'

‘I'm your conscience.  It's what I do.'

Harry sighed and dropped his eye level.  "Actually Professor. . . I didn't really do it all by myself. . ."

Snape regarded him then prompted for him to continue.

"I, er, read a book which had a new version of the recipe in it and memorised it.  I know how to follow those instructions and they work really well, but I didn't make them. . ." he trailed off, still scowling inwardly at his conscience which only seemed to smile and wave back to him.

"I see. . ." stated Snape. 

Harry was certain that his next line of speech would be dedicated solely to insulting him and putting him down.  What the Professor did say made the boy lift his head to quickly his neck cricked.

"It must have taken some courage to admit to that."

Harry gaped at the man before him who only scoffed in response.  "Do not think that I will be letting you off for ‘cheating' in my class Mr Potter.  You will be given another recipe to make your own changes to for tomorrow's lesson."

Harry groaned.  ‘Thanks a lot!" 

"Don't blame me!  You cheated!"  

You grassed me up!!" 

"It was for the best."

"No!  Being able to sleep tonight would have been for the best.  Coming clean to Snape was for the insane!"

Placing a slender finger on his lips, Snape sat and pondered for a moment before putting his next question to Harry.  "Where is this ‘book' you mentioned?"

Harry stopped arguing with himself and felt his heart freeze.  "Book?"

"Yes Potter, book.  The one you claim to have been studying from.  Where is it?"

Harry had to think quickly.  He did not want Snape to take the book away from him, but at the same time he could not think up a plausible excuse why not to get it. 

"Uh, in my bag sir. . ."

"Bring it to me." 

With reluctant steps the boy obeyed.  As would anybody with a will to live when Snape gave them an order like that.  He brought the shabby old potions book to the Potion Master's desk and handed it to him.

"Where did you get this?" Snape demanded accusingly after a brief glance at it's inner cover.

"You let me use it!" Harry replied indignantly.  Which was true, to some extent.

"I would not be handing over my own possessions to unskilled student, least of all you, Potter!" Snape snarled at him.

"If I'm so ‘unskilled' why are you wasting your time teaching me anything then?"  Harry snapped back.  "And you did let me use it!  You said on that day I first came down here that I was to choose ‘a number' of books and study!  It helped too!  Why else do you think I started to question the normal books?"

Stopping in mid rant Harry backtracked the conversation a bit.  "Did you just say-?"

Snape smirked.  "Yes Potter.  My possessions.  As in, my book."

"You. . . You made all those notes?  But, It's for sixth years!  You created your own spells at sixteen?"  

"I created those spells at sixteen Potter.  Unlike some, I find value in learning."

Harry stared at him dumbfounded.  ‘What the-  I knew Snape was smart, but. . .  even Hermione hasn't come up with any of her own stuff!  At least. . . I don't think she has. . .  But then. . . Why?'

Swallowing, Harry threw caution in the wind and asked the question he could no longer hold back from the man.  "Why?"

"Why what Potter?"

"Why did you become a teacher?  You hate kids!  And even more than that, you hate me!  Why are you here?"

Standing and walking around the desk to stand before the boy Snape looked at him in a strange way.  Something between a mix of curiosity and indignation.  "Rather impertinent of you to expect me to answer for my choice of action to you Potter.  But you are wrong on a number of levels.  I do not ‘hate' children, I tire of their ineptitude.  And I do not- "

"Sir?"

Snape looked almost pained for a moment, but carried on, obviously trying to seem indifferent about what he was saying.  "I do not ‘hate' you.  Dislike you intensely, find you annoying and unending bother, yes!  But you-"

Harry waited for the man to finish, but he never did.  Instead he walked back round his desk and sat back down. 

"Thanks. . ."  Harry uttered before he lost the courage to do so. 

He doubted anyone had said it before and, as much as he disliked this man, he had to admit.  He hadn't been so much of a git for the past few days, and it seemed that there was a lot more to him than people gave him credit for.

"What?" ordered Snape.

"Just. . Thanks, you know.  For, saving my life and. . . well, helping me out I guess."

If Harry had gone down on one knee and proposed to him, the Professor could not have held a more bewildered and astonished look.

It took a while but Snape eventually retuned to his senses and growled at him.  "Do not, Mr Potter, think for a moment that that will get you anywhere.  I expect a full review of the ‘Draught of the Living Dead' on my desk by 09.00 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir. . ." 

It could have been his imagination, but Harry was sure that there was far less bite in those words than usual.  Part of him hoped so.  He held no great fondness for the man, but he was also tired of always quibbling and fighting with him.

"Good day Mr Potter," drawled Snape as he put his head back down to work.

"Bye Sir." 

Once again Harry found himself ascending the dungeon staircase and heading towards the library.

‘Maybe things aren't so bad?  Maybe Snape isn't completely evil. . .' 

Opening a huge, dusty tome needed to begin his studies, Harry looked down at the masses of ongoing text and sighed.  ‘Just mostly evil. . .'

Muffled voices could be heard.  They sounded close, but blurred senses made them too difficult to decipher. . . 

Sight was clouded also. . .  Only shadowed forms could be made out through the fog.

‘All. . . stable.  Be-. . . implants taking at eighty-. .  percent.'

‘Prepare -ject. . sixty se- . . . . . . . -imula-. . .'

His breathing quickened and he struggled to sit up, but cold, solid binds held him down.  Nausea and fear filled his senses.  ‘Can't get up!  Can't- !!'

‘Sir?  Sub-  . . . . . . . . . awake.'

‘Good.  Let's put him to work.'

  -----------------------------------

"MR POTTER!"

Harry bolted upright, unsure of where he was.  "Si- Sir?" he stuttered as his eyes focused on one very annoyed Professor Snape.

"And why, Mr Potter, do you suddenly believe it is acceptable for you to fall asleep in my class?" Snape spat dangerously.

"I wh- da, ah. . . Huh?"

Snape rolled his eyes.  "There has been a wonderful discovery Potter, it is called ‘speech.'  Care to give it a try?"

Any other day Harry knew he would be angered by those words but right now his senses where in too much disarray, so he just gazed back blankly.

Whatever he did show in his face, however, must have been significant as the Professor's stern glare began to soften ever so slightly.  "What's wrong?" he demanded suddenly.

Harry just shook his head.  His memory was still struggling to catch up with him.  He remembered vaguely that he was supposed to be studying. . . something. . .  And that he was supposed to be doing said study in Snape's class. . . ?

"Just a dream," Harry mumbled.

"Dream?" questioned Snape sceptically.  "What about?"

The boy swallowed and wiped the cold sweat off his brow.  "Jus- just, a dream.  You know?  A nightmare.  N-nothing. . ." 

He wanted to believe that.  He so wanted to believe it. . .  But deep down he knew that his dreams had always meant something before. . .  Always offered some meaningful piece of information.  The difference was, those dreams never had him in them before.

"What, about?" Snape asked again.  His voice was hard, but his eyes seemed to offer a little more concern than the man would ever admit to.

Harry swallowed.  "I-I don't, r-really know," he spluttered.  "I-I was in this. . . room.  It was all hazy, like I was drugged or something. . ."

"Go on," the Professor prompted as he pulled up a seat opposite the boy.

"W-well.  The room was. . . really, white.  It was dirty. . .  Clean I mean!  B-but, filthy. . .  Like. . like, awful things happened there. . ." Harry shuddered at the feelings the room gave him.

"Awful?" pushed Snape.

"I don't know okay," Harry bit back.  "Just. . . just bad."

Snape didn't say anything.  Instead he motioned for Harry to continue.

Casting his eyes down, Harry went on.  "I was tied down. . .  And there where people there, but I don't know who they where. . ." he whispered.

"Did they do, or say anything?" asked Snape.

"They. . .  They said something. . . But.  I couldn't hear them. . ."

Harry wrapped his arms about himself and shivered.  It all seemed so familiar. . .  The room and the feelings of nausea and paralyzing fear.  Bright lights and muffled voices.  But that was ridiculous. . .  He had never been to such a place. . .  Right?

A pressure on his forehead made him jump.  His eyes shot up to see a cold hand retreating back towards its owner.

"Rest," was all the Professor said.

Harry felt himself being lifted up from his seat.  The feeling was oddly familiar and he allowed himself to be led out of the room by the older man.

As they reached the top of the stairs Snape showed no signs of letting him go.  Harry looked up at him and tried to decipher the expression on the man's face.  It seemed an odd mix between confusion, indecision and. . . . dare he believe it, concern?  Why would Snape be concerned about one of Harry's dreams??

"Where are we going?" Harry ventured.

"Hospital wing," was the short reply.

"What?  Again??  Why?  I'm not even sick!" moaned Harry.  Though he had to admit, he was feeling tired more and more the further they walked.  ‘Where'd all these stairs come from?'

"Do not, Mr Potter, argue with me.  You are going to the hospital wing.  Final."

He wanted to argue, but didn't.  He was too busy trying to keep his breath.  With only two flights of stairs travelled (a stretch he usually wouldn't even spare a thought for) he felt like he had just run a mile.

  ---------------

"Oh my.  What's happened this time?" asked a female voice.

"Nothing," responded Snape.  "I simply think it best that Potter rests, and I want him somewhere where an eye can be kept on him."

Harry felt himself being lowered down onto something soft and warm.  He was immediately thankful for the chance to take the weight off his feet and sit down on the familiar ward bed.

"Lie down.  Get some rest."  So saying the Potions Master turned to leave.

"No."

"What?"

"I don't want to," Harry argued weakly.  It was a half truth.  In all honestly he wanted nothing more than to snuggle down within the warm sheets and close his eyes.  One thing kept him awake, however.

"I-I don't want to. . ." the boy repeated.  "I'm, I'm not tired!"

"Don't, lie, to me," threatened the Professor, then regarded the boy for a moment.  "I didn't want to give you this in case you became too reliant on it.  However. . ."

Moving back towards the bed where Madam Pomfrey had left Harry in his transfigured pyjamas, Snape handed out a vial.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"You tell me," was the curt reply.

Removing the cork and sniffing the contents Harry immediately recognised the potion inside.  "Dreamless sleep," he uttered, unenthused.  Snape was right, he had been taking this stuff a lot recently.

It didn't matter though.  The thought of having another nightmare bothered him, but it was not the reason Harry did not want to go to sleep.

He handed the vial back to a surprised Potions Professor.

"Thanks Sir, but you're right.  I don't need it."

Snape considered him for a moment, then took the vial from his outstretched hand. 

"Glad you finally decided to listen for once Potter.  Why the sudden change?"

"I'm too tired to argue," spoke Harry.  Of course, he wasn't about to admit that it was partially because of his growing respect for the man. 

"Then why don't you want to sleep?" challenged Snape.

Harry stopped for a moment.  ‘Sly git's done it again!'  He blushed and looked away.

"Afraid of what might come in the dark?"

Harry's head flew back up to glare at the man before him.  "No I'm not!  I'm not some baby!"

In truth, the Professor had hit the nail on the head.  Yet admitting to it was more than Harry's pride could take.

To Harry's confusion however, his outburst did not seem to anger the Professor as much as the thought it would.  Instead the man looked at him as if trying to determine something.

"Some of the most terrifying things in life are not what we might see, but the things we can't see."

"Huh?" was Harry's uneducated response.

Snape sighed.  "You do not want to fall asleep because you are afraid of what might happen if you do.  Correct?"

Harry blushed again.  There was no point in arguing, so he tried to defend himself instead.  "Well. . . There's nothing I can do about it if something attacks me while I'm asleep. . ."

Snape inclined his head in understanding, but on what level of understanding Harry didn't know.  ‘Does the Professor get night terrors too?  Heh.  Hard to imagine Snape being afraid of anything. . .  Is he just trying to humour me?' 

"Tuff."

"What!?"

"I said ‘tuff,' Mr Potter.  As in, you can not go for the rest of your life without sleeping, so you will simply have to get over your fears or learn to live with them."

Harry gaped at the man.  ‘So much for compassion.'

"Now sleep."

"I-"  Harry began to protest, but was cut off by a motion from Snape's hand.

The Professor took up a seat by Harry's bedside and glared at him.  "I will be sitting here until you fall asleep Potter, and seeing as I have a long list of things I could be doing right now, it had better not take you long to do so."

Harry lay back against the soft pillows.  More and more, recently, he had noticed, or perhaps ‘thought' he noticed, that the cruelty and harshness in the Potion Master's words where disappearing.  He hoped so.  He hated ‘hating.'  He was tired off it!  So tired. . .

Eyes began to close and the world around him seemed to fade.  He could vaguely hear the soft breathing of someone nearby and wondered who it could belong too.  It was a comforting sound.  Something so basic yet integral to life.  It eased his worries as he drifted off into a deep slumber.  His last thoughts being of how comforting it was to have someone by you as you slept. 

   --------------------------------

The sounds of scuffling and shouting woke him.

The only light in the room came from the hexes and curses that flew through the air and the sounds of harsh breathing and breaking furniture was vivid.     

Something other than wood, metal or stone gave out a sickening ‘crack!' And an agonised cry was sounded along with it.

In a panic Harry reached out for his glasses, only to feel a heavy object slam against the bedside table in the darkness, and heard a painful "Ooof!!"

A blurred shadow at the end of his bed gained Harry's immediate attention and he scrambled to get up and as far away from the shadow as he could.

The tangled sheets caught at his legs, and the boy cried out in fear and desperation as the unfocused shadow moved towards him.  ‘I'm never going to sleep AGAIN!  AGH!'

A strong, cold hand gripped his shoulder.  Harry's breath froze within his chest and he scrunched his eyes closed, willing himself with all his might to wake up. 

Pity it wasn't a dream. . .               

Harry held his breath and kept his eyes closed.  His mind raced with thoughts about who the attacker might be and how he could escape.

"Calm down and get your wand.  We're going."

Harry felt a huge wave of relief pass through him and out in a big sigh.

"P-Professor, wh-what-?"

"No time.  Move!"

Harry felt his glasses being pressed into his hands.  He scrambled to retrieve his wand which had rolled under the bed and followed the Potions Master briskly out of the hospital ward.

Shouts and crashes could be heard in the distance.  Harry gripped his wand tightly and watched the corridors around him alertly. 

"Professor, what's happening?   Where are we going?" he asked urgently.

"Deatheaters.  To meet the Headmaster," Snape replied curtly.

The Professor winced and Harry found the likely source of his pain at his lower arm. 

"You're hurt!"

"Ignore it.  Move!"

"B-but!  We have to- We just left the hospital wing. . .  Where's Madam Pomfrey??"

"I sent her ahead to warn the other staff members, now stop asking questions and move!"

With that the Professor quickened his pace and Harry had to half jog to keep up with him.

They came to a stop at the familiar stone gargoyle where Snape uttered the password and the staircase opened up before them. 

The Headmaster was upon them even before they entered his office.  Recognising the two he led them in and towards his desk.

"As you have undoubtedly realised, the wards surrounding Hogwarts have been breached," he spoke sombrely.

"Tell me what to do!" Harry interrupted before the Headmaster could continue.  "I'll fight with you!"

"You will do no such thing you foolish child!" snapped Snape.

Harry rounded on him.  "Why not!?  I can fight, I have done before-"

"And nearly died on every occasion!"

"I won't leave Hogwarts to those- those-"

"POTT-!!"

Snape had reached out to grab the boy by the shoulders but instantly recoiled, gripping his shoulder tightly.

"P-Professor!"

"You should remember to hold as much concern for your own health as you have for Harry, Severus. . ." Dumbledore interjected.

The Headmaster tapped his wand on Snape's left arm and the Potions Master gradually released his grip, the pain fading from his features.

"Thank you Headmaster. . ." he uttered in quiet tones.  Harry knew he genuinely meant the ‘thank you,' but there seemed to be a warning tone mixed in with it.

Turning his attention back to the youngest wizard in the room, the Headmaster returned to his more serious front.

"While your will to defend our school is indeed admirable, Harry, now is not the time, and this, is not your battle. . ."

Harry felt anger flare up inside of him again.  How dare Dumbledore not allow him to defend his home!?

He opened his mouth to argue, but fell silent at the look in the Headmaster's eyes.

"I am sorry Harry, but my decision is final.  I am afraid that, for your own safety, you must return to your relatives for the time being."  

Harry froze.  If the Headmaster was trying to offer him a safe option he would sooner take his chances with the Deatheaters!

He began to protest, but his voice was drowned out by another.

"Eh, Headmaster, are you sure that is wise?"

The Headmaster turned to look at Snape with a raised eyebrow.

Harry turned to look at Snape with two raised eyebrows and a bottom jaw that threatening to hit the floor.

The Potions Master seemed to ignore the looks and continued with barely hidden difficulty and carefully chosen words.

"Regarding what we, discussed, some time previously, I, personally, am not overly confident in the protective abilities of Mr Potter's guardians."

The Headmaster seemed to contemplate the words for a moment.  Harry concentrated move on his mixed feelings. . .

‘I don't want to go back to the Dursley's!  Why is Snape so bothered about me!?!  Discussed?  So they talk about me in private do they!  AH! The sounds of the fighting are getting closer. . .  Why is Snape so bothered about me!?!?'

"Where's Sirius?" he blurted out.  "Can't I go to wherever he is?"

He thought it was a good idea.  Sirius at least wanted him around!  And practically anything sounded better than going back to the Dursley's. . ."

Both older wizards looked at each other then at Harry.

"For the time I am afraid that is not possible Harry," explained the Headmaster.  "As you know, Sirius is still on the run from the Ministry, and. . .  Well.  Fulfilling an important task needed if we are to put up a good defence against Voldemort as he rises in power."

"Can't I-"

"No Potter!" Snape cut in before Harry could finish his question.  "You cannot help him."

Harry turned to glare at Snape who only sneered back in response.  "Haven't I taught you anything?"

Harry's glare weakened as confusion seeped in.  In Snape's words there seemed to be some kind of mix between exasperation, frustration and. . hurt?  Was that the right word?  Whether it was or not, it certainly did not match the snarky Potions teacher's usual character. . .

"Think Potter!" Snape clarified.  "Who do you think they are here for?  Who must they not reach at any cost!?"

Harry gulped.  ‘Me?  B-but, why??'

"Why?"

Snape seemed to develop a slight twitch in his left eye at the boy's question which made Harry gulp again. 

"Think Potter!"

At this point the Headmaster stepped between the two and offered a battered looking news paper to Harry. 

"This Portkey will transport you straight to your room in you Aunt and Uncle's house, Harry," Dumbledore explained.

Harry took a step backwards shaking his head in the negative, but the Headmaster only pressed on.

"The protection wards there are still active and will keep you out of harms way.  Harry, we will be fine.  There is no need to worry about Hogwarts, only your own safety is important right now. . ."

The boy looked up at the Headmaster.  His eyes seemed to plea for Harry's compliance as his held out the Portkey.

Harry's breathing became harder and his heart was beating fast against his chest.  That unexplainable fear he had been getting for the past week or so was now stronger than ever, and also accompanied by the fear of what might become of Hogwarts and the teachers defending it.

Going back to the Dursley's was one of his deepest dreads, but the sounds of pained and angry cries could be heard clearly now as the battle move closer towards them.  He wondered vaguely if he would be considered a coward for yielding to the Headmaster's will and fleeing.  Would he be able to live with himself if he did so?

Slowly he reached out a shaky hand towards the Portkey.  It felt almost like his hand was trying to push through an invisible, but physical form of all his doubts.  Only his loyalty to the Headmaster made him keep reaching.

"Wait."

A sudden voice made him jump just before he grabbed the paper and both Headmaster and student turned their heads to find the source of the voice.

Snape stood for a moment, almost as startled by the sound of his own voice as the other to wizards.  He finished of the battle within his own mind, then, with some difficulty, straightened himself up to continue speaking.

"Are you certain of this Headmaster?  Considering what we have- er, witnessed, along with the fact that we still have very little inkling as to what, caused, this particular occurrence. . ."

Harry was further surprised.  Never had he expected to see Snape of all people struggle to put forward a straight point or argument.  He guessed that it was just the effect the Headmaster had on people. 

