Harry Potter was running late. His robe flared out behind him as he dashed down the dim hallway, struggling to catch up with the fleet white spec fluttering far ahead of him.

"Hedwig! We'll be late!" Harry panted as he rounded a corner. They were supposed to be in the carriages headed for the train station, but Hedwig had deftly escaped his cage and had thus led Harry off onto a wild 'owl' chase. The train waited for no one, and it was that thought that spurred Harry on to greater speed. Rounding a sharp corner at a nearly insane pace, he never even saw the crimson eyed cat that stood directly in his path. Not a moment later and Harry found himself sprawled flat on his face, the cat, Mrs. Norris, hissing at him angrily. "Stupid cat..." he muttered after the retreating feline. Slowly pushing himself up from the floor, Harry groaned in frustration. Hedwig had disappeared completely from sight, he was going to have to search for her now. And now he'd never make the train in time....He straightened his askew glasses and dusted his knees off, then trudged bitterly down the hallway. "You had to wait til today to fly off, didn't you?" he muttered under his breath. 

Half an hour later Harry found himself trudging down yet another hallway, dragging his feet in bitter resignation. He could only imagine how much trouble he'd be in for missing the train. It might not even matter if the school year was over or not, he'd probably be given detention anyway. He wondered idly if they might even let Filch drag some of the old torture devices out of retirement to use on him.

"I'll be hanging by my thumbs..." he muttered, staring at the marble floor at his feet.

"Oh I hardly think we'll go that far. We might ask you why you're not on the train home, but I doubt torture will be involved." An old, friendly voice said. Harry's gaze flicked upward instantly, and a relieved smile crossed his face. At least it hadn't been Snape who'd found him.

"Hi Professor Dumbledore....Hedwig flew off and I've been chasing after her." Harry said, hanging his head in shame.

"Ah. Don't worry about it Harry, Hedwig showed up in my office a few minutes ago, I came out to see what was going on. I thought that something had stalled the carriages." Dumbledore replied, his kindly face wrinkling in a smile as he watched the utter relief wash over his young student's face.

"Thank you Professor....but I still missed the train."

"I guess you'll have to walk home, then." Dumbledore said, scratching his beard thoughtfully. Harry looked positively mortified.

"...walk....?" Harry managed, unsure whether the old wizard was being serious or joking.

"Relax, Harry, I'm only kidding," he laughed, "I'll have one of the teachers take you home. Now come with me and we'll get Hedwig." Harry nodded dumbly and followed, just now noticing how close they were to the Headmaster's office. He stepped through the heavy wooden doors and made his way into the office, standing obediently before the cluttered desk. Hedwig was perched on the far windowsill, preening her feathers.

"Have a seat, Harry." Dumbledore said, waving one hand toward the chair opposite him while digging around inside his desk for something with the other.

Harry sat down obediently, hands folded carefully in his lap. A moment later Dumbledore found what he'd been looking for. It was some sort of small treat that he held out to Hedwig. The owl pounced upon it without hesitation, downing it in one elegant gulp. After realizing that no more treats were to be had, the owl flapped its wings twice and landed on the back of Harry's chair, eyes glancing around the room at everything but Harry. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Well Harry, let's see to getting you home, shall we?" Dumbledore said, then rang a small silver bell that sat atop his desk. A mere instant later and a tiny creature with large round eyes and floppy ears appeared through the doorway, a ridiculous smile plastered on his face. "Yuri," Dumbledore addressed the creature, "Could you please find out for me which teachers will be here for at least the rest of the day, and from among those that will be, could you inquire if they have any pressing engagements?" The creature bobbed up and down, still grinning madly.

"Certainly so, Sir! It will be Yuri's pleasure, Sir!" it said, its long, baggy, stocking hat flopping wildly with each excited shake of its head.

"Thank you, Yuri." Dumbledore said, and the creature took off at a dash. Harry stared after it for a moment, having only met one other of its like. It had been a little creature named Dobby, and he'd been nothing like the happy, neatly dressed creature now bobbing up and down in the room.

"Hogwarts has House Elves?" Harry asked in mild disbelief, Dobby had made his species fate sound like a horrid breed of slavery. Yuri, however, judging by the bright smile on his face and the spring in his step, didn't hardly agree.

"The kitchens are run by House Elves, in case you didn't know." Dumbledore said with a smile. Harry tore his gaze away from the door.

"No, I didn't Professor." Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He'd started thinking about going home again, and the more he thought about it, the more he wished he could stay at Hogwarts. No doubt his Uncle would be furious about him being late, that is, if he even remembered that he was supposed to pick him up at the train station that evening.

"Your eyes are looking elsewhere Harry. Something's troubling you, would you mind indulging an old man's curiosity?" Dumbledore said, his eyes glinting with merriment as well as a hint of concern.

"I suppose..."Harry said quietly, "It's just that...I don't want to go back with the Dursley's, I just wish there was a way I could stay here."

"What about your friends? They aren't here." Dumbledore offered quietly.

"They aren't there either. This place has been more of a home than the Dursley's ever has." Harry said quietly, staring down at his hands. Dumbledore moved to reply, but the door swung open and Yuri came hopping back in, still grinning.

"I asked them for you, Sir." Yuri said happily.

"Go ahead, Yuri." Dumbledore urged.

"Almost half of faculty already gone, sir. Only Professor's Flitwick, McGonagal, Snape, Mr. Hagrid and Mr. Filch remain, Sir. Flitwick is leaving in an hour; McGonagal is giving a lecture on transmogrification down in Diagon Alley tonight; Hagrid is off chasing down some creatures that the 7th years freed from the exotic creatures classroom as a farewell prank; and Filch attacked me with a broom before I could ask. Professor Snape is staying here for holiday, has no plans." The elf finished, nearly out of breath. However, the smile had disappeared only for a moment, and now was once again displayed proudly.

Harry, in the meantime, had sunk lower and lower in the chair as each teacher had been checked off the list. Despite the elf's final sentence, Harry clung to the faint hope that perhaps...just perhaps, Dumbledore would decide to take him home himself.

"Professor Snape is the only one?" Dumbledore asked, glancing somewhat apologetically at Harry.

"Yes, Sir. He specifically said he was going to do as little as possible this evening, Sir." Yuri said, confusion knitting his face as he caught sight of Harry's crushed expression. Dumbledore sighed and snatched a long quill from atop his desk, and began scribbling something quickly on a piece of gray parchment. He rolled it up a minute later and handed it to Yuri.