A bang that was close enough to shake the room sped the conversation up considerably. 

"What would you suggest Severus?" asked Dumbledore.  His words where urgent, but he did not seem to be too annoyed. . .

Harry watched the man intently.  It went against every instinct he had, but for this instant he relied completely on Snape to come up with something that might save him from his given sentence.

The Potions Master twisted his cloak around his fists and gritted his teeth, clearly arguing with himself, but it did not take long for the words to fall out of his mouth with the already close-range battle looming ever nearer. 

"He may accompany me."

Dumbledore made no hesitations in his movements.  He flicked his wand over the battered news paper, which glowed for a moment before returning to its seemingly normal state.

Snape strode over to Harry and the Headmaster and took a steadying breath.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked, offering out the Portkey again.

Snape only nodded.  Harry wanted to ask where they were going, but the sounds around them kept him silent and at the Professor's sharp order he grabbed the Portkey.

  ----------------------------

The lurching feeling ended and Harry staggered backwards and stumbled over something upon landing.  He looked down by his feet to see a pile of dusty old books laying at his feet.

"Get up Potter," Snape said lazily as he swept across the room.

Harry did so and took a moment to take in his surroundings. 

The room was dark and dreary.  A stale smell filled the air as if windows were opened very rarely.  Three walls where almost completely covered by large book shelves containing various tomes and manuscripts.  A desk supporting nothing more than an inkpot and quill, a roll of parchment and a low burnt candle sat before the only window in the room.  The window itself being covered by a pair of moth-eaten, dark coloured curtains. 

The Professor opened the curtains a crack and peered out.  After a moment of looking up and down the streets he nodded to himself and turned to light a candle-filled lamp.

With the small amount of light offered from the lamp, Harry continued his inspection of the silent room.

Other than the desk the only furniture in the room where two worn and beaten armchairs and an old coffee table.  Books lay in piles about the room.  On the floor, on the chairs, over the table. . . Everywhere, but all covered in dust.  The place looked like it had been abandoned for a long time.

"There will be no magic used while we are here Mr Potter."

Harry whipped his head up at the sudden break of the deathly silence.

"And you will show me nothing less than absolute respect in this house and out, do you understand?"

Harry nodded mutely.  His mind was still trying to catch up with everything.

"This way," Snape indicated as he headed towards a bookcase and opened a hidden door.

Harry followed, his mind and voice finally joining him halfway up the stairs.

"Sir?  Where are we?"

"Spinner's End.  We will remain hidden here until we get word from the Headmaster."

"Do you think they're alright?"

"I am certain they are."

"How?"

"We are still alive and not suffering violent torturing."

Snape stopped in front of a thick wooden door.  He reached for the handle and motioned for Harry to enter when he opened it.

In the room was a small bed covered by a dark, tattered blanket, a bare desk decorated by one lone candle lamp, a book shelf and a chest of drawers. 

Harry wiped a finger across the dresser and wrinkled his nose at the large amount of dust that came off it.

"This will be your room for the duration of your stay.  I will not appreciate you snooping around this house so if there is anything you want or need you will come directly to me," said the voice by the door.

"Rest here until I call you down for supper."

The door closed behind the Professor as he left and Harry little the small lamp with some matches he found in the desk drawer. 

The light did little to brighten the room and the boy moved to open the window to let in some air.

Looking out he could see the chimney of an old, disused Mill and the cobbled streets below.  The sight looked very different from the ‘perfect,' clean and tidy road called Private Drive.  This area looked more like something a person like ‘Jack the Ripper' would inhabit.

‘At least in the films these kinds of places always have the attacker outside. . .  Private Drive is more like something from a slasher movie where you don't know where the psycho's coming from until he's got you!'

Opening the window only invited in the smell of dirty water and fumes.  Still, little air circulation was better than none. . .

Harry flopped down on the bed and sighed.  The thought of what could be happening at Hogwarts made it impossible for him to rest, but trying Snape's patience would mean something very unpleasant, and Harry was in no rush to find out what that unpleasant thing was.

He fidgeted on the bed for a while before his restlessness became too much for him, then get up to pace the room.  Sitting and doing nothing seemed to be the only thing ever expected of him when anything dangerous occurred, but the thought alone drove him crazy.  He wanted to help!  Wanted to do something, anything!  Anything that would be worthwhile. . .

Worry grew into frustration and frustration into anger.  He hated being confined into one, small space.  And he hated more than ever having to ‘hide out' in this dingy little room while there was a battle to be fought.

He paced the floor at increasing speed as his anger and frustration grew, the creaks and groans of the floorboards echoing his movements.  He felt caged, imprisoned, and he wanted out!

A sudden, sharp pain streamed through his right arm taking him to his knees.  He gripped his upper arm tightly willing the pain to subside.  A feral roar seemed to reverberate deep within his chest as he dug his nails into the wooden floor.

Panting he fought to bring himself back under control.  The pain in his arm weakened into a dull ache as he took deep steadying breaths and a cold sweat formed across his face.

For several minutes he knelt on the floor, steadying his breathing before lifting up his now exhausted form and shifting towards the bed.

He flopped down and closed his eyes and the slight dizziness he felt and, unknowingly, he fell asleep.

  --------------------

Opening his eyes groggily Harry heard a low voice speaking to him nearby.  He rubbed his eyes and looked up to see a familiar face looking back at him with an undecipherable expression.

"I have been calling you for the past ten minutes Potter and I do not enjoy being ignored.  Supper is ready."

Harry groaned.  He hadn't realised that he had fallen asleep. . . 

Getting up he followed the black clad figure down the stairs and back trough the hidden bookcase door.  On the table were two bowls of warm broth.

"You will be relived to know that the Deatheaters that attacked the school have been chased out, and that no deaths occurred on either side," said the Professor.

Harry sighed.  Relief wasn't a strong enough word for what he felt.  For him the whole world had started spinning normally again. 

Snape sat down and began eating without saying another word.  Harry followed suit, but one spoon full reaffirmed that the stuff really did look as bad as it looked.

Snape sneered at the boy's expression as he swallowed the broth with obvious difficulty.  "If you had been quicker it would still be hot."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the contents of his bowl.  "Its temperature doesn't excuse its taste!"

Snape only glowered at him with disapproval.  "The taste comes from a potion within the broth that will help you regain your strength.  Now be quiet and eat it."

Harry sniffed at what could only be described as ‘stuff' in distaste.  "I thought potions couldn't be mixed with ‘cooking'," he uttered under his breath.

"Potter. . ." warned Snape.

Taking another spoon full Harry tried to swallow the contents without letting any of it touch his tongue.

‘Blah!  How can he eat this stuff!?  I bet his taste buds are as dead as his ability to be nice!  . . . Speaking of which. . .'

Stirring his spoon idly around the bowl he decided on how to word his next sentence.

"Thanks," he decided on in the end. 

It sounded odd, and felt weird.  He never thought he'd find anything to be grateful for at the hands of this man, and yet, this was the second time in a month that he had said ‘thank you' and genuinely meant it.

The Professor stopped eating, but didn't look up. 

"You know, for-"

"They are deplorable people, but I have no use for words of thanks, just eat your broth and then go and rest."

‘Hmph.  As cold as ever.  What was that he said?  ‘No use for ‘words' of thanks.  Hmm.  Actions speak louder than words. . .  I guess.'

The two ate the rest of their supper in silence.  However, that silence was not an entirely uncomfortable one any more. . .

‘Hiding out with Snape. . .  This'll be. .  interesting. . .'

The skies where grey and the wind cool.  Not that Harry would know.

This was the fifth day that the Professor and student had spent at the cheerless little house on Spinner's End with no contact from the outside world.  Well.  At least Harry had, had no contact with the outside world. . .  He guessed that Snape had probably had some word from Dumbledore, but if he had, he wasn't sharing anything.    

"Mr Potter, I find it to be an incredible waste of time for you to simply sit there and sulk.  Go and study or make yourself useful."

The teen raised his head to look over the back of his tattered armchair in order to fix a glare at Snape, but the older wizard was seemingly too engrossed in his own work to notice.

"I'm sick of studying it's all I've been doing for the past month!"

"Then find something else to do," Snape ground out.

"You won't let me go outside and I've already cleaned most of the house! . . . Which you haven't thanked me for by the way."

"I never asked you to do it, and, as I have already explained, it is too dangerous to leave the house.  While the Dark Lord and his followers will be unable to enter this building, they are quite capable of roaming the streets around us.

This sent a shiver up his spine.  On one hand Harry was thankful that Snape was being straight with him and telling him the truth about their situation, but on the other hand, the thought of Deatheaters below his window did nothing to help him sleep well at night.

Harry sighed again and slumped back into the chair.  "Can't I at least practice making potions or something?  If you're gonna force me to study I should at least test what I've learnt. . ."

Snape still did not look up from his desk, but stopped writing.  He thought to himself for a moment before speaking.  "For once you put forward a good point, however, there is no magic to be used in this house."

Snape continued writing and Harry looked back over the chair again.  "Why?  You never said why."

Again the Professor stopped writing to answer.  ". . .  Magic is easily detected, that's why."

"But you just said. . .  If the Deatheaters already know where we are, but can't enter anyway. . . .???"

"I doubt that they know for certain that we are here."

"What can I do then?"

"Shutting up would be pleasant."

Harry just huffed and glared at him again.

Finally Snape put his quill down and looked up at the boy.  Spending nearly a week confined indoors was enough to make anybody restless and this was clearly the case for the young Gryffindor before him.

Sighing the Professor rose form his desk and headed towards the door.  "Follow me," he called behind him.  Harry made no hesitation to follow.

They walked up two fights of stairs and down a number of corridors.  Harry wondered if the house was actually as big as the distance they had travelled suggested.  ‘Could it be bigger on the inside like the Weasley's tent?'

Eventually the Professor stopped in front of a locked door.

He turned his head to look at Harry as he came to rest next to him, then pulled a rusty old key out of a pocket within his robes and twisted it in the lock.

Pushing the door open with a loud ‘creak,' the Professor stood and gestured for Harry to enter the room first.

Cautiously and curiously Harry stepped forward, poking his head around the door and gasping at the sight before him.

Large vines hung from sturdy branches.  Lushes leaves of all colours, shapes and sizes encased the vast expanse before him and strange plants rested in patches all about the place.

"Where are we?" whispered Harry, awe struck. 

"This is where I grow some of the least harmful plants I use to gather potion ingredients," answered Snape as he handed a list and a book to the boy.

Harry looked you at him questioningly.

"There are gloves and a creel hung behind the door," elaborated the Professor.  "In your hands is a list of ingredients I wish for you to gather.  The book will illustrate any that you are not familiar with."

Harry couldn't help but think he was being dumped with a chore simply so that Snape could get him out of his hair for a couple of hours. . .  He couldn't ignore the excitement building up within him though.

He'd never done any kind of Orienteering before and this. . . this. . . Jungle! Was just begging to be explored!

"You have two hours Potter, and make certain that you do not damage anything while you're in there.  I shall come and check on you later."  So saying, the Professor left the room and closed the door behind him.

True to the Potion Masters words Harry found a pair of thick gloves and a basket hung upon the door.

Placing them upon his form Harry looked down at the first few items on the list.

• 1) Nettles.
• 2) Forsythia
• 3) Blue Phantom Moss

‘Nettles. . . boring. Forsythia. . . boring. . . Hm.  Blue Phantom Moss.'

Harry flipped the book open and browsed the index to find the page he needed.  It read:

           "Blue Phantom Moss - Named for its colour and nature.  This plant can be found in areas lighted by the moon.

Its properties are. . ." 

Harry closed the book and thought to himself.  ‘Moonlight?  Where'm I gonna find. . . .?  How is this place lighted anyway?  There aren't any lamps. . . Huh?  Cool.'

The room seemed to have a roof that was enchanted in a way similar to that of the Great Hall in Hogwarts.  It was odd to look at. . .  Through the trees he could see that the sky/roof?  Was clouded, but different weather forms descended from them.

In some areas the sun shone through, bathing areas in a warm, orangey glow.  Some places had the rain drizzling down on them, and in others snow carpeted the floors and trees.

A fair way into the Professor's strange garden Harry could see the soft, silvery sheen of the moons rays reaching down to touch its own segment of land.

Nodding to himself and placing the book and list into the basket that hung from his shoulder, he set off in the direction he hoped would lead him to his first ingredient.

 - - - - - -

Thoroughly exhausted from his long ‘hunter gatherer mission,' Harry sat down by what seemed to be a small pond to rest.

He spent what must have been a good twenty minutes watching this odd. . . ‘thing' that looked like a cross between a little squid and a frog.  Whatever it was it was slimy, and, gross, and, . . . Pretty awesome to watch actually. . .

When the . . . ‘Sqog,' thing. . . had ended its own forage and disappeared beneath the algae covered water, Harry returned to checking his list.  There where only a few more that he needed to find before he reached the end of it.

• 47) Mermaid fin lily
• 48) Bunnyear cactus needles
• 49) Winter cherry
• 50) Items number 1, 2, 16, 23 and 38 which I am certain that you will have disregarded as ‘normal' or ‘boring' plants, but are still necessary ingredients that I have sent you for!

                  - S.S

Harry snorted at the note before him.  He hated it when the Professor was right, and, since this happened to be one Severus Snape, this was a common event. 

On the other hand. . .  It was sort of humorous and, well, comforting, to have someone know you like that.  Plus, Harry had actually ignored all of the mentioned items and forgotten them as a result. . .

Sighing the boy got up from the rock he had been sitting on and headed off once more into the untamed garden.

Oddly enough it turned out to be much more difficult to find the ‘common' plants than Harry had expected.  In any normal forest, wood or garden a person could easily get sick of the sight of them, but Snape's garden was anything but normal.

Leaning over a raised tree root in order to try and grab a handful of bluebells, Harry managed to land face first in the mud when he leaned too far forward.

Growling to himself he propped himself up on his forearms and wiped as much dirt as he could from his glasses.

It was as he placed his glasses back on that a slight glint caught his eye.

Reaching out he unearthed what seemed to be a locket of some sort.  A very old one by the looks of it. 

Scrapping the dirt out of the clasp, Harry opened it up and looked at the picture within it.  On one side was a youngish woman with long, black hair, heavy set brows and a long pallid face.  The other side held the picture of a much older woman.  The picture had no colour to it, but Harry could tell form them the shadings that she also had very dark hair and eyes, but very light, pale skin.

It was odd to think of Snape having family.  Harry had never heard of the Professor being particularly close to anyone, be it friends or family.  However the resemblance in the pictures where enough to make the boy believe that these where probably the Potion Master's mother and grandmother. . . .

The sound of crunching gravel nearby broke Harry's train of thought and he stuffed the found locket into one of his pockets.

He picked up a handful of bluebells as he rose to his feet then turned to see a black clad figure making its way towards him.

Harry clumsily made his way back to the garden path, getting caught up in various bits of undergrowth as he did so.  Snape caught up with ease and waited for Harry to join him on the clear path before speaking. 

". . . . ."

"What??"

Snape's lips twitched slightly, threatening an expression that rare to his features.  The man forced himself to appear stern, but Harry had a strong feeling that he was being laughed at.

"What?" the boy asked again in indignation.

The Professor cleared his throat before speaking.  "I do believe I told you not to damage anything."

Harry shook his head.  "Why-?  Uh. . .  Never mind. . ."  He just couldn't understand the Potions teacher. . .

Said Potions teacher shook his own head then walked back the way he had come.  Harry followed after removing the last few clinging vines from his arms and ankles.

"Did you collect everything?" the Professor asked.

"Yep," exclaimed Harry proudly.  "I even the ‘normal, boring' ones."

Snape smirked.  "You should not lower the value of things so easily.  The fact that they are common plants does not make them any less useful.  The Nettles in particular are a primary ingredient in a number of medicinal potions.  You would do well to remember that."

"I knew that!" Shot Harry defensively.  He only got a disbelieving snort in response.  "I did!" he repeated.  "And the thing it works best with is a Whirly drop petal!" he added proudly.

Snape fell into silent contemplation for a moment and Harry couldn't help but smile to himself.

‘HA!  That shut you up!  Didn't expect me to actually ‘read' the book you gave me did you?  Just thought I'd look at the pictures and-‘

"What is a counter ingredient for haze grass?" asked the Professor, breaking Harry's triumphant musings.

The smile faded.  "Wh- er, well I, uh. . .  I didn't get to that one. . ."

"Hmm?  Oh.  Then tell me, what predominant effect would I get if I mixed the roots of a Guinnea weed with the stamen from a Husk skinned radish?"

Again, Harry had no answer.  Instead he looked up quietly and growled at the triumphant look now residing in the Professor's eyes.

"I take it that you only bothered to look up the properties of the plants you found interesting.  If I am not mistaken, the ‘Whirly drop petal' was named after the Quidditch move a player was making at the time he fell off his broom and discovered the odd flower," the older man said slyly.

‘Bugger.'

Harry just huffed.  He hated being read so easily. . .  And that look was back!  That weird look that made him feel like the humourless Professor was laughing at him.  Though it felt kinda. . . good!  After being trapped in a dark and shabby old house for several days a good laugh is definitely what he needed, and laugh he did.

After several minutes chuckling to himself Snape looked at him as they walked with a raised eyebrow.  "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," admitted Harry, wiping a tear out of his eye.

"Good, because tomorrow you will be dissecting some of those ingredients and starting your own inventory and summery text."

"What!?"

Again, Snape smirked.  "You will find it useful Mr Potter, believe me."

‘More work. . . goodie!' he grumbled to himself.

   -----------------

‘Emotion. . . no place. . . your world . . . . . . . only purpose . . . . obey!'

‘Sir. . . . Sixty-seven, not. . . responding.'

‘Give. . . . . . respond too!'

Harry's eyes snapped open!  The pain in is arm was back and he felt like he was going to be sick.

". . . .Potter?"

Harry could vaguely recognise the sound of someone talking, but only really heard the voice when it said his name. 

His head shot up and his frantic green eyes met uneasy black ones. 

"Potter?  What is it?"

Harry took deep breaths, trying to get a steady flow of air running through his lungs again.  The pain in his arm was not as strong as last time, but a dull ache still rested there making it uncomfortable to let it go.

He realised that his free hand was shaking and drew it towards him in an effort to calm himself.

For a good few minutes he sat there huddled up.  The panic had ended when he remembered where he was, but he still needed a little while to collect himself and, thankfully, the Professor seemed to recognise that.

"Dream. . ." Harry eventually murmured.

"Like the last one?" questioned Snape.  His tone was soft, but hid any real sign of emotion.

Harry merely nodded then felt the chair cushion dip as the Professor pressed his weight against it to get up from the floor. 

"What's wrong with your arm?" he asked as he noticed the boy rubbing it roughly.

"Hurts. . ." was all Harry cared to say.

The Professor opened his mouth to say something, but thought the better of it and went to a cabinet in silence.

Harry watched him wearily.  It was odd, but these dreams always seemed to rob him of his energy.

In his dreary state the gliding and fluid movements of the Potions Master reminded him of a shadow.  It was a comforting thought somehow. . . 

He had been very young when he had gotten over his fear of the dark.  In the dark it was time to rest.  In the dark he was left alone. . .

Snape returned with a vial in hand.  He put it to Harry and ordered that he drink it.  Too tired to argue Harry did as he was told and wrinkled his nose at the foul taste.

"Ugh!"

Snape smirked half-heartedly.  "It will help."

"Help what?  Kill me?" questioned Harry groggily.

"Your welcome," spoke Snape dryly.  "Now up.  You need rest and I'd rather you didn't attain it by taking up my study and disturbing my work with your annoying, sleep talking!"

Harry would have glared at the Potions teacher, but his eyelids where too tired to focus properly, so he glared at all four of them instead.

"Would you rather I carry you?" the snide voice suggested.

That had the effect of spurring the deep rooted Gryffindor pride into action.  Harry's form stiffened and he forced himself slowly from the chair he had fallen asleep on.

Snape followed him up the stairs, keeping a comfortable distance, but staying close enough to catch the boy should he fall to fatigue. 

At the top of the stairs Harry found that he had to stop in order to catch his breath again before continuing to his room.  He stumbled once, but luckily was able to remain on his feet.  The second time, Snape grabbed his arm to steady him and ended up leading him the rest of the way.

Harry growled to himself.  While it was nice to have Snape help him rather than hinder him it was still a knock to his pride that he should even need that help.  Especially in something so simple as walking.

"Stop berating yourself," Snape growled in turn as if he could read the boys thoughts.  "You are not impervious to human faults and can not live your entire life without accepting some kind of help every now and then."

Harry just nodded sulkily.  He felt like a little kid being taken back to bed after having a ‘bad dream.'

It was nice to lie down among the pillows though. . .  Even if they where brown and lumpy and smelt like century old dust.  He was just happy to close his eyes the second his head hit the pillow. 

The moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the room with its gentle glow.  Through closed eyes Harry could sense a shadow silently gliding about the room. 

It was comforting, having that presence there.  That strong presence that willed him no real harm, but seemed to radiate a strong, yet subtle, kind of power.

He could never describe the Potions Master as a particularly gentle or kind person.  He was neither a friendly or soft kind of man, but he did have an air about him.  One that demanded respect and boasted a rare mixture of strength and intellect.

Also, Harry thought with a smile coming to his lips as sleep began to claim him, more and more he was beginning to recognise a certain level of warmth about the man.  A warmth that was hidden by sheets of ice and coldness, but was definitely there, showing through when the cold became too much to handle.

"Gross!!"

The boy jumped backwards, dropping the scalpel from his hand and looking down sulkily at the puss-like goo now christening his robes.

"Potter!" a sharp voice snapped.  "Careful with those instruments!"

"Sorry sir. . ." Harry grumbled.

For the past two days Snape had set Harry the task of dissecting, studying and summarising the plants he had retrieved from the strange garden.

This wouldn't have been so bad if -

"I HATE STUDYING!"

Snape slammed his own quill down.  "That's it!  I have had enough of your incessant whining!  With such a weak attention span it is no wonder that you are heading to fail most of your exams!"

"I don't care about exams!  I care about what's happening outside and I care about not being stuck indoors with you!"

Snape sat back in his seat and sneered at the boy before him.  "I see we can agree on one point at least."

Harry slammed himself down in a nearby chair. 

This was getting ridiculous!  They had been trapped in this stuffy, dark and musty old house for over a week and it was straining on the nerves of both wizards. 

He knew somewhere inside of him that it was unfair to take his frustration out on Snape, but he was the only other person he had to talk too, and wasn't exactly helping Harry's mood in any way either. . .

"Sorry. . ." mumbled Harry half-heartedly.

Snape grunted in response. 

"Can't we leave yet??"

"Not until we receive word from the Headmaster."

Snape's tone was neutral, but Harry could tell that the older man was tired of being stuck there too.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?"

The professor considered the question for a moment before answering.  "The Deatheaters where fended off, but it has not yet been discovered how they managed to bypass the wards in the first place.  Hence, why we are here rather than there."

Harry stared at the professor.  It was indeed worrying to hear that piece of news.

"Then what-!?"

"The Headmaster will have the safety and security of Hogwarts and its students in the forefront of his mind Potter, do not concern yourself with it."

"How can I not worry?  Hogwarts- Hogwarts is. . ."

Snape did not reply, but seemed to understand what Harry was trying to say.

He supposed that the Professor too regarded the school as a ‘home.'  He reckoned that most people did.  Especially those who didn't have much of a real home. . . .  Which brought up another curious thought. . .

"Professor?  Who made the garden?"

It was an innocent question, but the Potions Master seemed to freeze for a moment before fixing the boy with a hard glare.

"And why, Mr Potter, would you care about such a thing?"

Harry was taken back by the reaction.  Snape had been tough on him for the past few weeks, but hadn't held genuine threat in his words for some time now. 

"I- uh, just wondered, that's all. . ." he stated truthfully.  "I, er, kinda liked it. . ."

Snape regarded him for a while longer before his shoulders loosened, but only a fraction.

"It belongs to my family and has done for a number of generations now," he stated simply.

His curiosity had not been quenched, but Harry caught the hint that this wasn't a subject to be breached.

Sighing to himself he sunk back into the chair.

"Don't you have work to be doing?" dry tones asked him.

Harry groaned.  "I've studied all day!  Plus, I'm hungry."

The boy's stomach growled in agreement and Snape shook his head and muttered something to himself.

Abandoning his own work the Professor stood and headed towards the door, fixing Harry with a look on his way.

"I expect you to have completed your synopsis of whichever plant you have made a mess of and cleaned up by the time I get back."

"Where are you going?"

Snape raised an eyebrow.  "To make supper."

Harry sat in the chair for a couple more seconds before getting up himself.

‘Snape, cooking.  Snape doing any kind of housework. . .  That's just weird. . .'

  ------------------

The warm soup trickled down his throat, warming him and filling his empty stomach.

Harry sighed in contentment. 

"Nice.  But why soup again?"

Snape fixed him with a look.  "Because it's all that was left."

That sounded like a problem.

"What? But-"

This time he got the ‘don't be so stupid' look from the Professor and instantly regretted his reaction.  Of course Dumbledore wouldn't let them starve.

"I have already alerted the Headmaster to the situation Potter," said Snape as he took a spoonful of his own soup.  "Tomorrow I will be leaving for a few hours in order to meet and catch up with him -no you can't come- I will pick up some supplies then -no I know it isn't fair. Tuff- and will return before the day is out -If you keep looking at me like that I will abandon you here."

Harry huffed.  He never got to do anything!

‘It's okay.  I don't mind sitting in this rotten house day in and day out with no magic and no owls!  You go out and have fun while I just wait here for Voldemort to come and get me!  It's not like my life is in danger or anything!  It has nothing to do with me has I-'

"POTTER!"

Harry jumped.  How could Snape do that!?  It was like the man could read his mind or somethin- !!

"Occlucy!" Harry suddenly declared.

"What?" asked Snape in exasperation.  

"Th- that Occlu- thingy! You're using it on me aren't you!"

The Potions Master rolled his eyes.  "Occlumency, Potter.  And no, I am not using it on you.  For one Occlumency is not the process of entering someone's mind, and secondly I can not see as I would find anything of real value or interest if I ever did decide to enter yours."

"Liar."

"What!?"

"You can tell what I'm thinking far too often," concluded Harry.

Snape's face twisted into what might have been a smile if the man didn't look so annoyed. 

"You are predictable.  That's how I always know," he clarified.

Harry huffed and the two continued eating in silence.

The rain was beating hard against the windows by the time they had finished eating and the distant sound of thunder rolled as the windows flashed with the bursts of light from the sky.

Harry shuddered and curled up on the large armchair.  Snape said nothing, but. . .

"You okay?" questioned Harry.

"Why would you ask?" returned Snape in plain tones.

"Just. .  y'know, wondered."

"I'm fine," finished the Potions Master, but to Harry the older man definitely seemed unsettled. . .

In turn this only succeeded in encouraging the boy's own nerves.  He had never seen restlessness in this man before and the fact that he should witness such emotions now, even on an incredibly low scale, shook up the doubts and fears he'd harboured since they arrived at that house.

"Um, d-do you think we're. . . you know, ‘okay' here?  I mean. . . There aren't any, like, Dementors. . . or anything?"

"Again with the Dementors.  No, Potter.  They cannot get inside these walls."

"B-but they got inside of-!! AGH!"

A huge crash of thunder roared over the house making Harry, and probably Snape, jump. 

The boy pealed his fingertips from the arms of the chair and looked at the Professor in the opposite chair before laughing out loud.

‘This is ridiculous.  It's only a bit of rain and thunder.  There's nothing scary about that.'

Snape just stared at the boy as if he had gone mad.  "Potter, what on earth-?"

Harry couldn't stop laughing.  "I j-just, heh.  I-it's funny.  We're stuck here w-with, the most powerful dark wizard looking to kill us off, a-and, ha-ha, we're being creeped out by a thunder storm! Hahaha."

Snape smirked, but said nothing other than, "Perhaps.  More importantly, however, I believe it would be time for you to take yourself off to bed."

"What!?  But I'm not tired!" said Harry through a yawn.

"Then lay awake.  Either way, bed."

Harry grumbled on his way upstairs about ‘grumpy Slytherins' and ‘who did Snape think he was,' but did as he was told.  It had proved to be far too much hassle to argue with the Potions Master about such things, especially when said Potions Master always won said arguments one way or another. . .

 -----------

Running. . . .  Running as fast as his legs could carry him, and faster still!

Teeth, sharp and deadly. . .

A bone chilling ROAR!!!!!

The sound of thunder echoed in the dark sky.

Harry sat bolt upright and breathed deeply.

He listened with all the heightened instincts of a frightened animal, frozen to the spot as he heard footsteps falling nearer and nearer.

The doorknob turned and the door opened a sliver.

Harry dipped his head, but watched the door unblinkingly. 

A shadow formed in the gap between the door and the rotting walls and a familiar voice sounded.

"Potter, what are you doing in there?"

Harry did not answer and did not avert his gaze.  He knew that voice, but his thoughts where, disorientated. . . .

With the lack of a reply the door opened further and the shadow grew bigger until a solid form emerged within the room.

"I do not take great pleasure in being ignored, what are you do-?  . . .  Why are you looking at me like that?"

Harry cocked his head to the side and regarded the form curiously.  He knew this form, but what was it. . .?

The form stepped forward and Harry jumped backwards on the bed.  He recognised the form, but he did not know enough about it to let it approach just yet.

The form lowered its hand and looked back at him curiously.

"Mr Potter, what is wrong with you?"

Potter. . .  That title was familiar too. . .

The boy mouthed the word quietly as if it where alien to his lips.

"POTTER! Snap out of it!  Who are you?  Tell me your name," the form demanded.

An order.  An order was recognisable.  The form must be a Greater.  The Greater's must always be obeyed.  But. . . name. . . ?

Again, Harry mouthed the word in silent confusion.

"Yes, your name.  What is your name?"

Name. . .  My. . . name?  My name??  My name. . .  My name is. . .

"Harry. . .  My name is. . . Harry. . .  My name is Harry!"

Reality struck as quickly and as harshly as the lightning outside.

"Professor!"

The Professor made his way over to the bed now that the boy was less likely to jump out of the window at his approach.

"This is enough!" muttered Snape.  "When I see the Headmaster later today I will be finding a way to put a stop to all of this!"

"Wh-what's happening?" breathed Harry.

Snape remained quiet for a while before finally admitting, "I don't know."

Harry swallowed and his breathing quickened, but he remained silent.

"I will find a way to end this," Snape stated. 

It sounded like a promise and only added to the boy's confusion. 

"Why?" he whispered as firm hands pushed him to lie down again.

". . . So that I may get one night of blasted peace," answered Snape.

The boy smiled to himself.  "You never say what you're thinking. . ."

The Potions Master glared at him.  "I mean exactly what I say Mr Potter."

"But you don't say what you mean. . ." countered Harry drowsily.

The Professor maintained a stern look, but apparently the upside to being in his weakened state was that a stern look was as far as Snape seemed willing to go. 

In other words, he didn't get told off.

"Go to sleep you insufferable brat."

Harry sunk into the pillow and took a steadying breath.  His anxiety diminished slightly as Snape made no motion to leave, but instead pulled up a chair to sit in.

"You're not leaving?" questioned Harry.  He did not wish to be left alone, but he had not expected the Professor to stay with him.

Snape just grunted as if annoyed.  "You would only disturb me again.  I will be leaving in a few hours anyway."

"What?" asked Harry in alarm.  He defiantly did not wish to be left in the house alone!  And what did he mean, ‘a few hours?'

"It is early morning Potter.  I must meet with the Headmaster later today."  At the boy's anxious look he added irritably, "It will be for a short time.  You will be safe here, providing that you follow the guidelines I set for you."

The boy did not look comforted by the notion and Snape sighed.  "Go to sleep.  You can worry about this when you wake up."

Harry did not know how long he lay staring at the ceiling listening to the Professor's silent presence, but eventually he fell into a peaceful sleep.  

  ---------------

"You will not use magic.  You will not leave the house.  You will not stray from or roam the house, but remain within the three rooms I have already designated.  Do not open any windows, doors or answer any calls from the floo network."

Harry sat on the dust old chair as Snape listed off one rule after another.  If all this was meant to make the boy feel secure, it was failing in its task miserable.  Harry felt more like a prisoner awaiting the arrival of a nameless executioner. . .

"I will return before the lunch hour is over. Potter! Pay, attention!  You have more than enough work to keep you occupied until then, so if I do come back to find you strutting around this house as you do at Hogwarts, Deatheaters will be the very least of your worries."

Harry nodded in understanding.

‘Though technically you were a Deatheater so-‘

"If you need to contact me I hope you at least know how to use a phone," continued Snape as he headed for his desk.

‘A phone??  No flying monkeys?  No, interdimentional warp hole?'

"There is a direct link to me so there is no number to dial."

His hand came to rest next to an empty milk carton as he turned back to face a miserable looking Harry.  "Any questions? No you can't come."

Harry huffed.  "Then no.  No questions.  Oh, except, what if Voldemort shows up and he and his mates decide to throw a wild party with me as the piñata?"

Snape smirked meanly.  "Offer them tea."  So saying the Potions Master grasped the milk carton and was instantly transported to who knows where.

"Except I'm not even ‘permitted' into the kitchen!" Harry grumbled to the empty room.      

The urge to immediately step outside the room in an act to prove that Snape was being paranoid or mean was just as quickly overruled by the thought of, what if Snape wasn't being paranoid or mean and something violent would jump him the second he did leave. 

Knowing Snape the man had probably set something up to keep Harry from wondering anyway. . .

Sighing in resignation Harry lifted himself from the creaky armchair and picked up his note book only to sit back down and begin writing. 

Well. . . actually his ‘note book' was a kind of journal. . .

Snape had made it clear that Harry should start writing down his daily events.  It served as a cross between a revision guide/reference book as he could look back on things and see what he was thinking around the time he found a certain ingredient or spell or recipe. . .

On the other hand it also helped him to keep track of the strange dreams he kept having.  Both the ones that where clearly related to Voldemort and the new ones that, well. . . Whatever they where. . . 

Providing that he remembered them that is. . .

   ---------------

The hours past and Harry stomach signalled that it was lunch time while his mind signalled that he was bored. . .  Very bored. . .

Dropping the severed plant leaves into the examining dish with a huff he flopped into the chair behind him. 

Without much purpose he reached for his quill and scribbled over some of the lines of the various doodles and pictures he had drawn throughout the pages of his ‘note book.'

He had taken to drawing a few things here and there.  First they started off as little doodles to help him remember what something looked like, then he got bored, and now it had become almost a part of his daily entry to add a picture or two to every page.

It was difficult to draw people though. . .  So he had resorted to drawing ‘characters' to represent people. 

He was a lion, to signify Gryffindor.  Ron was a lion too, with an orange mane.  Hermione was a cat. . . 

Snape was a bat at first, but that took too long to draw so he became a snake instead. . . .

That was as far as he'd got really. . .  There weren't many people to write about at the moment.  Quite sad really. . .

A loud crash outside made Harry jump!

Swearing to himself he shakily picked up the ink pot and wiped his hands on a nearby rag.

His eyes darted about the room as he made sure that it was still safe to be there.

More sounds where heard from outside and Harry crept his slowly to the window, keeping himself low to the ground. . .

There was definitely some kind of heated argument going on out there.

He peered over the window ledge and struggled to see through the dirty glass.  He could make out two figures in the musty street before him, mere yards away from the house.  Both seemed to be clad in black robes.

Harry could feel himself shivering.  He wanted to be back at Hogwarts.  He wanted Sirius to be with him. Hell!  He wanted anything but to be in this situation right now!

He couldn't make out the words shared between the two, but he knew that they weren't friendly ones. 

Shifting his head slightly and using the moth-eaten curtains as a kind of shelter from view, Harry looked through one of the cleaner parts of the window and his heart froze with dread.

He could not see the faces of either man, but one was most certainly a Deatheater with the black robes, skeletal mask and wand raised. 

The other. . .  Shoulder length black hair, black cloak and lofty attitude. . .  It was Snape!

To Harry's increasing horror he could see that the Deatheater was the only one with his wand raised, and Snape looked to be in no state to be fighting back. . .

The man's head was held high in defiance, but his body sagged as if his shoulders where too heavy for his legs to carry, and he was gripping what looked to be a severe gash in his wand arm.

Harry panicked.  They must have been alerted by the Portkey magic!  Snape was probably on his way back as they caught him!

Without a second thought about what he was about to do, Harry was tearing through the house heading for the front door.

Ripping the door open he was just in time to see the dark haired being thrown to the floor by a binding curse.

‘No. . .  NO!!!'

Harry rushed forward.  The Deatheater noticed him, but not in time to prepare himself for Harry tackling him to the ground.

In a frenzied panic Harry threw punch after punch at the screaming figure below him. 

The end of the pained grunts and groans of the Deatheater told Harry that the man had passed out and left the boy sitting there breathing in ragged breaths.

"Are you alright Professor?" he panted.

"Never better."

The voice was chilling and Harry's breathing once again froze within his chest as he looked over to the man now kneeling, completely free from the curse and staring back at the boy unpleasantly.

Harry knew his mistake as he looked into the cold eyes of the man before him.

"No. . . ."

The talk with Dumbledore had not gone amazingly well.  It was, sufficient, however. . .

It still had not been discovered how the Death Eaters had bypassed the wards at Hogwarts and, as such, the school would remain closed until the Headmaster deemed it safe.

It was also clear that both Harry and Snape where still required to remain in hiding until the school was re-opened. 

In brighter news (‘brighter' depending on the individual's point of view in Snape's opinion) a new headquarters had been established for the Order of the Phoenix and the Headmaster had finally settled on a decision of what must be done.

It was the safest option to keep up the blood protection charm that Harry benefited from by returning to the Dursley's.

This is where the individual point of view bit came in . . .

Reaffirming his disapproval of sending the boy there alone earned Snape a ‘sleep over.'  Just to ‘keep an eye on things and see if he could make sense of anything' by residing in the Dursley household for a number of days.

He had absolutely no desire for this day to arrive and highly doubted that the Potter brat would be grateful for his sacrifice either . . .

Secondly, the ‘New HQ' was the home of that infernal mutt!  It also happened to be the ‘safest place' for the three wizards to take refuge for the time being.  The length of that time being a little sketchy in the Headmaster's details.

Snape sighed to himself. 

He had already decided to tell the boy about their return to Privet Drive first.  No doubt that if he mentioned Black and his blasted house too early the brat would demand to go straight there and make life difficult for the Potions Master.

The cobbled streets were still damp from the storm that had rolled by the previous night.  The air was damp and the dilapidated buildings around the dark clad man were as dank and dreary as ever. 

Still . . . an unnatural stillness in the atmosphere caused the man to quicken his step.  A deep instinct within him told him that something was wrong. . .

A loud crash in the distance halted him for a brief second before he broke into a run. 

‘Potter!  If you are in the middle of this!!  What am I saying?  Of COURSE you're in the middle of it!'

Panting the Professor slowed at the top of Spinners End.  The noises had died down.  That either meant something good or really, really bad.  Knowing his luck and the probable involvement of the Potter boy- !!

A black Range Rover sped down the old streets.  Snape leapt aside to keep from being knocked down.

Alarm bells rang in his head as he whipped out his wand and aimed it at the Rover.  His aim was well made, however the vehicle was faster. 

Breaking into another sprint he chased the Rover around the corner and down the next street.  Another curse was sent its way by his own hand but he knew before he cast it that the car was too far away to be hit. . .

Chasing the vehicle any further was a futile effort. . .  The car was too fast and he was too tired to run any more.

With growing frustration, anger and worry the Professor turned back to the house.  The only thing left for him was to hope. . .

 ------------

"So a second party is out for the Boy-who-lived, eh?"

"So it would seem, Alistair . . ."