"Take this down to Professor Snape, please, and then you may take work off early today. However, I suggest you run away immediately after delivering it to him, he might not like what it says very much." Dumbledore said, and Harry audibly groaned.

"Yes Sir, and thank you Sir!" Yuri said excitedly, clutching the rolled parchment like a long awaited birthday gift. Then the elf was gone, and Harry stared at the floor in silence.

"It'll be fine Harry, I would take you myself, but I promised my grandchildren I'd visit them this evening, I haven't seen them in months." Dumbledore said, looking slightly guilty and very apologetic.

"It's okay sir, it'll probably be a very quick trip home." Harry said, and Dumbledore smiled.

"You're probably right about that. Now why don't you go down and wait in the Great Hall, maybe have a snack or something... I'm sure you wouldn't want to be here when Professor Snape comes barging in the door." Dumbledore said with a wide grin.

"Alright Professor, thank you for finding Hedwig and everything." Harry said, rising from his chair.

"Anytime Harry, my familiars used to always make me chase after them too. Have a wonderful summer." he said as Harry stood in the doorway.

"Umm...Sir?" Harry asked uncertainly, glancing at the white owl that still sat on the back of the chair.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Could maybe... Hedwig stay here for the summer? It would be... safer for her here." Harry managed, staring at the floor once again.

"Certainly, Harry. She can stay in the owlry with the others. We'll take good care of her."

"Thank you very much, Headmaster." Harry said with a smile.

"No problem Harry, take care."

"You too, Sir. Bye!" with the last word spoken, Harry slipped out the door and headed off for a last minute snack. After all, it might be the last time he got to eat anything more than bread and butter for a very long time.

Snape charged down the stairs like a great black storm, eyes nearly flashing with matching lightning bolts. He took the stairs two at a time, his cloak flying wildly out behind him. He bitterly ignored the many chattering pictures and paintings that tried to gain his attention, casting all a withering glare. A low growl could be heard deep in his throat, barely audibly between lips twisted in an angry snarl. He held great respect for Albus Dumbledore, even saw him as a sort of father figure in a vague way... yet of all the things to ask! If it had been any other student he wouldn't have been so furio.. .---wait-- no, he'd still be furious, but if it had been anyone but Potter he probably wouldn't have kicked over every table and vase that had been unfortunate enough to lie in his path. The semester was over, FINALLY over, and yet that Potter child still managed to get in one last laugh. 'Well,' Snape thought with a sneer, 'he'll be in for the wildest ride of his life!'

Flinging the doors to the Great Hall open with such unrestrained fury that the proceeding 'boom' echoed thrice off the chamber walls, Severus Snape stalked toward the only figure present in the room. Potter. And he looked completely and utterly depressed. Snape smiled at that, and also at the fleeting look of pure terror that crossed the boy's face when he spied the origin of the thunderous slamming of the doors. Snape was behind him in an instant, taking only a moment to savor the frightened gleam in the boy's eyes, before savagely latching onto the scruff of his neck and hauling him roughly to his feet.

"Come." Snape ordered, making no effort to disguise the blind fury in his voice. Harry nodded nervously, and followed the dark whirlwind that was the Potions Master back out of the Hall.

Harry didn't even pay attention to where they were going until they stepped out onto the front law. He'd been so intent on keeping up with his Professor's great strides that he hadn't bothered to wonder about how exactly he was going to get home. His question was answered a moment later when Snape stopped suddenly, a broom having magically appeared in his hand. It wasn't an ordinary broom by any means, it was almost twice as long and thick as a normal broom. To Harry it looked like something Hagrid would have ridden. It may well have belonged to the gamekeeper too, for judging by the sneer Snape was giving it, it most certainly wasn't his own. Harry decided he'd brave a question.

"What kind of broom is that? " he asked as Snape struggled to tighten the bundle of grasses at the broom's tail. At first the Professor made a scoffing sound low in his throat, but then answered quickly.

"Tandem, designed to carry two people...or Hagrid." he said, then muttered something under his breath about lending the gamekeeper his broom polish so he could at least look like he was trying to take care of the bloody thing. Then the Potions Master gave up on the tail and climbed on the broom toward the front end. "Get on," he barked at Harry, and he immediately complied, climbing awkwardly on toward the rear. He'd barely gotten his grip when they were in the air, sailing insanely fast over the dark landscape below.

Harry had been studying the twinkling landscape below with a despaired, blank interest when he felt himself starting to slip. They hadn't been in the air more than a few minutes, and something about his position on the broom seemed wrong. He let out a startled gasp as he began to slip sideways, but a hand rocketed back toward him and gripped the front of his shirt in a tight fist. Then he was violently yanked forward.

"Hold on to me, you idiot. You, being such a high-and-mighty Quidditch Seeker should know something about brooms." Snape barked angrily, and Harry latched onto him quickly, brows furrowed in anger. He couldn't just let that one go.

"We don't use tandems in Quidditch, Sir." he muttered, still frowning.

"That's why we have things called books, Potter," Snape replied darkly, and Harry just knew that the man was sneering.

Harry grumbled and turned his attention back to the ground below. They'd just passed Hogsmeade a few minutes ago, and at their current, insane pace Harry guessed that they'd be to the Dursley's in half an hour. Casting a quick glance up at the back of Snape's head, its long, dark hair whipping wildly, Harry decided it wouldn't be an improvement. As much as he hated Snape, and that was quite a lot, mind you, he had to face the fact that the Dursleys were worse by far. Snape had yelled at him, cut him down, forced him to do hard labor (detention and homework alike), and made life miserable for him whenever he could. However, the Dursleys did all of the above, and locked him in a cupboard, beat him, starved him, and ultimately made him feel like something utterly less than human. Grudgingly, Harry decided that flying on a broomstick with Professor Snape was the lesser of two evils, and therefore returned to dreading the moment they landed on the Dursley's doorstep. Then a thought struck him that instantly turned that dread into outright fear....what would they do when they saw Snape on their doorstep?! If they were so anxious to hide away everything even faintly magical of Harry's last summer, they definitely wouldn't react well to the sight of a full- blown dark Wizard on their doorstep. Unconsciously, Harry tightened his grip on Professor Snape, and struggled to force his attention once again to the scenery far below.

Almost precisely one half hour later, Snape slowed the broom to a somewhat reasonable pace, glancing at the streets roughly eighty feet below. Snape had come to the city many times in his youth, he'd been raised in London and wasn't completely unfamiliar with the territory. He rather detested the place now, full of far too many bright lights and hustle and bustle.