"Headmaster . . ."

"Severus, I know you did what you could . . .  What matters now is that we do everything in our power to locate and rescue the boy."

"And how do you suppose we do that Albus?  The Death Eater we interrogated knows nothing!  Useless son of a-"

"I think I may be able to help Headmaster . . ."

"Severus?"

"Heh, don't tell me.  You're workin' as an agent between us and this enemy as well eh?"

"Alistair I have told you time and time again-"

"We all make mistakes Albus."

"Headmaster, I don't know where they have taken Mr Potter . . .  but I believe I may be able to find out."

"By asking your little friends in the death chambers is it?"

". . ."

"Severus, please see what you can find."

"Yes Headmaster."

"Bah. . ."

  ---------hp---------

A groan from his own lips was his first distinguishable sound.

The air was thick and carried a rancid smell.  The atmosphere was heavy and the unnatural silence was suffocating.

A slick, sticky substance covered the ground beneath his fingers.  It was cold and was an unsettling sensation to the slowly awakening figure.

Cautiously he opened his eyes and took a moment to focus on his surroundings.

As the second realisation hit him he wished he'd never opened his eyes at all. 

His stomach convulsed and his head span sending his eyes out of focus again. 

The second he saw the room around him the whole world stopped.  The fact that he could not remember anything previously became irrelevant.  He was back.  Back to this dreaded place.

The still figures around him couldn't help him.  They only stared at the ceiling motionlessly or stared at nothing at all. . . . .

The only hope he had was to be rescued by either a person or death himself. . .

  ------ss-------

The black hems of his cloak dusted the floor as he strode purposefully down the dark corridors.

The din around a long kitchen table was sent into an immediate hush and several questioning faces turned towards him as he strode in and across the room but he ignored them all.

"Severus?"

"I have found them Headmaster."

  -----hp-------

How much time had passed?  Weeks?  Months?  Years??

It didn't matter.  Nothing mattered anymore. . .

The chains around his wrists and neck dug painfully into his flesh.  It didn't matter.

His stomach growled with desperate hunger.  It didn't matter. . .

His entire body racked pain.  His bones ached and groaned with unnatural strains.    It didn't matter. . .          

He was more tired than he could ever remember being before in his life but the screams and shouts around him discouraged any sleep.  It didn't matter. . .

The only thing he hoped for was to avoid any form of contact.  He wanted to be left alone.  He wanted to be forgotten, and he wanted to remain curled up in a quiet ball until blissful nothingness took control of his senses. 

  ----ss-ab-sb------

"Grrrrr!"

"Quiet you worthless mongrel, or would you rather we give ourselves away now and save ourselves from the tedious task of pulling Mr Potter out of harms way, again?"

"Grrrrrrr!"

"That is enough!  Sirius I allowed for you to come on this mission on the understanding that you and Severus would place our objective above your petty differences."

The dog whined but cast a withering look at the black haired man before falling silent.

"So what is our plan?" asked the dark haired man.

"A simple charm will help us to pass most of the alarms and surveillance devices, however. . ."

A questioning whine from the bear sized black dog prompted the Headmaster to continue.

"I have never encountered such a thing before, but. . .  It would seem that there is something absorbing all the magic in the area. . ."

"What?"

"I must caution you both to be on your constant guard.  We must find Harry and leave as swiftly as we can."

"Yes Headmaster."

A whine that translated as ‘yes.'

The three figures walked through the door to the building.  The guards where already unconscious, courtesy of the old Headmaster and the security system had been bypassed, magically, of course. 

The outside of the old building had looked like nothing more than a dilapidated outhouse but metal steps led down, and down, and down, and down. . .

Deep beneath the land's surface lay something most people would never even dream about.  The solid walls where white and metallic tiles gave the impression of mirrors lining the floors.

The large empty corridors stretched out and crisscrossed like a giant, man-made bee hive and were unnaturally quiet.

"Perhaps a division of parties?" suggested Snape.

The Headmaster thought on it for a moment, sighing at the ill looks shared between the black haired wizard and the big black dog before speaking.

"I do not find splitting up to be the safest strategy, but in this instance I believe it may be for the best.  Very well Severus, you take the left route and I shall accompany Sirius down the right.  If we should fall into any kind of trouble fall back immediately and send out a signal."

"Yes Headmaster."

"Yawl."

 ------hp-------

Voices in the distance stirred a slight curiosity within him.  It was strange. . .

Mostly he just tried to ignore the voices around him but these voices. . .  They seemed . . . familiar. . .

They where calling something . . .  Something that also seemed familiar . . .  It did not matter though . . .  Nothing mattered anymore . . .  They were here.

 ------ss------

The blank corridors seemed to stretch on forever. 

It was eerily quiet.  No one prowled the area seeking out intruders.  No one rushed through the various doors or rooms going about their work.  No one cleaned. . .

This alone put the ex-Death Eater on his guard.  When it was quiet enough to hear your own heart thumping wildly against your chest you where in a dangerous position.

The only conclusions he could form to answer for the lack of security was that their opponents already knew about their intruders or . . . that the area did not need security. . .

Another hex took out another surveillance camera.  Or rather, hid him from its detection.  Destroying the devices or causing a large number of them to fail would draw attention and if he did have any element of surprise he did not want to jeopardize it.

The end of another corridor offered some sort of an advance. 

The interiors seemed to get darker and not just progressively so.  There was a definite line between the clean, pristine white ‘hospital' area and the dirty, worn and heavy ‘prison' area.

Snape swallowed.  The place looked wretched and he spent his life in a castle dungeon!

Cautiously he began his passage down the new area of the building, wand poised and ready.

With all the stillness and silence of a shadow he crept up to the first door where a small hatch opened up to show its contents.

Obsidian eyes peered in and widened at the sight that greeted them. 

He took a number of steps back in horror, forgetting his surroundings for the fatal millisecond needed for an unknown force to bring him too his knees. 

A reflection on the floors looked emotionlessly at him as his vision blurred and darkened and his body fell forwards.

  ------ab-sb-------

"Bark!"

"What is it?"

The large dog scraped its claws futilely at one of the thick metal doors.

It growled deep in its throat before transforming back into a man.

"It's no use," spat Sirius in frustration.  "I can't smell him any where!"

"Calm yourself," encouraged the Headmaster.  "We will find him Sirius.  Now take a deep breath and concentrate.  What can you sense?  If your nose can't help you we shall simply find another way of finding him."

Sirius took several breaths, his hands flexing as he paced the dank corridor.  "I'll tear apart every inch of this place if I have to!"

"Sirius. . ."

Stopping in his tracks the canine man looked sorrowfully at the old wizard.

"Harry is waiting for us, let's not keep him waiting while we worry."

Sirius nodded.  "You're right. . .  You're right."  Another deep breath and then he opened his eyes staring heatedly at the metal door before them.  "Through there.  I dread to think what it is, but it's the only smell I can pick up in this area."

Dumbledore nodded then brought up his wand.  A flick of the wrist sent a wave of light into the digital lock on the door.  The lock beeped and clicked, allowing access to the two. 

"Shall we?"

  ------ss-------

A sharp ache indicated that he had been struck across the head.  A blow to the head meant that he had been caught by the enemy.

As such the Potions Master did not immediately open his eyes, preferring to explore his surroundings with his other senses before having to confront anything or anyone.

Cold bands about his wrists, so he was bound.

The air was fresh and the floor felt cold and clean, so he was likely being held somewhere in the clean areas that he had travelled down earlier.

There where no voices, but the sound of footsteps and breathing a short way away from him, so he was not alone.

His blind analysis of his surroundings only got so far before he was addressed.

"I was surprised to see you.  I found it highly peculiar that you would chase us here.  I will take your actions as confirmation that the boy truly is this ‘boy-who-lived.'  Very interesting."

The Professor froze, still refusing to open his eyes.

Footsteps approached him, stopping mere inches away from the wizard.

"What is this boy worth to you, Severus?"

 -------ab-sb---------

The smell was offensive to man's senses.  So much so that Sirius had reverted back into his human form permanently in an effort to keep himself from being sick.

"I would sooner make Azkaban a permanent residence!"

The aged wizard said nothing in response.  He had been quiet for a while now. . .

Sirius understood completely.  The situation was far more desperate than they had realised.  Members of the Order where ready to support them at any given moment, but none of them had expected to find what they had. . .

Blood painted the walls and rooms they had passed gave evidence of events that could send a person mad with grief and horror. . .

Harry had to be found!

  -------ss-----------

"W-what are you doing?" breathed the dark haired wizard. 

A life time had taught him to hold his emotions tight and to give little away, but his ability to do such a thing was being severely tested.

"Correcting what must be corrected," the room's other occupant stated. 

Even in his current state it seemed that the Professor was not failed by his trademark sneer.

"You stand in a place like this and speak of things that need correcting?   You never did have a clue did yo-"

A raised hand caused the Potions Master to flinch on instinct.  He opened an eye warily when the blow never came.

Instead he found the hand meant for him held in the air as its owner studied him thoughtfully.

Slowly the hand was lowered and without expression the man walked over to a computer console.

Several TV monitors filled one of the walls.  Images of the premises flicked between the screens before blinking into one large image shared between the screens.

"Would you care to observe the subject's progress?"

Snape looked between the man and the screens, his brows furrowed.  He knew this was not going to be good but he needed to know what was happening.

A single vision appeared on the screens.  It took a moment for the Professor to make out what the picture was showing him but when he did him mouth opened in disgust.

(!!!!!)

Bodies.  As far as the eyes could see.  Mutilated forms lay abandoned and abused, blood flooding the room.

Cracked bone and rotting flesh dominated the area and huge gashes could be seen in all places; in the walls, on the floors -what little floor there was to be seen!- and along the corpses.

Snape could imagine that the room smelt rancid.  That the smell was suffocating. 

He was about to turn his head in disgust when another image caught his attention and made his stomach convulse.

(!!!!!!)

Sat motionless in a corner was a figure he knew, the very reason he and the Order was there in the first place.  Harry. . .

The boy did not move.  His hands were chained to his neck and there was barely an inch of space in which to move without coming into contact with one of his lifeless cell mates.

"What!?-"

"Marvellous, isn't it?"

"Disgustingly foul is more like it!"

The man chortled to himself humourlessly.  "I did not expect for you to hold a positive outlook on my work, only for you to understand."

This room, the ‘Red Room,' is but one of our many training facilities. 

It did not need any more explanation than that.  The Potions Master understood fully. 

The man wanted to create an army, but not just an average army. . .  This army would be made up of trained killers. . .  ‘Weapons' to be used when and how its masters saw fit.

Of course the whole point of these ‘training rooms' was to destroy a person's soul.  Break them apart and leave an empty shell to be filled with whatever the master needed.

It would seem that the Red Room was a room of death.  Snape surmised that when a person -person being ‘child!'- they would be so used to death that it would cease to have any meaning.

The person would kill without remorse. . .  Without feeling.

Without feeling. . .

Snape closed his eyes.

‘Close off all emotion.' 

Those simple, thoughtless words had opened a door into Harry's memories of a past spent here.  Here!  How long had the boy been trapped in this place?  And why did he seem unaffected by his experiences at the start of each year of Hogwarts?

"What have you done to him?"

"Fixed him."

"You sick-!" Snape began, but there wasn't a strong enough word that sprang to mind.

The man laughed bitterly to himself.  "I did not expect you to hold a positive outlook on my work.  I expect nothing from you but further disappointment!"

  -------ab-sb---------

"There!! Oh no- HARRY!!!!" Sirius beat his fists frantically against the heavy door. 

He could see his Godson through the filthy bars and the sight was enough to have him attempting to tear down the door with his bare hands.

"Sirius! Calm yourself! We must-"

The Headmaster's words where lost in Sirius's desperate cries.  Tears came to his eyes in a mixture of anger and sorrow.  Blood began to run down his hands at the constant barrage of the cell door.

He desperately called the boy's name over and over again but received not the slightest response from the hunched up figure. . .

Transforming into a dog he began to claw at the ground, blood now mottling with fur.  He scratched and bit until his mouth bled and not for a second did he hesitate in his wild attempt to reach his Godchild.

"That is enough!"

With a flash of light the dog fell motionlessly to the ground.

"You will only succeed in damaging yourself Sirius and then who will be there to look after the boy!?"

The dog remained motionless but the violent aura seemed to dissipate while a heavily sorrowful one took its place.

A wave of a wand freed the dog from its bonds and it lay still on the ground of its own accord, looking up earnestly at the wizard before him.

Dumbledore nodded sombrely and turned his attention to the door before him.

He drew his wand arm back and threw a spell at the metallic barrier.

Nothing. . .

Smoke cleared and there, in the door way, the door still stood. . .

With confusion and mounting dread the Headmaster raised his wand again and threw another spell at the door.

Again, nothing. . .

Again, again and again and still nothing!

By this point the man was stood where the dog had lay with his own wand poised.

With a mighty effort the two lifted their wands and threw the strongest of their spells at the heavy framed door, only to find that the hinges where not even strained. . .

Sirius was about to move forward in another frustrated assault but an old hand held him back.

The Headmaster studied the door for a moment before stepping back and shaking his head.

"There is a strong field around this portal."

"A shield?  We can break it!" stated Sirius fiercely.

"No. . ." the Headmaster responded sadly.  "This field absorbs magic.  The stronger our attacks the stronger its defence becomes. . .  I do not know how they have done it but. . ."

"THERE HAS TO BE A WAY!" roared Sirius.

"I am thinking, Sirius."

"Dumbledore. . ."

Sirius spoke with a sudden calmness that worried even the Headmaster. 

Following the younger wizard's gaze he could see movement within the room. 

Harry was being lifted by two large men and led roughly out of the room and out of sight.

"No. . ." breathed Sirius.  "NO!!!"

Once again he hammered at the door shouting through to the people on the other side.

"HARRY!!  DON'T YOU DARE LAY A FINGER ON HIM!!  Snap out of it! Harry. . .  HARRY!!!!!!!"      

 ------hp----------

Moving again. . .  Maybe this time he would be fed?

Voices in the distance stirred a slight curiosity within him.  It was strange. . .

Mostly he just tried to ignore the voices around him, but these voices. . .  They seemed . . . familiar. . .

They where calling something. . .  Something that also seemed familiar. . .  It did not matter though. . . 

Nothing mattered anymore. . . 

They where here.

An engine purred and the world outside began to pass by the one-way windows.

Struggling against the chains that bound him quickly proved futile and despair started to creep up on him. He couldn't reach his wand and without it there was nothing he could do to free himself.

He gritted his teeth as a cold chuckle sounded from a seat opposite him in the back of whatever vehicle he had been thrown into.

"I find it to be a grave stretch of naivety to believe that you would consider shedding any light onto what our destination is to be."

The figure nodded. "Yes, it would."

Again he grit his teeth. "The boy?"

"Quite safe," spoke the figure with an unsettling smile.

"Safe!? I highly doubt it," he spat.

The figure leaned in dangerously and growled at him. "I do not recall a time when it became acceptable for you to speak to me in such a manner Severus."

Severus fell silent. He hated it, but what else was there to do?

---------ad-sb--------

"Calm down Sirius."

The large black dog glared heatedly at the elderly wizard and showed no signs of slowing its step as it paced the cold floor of Grimmald Place.

"We will find Harry, but to do so, we must settle ourselves and think this through thoroughly," the Headmaster tried again.

The dog growled deep in its throat and stood on its hind legs, growing in size as it did so.

"We don't even know where to begin looking!" declared the dog-turned-human Sirius.

Anxiety and desperation shone clearly in his eyes and the Headmaster had to take a moment to settle his own fears before continuing.

"You suggest that we give up then?"

"NO!" cried Sirius, as if the very suggestion was an insult. "I will tear down every building in London if I have to! I will not rest until Harry is safe!"

Despite the bleakness of their situation the Headmaster could not help but sound a faint chuckle. Knowledge could always be found by those who took the time to look and learn and, as demonstrated by the man before him, once the necessary knowledge was attained, there was very little on this earth that would prevent them from using it to set things to rights.

------hp----

Movement. . . They were moving. . . . That was odd. It was rare indeed that they ever left the ‘Environment'.

He sniffed the air. It was fresh . . . no blood. There was metal, the smell of gunpowder and a few life forms though - mostly from the Environment . . . and one . . .

The boy cocked his head to the side in confusion and sniffed again. A familiar scent, but he could not quite place it. . . It was definitely a life form, but not from the Environment . . . was the form responsible for them being ‘out?'

The world passed by his window and the boy looked out into it. A sense of want washed through him and his muscles flexed beneath his binds. He wanted to be out . . . wanted to smell the air outside the transport and stretch his legs . . . best to remain still though. The Greaters did not like for ‘it' to act of its own accord.

-------ad-sb-rl------

"Albus!"

"Ah Remus, what can I do fo-"

"The Death Eaters are on the move!"

"What!? Where?"

"Calm yourself Sirius. Remus, please tell me everything you know."

------- ss----------

A sharp jolt broke him out of his thoughts.

"Why have we stopped?"

The figure opposite him did not answer but instead looked out of the window then quickly signalled to the driver and other passenger.

Severus felt his annoyance growing. Being ignored was not something he tolerated often.

"Why have we-" he began again but was silenced with a look.

"More of your friends perhaps? You cannot seriously believe that we would be unprepared? Why on earth would I allow for you to keep your wand if I believed you to be a threat?"

This only confused the Potions Master further. Friends? Had the Headmaster caught up to them already? He hoped so . . . but what was that other remark about? It disturbed the man, more so because he himself had pondered why a man who knew what he was capable of with a wand would allow him to keep it.

The engine stopped and the very air seemed to still as a voice spoke to whoever may be listening.

"We are here for Harry Potter. Give him to us now and we may consider allowing you to go on living."

Severus froze.

They were not ‘friends.'

"Move," he uttered.

"What?" snapped the other man.

"Start the engine and move. Quickly!"

"I do not take orders from you!" spat the man. "And here you will learn just how serious I am about bringing you and your world into line!"

The Professor just stared at the man in horrified disbelief. He was not seriously planning to fight the Death Eaters!? He would get them all killed before he could even open the car door!

Leaning over to the driver the man took hold of a small black box with a wire stretching from one end of it.

Pressing one of the buttons he spoke confidently into it, his voice carrying into the air by whatever muggle means Severus didn't care to look into.

"I must apologise, gentlemen. At this time I am unable to give you that which you ask for, but I assure you . . . You shall receive him when he is ready."

The man expressed an odd smile that disturbed the Potions Master no end. There was a meaning in that line and he dreaded to think that he might have a slight understanding of what it was.

"Allow me to offer you something else for your trouble," the man continued. "Think of it as small greeting."

With that the man handed the small box back to the driver and pressed another button that revealed a console and screen within the back of the seats. He tapped away and the men within the vehicle (and all the others the Professor assumed) began to move out.

It was difficult to see from his position on the floor but a number of men that looked like soldiers lined up before the vehicles and an odd shimmer descended around them.

The Professor struggled against his bonds. This was definitely the unnatural calm he had come to recognise as the beginning to a heated and fierce battle and he really did not feel all too comfortable being tied to the floor of an unknown muggle vehicle without access to a wand!

"Struggle all you want," the cold voice whispered to him. "It will do you no good. Like I said, your wand is of no use."

"What do you mean by that?"

The man only smiled cruelly at him before turning his attention back to his screen which was now showing him several angles of the soon to be battlefield.

---------hp---------

Movement! Something was happening!

Muscles flexed and strained against his chains.

The forms were moving . . . something was about to take place.

---------ss-----------

It was impossible to tell who made the first move but what really mattered to the Potions Master was who made the ‘last' move. Would things continue with this unknown group or would he and Potter soon be at the mercy of the Death Eaters?

In all honesty he just wished that he'd placed a body-binding spell on the brat before he'd left Spinner End. If they survived this the boy would look back on his past Potions classes and think how ‘wonderful' they used to be!

Guns were fired, and flashes from various hexes and curses could be seen lighting up the sky.

For a number of minutes the battle went on and the Professor was beginning to think it increasingly odd that the muggles had made no indication of nearing defeat.