"Number Four, Privet Drive. Dursley Residence. Is that correct, Potter?" Snape asked, casting an idle, almost bored glance behind him.

"Yes, Sir. The big blue one, on the right." Harry replied, his voice shaking slightly. Snape cast him another cold, questioning glance. He could tell that it wasn't him that the boy was afraid of. He wondered, did the boy sense something nearby worth fearing? Or was he merely afraid of his family's retribution for missing the train?

"What are you frightened of Potter? Other than me, that is." Snape asked coldly, his dark eyebrows tilted downward in an accusatory glance. Potter looked up at him, now shaking slightly.

"You'll see in a minute, Sir." he managed, hoping dearly that Snape would leave it at that. He'd much rather not discuss the Dursleys with Snape. His Professor made a loud 'hrumpf' sound deep in his throat and turned around on the broom, steering them down toward number four, Privet Drive.

They landed on the front lawn, and Snape made the broom disappear with a slight wave of his hand and something mumbled idly under his breath. He stalked up the walkway to the front door, robes flaring and Harry following obediently behind, already steeling his nerves for the forthcoming onslaught. He could pretty much guess what would happen. Dudley would open the door, scream, and get his father. Uncle Vernon would come down and try to intimidate Snape, then drag Harry in by the ears and throw him in the cupboard. Then he'd grab his shotgun from the closet and yell and scream at Snape until he finally left. Of course, knowing Snape, he'd probably yell right back, maybe even turn Vernon into a little spot on the rug. Harry seriously hoped for the latter. Snape cast a mild glance of curiosity at Potter, who had just removed his outer robes in a frenzy, revealing the dark pants and button up shirt beneath, and was now busily folding it beneath his arm. Then Snape rang the doorbell, and the speculation was over. Dudley's face appeared in the doorway, just as predicted.

If Snape had bothered to listen, even once, to his fellow colleagues' monotonous drones of conversation, he would have heard something about the Dursleys. And he would have also known that he had already committed two serious mistakes. Number One:...he'd shown up in such a right and proper neighborhood dressed in his robes of all things, and Number Two: he'd rung the Dursley's doorbell. Snape had assumed he'd find the average muggle family, annoyingly jovial or lost in depression, or both at the same time. He hadn't, however, expected anything even remotely like the Dursleys, and within mere seconds he understood why Potter had indicated he'd find the reason for his fear out for himself.

The hideously large, pork-like face that peered out through the doorway from atop a mountain of flesh before it slammed shut once again was quite unlike anything Severus Snape had ever seen before. But then the loud, shrieking wail of 'Dad!' emitted at the top of the boy's (if indeed it were a child) lungs proved to breech even that assumption. He couldn't help but wonder if Harry had deliberately sent them to the wrong house, but his thoughts were immediately amended.

"That was Dudley, their son. Uncle Vernon will come out next." Harry said softly, and Snape barely had time to ponder the fact that Potter was actually hiding behind him, his left hand twisted tightly in a loose fold of his robe as he peered cautiously around from behind. And then the door sailed open again with a thunderous boom, and Snape had to stall his hand from flying for his wand. The look of pure and utter hatred the man (Uncle Vernon, he surmised) sent his way caused even Snape to balk in surprise, his stern glare faltering into one of shock for a brief moment. Severus Snape furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, studying the new muggle from head to foot. That the man had absolutely no neck, was the first thing he noticed, and the second was that he seemed to be far too large for his skin, for it was stretched and shining across his pink face and tree-trunk arms. Harry slipped further behind him, struggling to hide even further behind his Professor. Vernon took an angry step forward, his broad hands settling sharply on his sides.

"I thought I made it clear to you freaks to stay away from here, we want nothing to do with the lot of you." Vernon said, barely restraining his anger. Snape almost regretted his words of reply, but it was what he had come for, after all.

"Your nephew missed his train due to certain...circumstances. I am merely here to drop him off, nothing more." Snape said, and Vernon's eyes instantly flicked to Harry, who had finally emerged from hiding once Snape had finished speaking. Snape, despite his first impression of the family, had expected the man to soften at least somewhat at the sight of his kin, if anything at all. However, Vernon's face turned an even angrier red and his lips curled back in a snarl.

"So....you haven't blown yourself up yet, whelp?" Vernon said, clearly disappointed, "I was hoping never to see your sorry face around here ever again, brat, especially after that daring escape of yours last summer!" Vernon barked, and leapt violently forward, latching one huge hand fiercely into Harry's hair, and then dragged him violently inside. Snape watched with his mouth hanging wide open as a woman inside the house (his aunt, presumably) opened the door to a tiny cupboard beneath the stairs, and Vernon tossed his prisoner inside, then locking the door without a second word or glance. The fat boy, who had been sitting on the stairs, now jumped up in excitement and began pouncing up and down on the stairs.

Vernon whirled back around, eyes twinkling with a twisted satisfaction that Snape himself was all too familiar with, though currently he found it quite disturbing. 'He almost makes me look like a nice guy.' he thought, then straightened when Vernon refocused his attention on the door.

"You still there? Well, I can't say that I thank you for bringing him back, 'cause I don't. We'd all have been much better off if you'd just dropped him in a lake on your way here. But since you're still there, I have something I wanna ask you about...." Snape raised one eyebrow slightly, his expression not even twitching. Anything this man would possibly ask for was definitely something any sensible man would never agree too. And Snape considered himself quite sensible, thank you very much.

"Go on..." Snape said warily, eyebrow still raised. Vernon stood there for a moment, scratching his stubbly chin as he looked Snape up and down, then his mouth turned up in a slight half smile, suddenly friendly.

"Well, we haven't been properly introduced have we? That darling tyke on the stairway is my son, Dudley, of which I'm quite proud, I might add; and that beautiful woman over there is my wife Petunia. I'm Vernon Dursley." he said, thrusting out one meaty palm. Snape was loathe to take it, but grudgingly complied.

"Professor Severus Snape," he said grimly, now discreetly wiping his palm off on his robes.

"Well Professor Snape, seeming as we've so kindly watched after young Harry all these years, we've been wondering if we could get some...eh...compensation for said...eh...care. It's expensive to raise a child y'know." Vernon said, his tone very businesslike and slightly nervous. Snape's eyes widened in shock. The Dursleys wanted to be paid to take care of their nephew?! And the students claimed that he was the monster...they'd obviously never met Vernon Dursley.

"....pardon?" Snape said, forcing his tone to be calm, "you wish to be...paid...to take care of your own nephew?" he continued, unable to prevent his gaze from becoming condescending. Thankfully, Dursley didn't notice. Mrs. Dursley was now standing behind her husband, craning her birdlike neck out the door, and it was she who spoke next.

"Well, we certainly never asked for him to be dropped on our doorstep, and we most certainly never asked for a freak in the family. We had enough of that when my sister was around, it's only sensible that we should receive something for our trouble," she said, acting as if they were discussing nothing more than an old, rusty car sitting on the lawn.

"You're Lily's sister?!" Snape asked as the realization struck him. This woman was nothing like Lily, neither in looks or attitude. He remembered Lily as being friendly and caring, a genuine humanitarian if he'd ever met one, while the woman before him belonged nowhere but on the front cover of 'Wenches Weekly.'

"Loathe as I am to admit it, yes," the woman replied, obviously confused by Snape's shock at the revelation.

"So what about it? Think we can work something out?" Vernon asked, eyes alight with greed. Inwardly Snape grimaced with revulsion, the man was...disgusting. Straightening his robes, Snape fixed his face into its usual unreadable mask and stared down at Vernon.

"I'd have to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore, all decisions of such nature are up to him. I'm merely the...messenger, so to speak." Snape replied coolly.

"So you'll talk to him?" Mrs. Dursley asked eagerly, the shine in her own eyes matching her husband's.

"Yes. Now if you'll excuse me, I must return to the school. Good evening." Snape said, casting one blank gaze at the quiet cupboard beneath the stairs and then bowing his head slightly, before turning and stalking off. He hadn't lied completely, he thought, he truly was going to speak to Dumbledore, just not about the Dursley's 'payment.' He had something else in mind...oh yes indeed....

Harry was fairly certain that the Dursleys had already forgotten about him. After Professor Snape had left, the Dursleys had talked for a while about what they would do with the extra income (though Harry figured neither he nor the Dursleys would ever see Snape again) and hadn't even so much as yelled through the door at him. Not that he minded...he was quite content to be left alone as long as possible. In the past he'd had no trouble at all sitting alone in his cupboard, though now each passing minute seemed an eternity. The first thing he'd noticed upon being thrown inside was the fact that it was completely empty, save for a broom and dustpan…with accompanying dust bunnies. Last summer it had been filled with his Hogwarts supplies, since he himself had been moved to Dudley's extra room. Half-heartedly he wished he'd been thrown in the upstairs room instead, so he could at least have a chance at escape. Though after last years daring escapade…he doubted he'd ever see the room again. Maybe they'd even make him fix the window himself, for he doubted that the Dursleys would have been willing to do all the work themselves. He could just imagine them fuming all summer long, ranting, ‘that boy better get back here and fix the bloody window!' or something of the sort.

Sighing heavily, Harry began scraping at yet another splinter on the wooden floor. It had been almost a full day since he'd returned ‘home.' The light beneath the cupboard door had slowly grown in intensity and begun to die down again, now fading from dull, sunset pink to the dark blue of evening. His stomach rumbled. If only he'd thought to stow some food away in his robes before leaving…then he'd at least have had something to do and eat.

BAM!!!

Harry cringed at the all-too familiar sound, throwing his hands atop his head to keep the plumes of dust from his eyes.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

The three successive sounds ended in the scurrying of feet and a maniacal giggle. It sounded like Dudley was glad to have his favorite ‘toy' back. Harry would have ignored the stair-stomping as usual, but a moment after it ended he heard the kitchen door squeak shut, and the muffled voice of Vernon Dursley erupted in an angry bellow, accented shortly by the scraping a chair being scooted back from the table. Harry's eyes widened in the darkness, he knew it wasn't Dudley the man was angry at.

The large man's footsteps sounded loudly on the wooden flooring as he flung open the kitchen door, causing small moats of dust to float lazily down from above. Then the latch scraped against the frame of the cupboard, and Harry was nearly blinded by the light that shown through the widely opened door.

Vernon Dursley was bright crimson. His eyes was narrowed to such an angle that Voldemort himself might have paused to gawk. He'd never seen his uncle so angry before, and Dudley looked more excited than ever from his place behind his father. Harry tried to shrink back as the hairy paw of a hand reached toward him, but his Uncle was quickened by anger and latched onto his shirtfront easily, dragging him out into the light.

“I'd nearly forgotten about you, brat,” Vernon spat, his eyes swirling with restrained violence. Harry struggled with the hand that held him captive, but to no success. Dudley giggled again.

“I owe you for that little stunt of yours last summer…didn't think I'd see you again after that one,” he said, and Harry stifled a yelp as he was shoved roughly up against the wall, his feet dangling inches above the carpet. “You shouldn't have come back, you stupid…stupid little boy….” Vernon said, and Harry knew then that tonight the gloves came off, no more of simply being starved or shoved in a cupboard…no more getting off with a slap or a casual shove into a wall…tonight it was really going to hurt. Uncle Vernon leaned closer, leering dangerously as his knuckles continued to grind into Harry's collarbone.

“I'm going to make sure you learn your lesson real well this time….” Vernon said. Behind him, Dudley was playfully smacking his fist into his palm, leering like his father.

‘Ron…Hermoine…Professor Dumbledore…somebody please come for me!' Harry thought desperately, and then Vernon's fist connected squarely with his jaw.

“A troll wouldn't have been impressed, Albus,” he said, his eyes shifting sideways to the empty doorway. Dumbledore chuckled lightly, and he gave Fawkes a quick scratch on the head before settling into a chair facing the hearth.

“Surely they can't be all that bad….” the Headmaster said, though his eyes twinkled in a way that said he knew otherwise. Snape's gaze finally locked with the Headmaster's own, his expression stern yet mildly surprised.

“Have you ever even met them? I've never seen muggles of such a base variety!” Snape snarled, his arms now crossed tightly over his chest. For a moment his brow lined with thought, then his face took on a vaguely alarmed quality. “You didn't check them out before you dumped Potter off on them, did you, Albus?” he said, and his gaze turned distinctly venomous.

“No, I didn't. They were his only surviving family, and thus the obvious choice. The muggle authorities would have done the same thing,” Albus said, absently knitting his fingers through his beard. His face took on a teasing smile as he continued, leveling a sideways glance at his Potions Master, “Why are you so interested, anyway, Severus? I didn't think it would matter to you either way,” Severus was positively glaring at him now.