Any wizard or witch could protect themselves from simple bullets and it was impossible to think that-

With a start the Potions Master blinked and looked more closely at the muggle fighters. It was true! The odd shields that circled around their forms seemed to be nullifying any spells that touched them!

The cold chuckle broke his concentration.

"I see you have finally taken notice of our ‘shells.' Remarkable, aren't they? I assure you, it would take an exceptionally powerf-!"

A blast strong enough to shake the van cut the man off.

"What the-?"

Severus craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the screen.

A slight twitch pulled at his mouth as he saw what had caused the man's sudden distress.

He couldn't remember the last time he had actually been glad to see the old man. . .

-------ad---------

"Spread out. Diffuse the Death Eaters first then we shall face our new obstacle."

White magic and a new wave of curses joined the fray. A three way battle began between separate forces, none of which intended to back down.

-------hp-------

The smell of smoke and energies in the air grew stronger and he was now pulling so tightly against the bonds that it was painful.

His three guards looked uneasily at him and drew their weapons closer towards themselves.

Fear . . . he could smell their fear.

His teeth bit down and his nails dug into the hard floor. His muscles were as tight as bowstrings, ready to spring and he wanted out. There was a battle being fought and he wanted to be out!

-----ad-----

"They have the same barrier as that door!" shouted Sirius as he deflected another curse.

The Headmaster waved his hand through the air easily and another Death Eater fell motionlessly to the ground.

"Albus!"

"Remus! Kingsley! If you would be so kind?"

The two Order members retreated back towards the Headmaster and Sirius, a number of the other members quickly filling the gaps.

"I have a theory I would like to test, but I will require your help," the Headmaster stated as calmly as if they were on an afternoon stroll.

"A theory? This a battle Albus not a-"

The Headmaster raised a hand to silence the dark haired man.

"If this works, we will have found a means to rescue both Harry and Severus. Now, on the count of three, I would like for all of you to concentrate your magic with mine as we aim it towards their ranks. Ready? One, two, three."

-----ss------

"They're overpowering the system!" growled the man.

Severus was not sure what it was they were doing to destroy these barriers but he had a hunch that it had something to do with the Headmaster.

His lips twitched again. Trust Dumbledore to form a quick solution when everyone else was at a loss.

His mouth dipped, all evidence of a near smile vanishing however as an uncomfortably familiar shadow descended upon him in heated anger.

-------hp-------

A great force of energy shook the ground and the Shells faded.

A powerful wave tore through the air and ripped the roof of the vehicle clean off throwing the car and all its inhabitants on its side.

Shouts and cries could be heard and the energies grew stronger.

The smell of fear and pain filled the air but the final element, the final trigger was the blood.

His teeth cracked and his eyes grew to slits as the scents and sounds of the battle filled him and the barely dormant beast within him lost the last of its control.

(Gory bit coming right up - be warned)

Pain flooded his form as if it were travelling through his veins. His eyes bulged and his tears turned deep crimson.

Mouth and nails began to bleed as jagged claws and fangs broke through skin and gum growing at an unnatural speed.

Muscles cramped and tightened, flexing and escalating in size and power as bones cracked and splintered before reforming and increasing in size and strength, the shape being forced by a solid metal skeleton.

Broken skin healed quickly and seamlessly around developing sinew, sprouting a thick layer of auburn and black fur.

The jaw snapped and cracked taking on a powerful form as two long, sharp teeth stretched down from the upper jaw to below the bottom.

(Hmmm. . . S'okay to look now, but please remember that this is a battle)

New, powerfully strong claws slammed into the ground and an unearthly scream formed into an almighty roar!

Harsh breath of the predatory beast filled the suddenly very silent air as the two surviving guards from the wrecked vehicle whimpered and raised their weapons shakily towards the beast before them.

The beast looked at them hungrily, and as the fist shot was fired their screams signalled their last breaths.

-----ss-----

Even though he had spent a good while berating himself for his ‘childish fears' his instincts had caused him to cringe and shrink back once again at the memory of the raised fist.

An unnatural cry caused his eyes to snap back open however and he could see, once again, that the man had hesitated to strike him, but this time it was unlikely to be because of his own choosing.

The Potion Master strained his neck again to search whichever windows, or screens, he could in order to find out what was happening.

His eyes darted wildly about the scene but he failed to see anything that he found reassuring. Rather, the sight of every figure standing stock still in mid action all facing in one direction did nothing but increase his anxiety.

------ad------

The world had become suddenly still as a thunderous sound echoed throughout the battlefield.

The odd muggle barriers had fallen to the concentrated magic but evidently there was something here that no one had expected.

A communal intake of breath was shared as two terrified screams filled the air, and then suddenly seemed to end unnaturally.

A huge clawed paw appeared from behind the tipped van followed by a head boasting two sturdy, sharp horns and piercing green eyes that scanned the battlefield.

The beast stepped forward with all the grace and confidence of a feline predator, huge feathered wings folded tightly against its striped form.

Silence seemed to stretch as men and women, who only moments ago had been fighting fearlessly, were frozen to the spot in terrified dread. Then, in one unconscious agreement, all weapons and wands lifted as one to target their new enemy.

The first fire was shot and the beast pounced.

A deep feeling of foreboding washed over the Headmaster. At least half of the remaining Death Eaters had fled the scene while the rest fought desperately only to be slaughtered.

He could feel the unbridled power radiating from the creature. It was . . . so familiar. . .

And the scream! It had most certainly been human to begin with! But. . . surely not. . .

The other Order members had retreated to a safe distance and now looked expectantly towards the Elderly Wizard for their next orders but Dumbledore merely shook his head.

There was too much about all of this that even he did not fully know about and rushing into things would only mean wasting lives.

The best option now was to wait and observe.

-----ss-----

There was something out there, and it was emitting a wave of great power and energy. . .

From his place on the floor the Potions Master caught only glimpses of what was happening and he wasn't enjoying any of it!

"What is it?" he demanded unable to ignore the events.

The man before him turned and cast him a dark grin. "It would seem that ‘its' progress has developed further than I had thought. This, boy, is the ‘Chimera' and the end of your pathetic world."

The Professor watched as the man abandoned his console and once again picked up the little black box.

"Hold your attack!" he yelled into the device, his voice carrying into the surrounding area and being obeyed immediately by every man, women and ‘creature' out there.

"All units pull back. Chimera! Begin your hunt!"

The soldiers retreated to a safe distance seemingly without complaint.

The man waited expectantly for something but when a minute or two passed and nothing seemed to be happening he scowled at the console and growled into the device.

"Chimera! Begin your hunt!"

Again, nothing. . .

"You foolish beast! What do you think we created you for? Attack them!"

Another moment of silence fell and the man lost his temper. Picking up yet another muggle device that Severus did not recognise he tore open the side door and strode out into the gravel field.

Through the open door Severus could now see very clearly what all the commotion had been about and instantly wished that he couldn't.

A gargantuan creature that he assumed was this ‘Chimera' looked directly towards him and the man before him.

Struggling he fought desperately to retrieve his wand in inside his pocket but to no avail.

He assumed that if the situation escalated he could always try to Apparate but the problem with that was that one needed to know both where they were and where they were going and he knew neither.

Through the silence and open door, he could hear the man addressing the creature in harsh tones. Something similar to how a cruel master would address a badly behaved dog and while he was never at the top of his class in ‘Care of Magical Creatures,' he knew enough to know that that was not the way to talk to something that looked like it would enjoy ripping your head off!

"Listen to me beast! You have been modified and trained for one purpose and one purpose alone. You will do as I command!"

The beast seemed to falter for a second as if it had been whipped but when its head rose again, the dangerous and hate filled look that was emanating from its eyes spoke exactly what it thought of that remark. It was all the Potions Master could do to keep his face devoid of emotion even as he felt the blood draining from it at the beast's glare.

Raising its heckles and taking a threatening step forward the Chimera's lips curled back into a heavy snarl revealing a long line of razor sharp teeth.

Much to any of the onlooker's surprise, the man did not even flinch at this. Instead his hands balled tightly into fists, and he pointed the device towards the mutinous creature.

(Don't know how sensitive people are. . . bit of a torture bit here though)

A pained yell rose into the sky and the beast arched towards the ground, claws digging deeply into the soil in its agony.

Its serpent-like tail thrashed through the air and its scream, although a mangled roar, held something else to it. . .

Something . . . human.

The Potions Master looked up reluctantly observing the tortured creature.

His breath caught as the unreality of the situation brought new revelations to his mind.

The heartless monster of a man had used many terms and phrases that held double meanings and Severus had not missed one of them, although he had not understood what the hidden meanings were . . . until now.

A shallow slit of an eye opened as the creature fought against its pain. Although feral, those eyes were unmistakably the emerald-green ones that he had come to recognise.

And on its brow! The black stripes that patterned its auburn fur zigzagged down in the shape of a lightening bolt.

As if these features were not enough, a pair of shattered, round glasses had become tangled and caught in the creature's fur around one of its horns.

The very idea was insane! And yet. . .

Another roar of pain filled the air as the device was turned up a notch and the Professor felt a heated anger well up inside of him. No wonder the boy had nightmares!

(Hmm. Yeah, it's suffered enough. . .)

A blast of light flew by and it was the man's turn to yelp in pain.

He dropped the device as he instinctively clutched his burnt hand and realised with mounting horror that he had just freed a very dangerous and now very, very angry wild beast from his control.

Severus barely had time to react himself before half the car was torn off by a single swipe from those huge claws.

The vehicle was lifted from the ground and the Potions Master thrown aside by the sheer force of the attack.

He hit the ground hard with broken chains falling around him as he did his best to shield his head and chest.

Dizzily he opened his eyes and to his horror his first focused sight was that of a large throat and more sharp, white teeth than he cared to count!

His life had reached his last year of Hogwarts before it stopped flashing before his eyes and warily he squinted up over his hands to see what the afterlife might look like. . .

Lots of teeth, drool . . . and teeth, was his initial thought. . .

"P-Potter!" he snapped, trying to gain some control over the situation despite the fact that his voice was currently much higher in pitch than he would ever admit to.

He heard large nostrils sniff, then slowly, but not unappreciatively, the jaws retreated and the warm mouth closed before the creature lowered its head and sniffed at him again.

"Potter!" he called again, regaining a fair amount of dignity when the creature began showing more signs of curiosity towards him than threat.

The beast locked eyes with him as it showed signs that it was trying to work something out and, without knowing why, he began to raise a hand tentatively towards it.

Stopping at the odd growl or snarl the Professor carefully raised his hand up to the creature's head and plucked the pair of damaged spectacles from its fur, holding them out for the beast to sniff.

"You," he drawled, "are a royal pain in the-"

He never got to finish.

(I lied - More blood)

A deafening bang sounded in the hushed landscape followed by an unearthly roar of pain!

Blood hit the Professor across the face and the huge beast fell to the ground with a thud!

One of its great wings fell limply beside it, blood beginning to pool beneath its massive form.

(Okay, NOW it's safe. . . . ish. . .)

An incoherent shout could be heard in the distance but the Potions Master would no longer wait to differentiate friend or foe between the warring groups. Reaching down he collard the beast's neck with his aching arms and concentrated.

The world felt like it was closing in on them and leaving the ground felt heavier with an unfamiliar form to carry.

Focusing his energy however, he concentrated solely on landing the two of them safely on the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

The world flashed by and the uncomfortable sensation of Apparation bore down on him. He could have sworn that they were almost there, almost safe before something went wrong, horribly wrong.

The feeling was almost like slamming into a brick wall. His energy failed him and his next thought was of how much being catapulted against dry, solid land really hurt.

The Apparation was cut off somehow . . . but where he had landed was still to be deciphered.

So too was what would happen as soon as the unconscious beast awoke. . .

The sun was setting and beyond the lush, green treetops all that could be seen was the gentle orangey hues of the evening sky.

Sighing to himself the black clad wizard turned his gaze back to the hollowed old tree, bedded with leaves. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was his current situation.

The ‘Potter Beast' had left before he had regained consciousness and he had no idea where they were. Hopefully they were somewhere near a wizarding village, preferably Hogsmeade, where they could gain access to the floo network.

The main problem was ‘they'. After spending an infuriating amount of time searching this blasted forest/wood/large park? -whatever it was! - for the boy, the beast had the nerve to turn tail and run! Obviously convincing the brat to follow him to safety was going to prove to be yet another exasperating chore for the Potions Master.

Part of him just wanted to leave him here. It would be so much simpler to find a village alone and reach headquarters so that he could gain some much needed rest while the Headmaster and the mutt dealt with the boy.

Of course, that would never happen. Truth be told, the idea of leaving a distressed creature -that happened to be The-boy-who-lived- alone in an unknown area while Death Eaters and mad men where looking for . . . him? It? was bothersome.

Sitting down the Professor shuddered; memories of what he had witnessed haunting his mind. How could they do such things to a person? How could they do such things to a child!?

Horror mingled with sickness and dread. The man who had done this. . . No. Right now his thoughts where to be put to the task of planning out his next few moves.

First, a quick summary of what knowledge he held on all relevant events. Now . . . the known enemies were the Death Eaters and . . . well . . . the group of scientific muggles that he did not know the name of . . .

Both groups are after the boy; one to kill him and the other to torture him and use him as some kind of monstrous weapon. As for himself, the Death Eaters would likely torture then kill him, while the muggles were more likely to keep him alive, though for what purpose he did not wish to discover.

The Order would no doubt be searching for them as well. Unfortunately, unless he could find a discreet way of letting them know how to find them, the Order had as much chance of finding them as either of the other two factions . . .

Potter had been forced into the shape and form of a monstrous beast and was somewhere within these woods, hopefully fending for himself and keeping quiet, and was too distraught and untrusting of people to allow him to get anywhere near him. On the other hand . . . he seemed to recognise enough in Severus to keep him from attacking his Professor . . .

It was apparent that he would have to gain the boy's trust before they could leave this place, but that led into the next problem. While there were more than enough places to find shelter, food and communication were a lot more difficult to come by. One could only survive for so long on berries and muggle hunting methods where beyond him!

The Potions Master gritted his teeth in frustration. It was becoming painfully obvious what That Man had meant when he had said that his wand would be of no use to him. Evidently, whatever shields that the men had been using absorbed the areas surrounding magic. His Apparition had been cut off because of this and now, to his greatest disgust and despair, he was finding it difficult to gain enough energy to simply light a small fire in order to keep himself warm.

He wouldn't be able to fight like this and he wouldn't be able to use magic to catch a decent meal or alert the Order. His best plan was to find the boy, convince him to come with him to find the nearest town or village and hope that his magical energies would replenish soon. If worse came to worse, he would have to leave the boy here and find aid as quickly as possible.

That would be his last resort.

-------ab------

The aged wizard paced the floor in deep thought. They had a problem and a very large and dangerous problem at that.

The race was on to find the-boy-who-lived and the Potions Master while the Ministry, which still refused to acknowledge the Dark Lord's return, was doing an amazingly accurate job of getting in the way. It seemed that the ‘Chimera threat', posted all over the Daily Prophet had taken full responsibility for all the strange goings on and disappearances that had actually been caused by the Dark Lord!

Unfortunately, this meant that the Order was the only group in this race that was split between duties. Many who worked within the ministry had been tasked with misleading the ‘hunt' for this ‘dangerous creature', while Sirius -who was making his displeasure abundantly clear- had been restricted to Grimauld Place. All the other members had been sent to various areas in search of the missing Professor and student.

Sighing, the Old Headmaster sunk into his cushioned armchair, his fingers circling his temples.

The Chimera was a beast that had proven beyond any doubt that it was a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes he cursed his intelligence. If he was blissfully simple minded maybe he could have persuaded himself that things were different but such a thing was not to be. Those muggles had done something to the boy, something appallingly cruel and sickening, but how did they get to him? And why had they never had any indication of this before?

Obviously a little more research was needed.

------ss-------

Only years of experience and practice kept his swift movements silent. A rough night's sleep on cold earth and leaves had not lifted the cranky Potions Professor's spirits in the slightest!

Right now, after what must have been several hours of searching these blasted woods, he could finally see the striped form of the large winged brat in the distance.

Keeping himself hidden in shadows and foliage the Professor edged his way closer, careful not to make a sound.

Kneeling on the ground amongst the wild plant life he took the opportunity to study his mark. This was the first time he had had the chance to look at the creature in any real detail.

The creature seemed unaware of the man's presence, too involved with the unlucky deer it had come across and decided was today's dinner.

‘At least someone has the leisure to eat and rest at a time like this! Foolish boy . . .' the Professor thought bitterly, his own stomach growling and adding to his irritation.

On further inspection however, it seemed a miracle that the beast boy, had even managed to catch the young stag at all. As he had earlier assumed, whatever blast had hit him during yesterday's skirmish had done a great deal of damage to his right wing, which had been cleaned of most of the blood but still hung limply by the creature's side and, judging by the way he seemed reluctant to put any weight on it, his right paw. Anyway, that could be a major problem . . . the right was the boy's wand arm and if not properly tended to he could be left with some serious weaknesses in that arm.

There were a number of other wounds along the creature's form, most of which looked as if they were healing sufficiently well but the Professor would not be happy with mere assumption.

As he watched the muscular form of the creature before him he was reluctantly aware of the sensation of bitter anger fading slowly away only to be replaced by a number of other emotions he did not usually have to deal with.

Sharp and heavily set teeth tore through the meat of its prey with great ease but every so often he would twitch and shift in pain or discomfort. His muscles seemed to seize up in his unnatural form and mighty claws would slam into the earth against the pain until the seizures passed and the creature could resume eating.

Slowly moving to a standing position the Professor moved from behind the tall grass and bush. To his dismay the night had not been enough for him to regain enough of his magical energy to cast any kind of spell that would help him in this task, so he had been forced to contrive a more muggle based solution. Fortunately this method was also used a lot in the taming of some of the less dangerous magical creatures so it did not sting his pride as much as it could have.

He edged forward cautiously, careful not to startle the beast and to keep his presence unknown until he felt he was close enough.

After a good number of steps he found the place to stand his ground and began to contemplate the best way to draw the creature's attention without sending it into a panic.

As it was he did not have to think long, in fact he did not have to think at all as the creature calmly lifted its head to look around to him.

‘Bloody thing knew I was there the whole time! Ten points fro- Guhrrr!'

The Potions Master stood and glared at the creature meaningfully but took a deep breath and forcibly calmed his features as it took a fearful step away from him.

How best to proceed? His preferred option would be to yell some sense into the boy but that would likely only lead to one of two outcomes; either the beast would flee and he would have to spend another tiresome number of hours finding him again, or it would react in the same way it did to . . . him, the other day and attack. That was definitely not the preferred outcome.

The next option would be to proceed with the original plan which was to tempt the creature closer to him so that he could show that he was no real threat. The problem with this however was that beast tamers usually had something to offer the creature, food being most common. As it was the creature already had its own meal before it and even if the Potions Master did have anything edible to share he would not stand in the middle of an unknown wood dangling a piece of meat before him shouting ‘Here kitty, kitty!'

He opted for a middle option which was to gently ‘yell' at it and hope that Potter could regain enough of his human self long enough to understand and recognise him.

If worse came to worse and the brat did bolt he could sit patiently in the woods until his magic came back then body bind the little beast and haul his furry hide back to the nearest village!

"Mr Potter, do you know where you are?"

His voice carried easily through the glen in which they were standing, but the creature showed no signs of understanding.

Calming himself the Professor tried again. "I am Professor Snape of Hog-"

The creature reared its head and took a nervous number of steps backward.

Impulsively the Professor raised both hands, pushing them out as if to steady the beast while showing it that he held nothing that would harm it.

‘Obviously . . . that is a name he would know to fear . . .'' he thought bitterly to himself.

He sighed in relief when the creature halted its retreat but it still dipped its head suspiciously as if it still did not quite understand the situation.

"I am here to take you home Mr Potter," he continued. "Surely you remember Hogwarts?"

Nervous fidgeting stopped immediately at that word and black furred ears picked up.