“Potter is a brat, and I'll admit I go out of my way to insult, punish, and ridicule the boy when I can. However….” Severus turned his gaze away, now staring down into the quiet ashes of the fireplace, “No one deserves to be treated in such a manner, James's son or no,” his gaze flicked up once again, “And you Albus…I'd never imagined that you'd leave him with people such as that!” his voice rang with fury.

Dumbledore took a moment to study his former student, the amusement fading from his gaze. Snape himself had had a rather…unfortunate childhood, Dumbledore remembered. He'd never known the details, when Severus had been a student and a Slytherin Dumbledore realized he hadn't always paid the proper attention to many of his students, Snape included. And even when he had shown the proper attention, it was mostly one-sided, favoring the Gryffindors. It was one of Albus's greatest regrets, one he'd worked long and hard to try and mend. Now he struggled to give each and every student the proper attention, though his old mistakes continued to haunt him now and then.

“I hadn't much choice at the time, Severus. Those were rough times, if you recall. What is it exactly that you'd like me to do about it?” he asked at last. Severus blinked, his expression blank. In an instant it changed, his eyebrows instantly dipping downward in a glare.

“What do you think?! I want you to get him out of there!” he barked, moving his hands to rest angrily on his hips. Albus' mouth quirked up in a small smile, which thankfully Snape failed to notice. This was almost going to be too easy, he thought, laughing internally. For the sake of the Potions Master, he took a moment to scratch his chin in contemplation, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and making a thoughtful ‘hmmm…' sound deep in his throat.

“I really couldn't, Severus…I've got far too many things to do. I'm to interview some prospective teachers for next season, and then I have SO much mail to catch up on….” he continued, mouth still slightly twisted in a smile. Snape stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

“So you're just going to leave him there?!” he yelled, stepping forward and staring down at the Headmaster in shock. Albus Dumbledore had never shown such a lack of empathy before, Snape thought. Perhaps the students were right, maybe the old man was finally going a bit senile. He just couldn't believe that this man, his mentor, was willing to leave his own favorite student in such a damnable place. And he was smiling about it, no less.

“Of course not,” Albus replied, composing an offended expression on his face, ‘Why don't you go and fetch him, Severus? Harry could stay here until we find someplace better, I suppose.…” he said, looking thoughtful once again.

“Me?!” Snape said, and he looked absolutely horrified.

“Well why not? You seem so concerned about it, and you've got nothing to do all summer anyway….” Albus began, watching Snape expectantly. Snape's mouth opened and closed several times, one eyebrow twitching slightly as he fought desperately for a good excuse. Albus decided to make it easier on him.

“Look Severus, I know you were already planning on bringing him back here, so no need to act so miffed about it. If it will make it any easier for you, you can just tell Harry that I made you fetch him back; that way your mutual hatred will remain perfectly intact,” Dumbledore said, and rose slowly from the chair, turning his back to a mortified Severus, and he walked slowly toward his desk. When he turned back around, Snape was staring at the floor with a rather severe expression, his black eyes swirling with thought. When he looked up at last his face was stern and unreadable.

“Very well. I will do it tonight, then,” he said, and turned toward the door, his robes flaring with the sudden movement.

“Severus….” Dumbledore called, and the figure froze.

“Yes?” he questioned, one pale hand rested on the doorframe.

“Don't hurt them too badly,” Albus said with a smile, and wasn't surprised when Snape replied with an evil smirk of his own.

“I'll try, but no promises,” and with that, he disappeared from the doorway, not making a sound as he slipped down the darkened hallway.

Sinking heavily into the chair behind his desk, Dumbledore cast a smile at Fawkes, whose head was cocked curiously. He stroked its feathers with one wrinkled hand and pushed his glasses up on his nose with the other.

“You know, Fawkes, I do believe this has been one of my more brilliant ideas. Wouldn't you agree?” he asked the bird. Fawkes looked up at him lovingly and cooed softly, nuzzling his hand with her long neck.

“I thought so.”

“That dog sh' know better by now, always ends up runnin' back scared anyhow,” Hagrid muttered to himself. A fierce wind suddenly blew through the forest, tearing at Hagrid's heavy coat and causing the tiny flame in his lantern to flicker and shrink. Grumbling softly, he raised the lantern in front of him and turned a small knob to raise the wick, and adjusted the flame back to its proper size. “'Tis not a good place to be in the dark, no it ain't,” he muttered again.

Trudging further down the path towards home, Hagrid had nothing on his mind aside from getting his small bag of collected herbs back to Professor Snape (though he couldn't figure why he'd wanted them when he didn't have any classes to worry about), and then settling down for a nice cup of tea. His thoughts shattered in an instant when Fang's low howl suddenly filled the night air.

“Fang! What ‘ave ya found, boy?!” he yelled ahead, trudging quickly toward the small grove from which the sound originated. He burst through a tall hedge and dashed quickly over to where the dog stood rigid, staring at something just ahead of him. Hagrid approached slowly, adjusting the flame of his lantern to an even brighter degree.

“What ‘ave ya got, boy?” he asked, stepping up beside the dog.

It was a fox, small and bright orange in shade; and it was dead. One long, clean cut split the poor creature from neck to stomach, revealing wet, pink flesh. The cut had been made with surgical precision…and there was no blood anywhere at all.

“What the devil?!” Hagrid yelped, jerking up with surprise. No animal or monster he'd ever met in the forbidden forest killed in that fashion. Undoubtedly it was something else…something much more dangerous than any beast with claws.

“'Taint no creature done this, Fang… sumthin' human did this….” Hagrid said, then bent down and lifted the creature by the tail, it was already stiff and cold.

“Come on, boy, we gotta tell Dumbledore ‘bout this,” he said, and then began the trek back to the castle with Fang at his heels.

After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Snape made out the shape of the cupboard, its latch drawn down and adorned with a padlock. Potter's still in there, he noted quickly, then turned toward the stairs. After gracing the first step, he thought he'd blown it. The step yielded a loud squeak the instant his boot touched its surface. Standing stock still, he strained his ears…nothing stirred upstairs. Good. He hugged the wall the rest of the way up the stairs, carefully testing each and every step. The final step greeted him with a sense of relief and a long hallway, dimly lighted by a nightlight. As he crept down the hallway he loosened the strings on the leather pouch at his belt and reached inside. He removed one of the three small vials within, smiling at it lovingly. He'd only made it two hours earlier, as he'd required several special plants that Hagrid had grudgingly collected for him. Closing the vial tightly in his palm, he turned to the first door on his right, Dudley's, he assumed, due to the many posters and stickers that adorned its surface.

Snape pushed the door open silently, slipping inside with no more sound that a serpent drawing near its prey. Prey, which was situated haphazardly on a huge bed near the door. The boy had his limbs thrown everywhere, covers having long since been discarded to the floor. Snape paused for a moment to take in his surroundings, he'd never seen so many toys in his life. They filled the room from floor to ceiling, toys of every shape and kind. Computers, cars, video games, action figures, and squirt guns littered the room from end to end, floor to ceiling. This child was utterly spoiled. Snape shook his head in disbelief and approached the bed, uncorking the vial as he went. Bending over the sleeping form, he let the meager contents of the vial drip gently onto the flesh of the boy's exposed stomach, and then pocketed the vial once again. One down, two to go.

The Dursleys' room was lavish by many standards, sporting expensive china, furniture, and all sorts of expensive and delicate decorations. The only thing that Snape took time to notice was a dresser topped with multiple picture frames. Each and every one was of Dudley, Harry's face was nowhere to be seen among them. Snape growled softly and turned toward the Victorian style bed, casting the sleeping couple a glare of no equal. He crept to the bedside quietly, nothing but a shadow amongst shadows. He emptied the two remaining vials on them, only eliciting a slight twitch from Vernon Dursley. Snape nodded in grim satisfaction and slunk back down the hallway and then the stairs, carefully avoiding step number one. He couldn't have them waking just yet…not until everything was set up as he had planned.

The cupboard was his third and final stop inside the Dursley residence. The only sound from within was that of ragged breathing, something that caused Snape to move all that much quicker to undo the lock. After the quick charm was cast, he slowly opened the door, trying to ease it from its hinges without squeaking terribly much. For the moment after, Snape merely stared inside the cupboard, his eyes not quite registering the sight before him. In an instant any qualms he'd possessed about helping the object of his hate disappeared.

The Boy Who Lived was curled up in the far corner of the cupboard, clutching an obviously broken arm to his chest as he slept, or lay unconscious, Snape couldn't tell for sure. The boy's face was covered with bruises and cuts, his glasses lay broken on the floor near his feet. His school robe lay in the opposite corner, torn to shreds most likely by Vernon's fit of rage and retribution. Snape's face was still and unreadable as he stood staring down into the cupboard, the only indication of his thoughts being the uncertainty and turmoil roiling within his black eyes. Then, as if by the flick of a switch, his brows tilted downward in a stern gaze and he knelt toward the boy, pausing briefly to collect the broken glasses and stow them away in the leather pouch.

“Potter!” he hissed quietly, the boy only twitched slightly.

“Potter, wake up! “ he hissed again, eliciting only another faint twitch, “Potter!!” he said, this time in the very same tone he used to address his students. This time, the boy stirred. At first his face curled in a tight grimace as he clutched his arm tighter, but then he stretched out a leg and began to maneuver himself to a sitting position. His eyes opened a moment later, shining a dull, pained green. For a moment, his face was perfectly blank; but as the last vestige of sleep drifted away, his eyes shot open wide with shock.

“Professor Snape?!” he whispered in shock, staring at the dark figure with a degree of disbelief he didn't think existed.

“Can you stand?” Snape asked quietly, casting a nervous glance toward the stairwell. Harry nodded slowly.

“I think so…can't see too well without my glasses though,” Harry said, rubbing a hand across his blackened eyes as if assuring himself they were no longer there.

“I'll help you then. Now hurry, I've got to get you back to Hogwarts,” Snape said, backing out of the doorway to give Harry room to stand. Using the wall for support, Harry made it shakily to his feet a moment later, and then limped behind Snape to the front door.

Opening the door wide, Snape turned to Harry with a mischievous smirk on his face. Harry didn't know how to react to it, so he simply stared back.

“Would you like to see something amusing, Potter? A little surprise I left for your captors?” he said, his tone sending a chill up and down Harry's spine.

“What…kind of surprise, Sir?” Harry asked tentatively, though in actuality he very much wanted to see what Snape had done. The man was wicked devious…that was a lesson every Hogwarts student learned the very first day of potions class, and any ‘surprise' he'd left for the Dursleys had to be worth it.

“Nothing permanent…just a little something to…alter their perspective a bit, so to speak. Care to see?” Snape asked, simply itching to show off his accomplishment.

“Okay….” Harry managed, and stifled a gasp as a shot of pain ripped through his side. He leaned against the wall and waited. Snape watched him with a blank expression on his face, his eyes showing a hint of something that Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of; but then the smirk returned and the potions master pointed his wand at the fireplace across the room and uttered a single word…and the fireplace nearly exploded. Actually, all that happened was the logs within were set aflame with the sound effect of a thunderous BOOM. And that very sound effect was the entire reason for the charm, for not a second later and the ceiling shook with the pounding of many feet rushing from bed and toward to hallway. Precisely four seconds later and the Dursleys were stumbling down the stairs, only registering the cause of the racket when they'd reached the ground and stood facing Severus Snape and Harry Potter. Vernon Dursley practically glowed with anger. Snape smiled serenely.

“You! What In the blazes are you doing out?!” Vernon yelled at Harry, and then turned his glare on Severus, “And what are YOU doing here in the middle of the night? Couldn't you have waited ‘til morning' to give us our money?!” Harry looked up at his professor, what was supposed to happen? Or was Snape just playing some elaborate game of torture? He'd assumed that Dumbledore had sent Snape back to fetch him…but what if he hadn't? What if Snape had simply decided that he hadn't tortured him enough during the school year, and wanted to get in a few more kicks?

“I am here, Mr. Dursley, to remove young Harry from your inadequate care. Your services are no longer wanted. The Council has carefully reviewed your performance, and has come to the undisputed conclusion that, and I quote, ‘they are the vilest, most base creatures in existence,” Snape said coldly, enunciating the last sentence perfectly. It had the effect Snape had been counting on…Vernon Dursley was furious.

“You…you freak, DARE to call me vile?!” he roared, shoulders shaking with anger. A loud rattling soon sounded from all around, and Snape's smile grew wider. Objects throughout the room were beginning to shake and rattle, teetering wildly. Vernon only noticed when his wife tapped him on the shoulder, breaking his concentration. Everything stopped.

“What the…?” Vernon muttered.

“You've bewitched our house!” Petunia Dursley screamed, shaking her fists angrily. Again objects began to shake, stopping the instant she calmed.

“We've done nothing of the sort, Mrs. Dursley. We haven't done a thing,” Snape replied smoothly, smirking in satisfaction. Harry was now beginning to understand what Snape had done, and was just beginning to smile brightly.