"Yes, you do remember it don't you? Hogwarts has become a home to many of us . . ."

The Professor pressed his teeth together. What was he saying? What was he doing? Well, at least it seemed to be getting some results. Best to proceed now and decide who will suffer for it and in what way later.

"No doubt your Godfather Black will be happy to see you. Not to mention the Headmaster. Who are you Potter? Who are you?"

Green eyes glazed over, just as they had done that night at Spinners End.

"For Merlin's sake remember yourself boy!" prompted the Potions Master.

The creature lifted its head sharply and locked eyes with the older wizard.

Emerald green eyes met obsidian black ones and for a moment, just for a second, the Professor thought that the boy had regained himself. Just as quickly as that moment came however it was gone.

Ears twitched to a sound beyond the Potions Master's hearing and a horned head twisted sharply in the opposite direction. It looked back once towards the silently pleading man before making a rapid dash towards the thick layers of trees and leaves.

Growling in frustration the professor swore quietly under his breath. He did not know what it was that had startled the boy but whatever it was it had now put him on his guard as well. With the tension of the situation the sound that had spooked the creature could have been something as simple as a hare in the grass or a bird taking flight but then it could also be some indication that they were not the only people in these woods.

Sighing in reluctant defeat the Professor beat his own hasty retreat. If there really was anybody else nearby he did not want to run into them until he knew exactly who they were and what they wanted.

He headed in the same direction as the boy. He was hungry and thirsty but if the boy was caught before he could reach him there were some serious problems to be had.

Why did anything involving a Potter cause him so much trouble!?

----ab----

The news was not good. Several days had past since the skirmish in which Severus and a transformed Harry had been apparated to an unknown destination. Something had obviously gone wrong with the apparition for no one had received word from either of the two wizards since that day.

Fortunately it would seem that the two were at least well hidden as reports indicated that no one had yet seen hide nor hair of them. Of course, this made it all the more difficult for the Order to locate them as well, but ‘No news was good news', or so they say.

Sirius was getting more and more riled as the days went on. Even Remus was having trouble talking to him at times and most of the time he spent the hours either locked up in the attic with Buckbeak or prowling the house in the form of a big, black dog.

It was a crime in itself to keep the man imprisoned like this, especially when all he intended to do was help his best friend's child but it was also a painfully obvious fact that the man would not last two minutes in the open with all the Ministry members and Aurors out searching for the Chimera. It was also a well placed assumption that Harry would need his Godfather alive and safe once they found him.

Interrogation of the Dursley's had uncovered a few answers but had also brought about a whole new range of questions that the Headmaster was not yet sure he had the stomach to find the answers to.

Apparently, in their desperate attempt to dispel any trace of magic from the boy, Vernon and Petunia Dursley had enrolled him in a special summer school and in a highly secretive way at that. It was still uncertain as to how all the arrangements were made but it would seem that they were approached rather than actively seeking such a place. Anyway, this ‘school' they believed they were sending the boy to was apparently designed to do the very thing they sought. Namely to ‘correct the unnatural' or rather to destroy the magical capabilities of young wizards and witches!

The ‘school', in fact, was nothing more than a torture chamber in Albus's mind. He was horrified to learn of the deep resentment that was still harboured towards the wizarding world by some and even more horrified at the lengths these people would go to remove this ‘problem' from their lives.

Most people, like the Dursley's for instance, did not know the full story behind this school. A personal interview of the family had left him with no doubts in his mind that they believed it to be nothing more than a ‘behavioural correction camp'. Many more families they had found believed the same.

Finding the ‘school' itself had proven to be difficult and when actually found, nearly all evidence of what had transpired there had been destroyed.

The wizarding world was facing a new threat and one that they may have originally been foolish enough to underestimate.

The boy had to be found and he had to be found quickly!

A good few days had passed since they had arrived in the woods. The Potions Master had been time keeping by using the positions of the Sun and moon for the most part.

The skies, however, would not tell him how to find food. They would not tell him if there where any Death Eater's, Muggles or Order members nearby, and they would not tell him how to find or handle a frightened animal.

His stomach growled angrily, unsatisfied with his current meagre diet of wild fruits and berries. He growled back at it in displeasure as he shifted closer to the fire he had built up.

It had been two days since his first sighting of the ‘Chimera' before he managed to find him again and even then he had only managed to catch a glimpse of it from a good distance before something startled it and it disappeared into the woods again.

Another day had been fruitless and now he was taking a break in what had become somewhat of a makeshift campsite or base for him. At least there he had a warm fire and a place to sleep in relative safety.

Groaning and stretching the Professor rose from the ground where he had been sat and bent down towards the small flames. Reaching into his robes he withdrew a small glass vial. Uncorking the top of the vial he swept up the flames from the burning wood and placed them into the glass container.

Thank the heavens that he had brought this with him. One never knew when a good fire was needed, so it had become a common practice for veteran Potion makers to carry one of these ‘undying flames' with them at all times. One would simply create a place for the fire to rest and build it up to a required heat from there. When finished with the flame could be placed back into the vial until it was next needed.

Placing the now warm vial back into his robe pocket the Professor wiped the soot off his unburnt hand and strode purposefully into the dense stretch of trees. He had been getting his drinking water from a small brook nearby. The boy had to drink some time and if he could just find out where then he could save time looking for the creature and simply waiting by the water's edge for it to come to him.

------ad------

A week! It had been almost a week and still no word of or from the missing teacher and student had reached the Headmaster's ears. As such he was once again pacing the floor of his office in the old school.

A sharp knock at the great oak door broke him out of his trail of thought and he sat down wearily before voicing his permission of entry.

A gnarled old wizard hobbled into the decorative office and closed the door behind him.

"Anything?" he asked in his gruff voice.

"Nothing . . ." sighed Dumbledore sadly. Honestly he had hoped that his visitor had brought some news with him. "How are the investigations doing Alistair?"

"Bah, we're no closer to finding out how those wretches got into the castle than we are finding Mr Potter. But I'd like to point out that there is a common person involved in all these events."

The Headmaster shot the Ex-Auror a look that clearly stated that he was not prepared to discuss this issue, again. "I have told you time and time again Alistair. Severus is a loyal membe-"

"Loyal," snorted Moody. "He's a coward and a traitor, nothing more."

The Headmaster fixed him with a stare but refused to be dragged into another argument on this topic.

"The Ministry are still chasing shadows?" Moody asked instead.

"Yes, we owe a lot to Author and Kingsley," agreed Dumbledore. "Though Cornelius seems dedicated to building up the dangerous reputation of the poor boy in order to cover up the Dark Lord's movements."

"He knows the beast is Potter?"

"No . . . and we aim to keep it that way."

"What now then?"

The Headmaster remained silent for a moment before answering quietly, but simply, "We keep looking."

----ss----

Fatigue was nagging at his senses as he walked quietly along the water's edge. Lack of food and decent amounts of sleep were wearing him down and trudging through mud and foliage searching for a scared boy-turned-beast was nagging at his nerves.

It was only adrenalin which gave him the energy to move forward when he finally located his objective bent by the water bank.

His slow, careful approach developed into a flat out run, however, when he realised the condition the creature was in.

Rather than crouching down to drink from the brook as the Professor had originally believe it to be doing, the creature looked as though he had collapsed at the water's edge.

Dried blood was matted in its fur -a fact that disturbed the Potions Master as his last inspection of the boy had shown him a rather clean coat- and its body was curled up in a defensive fashion on the hard ground.

Its sides rose and fell heavily at the creature's harsh breathing and every now and then it tightened against some sort of pain.

Slowly the Professor walked around the fallen form to face the beast and to his dismay, his fears where confirmed.

Fresh wounds donned the creature's body and many were still bleeding.

A thorough scan of the surrounding area suggested that the boy had managed to either loose or chase off his attackers, but only barely.

Reluctant to leave the boy alone like this, but understanding the importance of ensuring the safety of their position, the professor took a couple of steps towards the trees.

It wasn't difficult to find the path the boy had travelled down as bloodied paw prints led the way.

He only followed the tracks for a few paces however. A few paces were all he needed to ensure what he needed to know. The two foolish Death Eaters that had opted to attack the creature alone didn't have a chance.

Returning to the injured creature the Professor took the opportunity to examine it more carefully. The wing was broken there was no doubt about that, the paw too but fortunately it did not look as bad as he had feared it would be. A long gash reached around the creature's belly and several more cuts and gashes spread across its legs and feet. The Potions Master let out a sigh of small relief. It looked as though the boy had collapsed more from exhaustion than any fatal wounds. It was best not to take any chances though. All the wounds would need to be treated against infection.

A quiet groan alerted the Professors' senses as his pale hand ran through the surprisingly soft fur of the creature and he turned his head towards its face.

Scared green eyes greeted him along with a frightened whimper but it was obvious that the boy had not the strength to move against him.

Gently he reached out to touch the creature's head. Claws tightened against the ground and teeth pressed together in anticipation of a blow but when one did not come one green eye opened warily at the soft pressure to its brow.

"Calm yourself Potter," spoke the Professor quietly. "I am not here to harm or kill you." ‘Yet' he added to himself for comfort's sake.

The uncontrolled fear in the creature's eyes faded at the sound of the wizard's voice, but wariness remained even as its muscles relaxed and its claws unearthed themselves.

"I have never met anyone with such a talent for getting themselves into trouble like you do Mr Potter."

He decided to keep talking as he continued his examination as it seemed to be helping.

"However, do not think that I will be taking this as a valid excuse for not finishing your summer assignment. You have had plenty of time to finish it before now and you should have been doing it rather than disobeying my orders and leaving the house."

A grunt came from the creature that could have been a weak laugh. That was a reassuring thought. The Professor cast a glance back to the boy's face and, sure enough, though the wariness was still there, it was now more of a sheepish look in the creature's eyes. Something a little more ‘human' than the unadulterated, untamed fear that had been there only moments ago.

‘So the boy inside is not yet lost. Thank Merlin for that.'

With his inspection of the creature's wounds complete the Potions Master stood to go and find what he now needed but a quiet whimper and the returned look of panic in those green eyes halted his departure.

"I need to find something which will clean your wounds of infection," he explained, not sure how much the creature would understand. "I shall not be gone long. Just, just try not to move for once!"

The creature remained silent but the Professor could still feel its gaze on him as he headed back into the woods.

A fair amount of searching and digging finally revealed what it was he was looking for. He pulled up a number of roots and carried them back to the water to be washed.

After cleaning the dirt off of them the Professor bit into one of the thin roots and chewed it, finding the bitter taste he had hoped to.

Still chewing he collected a bunch of fresh leaves to be washed and then spat the mangled roots into them.

Taking another bite to be chewed he got to work with cleaning the open wounds and matted fur on the creature's body with fresh water from the brook.

The creature still tensed in pain every so often and he guessed that it must be from the muscle spasms that he had witnessed a few days ago. This form was heavy and unnatural. It bore a lot of weight and strain on the boy's normally small and thin frame and the Professor began to worry -not for the first time- what kind of damage this may do to the boy in the long run.

"This will sting for a while but it will clean out your wounds".

The creature remained silent but did not make any effort to avoid the Professor's actions as he moved some of the leaves, laced with the chewed up roots towards the first wound.

Sting it did and the creature's eyes screwed up and its claws embedded themselves into the ground once again before angry eyes opened up to send a glare at the black clad wizard.

The Professor ignored the look and instead committed his attention entirely to the task at hand.

----ad----

"Albus, there seems to be some sort of commotion within the Death Eater ranks."

The Headmaster brought his head up sharply and looked hopefully at the werewolf.

"Two of their members have gone missing in a woodland on the outskirts of a small wizarding village in Northern England."

The Headmaster stood up from his seat and walked towards the weathered looking wizard before him. "Are you certain Remus?" he asked.

"Fairly," the werewolf admitted.

It would have to do.

"Alert the others. We have to plan our next move with the greatest of care."

----ss----

It was cold by the water's edge and they had no shelter should it rain. As such the Professor was reluctant to remain there but moving the incredibly large and heavy creature was not an option. It was far too sore and heavy.

The bottled fire had been set up between the two and once the Potions Master had assured the boy that it would do him no harm, he too had welcomed the warmth that the flames offered.

The ground was uncomfortable and the Professor's stomach began to growl again. Now that he had completed the task of cleaning the boy's wounds he had nothing more to preoccupy his thoughts.

Silently he lay down and resigned himself to yet another uncomfortable night. At least now he had found the boy and tomorrow he could begin looking for some kind of civilisation where he could get a hot meal and contact the order before settling into a warm and comfortable bed.

Yes, that was a comforting thought. Tomorrow. Everything would start to get better tomorrow.

-----------------

‘Tomorrow' was not as bright as he had hoped.

"Potter!" the irate Potions Master called again.

The blasted little monster had taken off again! Of course, a meagre part of the problem could be attributed to the fact that Severus had slept longer than he had intended.

Usually the man would be up just after dawn by habit but exhaustion was getting the better of him.

Judging by the position of the sun it was close to noon and by the time he had awoken the Potter beast was gone! Gone! Last night the beast could barely move and now he was off hiding in the woods again!

"Ungrateful little-" the Professor began but stopped mid sentence.

He lent against a sturdy tree trunk while his eyes refocused and he regained his balance. Hunger and fatigue were definitely beginning to wear on him and, as strong he was, even he would become ill if this kept up.

Ignoring the plea for food in his gut the Potions Master forced himself forward. The creature itself must still be tired. It couldn't have gone far . . .

A few more metres were too much. Feeling the ache in his joints strengthen Severus sat down to rest among the tree roots. The boy was more trouble than any one man could handle.

Just as his thoughts returned to cursing the boy-turned-beast a rustling of leaves caught his attention. Sinking below the roots in an attempt to obscure himself from view the Professor turned his head sharply towards the sound.

On instinct he raised his wand in defence, but immediately returned it to his robes when he located what had caused the disturbance.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. The boy may have been forced to assume the form of a wild beast but the Potions Master had no intention of letting the boy forget that he was still a student and that he was still a Professor.

The creature at least had the decency to look sheepish as it limped forwards.

As it neared, the Professor's question was answered immediately, although how the boy had managed to catch . . . whatever that thing was . . . in the state he was in was beyond him!

"Whenever you're ready," growled the Potions Master, his sense of hunger only amplified by the sight of the boy's soon to be meal.

To the man's surprise however, rather than taking himself off somewhere to eat, the timid creature inched its way closer to him. When only a few paces stood between them the creature lifted its head and opened its mouth.

The freshly killed rabbit landed at the Potions Master's feet and he looked up questioningly. The creature only nodded towards the kill before shying away from the wizard's gaze and stiffly laying itself down by a tree a small distance away from him.

He didn't know what to say. The boy had realised that he was hungry and left to hunt something for him? The gesture was generous but he could not completely deter the sense of annoyance he felt at the boy for wandering off alone while he was hurt.

If he had not spent most of his days dissecting and handling some of the slimiest and ‘grossest' -as his students regularly pointed out- things in the wizarding world for his potions, the thought of skinning the drool coated rabbit may have persuaded him to leave it. As it was, his hunger won out rather quickly and it was mere minutes before the meat was impaled on a stick and slowly roasting over a magical fire.

----ad----

"Are we all in place?"

"Yes Albus. The decoy parties are making themselves obvious in other areas as we speak."

"Good, good."

"You know, you will have a highly irritated canine to deal with when we get back."

The Headmaster chuckled at that. "I suppose you are right Remus. It is an immense injustice to Sirius to keep him caged up in that house but he already knows my reasons for doing so."

"I know. He just wants to help, that's all."

"I know. And he shall have his moment."

----ss----

Truly that was the best thing he had ever eaten! He had even managed to find a few patches of wild garlic to add to the meal.

The Potions Master sat back in content, his mood improving at his sudden change of luck. He had eaten most of what had been offered to him and what he had not managed the creature had finished off for him (bones included!)

"Careful with that, if you get one stuck in your throat and choke to death I'll find a way to revive you simply so that I may kill you again," he chide half-heartedly.

The creature merely glanced up at him with an indecipherable look.

Once full and well rested the Potions Master stood up and to his greatest relief the creature moved to follow. He was still lacking in sleep and too tired to chase the boy through the woods again but he was sure that he could manage a gentle walk through the trees toward a town or village.

The only problem was that he did not know what direction this town or village was in. Common sense however dictated that if they followed the brook again they were likely to come across some form of civilisation eventually.

----

A good hour or two must have passed since the odd two began their trek together as, while still light, the sun was getting lower in the sky.

They travelled in silence, but oddly enough that silence was not at all uncomfortable. While the two were far from friends, it could not be denied that their levels of tolerance for one another had significantly increased. There even seemed to be a shallow level of trust developing there but Severus had no intention of dwelling on that thought.

A snap in the trees spared him from any more thought on the subject but as he whipped around, wand at the ready, new, far more uncomfortable thoughts came to his head.

It would seem that they had finally been found and darkened figures were purposefully closing in on them.

Between the brook and the arc of people before them the pair was surrounded. The creature padded nervously towards the older wizard, thrashing its head back and forth in an unsettled manner.

"Calm yourself Potter," demanded the Professor. "Panicking will not get us out of this mess. Just stand still and do as I tell you."

The creature seemed to calm slightly but still padded the ground anxiously.

It looked down at the dark wizard and once again emerald green eyes met obsidian black ones in mutual understanding.

It would seem that, that level of trust Severus had briefly pondered about was about to be put to the test.

The arc of wizards and witches moved ever closer to the tired duo, their black robes and skeletal masks out of place in the once calm and peaceful woodland.

Wands pointed threateningly at the ex-Death Eater and wounded creature. Cold eyes fixed on their targets with malice.

"No sudden movements Potter, let me handle the current situation," muttered the Potions Master, his own wand outstretched and his eyes darting from one foe to another trying to judge the situation and find weakness within the ranks.

The Chimera padded its feet on the ground and let out a low, warning growl towards the Death Eaters, but did not make any other moves. The Professor could only hope that this was a sign that the boy was listening to him. He hoped so.

A number of the Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably as the huge creature before them barred its teeth at them but did not break ranks. This move had obviously been well planned.

The stand off stretched on for a good few minutes before one of the Dark Lord's followers directed a question towards his former comrade.

"Severus, you don't honestly believe yourself capable of defeating us do you?"

Severus recognised the voice immediately and replied in his own silky - albeit, a bit rough - voice. "I'm no fool Lucius, but neither am I a coward. Anyway, I have little doubt that you missed the previous skirmish. What makes you so certain that you will face this creature and leave this wood in a single piece, let alone alive?"

The mask hid the man's expression but Severus could still sense the flinch in his features. He doubted very much that the creature standing next to him would be taken lightly.

Lucius, however, was not one to back down.

"I have a proposal to make to you Severus," he said calmly, changing the subject completely. "Tell us where the Potter boy is and I shall give you a quick death now rather than turn you over to the Dark Lord where you will undoubtedly face his full wrath for your treachery!"

Severus sneered at the man. Considering what the Dark Lord would probably do to him, Lucius's offer was a rather generous one, even if it was not a favourable one.

Betraying the Order however was not an option for him and if need be . . . he would sooner kill himself than suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord. That was a decision he had made a long time ago.

"I am afraid that I must decline. I do not know where or how you might find Mr Potter as, unless you hadn't noticed, I have been stuck in a wood half starved for the past week! Also, Lucius, your offer is a lousy one!"

The blond Death Eater stiffened in anger before forcing himself to resume a calmer stance.

"So be it."

He raised his wand and the others followed his motion.

Severus mirrored the action but silently knew that he did not even possess the strength needed to protect himself let alone the beast as well.

The Potions Master was still rapidly considering his options when the first spell was fired.

The bright, ominous lights of the Death Eater's spells filled his eyes and before he could react an impact that felt like a Hippogriff kicking him in the chest sent the Professor into the air.

His senses dulled and blurred, his head instantly felt light and his sight swam out of focus. He was vaguely aware of shouts and a single thunderous roar deafening him before the sensation of cool air whipping through his hair and robes was replaced by that of icy cold liquid.