“Bullocks! What was all that shaking, then?!” Vernon yelled, thrusting one meaty finger toward a chair in the far corner, that had before been spinning wildly. Now that he pointed at it, it floated lazily off the floor, rocking slightly from side to side.

“Vernon!” Petunia screamed, and Dudley was making small surprised sounds in his throat; both sets of eyes were riveted on the chair. Vernon gasped and drew his hand to his chest, cradling it as if injured.

“Dad, you made that chair move!” Dudley yelped, now pointing at said object himself. Once again, the chair began its lazy flight. Dudley screamed, then turned and ran up the stairs, bawling his eyes out.

“Oh dear me….” Snape said with false surprise, “You seem to have developed some magical powers!” he said, suppressing a harsh laugh. Harry was grinning from ear to ear.

“No…no way! We aren't freaks like you…you…damned freaks! You've done something!” Vernon stammered, his eyes darting around like those of a wild animal, searching for some route of escape. Petunia was shaking, both hands clasped to her mouth in pure shock, she was still staring at the chair.

“You can't give someone magic power, Mr. Dursley, you have to be born with it. And you, obviously, were. Looks like you are now a ‘freak' as well. Congratulations,” Snape said, and then turned toward the door, “Come, Potter. We're expected,” he said, and Harry limped after him out the door, casting one last glance at the Dursleys. The expression on Mr. Dursley's face was priceless…full of absolute terror.

“Wait! Make it go away!” Vernon yelled, but Snape and Harry kept their backs turned.

Snape pulled Hagrid's broom out of the air and climbed on, this time motioning Harry on in front.

“Sir?” Harry questioned, his eyes knitted in confusion.

“Your arm's broken, you're sitting up front so I can keep you on the broom,” Snape stated matter-of-factly. The boy nodded and complied, and Snape grasped the broom handle in front of him, his arms effectively locking Harry in place. Then they were airborne, the desperate wailings of the Dursleys now a faint whisper from far below. A thought struck Harry, and he turned to look up at his teacher.

“Professor Snape…if you don't mind my asking, what did you do to them?” he asked as politely as he could. Snape hadn't been cruel to him even once during the entire escapade, and Harry realized it was only a matter of time until the old, evil Snape took over once again. He hoped they landed first, at least. To his surprise, Snape smiled proudly, eyes focused strictly on the sky ahead.

“A special potion I invented myself…for telekinesis; the effects are only temporary. It certainly isn't magic, but it's easy to convince a muggle otherwise,” The Potion Master replied, obviously pleased with himself. Harry was shocked into silence, he'd never seen Snape in a good mood before, and though his expression and attitude were just as harsh as ever, he was certainly happy now.

Harry shifted slightly on the broom, adjusting the position of his broken arm. Below, he could see the last lights of the city disappearing into the darkness.

“Professor?” he asked, staring down at his other hand.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Thank you.”

Professor Dumbledore sat behind the rich, Mahogany wood of his desk, absently tapping a quill against a forgotten parchment. His eyes were focused instead upon the immense, scroungy figure of a man that almost never came dashing up to his office, as it had not half an hour before. The figure was Hagrid, and from his huge hands hung a sack full of dead animals he'd found lying about the forest, all murdred in precisely the same fashion.

"And there's more out there, you say?" Dumbledore asked, his gaze icy and unflinching.

"Yessir, a lot of 'em look like somethin' tried ot hide 'em away, but Fang found 'em right easy." Hagrid replied, his face brightening with pride at the mention of his faithful pet.

"I want you to keep me updated as best as you can, you can send an owl if you want. I want to know if you see or hear anything unusual at all, or notice any change with the animals." Dumbledore said firmly, sticking his quill vertically into a nearby jar of green ink.

"Sure thing, Professor. I'll start makin' regular rounds o' the woods with Fang. We'll find somethin' fer ya." Hagrid said, pounding one monstrous fist against his breastbone to affirm the statement.

"I know you will Hagrid,...." Dumbledore began, but then the door to the office swung violently open, both Hagrid and Dumbledore reaching for wand and umbrella.

"Professor Snape?!" Hagrid gasped in surprise. Severus Snape stood in the doorway, his robes and hair wild from the long flight. And slung over his shoulder in the classic fireman's carry was none other than Hary Potter, apparently unconscious. "Harry!" Hagrid said, his face twisted into an expression somewhere between joy, confusion, and concern.

"Severus? What happened?" Dumbledore asked, now risen from his chair and crossing the room, his own face lit with concern as well. Snape was the only one that did not look ruffled by his sudden, and rather odd entrance. His face was flushed and he was slightly breathless, as was to be expected when climbing many sets of stairs with a twelve year old slung across your shoulder. His black eyes betrayed none of the concern evident upon his companions, but his face was knit in an expression that could only be called annoyed. He straightened his shoulders slightly under his load, but made no attempt to step further into the room before speaking.

"He passed out about halfway back," Snape replied curtly, making a point of staring at Hagrid, who was leaning just a bit closer than he would have preferred. "He needs to be taken to see Poppy." he said once Hagrid had finally ceased looming over him. Dumbledore glanced quickly behind Snape at Harry, whose arms were hanging limply in the air and face was flushed from the blood rushing to it. The whole thing would have looked rather silly, had it not been for the many and obvious injuries the boy had weathered.

"I'll take 'im down Professor," Hagrid said. Snape had made it all too clear that he was no longer welcome, and Hagrid simply couldn't stand to see Harry hanging like that, and in such terrible condition. Dumbledore nodded his thanks, and Snape quickly shifted his load into Hagrid's waiting arms.

"Careful of his arm, it's broken." Snape said quickly, casting a mild glare at Hagrid and then a blank stare at Harry. Hagrid nodded, but Snape watched them until they were out of sight, not blinking once.

"Severus.."Dumbledore said, and the Potions Master snapped up his gaze, as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. "What happened?" Dumbledore repeated in a soft voice, lest Hagrid was still lingering nearby.

"I found him like that, locked up in a cupboard under the stairs. I think he'd been in there since the night I took him home." Severus said, and for once his face was not angry, blank, or twisted in amusement. Concern ruled his expression for the briefest of moments, but it was subdued in a flash. "I do believe the Dursleys will have a slightly different view of magic from now on, though that may be hoping for too much," Snape sneered, his black eyes flashing at the memory of Vernon Dursley screaming after them into the night. Dumbledore's eyebrows knitted together warily, and he placed one hand firmly on his hip.