That was the point at which his consciousness failed him.

----ad----

They were too late . . .

This was the single, agonising thought running through his head at this moment.

They had moved swiftly but carefully. Several groups from the Order had moved to a number of different locations in this area. All but one had been decoys to try and tempt the enemy away from the main area in which the two missing wizards where believed to be.

But all had been for nought. Voldemort's men had got there first.

The Headmaster walked along the water bank - pacing while he thought. He was aware that his companions were asking for his advice and allowed himself a brief moment of silent bitterness before he straightened up and turned to face them.

Always! Every time a problem occurred it would be he who was automatically expected to have the answer. Whether the problem was as large as this one or as petty as losing their favoured cup! Blast his infernal intellect! How blissful it must be to have someone else to think for you.

But no . . . He shook his head inwardly. It wasn't their fault and he knew what he was doing the moment he decided to create the Order. Knew that it would be his responsibility to take command in all situations and face the bad along with the good until the very end.

"Albus?"

The withered looking man looked up at him in concern but he just smiled reassuringly.

"I am sorry Remus, I was lost for a moment there."

The werewolf nodded his head but said nothing else. Instead he handed something to him.

The feel of cold wood rested in his palm. The dark ebony wand was such a familiar sight to him that he could probably conjure up a clone for it in seconds.

But there was something off . . . something . . . missing.

A cold chill rippled through the Headmaster but he remained silent, nodding instead to the people around him.

"I shall alert the others. In the mean time we can do only what best efforts allow. Let us begin by searching these woods for any trace of our friends."

----ss----

A groan was the first sound that reached his lips. His body was cold and his head and chest beat with a dull ache.

On instinct he reached out for his wand but stilled his movements when he realised that it wasn't there.

Slowly and cautiously he opened his eyes, listening to his surroundings while he waited for them to focus.

He had learned that one's memory was always the last thing to catch up in times like these and so he had also learned to be very still and cautious until he knew what was happening.

Once focused, his sight fixed on a darkened sky, branches and green leaves. That's it, he was in a forest. . . . Why was he in a forest? . . . Potter! No need for memory there, the boy was so often the cause of all his 'little mishaps' that the thought had become instinct!

Wait . . . something else . . . Death Eaters!

He bolted upright and immediately regretted doing so. While he needed to be off the floor to search for any immediate threats his head obviously wasn't ready for such an action without ample warning.

Groaning once again the Professor raised a muddied hand to his head. The sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach was increasing with the passage of time and thinking was making him feel hot and nauseous.

Woodland, Potter, Death Eater attack . . . Wait! The boy!

Lifting himself off the ground took a tremendous amount of effort, more so because of the fact that his clothes where heavy and waterlogged and he became dizzy the higher his head was raised.

Staggering out of the water he attempted to call for the boy, hoping beyond hope that he was somewhere close by. All that emerged from his throat however was a rather hoarse whisper.

Gritting his teeth he tried again but the sound was only marginally louder.

He was somehow able to pull his tired form to a nearby tree which he leaned against for stability while he cast his gaze out to look for the creature he had been travelling with.

No sign of him.

Sighing he slid further down the tree, not quite touching the ground. He could almost cry at the frustration he was feeling but he knew that he wouldn't. Pride alone wouldn't allow it.

Instead the sickening feeling took over and it wasn't long before he fell to his knees in a cold sweat and his previous meal was once again free on the woodland floor.

Shaking he spat the foul taste out of his mouth and wiped his face with his sleeve.

His head was still slightly hazy but he had to admit that he did feel a good deal better now that his stomach was empty again.

A noise to his right gained his attention and mindfully he rose from the ground, never once breaking eye contact with the bush from which he heard the sound.

For the second time he reached for his wand only to find it missing and swore lightly to himself.

He edged closer to the bush, treading lightly and carefully as he went. As he neared however he was able to distinguish the sound a little easier and, while it did little to fill him with any sense of glee, it removed some of the wariness and apprehension he was feeling.

The quiet and muffled sobbing grew louder as he reached out and gently pushed back some of the foliage.

Mixed emotions of relief, sadness, anger and, could it be sympathy, washed over him as his gaze fell down to rest off the huddled and shivering form of a sobbing child.

Knowing that the cold and damp would do him no good, but neither wanting the boy to sit out here naked, the Professor removed his outer robe and carefully draped it over the boy, shivering at the sudden gust of cold air that he had exposed himself to.

The boy jumped at the sensation, obviously surprised to find the Professor standing next to him, and Severus had the disturbing feeling that there was that same animal-like fear that would have forced the boy to flee then and there had a sudden pain not gripped his small form and pinned him to the ground.

Bending he reached into his robes with a prayer and almost called out in joyous relief when his hand clutched around a familiar object.

Pulling some of the fallen leaves into a small pile he uncorked the vial and placed the undying flame in to its centre.

The boy watched his moves intensely never moving and never saying a word. When the fire took form however the Professor was please to notice that he settled down and seemed to relax into the warmth.

The Professor sat back, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm himself before turning his attention back to the boy beside him.

He looked pale and too small and thin for a fourteen year old. Currently he was nursing his right arm in his left and staring intently into the flames.

"How's you arm?" asked the Potions Master gently, his voice still rough and hoarse.

The boy looked up at him warily as if not quite sure of the situation.

Even if it was severely damaged he doubted that there was anything he could do about it but he still felt a strong instinctual urge to diagnose all injuries the boy may have.

The child had remained silent for some time now. If he knew Potter, and with the greatest misfortune he did, the boy would soon ask about what was going to happen and where they were in about twenty different ways. He would lying a great deal if he said that he wasn't a little bit concerned at that thought.

"Your arm, Mr Potter, how is it?" he repeated, too tired to get angry at him.

Harry just looked down at his shoulder as if only just realising that he was injured before looking blankly back at the Professor.

Sighing and shifting himself along the ground Severus inched closer to his ward speaking to warn him of his intent.

"I will need to check the extent of damage done to your arm and shoulder. I suggest that you hold still and try to gain some warmth from the fire until I am done."

The boy tried to edge away but pain held him still and he gripped his arm tightly.

The Professor reached out and applied a small amount of pressure to the shoulder. He sensed that the boy was uncomfortable but was certain that he was not causing him any more pain than necessary.

As deft fingers travelled the length of bone checking for breaks the boy seemed to gradually relax under the pressure of the professor's touch. It was probably best to tempt the boy into speaking. Even if it was only for a few words, that would be enough to put the Professor's mind at sufficient rest.

"How do you feel?"

No answer.

"I am not in the habit of talking to myself Mr Potter. I have asked you a simple question."

Again, no answer. But he had a disturbing feeling that it wasn't because the boy was trying to be difficult. Rather, it looked as though he was struggling to put the words together, as if he had never been asked to use the human language before.

"Your shoulder is shattered . . ." the Professor told him with a grimace. "Though your wounds seem to be healing rather well."

The boy simply stared at him.

Sighing, Severus ended his status check and retreated back to his own seat upon the solid earth not too far away from the boy. It was much warmer with the fire but the air and ground were still cold and his joints ached and groaned.

"Use your good hand to rub the heat into your chest," he instructed. "You need to keep the main part of your body warm lest you wish to become ill."

He was relieved to see that after a brief moment of continued staring the boy moved to do as he was told and began rubbing his chest slowly with his left hand while huddling under the large black cloak that seemed to drown him.

Settling down for the night Severus wondered how far away they where from any kind of civilisation and whether or not they could make it to such a place before the Death Eaters caught up again.

Come to think of it, how did they get away in the first place???

Looking over to the boy that was now dozing off by the fire a realisation dawned upon him.

It was him! With whatever strength the creature had had left he had picked Severus up and dived into the brook in an attempt to lose their attackers. What strength it must have taken to direct them down stream, away from multiple curses and hexes he did not know. But the boy had somehow managed it.

His feelings on that matter where lost, however, along with all coherent thought. The Professor's mind drifted slowly into nothingness as he too felt the pull of sleep tugging at him and lay his head down to rest.

----???----

"Stabilizing blood pressure. Patient is returning to consciousness."

"Have the transplants taken?"

"Yes Sir. A few tests will need to be run but we have no reason to doubt their failure."

"Good. Very good."

----ss----

A magpie. A bloody magpie! Of all the things to wake up to and it's the sight of a lone magpie looking down on you! As if his luck wasn't bad enough!

Growling at the world in general the Potions Master made to sit himself up. His entire body ached from sleeping on the ground and he was certain that the only reason he had got any sleep at all was his sheer level of exhaustion.

He rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening them to meet with an emerald green stare.

"Can I help you," he growled at the boy.

Harry merely dipped his head in embarrassment.

With the greatest of protests from his aching body the Potions Master lifted himself off the ground and looked around.

He coughed at the tickle in his throat and noted with discontentment that he was already suffering the early stages of a cold.

To add to his dissatisfaction was the fact that every direction looked the same. He had no idea where they were and even less of an idea of where they were going.

In short, this 'camping trip' sucked!

A rather gargled sound broke him out of his depressed ramblings and brought his attention back towards the ground where Harry sat. The boy seemed to be struggling with something and was pointing rather awkwardly to his left.

"What is it?" the Professor ground out trying, but failing, not to sound irritated.

"Pe-pl. . ." was the repeated hoarse whisper.

"I beg your pardon?"

Harry took a deep breath. "Pe-opl," he attempted again but ended in a fit of hoarse, dry coughing.

The boy was trying to speak! Immediately, but without any sudden movements, the Professor was by the boy's side trying to tempt the words out of him.

"Take your time Potter," he ordered. "Concentrate on the words and sounds you are trying to form and say it slowly.

The boy nodded and tried again, taking care to shape his mouth right and pressing the air through his lips in his attempt to speak.

"Pe-o-p-le. Peo-pl. Peop-le."

"People?"prompted Severus.

The boy nodded with a slight smile but the Professor was up on his feet and scanning the area.

"Where?" he demanded, preparing for any sudden ambushes. Not that there is much he could do if there was one.

The boy shook his head in the negative, bringing the Professor to sit slowly down again.

"Then what?" he asked again, his short amount patience reflecting his poor mood and health.

Again the boy pointed to his left.

The Professor looked over his shoulder but could see no one.

"I don't understand. Can you see someone?"

The boy shook his head.

"Have you heard anyone?"

Again, a shake of the head.

"Are you afraid that Death Eaters might be in that direction?"

A slight pause but an eventual shaking of the boy's head told him 'no'. Although he guessed that there was an element of 'yes' in that last one.

With a frustrated sigh the Professor let his shoulders drop. "You will have to try and elaborate."

Harry sat still for a moment trying to think of another word that could describe what he wanted to say. His throat felt scratchy and sore and truth be told, he was finding speaking to be rather difficult at the moment. While his head was slowly clearing there were still dominant features of the Chimera's mind that still gripped him.

"-oms," he tried.

"?"

"'omes," he tried again. Apparently it was even more difficult to pronounce the letter 'h' when your throat felt like it needed to be cleaned out with a loofah!

"Ho-" he broke out into another coughing fit as he tried to force the sound out of his mouth.

Fortunately the Potions Master had spent enough time with the Hogwarts Grounds Keeper to be able to guess most words with missing letters in them.

"Homes?" he offered and between wheezes the boy finally nodded an affirmative.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked.

Rather than struggle for words again, Harry decided upon a simple game of charades although the game wasn't so simple with a broken shoulder.

He pointed to his nose, to which the Professor took immediate offence.

"How dare you! We may not be in Hogwarts but for your own sake I suggest that you afford me the proper respects."

Harry shook his head 'no' and scowled at the man in annoyance.

"No?"

Closing his eyes the boy would have hit his forehead if he could raise his arm to do so. How was it possible that someone with so much intellect could be so dumb!

He pointed to his nose again and then to the direction he had indicated earlier.

Snape had opened his mouth, probably to berate him again but slowly closed it as he guessed that Harry was trying to tell him something else.

"Are you suggesting to me," he ventured. "That you can smell people near by?"

Harry sighed in exasperation and nodded a firm 'yes.'

"Drop the attitude," warned Snape before he began his own coughing fit.

Rising to his feet he indicated for the boy to do the same and helped him as he started to follow.

He did not know whether or not the boy's senses were leading them towards a village or not but he had no reason to believe that the boy was lying and he had no other ideas for the moment.

Taking off in the suggested direction, the two made their way through the trees.

Their progress would be slow as it seemed that neither of them had particularly high levels of stamina at the moment but they could only hope that they found safety before they found danger.

How did muggles cope!? He could remember vaguely Arthur rambling on about something or other to do with ‘taking the boys camping' at the beginning of the previous year - how well that little ‘adventure' turned out - but how was it even possible to live without magic?

Not of high possibility it would seem as a mere few weeks had passed and so far the duo had been attacked about four times, taken prisoner and locked up, gotten lost in some kind of forest or woodland somewhere they didn't know where! Starved, half drowned, chilled to the bone and were generally half-dead!

Never! Never again would Severus Snape leave the wizarding world without an armada's worth of potions and magical artefacts in his robe pockets!

The journey to . . . ‘somewhere' was a silent one as Harry still hadn't completely recovered his vocal capacity and Severus himself was feeling his throat become rougher and tighter with the dry, summer air. It was obvious that the two would have some sort of a cold to fight off when they got back but that was the least of their worries. Death Eaters were a far greater threat than the sniffles and could not be fended off with a simple Pepper-Up potion.

As such the Potions Master pressed on despite their poor condition. Hopefully this ‘civilization' that Harry had sensed was not much further away. It was doubtful that either of them would last more than a day longer.

If they ran into anymore trouble with the Death Eaters or Muggles they wouldn't last at all.

----ad----

"Albus! Over here Albus!"

The Headmaster wasted no time in reaching the side of the ragged old wizard. He pointed to what he had found on the forest floor and gave Dumbledore a knowing look.

"Gross!" complained the pink haired witch as she joined them out of curiosity.

The Headmaster on the other hand raised his head with a triumphant glint in his eyes.

"We must hurry. This way."

----ss----

Night fell and the two were really struggling with their steps. The Professor's head was pounding so much that he felt that his eyes would be forced out of his scull while the boy was sickeningly pale and looked to be falling asleep on his feet.

He was about to motion to the boy that they should stop and rest for a while before Harry's head raised and he gazed unfocusedly into the distance.

"What is it?" the Professor tried to ask, but found that his throat was too sore and raw to speak as clearly as he had intended to.

Harry did not speak and could not point. He simple looked over to the Professor to show that he had acknowledged him and then stared again in the same direction.

The Potions Master took the hint that he was supposed to follow his gaze. He could see nothing himself so turned again to the boy.

"Can you sense any danger in that direction?"

Harry shook his head in the negative.

The Professor nodded his own head in understanding. That was the direction that they were next to travel.

Sure enough after walking for a while longer the Professor could hear some familiar sounds becoming clearer and clearer.

Being a solitary man he found it an odd feeling being ‘glad' and . . . excited? to hear the sounds of society so close by. He even felt his lungs exhale in a sigh of relief as his mind distinguished the sounds and what they meant.

They were saved!

----???----

"What do you mean ‘lost'!?"

"T-there is no response f-from t-the Satellite tracking system S-sir . . ."

"Then find another way of tracking it down!"

----ss-hp----

A pale hand pulled back the stray tree branch that was blocking his view. There it was, the small town . . . Village by the looks of it. The sun had set over an hour ago but warm lights and the sounds of shouts and laughter offered life to the rural area.

Again the Professor sighed. If he did not feel so ill and worn down this may even have been one of those ultimately rare occasions when he smiled, then again, if he didn't feel so ill and worn out he might not have been as happy to see the jovial little village.

He turned around to call Harry to his side as they made their was towards it and also to remind him to stay cautious as they were not safe yet, but as he turned the boy was nowhere to be seen.

"Potter?" he rasped, heart leaping into his throat.

The only answer was the shuffle of bushes a short distance away.

Cautiously the Professor walked over to the thick layer of foliage and gingerly lowered himself to the ground, fighting back the compelling urge just to strangle the brat and save himself the trouble.

"What's wrong?" he asked, failing to hide any of the impatience in his cold-ridden voice. It was indeed possible that the boy had simply sensed some kind of danger ahead he reminded himself.

The look Harry gave him however told him otherwise. The fear in the boy's eyes was, regrettably, something that he could understand. The boy was afraid to go anywhere near were ‘people' could be found. And who would blame him?

Normally The Potions Master would have resorted to ‘tough love' as Albus liked to call it - bloody stupid name if you asked him! ‘Common sense' was more like it. In order to go on living the boy would have to face his fears directly and find a way to tackle them.

He wasn't stupid however. Being afraid of the dark and being afraid of human contact after being locked up, beaten, experimented on and turned into a wild monster were two very different things. The boy would have to face his fears eventually but he would first need time to recover and build up his courage to do so. He would need to start small.

This introduced another problem however.

"We cannot sit here forever Potter," stated Snape as calmly as he could. "And I have no intention of leaving you here alone."

Slowly and timidly the boy looked up again, the fear in his eyes still shining through.

"You have found the courage to face the world again before," the Professor continued and Harry's eyes widened at the accurate assumption.

It was something that the Professor had run through his mind a number of times now. It was impossible that the Muggles had done what they had to the boy in the short amount of time they had had between stealing from Spinners End and the failed rescue attempt from the Order. Harry had been through this before.

And yet . . . And yet the boy still came to school. Year after year he attended Hogwarts and showed hardly any signs of an anti-social streak or a fear of his peers.

Severus could only assume that he the boy was far stronger than he had given him credit for or that the experience was so traumatic that he had simply shut it all from his mind and tried to ignore it until the memories became buried and forgotten.

Maybe it was a bit of both?

"I will give you some time to collect yourself but I must stress that the longer we remain here the more danger we are in. Our enemies are still searching for us and our only method of getting to safety lies within that village."

Harry nodded quietly and shivered, still holding his arm close to his body. He was cold and hungry and he didn't feel well at all. His head was swimming and his stomach felt like it was on fire.

Snape didn't look all that good either, he thought to himself. In fact, the man didn't sound too well himself. His voice for one was coarse and scratchy, a far cry from the silky deep voice that his students had grown to know and fear. He looked far more pale and drained than usual too and although he had attempted to hide it from the boy Harry knew that he had been sick more than a couple of times since they had started travelling together.

His mind was still hazy and the slightest noise or movement had him on edge but slowly he could feel it focusing and becoming more . . . human.

His hearing had remained sharp and despite everything Harry found that he was vaguely grateful for that. At least it was useful.

He had smelt the village while he was still in his ‘beast form' and directed Snape towards it. He did not know why. It was just that, well, he sort of, ‘trusted' the man. Wanted to do well for him. That was odd. Trust Snape?? Was he really losing his mind? Yet as a beast he had no real knowledge of the wizard before him or any real memory of who he was. All he could understand at that time was that the man was familiar and that he wanted to help and not harm him. Like some kind of ‘pack member' or something.

Harry shuddered. His head hurt far too much to think about this right now. Snape had been easier to get on with over the past few days but that was hardly enough to make them a ‘family' now!

Returning to the inhabited world however. He couldn't explain why but the thought alone terrified him! Okay he was afraid of running into the men from the Environment again but none of them were in the village. He knew that, he was the one who sensed life here. That feeling though . . . it was unshakable. What was to say that other people wouldn't hurt him? What if someone recognised him and turned him over to-?

No. He tried to shake his head but stopped when it hurt too much. He was being silly. Nothing would happen! Nothing at all! It was far worse to sit here in a forest and wait for Death Eaters to appear and take both him and Snape off to be tortured and killed! He knew that! Yet-

"Mr Potter we really should-!"

The Professor was cut off mid-sentence. He twisted his head around and lowered himself towards the ground motioning that Harry should do the same.

He cursed silently to himself as the hem of a black cloak came into view through the branches and pressed himself even lower to the ground. There was no means of defending themselves and Harry had not the strength of the Chimera to help them this time.

They had been close, so close! And now all they could do was pray.

It didn't help that his nose was running and that his throat had gone completely dry and was preparing itself for another coughing fit. A quick glance towards the boy suggested that he was suffering the same. He cursed again.

On instinct the Potions Master reached for his wand and felt a cold sweat wash through him as he realised that it was gone. He doubted that he had enough energy to cast even a simple spell but at least it could have given him something to use in the way of posing his own threat.

Just as the thought had entered his head the tip of something came to rest within inches of his line of sight. Slowly he looked up and gaped at what he saw.

"I believe you may have dropped this," spoke the gentle voice. "Are you alright, Severus?"

Was he not such a reserved person the Potions Master could have broken down there and then. Instead he raised a shaky hand and grasped the handle of the familiar, black ebony wand that hung before him.

"Headmaster . . ." he rasped but stopped when Dumbledore came to kneel beside Harry and himself.

"I think that it is time that we took you two home," he said gently.

"Hey, hey come on," urged a gentle voice.  "Slowly does it Harry.  Take your time, I've got you."

The voice sounded so familiar and a warm hand was pressed firmly against his own as he struggled to open his eyes.

"That's it.  Welcome back to the real world Harry."

Harry felt something cold and metallic being carefully placed across the bridge of his nose and his eyes focused on the concerned but seemingly relieved face of his Godfather.

"Sirius!" he croaked.

"Shhh," Sirius ordered gently as he reached a hand towards his Godson. 

Harry flinched away on instinct and immediately regretted his uncontrolled action at the sight of his Godfather's confused and slightly hurt expression. 

Why did he do that?  Sirius wasn't going to hurt him.

"Are you alright Harry?" asked the dark haired man, worry showing clearly in every inch of his once handsome face.

"W-wh," stuttered Harry.  "W-where am I?"

"It's okay," Sirius was quick to assure him.  "You're safe.  Dumbledore and Remus found you out in the middle of nowhere and brought you back here.  No-one is going to hurt you now Harry."

There was a hard undertone in that last sentence and Harry felt himself relax slightly from the tension that he had not realised that he was feeling. 

‘The middle of nowhere?' he thought to himself.  ‘The woodland!  But how? When? And - and - what about...  What about the Death Eaters and those ‘other' people???  Or-or the Chimera! Does Sirius know!?!  Does everyone know??  What happened to me?  Why did I - why did I... ‘change' like that!?!? And what about- what about Snape?  Snape!  He was there too!  What happened to him???'

The boy jumped at the sensation of a warm weight coming to rest on his shoulder and was pulled out from his downward spiral of ‘what if's' and ‘whys'.  He retreated backwards in to his pillow away from the touch before he realised that the pressure was coming from Sirius's hand again.

"Harry? It's okay, you're safe.  You're safe here," spoke the gentle voice of his Godfather again. 

He offered the boy a glass of cool water but the young Gryffindor just turned his head further away. 

"Harry?  Harry, please look at me."

Harry did his best and it took an incredible amount of effort to lift his head upwards in order to raise his gaze.  Far more effort than it ever should have done to simply look at his own Godfather.  Despite telling himself this however, Harry found that when he had finally managed to do as he had been asked he could not hold eye contact with the man trying to comfort him for more than a milli-second or so.

He felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration but all he could do was sit and desperately fight the strong urge to run away and hide.

At length he heard an unsettled sigh sound above his head. 

"Do you need anything, Harry?  An extra blanket?   Something to eat?"

Without much thought about the answer Harry shook his head in the negative without once looking up or making a sound.

"Alright...  Well, just, try and get some sleep okay?  I'll come back later and to see if you need anything then," relented Sirius.  He reached out a hand to pat the boy reassuringly on the shoulder again but thought better of it and withdrew the hand as he stood up instead. 

Unable to think of anything else to say to the boy and understanding that he was silently wishing to be left alone he reluctantly made his way to the door, pausing to straighten a few bits of furniture and decorative items unnecessarily along the way. 

When he finally did reach the door he turned around and looked back once more in the hope that a timid voice would call him back into the room for support or reassurance but when none was heard he slowly and quietly closed the door and headed quietly down the dusty old staircase towards the kitchen.

 ---

"Anything?"

The question was directed to him before he had even managed to sit down.  He looked wearily over to his friend and shrugged his shoulders sadly.

"He's awake," he answered and the werewolf's brow furrowed at the lack of enthusiasm in his old friend's voice.

"Is he alright?"

Sirius sat himself down at the table were Remus and the Headmaster were already seated.  He placed his head in his hands and looked thoughtfully at the heavy oak table before him.

"He wouldn't say..." he spoke finally.  "In fact, he wouldn't even look at me..."

"He's probably just very tired," suggested Remus.  "He has been through an awful lot in such a short amount of time Sirius."

"What if he hates me?" Sirius asked, more to himself than anyone else in the room.  "I failed him when he needed me the most and I haven't been there for him when I should have been."

"Harry does not hate you," spoke the werewolf with certainty.  "He knows that you would do anything to protect him."

"But I didn't!" Sirius broke in.  "He was right there in front of me and I couldn't do anything to reach him!  He saw me!  He looked right at me and I couldn't even open the stupid door that kept me from him!"

"That is quite enough, Sirius," the Headmaster finally spoke up and both men turned their heads to face him.  "There was absolutely nothing any of us could do to break down that barrier in time to reach Harry and you know better than any of us that we tried." 

In fact, the frantic black dog had tried everything from bombarding the solid door with his strongest magic to actually trying to bite and scratch his way through!

"As for finding him afterwards I am certain that you would have searched without resting had I given you the opportunity to do so and that is one of the reasons why I did not give you that opportunity."

"I should have stayed with him that night . . ." Sirius argued.  "I could have-"

"You were needed else were at that time," the Headmaster pressed.  "It is now  that Harry needs you."

"He doesn't even want to look at me," sighed Sirius.

"Are you giving up?" asked Dumbledore knowing fully well what the reaction would be.

"Of course not!"

"Then I suggest that you calm yourself and get some rest.  I believe that it will be some time before Harry can start to heal himself and while sitting with him without food or sleep is a noble endeavour, it will be neither helpful nor fair to neither you nor Harry in the long run."

Sirius sighed and nodded his head in understanding.  It wasn't that he had forgiven himself for failing Harry but the Headmaster was right.  If he made himself sick with worry then he wouldn't be fit to help Harry when he needed him.  That is, if he ever needed him.

"What do you mean?"

The question caught him off guard and he looked up to see Remus staring suspiciously at the Headmaster.

"What do you mean ‘heal himself'," the werewolf clarified.

Dumbledore released his own sombre sigh and looked sadly down at the kitchen table. 

"Harry has suffered a great deal at the hands of these muggle scientists, and over a good length of time.  We then have to consider that he has recently witnessed the death of one of his classmates and the rise of Lord Voldemort.  He has been chained up and goodness knows what else before being forcibly transformed into a horrendous beast and hunted down by muggles and Death Eaters alike who have intended to do him nothing but further harm. . ." 

The Headmaster straightened his half-moon spectacles and looked up at the two wizards.  "I would be greatly surprised if the boy comes bounding down the stairs any time soon and sits comfortably in a room full of people.  Particularly if all the attention is on him."

Silence filled the room for a good long while before Sirius finally spoke up.

"I will hunt them down and make everyone of them suffer for this," he spat darkly.

Remus smiled weakly at his friend.  "Don't do anything rash Padfoot."  Then turning back towards the Headmaster he added, "I assume that is why you haven't had anyone stay at Headquarters for the last few weeks?  I know that Ron and Hermione are anxious to see him."

The Headmaster smiled weakly back.  "That is precisely why Remus.  Too much attention could scare the boy and only serve to damage him further.  I have indeed received a number of rather large and demanding letters from Miss Granger and many rather shorter, but by no means less urgent, letters from Mr Weasley that have told me in no uncertain terms that they wish to see him as soon as possible.  I think that moderation and gentle reassurance are what the boy needs right now however.  Take care of him Sirius."

The aged wizard stood up and made to leave the room. 

"And Snape?"

Dumbledore turned to respond but Sirius cut in first.

"What about him?" he demanded.

"How is he?" asked Remus, by no means deterred.

"Better," answered the Headmaster after a moment's hesitation.  "He's-"

To this even Sirius raised his head in interest.

"Well.  I am sure that he will be back to his old self soon," finished the Headmaster.

"Goodie," mocked Sirius.

Remus raised a brow at the Headmaster's response but said nothing.

"Good day gentlemen," bid Dumbledore as he left the room and then the house itself. 

Neither men left in the kitchen had any idea about where it was that he was going but both had learned that there was never much point in asking.

"Get some sleep," suggested Remus again.  "I'll keep an eye and an ear out for Harry and let you know if anything happens."

With some reluctance Sirius agreed and slowly made his way upstairs into his own room.  Remus was sure that he had only given in at all because he had promised to watch over Harry himself and because the black haired wizard was practically falling asleep on his feet.

When he was alone and the room was once again filled with silence he sat back in his seat and allowed his thoughts to roam.

It had been a fortnight since both Harry and Snape had been found half dead in a large woodland bordering the small, muggle village called Longleat.  Remus could only assume that when Snape had apparated both himself and Harry out of the battlefield that the Potions Master had instinctively concentrated on getting them as close to Hogwarts as possible. 

As it was, something- something had gone wrong.  The two had ended up too far West and too far South.  Nowhere near Hogwarts actually.  It was likely that the ‘Chimera,' he thought with a disgusted sneer, was far too heavy to be carried such a distance.

Whatever might have happened during the days the two were lost was a mystery to everyone but the two in question.  As a result all that mattered to him right now was that Harry recovered and Sirius stopped worrying.  It was almost painful to watch them both struggling with their own forms of grief and suffering and know that there was very little he could do to change any of it.

The werewolf sighed and raised his cup to his lips.  It worried him that Harry was so quick to reject Sirius's company. . .  From the boy's letters it was apparent that he loved his Godfather dearly and it didn't fit with reason that the boy would turn away from him now.

‘Poor Harry.' He thought grimly.  He knew all too well how it felt to lose yourself to a savage beast.  Knew all too well the pains of a forced transformation and the desperate fears one felt when they finally regained their human mind and wondered how many people you may have harmed or even killed this time. . .

Those monsters!  Being bitten by a werewolf was one thing. A mindless beast that the unwilling human has no hope of controlling but to do such a thing with knowing??? 

Those ‘people' knew exactly what it was that they were doing to the boy and while his manner was rather more subtle than his old friends, he too felt the burning rage and hatred deep within himself.  They would be stopped!

  ----hp----

He was tired.

He felt much better than he had done in the woods.  His stomach ached and his throat felt dry but no longer scratchy or sore.  His head thumped slightly but that was nothing compared to the heavy pounding he remembered beating against his skull.

He was just tired . . .  so very, very tired . . .

Yet he couldn't sleep.  The fear and anxiety were suffocating him and making it impossible to relax.

Harry had not moved an inch since his Godfather had left the room.  He pulled the sheets tightly around himself and shook uncontrollably. 

Part of him wished that he had let Sirius stay - wished that the man would have sat with him until he had fallen back to sleep but another part of him was glad that he was gone - glad that he was alone to try and gather his thoughts without having the distraction of someone fussing over him.

He felt bad at that thought.  Sirius always looked out for him.  Heck!  The man even went to Azkaban for twelve years for his family!  But he couldn't face him.  The simple thought of having anyone near him was terrifying!

What if he ‘transformed' again??  What if he couldn't stop the creature that resided within him from hurting one of his friends?  What if those people came back for him?  Or recognised him in the streets and took him back there??  Or- or what if everyone would be afraid of him now! And he would be alone again?

‘Alone.  Heh.  Pretty stupid thing to worry about when you don't want anybody near you anyway!' he thought bitterly to himself.

Finally laying himself down he pulled the covers over his head, hiding himself from view and curled up into a ball.

‘Pull yourself together,' he urged himself.  ‘You've pulled through before, right?'

‘Yeah, but I didn't remember anything then, that's why.'

‘Even so, I can just - just, forget again!  Right? . . .'

‘How can I just forget?  How in the heck did I forget in the first place!?'

Shaking his head he curled up tighter and closed his eyes. 

If only he could stay there forever.  Tucked up in a warm bed in a place that seemed far away from the world.

What was it that Sirius had said? ‘It's okay.  You're safe here.'? 

Yes, ‘safe.'  He liked that thought.  Most people take it for granted.  Children play in the park, the elderly browse the markets, friends and families walk the streets with little more in the way of concern than whether or not it might rain.    

But not him.  Never him.  Never ‘The-boy-who-lived.'

End of chapter 15.

Poor Sirius.  Now I'm torturing him as well :p

Random chatter:  Topics of the day are 1) Anybody seen ‘Hairspray' - the film or the show?  It's great!

2) It's almost Halloween!!!! Yay!!!!!  I LOVE that holiday!  Even more than Christmas sometimes.

3) ‘If' I decided to do a Halloween scene, what do you think Harry, Hermione and Ron should dress up as?  I'm open to any and all suggestions :) Also, what do people think of the idea of having a Halloween scene at all?

Weeks had passed. Days had been and gone. His cold had gone. He was feeling much better actually.

Sirius came up regularly to check up on him and from that he had learnt a little more about the house he was in.

Apparently it was Sirius's! He had inherited it after his parents died but by the way that the man talked about the place he was none too fond of it. In fact it sounded a lot like he hated the place.

It hadn't taken much to keep Harry from wandering around the building. He hadn't even left his room for the first week he had been there - that is, the first week that he had been ‘conscious' in the house - and he had only started walking to the end of the hall in the last half of his second week there. He was eating his meals in the kitchen now but he still checked around every corner before turning it.

He had spent a total of four and a half weeks there and Remus and Sirius had looked after him during that time, with the odd visit from the Headmaster and Mrs Weasley, and it was from them (when he eventually had plucked up the courage to ask) that he had learnt that the house was ‘hidden' by magic. That only the ‘Secret Keeper' could tell someone where to find it and that that Secret Keeper was Dumbledore himself.

Apparently the house was currently being used as Headquarters for some sort of Organisation against Voldemort but Remus had changed the topic rather hastily when Sirius had mentioned the fact.

It annoyed Harry. He was the one that was always, always! Caught up in these things and yet would anybody ever tell him why? Of course not! Because that would make too much sense!

Ron and Hermione had been writing to him a lot lately as well. It made sense he supposed. They would be worried after hearing nothing from him for so long. It was a disservice to them as a friend not to write back telling them about everything that had happened but it was difficult to write anything more than ‘I'm okay thanks. Don't worry. See you later. X'

Not much of a detailed account but it's not like they were telling him anything either!

Sirius had mentioned inviting them both over for the last few weeks of summer if Harry was feeling up to it. It would be nice, he thought. He hadn't seen them in ages and it would be nice to try and regain some kind of ‘normality'. Pretend that nothing had happened. Act like nothing was different.

‘Yeah,' the bitter thought in his mind spoke. ‘Act like nothing's different. Like your not some out-of-control monster created by mad scientists in a secret, underground laboratory!'

‘Funny... I never thought that those places really existed. Then again, I never used to think that magic really existed either and now I have the most evil, bad-tempered wizard in the world after me. Heck! Why not bring on the aliens and I can have a real field day!'

Just as his thoughts were turning bitter again a knock at the door sounded startling him and causing him to dive under the covers of his bed instinctively.

The door opened as he silently berated himself for his ‘childishness' but he did not poke his head out of the covers until he heard a voice next to him.

"Still a bit jumpy are we?" the voice chuckled.

It helped... Instead of treating him like some delicate and helpless little child like everyone else seemed to be doing Sirius had taken the opposite approach. Instead of tiptoeing around Harry, Sirius had sat calmly and patiently day after day, reassuring him that he was okay now and coaxing him out of his self-withdrawal.

When Harry had finally given in to his gentle encouragement and light teasing and started actually talking to his Godfather, Sirius had really made an effort to get Harry back on his feet.

He had made light conversations that always followed the theme of ‘when you're well enough' and ‘once I get you out of this room.' No ‘if's,' no ‘perhaps when's,' just, ‘when you are well again,' like it was only a matter of time before it was so.

He'd even had the chance to get to know his Godfather a little better in his ‘healthier phases' and heard stories about him and his father when they were younger. Like the time when Sirius had botched up is animagius transformation and had to live with a tail for a week!

In fact. He hadn't dwelled half as much on past events as he probably would have done if Sirius hadn't been there. There was still one question that he wanted to ask however. One thing that he wanted to know. But he didn't dare ask.

Sirius and Snape had never been two to get on well.

"Yeah," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Sirius just smiled down at him. "You should get ready," he stated eagerly. "I have a surprise for you downstairs."

With that he left the room. Harry was left sitting half hidden and perplexed on the bed. Surprise? He wasn't sure that he was up to finding any surprises but Sirius had already left.

Slowly and with partial reluctance and apprehension Harry rose from the old bed and made his way into the en-suit bathroom to wash is face and brush his teeth.

After getting dressed he poked his head cautiously out of the door to make sure that the coast was clear. Of course it would be but . . .

It seemed to take an age to reach the kitchen door. This was a very old house and Harry had to stop and take a few breaths to calm himself at every creak and groan that the ancient structure made. Only Gryffindor bravery and the thought of keeping his Godfather waiting kept him from fleeing back to his room and gave him reason enough to force himself forwards.

‘I can do it,' he told himself fiercely. ‘I can do it!'

To his greatest pride and relief his shaking hands eventually made contact with the firm, sturdy wood of the kitchen door.

After taking a number of breaths to ready himself Harry pushed open the door and gasped at the sight before him.

---???---

"Idiots! How could you loss the signal!?"

"I-I-I d-don't kn-n-now Sir. I-It just- just vanished!"

"Send out a search team! I want them found!"

---ss-ad---

"Anything?"

"Nothing..."

"I'm...I am so sorry, Severus."

----hp----

"Surprise!"

Harry was stunned. He didn't know whether to run into the room or away form it.

Red and gold streamers hung from the ceiling, balloons of the same colour hung, lay and floated in every visible space. Remus and Sirius stood by the kitchen table wearing party hats and a spectacular pile of delicious looking food lay out before an even bigger pile of brightly wrapped presents.

"Wha-?" stuttered Harry nervously.

"Happy Birthday Harry," Sirius said gently but enthusiastically.

"Happy Birthday" echoed Remus.

"My birthday?" queried Harry as Sirius made his way over to the door to meet him.

"Well, actually, you missed your ‘real' birthday because you were asleep in bed. Dozy pup," joked Sirius. "But today is exactly twenty days since your birthday so we thought that we'd celebrate it today instead."

"Oh," was all Harry could say in response, not really understanding why ‘twenty days' mattered more than any other number of days.

"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Remus softly.

"Yeah," Harry assured him, while trying to convince himself that he was. "Yeah I'm okay. Thanks."

He smiled up at Sirius who seemed to be delighted at his Godson's response and gently coaxed him into the room to sit by the table.

The food smelt delicious and although he didn't have much of an appetite at the moment Harry couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight and smell of the meal before him.

"So. What is it to be Young Master Potter?" asked Remus in a very formal voice after throwing a towel over his arm.

Harry couldn't fight the slight smile that tugged at his lips.

"What?" Sirius cut in, in mock alarm. "And I thought that this was an ‘all you can eat buffet' if I had know it would be formal I would have worn a suit."

At this Remus turned on the man, back still straight and towel over his arm as if he was a haughty waiter. "No suit? I am afraid that this is a celebration for those of high status and class only. You, Sir, shall have to leave."

Sirius threw a smirk at the now silently laughing Harry before continuing on with their little play. "Leave? Me? How dare you! Anyway, what's wrong with me?"

Remus smirked himself before stating in his ‘uppity' voice, "We do not allow ‘pets' in the restaurant."

Harry really was laughing now. Tears forming at his eyes.

"Ah!" exclaimed Sirius suddenly. "There it is!"

"There's what?" questioned Harry, his laughter replaced by confusion.

"Your smile. I knew we left it here somewhere," smiled Sirius.

Harry smiled back. A genuine smile this time. For all that was bad in the world, at least he had some sort of a family to be there for him.