"What did you do, Severus?" he said, sounding very much like he was reprimanding a naughty child that he really wasn't angry with.

"Oh nothing permament, I assure you." he replied, his lips curving further into a wicked and extremely satisfied smile. Just like the wolf that found the way into the chicken coop, Dumbledore thought, and shook his head with a smile.

"Alright, I trust you. But we have more to discuss concerning young Harry...." Dumbledore said, and then walked slowly back to his chair. He sat down in it heavily, pausing a moment to rub the weariness from his eyes. When he looked up again, Snape was wearing a positively quizzical expression. He'd thought his job was done. He'd brought the child back, hadn't he? He'd even thrown in revenge for a bonus. What else was there to it? Surely the Headmsater didn't want the boy taxied off somewhere else already...

"I beg your pardon, Headmaster, but I thought that was all you wanted me to do..." Severus said, his tone strongly suggested that he didn't /want/ to have anything further to do with it.

"Oh don't be so illiberal, Severus! You don't honestly expect him to stay in the hospital wing all summer, do you?" Dumbledore said, his initial frown transforming into a devious grin that Severus caught on to all too quickly. Severus expression was one of absolute disbelief."Surely you don't intend for /me/ to watch after him...." he said, snorting lightly at what he hoped was the absurdity of the statement. Dumbledore only laughed and shook his head in amusement, and Severus' shoulders sank in horror.

"Well, the dormitories /are/ locked up for the summer..." Dumbledore began.

"I can't be responsible for taking care of /him/!" Snape interjected desperately, Dumbledore ignored him completely and continued as if he hadn't said a word.

"...and you /do/ have that extra room...."

"But Professor...this...this is /Potter/ we're talking about! Do you know what sort of havoc he'd wreak when left to his own devices down in /my/ dungeons?!" Snape's voice was bordering on panic now, while Dumbledore was still dubiously smiling.

"....and he would need someone to watch after him...." Dumbledore said, and allowed a light laugh to escape before he brought himself under control once again. Snape crossed the room in two long strides and leaned forward onto the Headmaster's desk.

"I /can't/ waste my time watching after a /child/ Albus! Especially /that/ child! And besides, that's my storeroom you're talking about!" Snape almost yelled, his eyes wide with panic and teeth gritted angrily. Dumbledore laughed yet again, absently toying with his wand.

"Not anymore, it isn't."he said, and Snape's eyes opened even wider. "Relax Severus, it's only for the summer." Dumbledore waved a hand absently in the air, as if passing those mere three months off as nothing.

"It's enough that I have to deal with him /during/ the school year! There's got to be somewhere else! "

"I'm afraid not. I'm gone far too often over the summer, otherwise I'd watch after him myself. Filch would kill him, and Hagrid's got his own job to do, he doesn't have time or the proper cooking skills to watch over him. If he stays with you he's got ample protection, the house elves to provide meals, and /you've/ got something to keep you busy." Dumbledore said firmly. Snape acted as if to argue the last statement, but Dumbledore raised his hand, "Don't think I don't know what you do with your summers....you have no hobbies whatsoever Severus, being secluded down in your dungeon so much has made you far too irritable." Dumbledore finished, and gave Severus a glare that spoke volumes. Severus' jaw worked for a moment as he struggled for a rebuttal, but resulted in nothing but silence.

"You'll have a day or two to yourself yet, Severus, Harry will most likely be in the hospital wing for that long at least." Dumbledore said, but the statement didn't calm the Potions Master in the least. Fury had taken its place once again.

"As you wish, Headmaster," Snape said, voice quavering with barely restrained anger. He bowed his head stiffly and then whirled around, his wind-tattered robes flaring angrily behind him as he stalked out the door. A moment later and the faint sounds of destruction could be heard, each successive crash fainter than the last.

Dumbledore shook his head with a smile, and picked up his quill once again. Snape had always been famous for his temper, and it hadn't lessened in the least over time. The man was also stubborn as an ox and could be twice as mean, but it was nothing Dumbledore couldn't handle. Snape wasn't nearly as heartless as he pretended to be, close, but not entirely. He'd been watching both Snape and Harry for a long time now, ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts in fact. Snape had obviously hated the boy from the very instant he laid eyes on him, but Harry hadn't been so quick. He'd only developed a hatred for his teacher once Snape had made his feelings no mystery to the boy. Harry hated Snape because Snape hated Harry, and that was where Dumbledore had become truly interested in the matter.

He'd begun to watch the two in earnest, and it hadn't been long before his diligence was rewarded. The Quidditch match. Snape hadn't even waited a breath after Harry had been attacked before he took action. He hadn't paused to gawk, to reap a moment's sick pleasure from the situation first, no, Albus was quite sure the idea hadn't even crossed his mind. It had been an instantaneous reaction.

Albus Dumbledore had a rather ingenius notion then, one that would help to acomplish two of his goals. Harry would be well protected under Snape's care, and also would have a positive influence on the Potions Master, that is, if they could manage to work around that mutual hatred of theirs.Dumbledore sighed and dipped his quill in the ink bottle, leaning over his forgotten parchment once again. Yes, breaking the ice would be the hard part...but once that was done, who knew what could grow from it?

The instant they'd arrived Mr. Weasley had bombarded Hermoine's father with question after question about the many 'muggle wonders' they'd seen along the way. Mrs. Granger had only laughed happily and led Mrs. Weasley and Ginny off to the kitchen after introductions, allowing the men to their interests and the children to theirs. Ron was more than grateful that Fred and George had decided to stay at a friend's house, rather than tagging along for troublemaking.

After the chaos of their arrival died down and the soot from the fireplace was swept away, Hermoine and Ron settled into a pair of cushy, blue armchairs near the small, gas-lit fireplace. They'd been happy enough to see one another at first, but now that they were together, the reason for the visit weighed heavily upon them. After kicking off her shoes and curling her legs beneath her on the chair, Hermoine finally spoke.

"I gather you haven't heard a thing, either?" she asked, though her voice was low; she already knew the answer.

"Not a word." Ron said, watching the fire with a detached sort of interest. The flames seemed to make his hair even brighter, the contrast making his skin appear much paler than normal.

"Maybe we should pay the Dursleys a visit, or even contact Dumbledore. He'd know what was going on....wouldn't he?" Hermoine said, though she sounded far less sure of herself than usual.

"I think you're right....though we should probably try Dumbledore first, from what Harry told us I don't think the Dursleys would appreciate a visit very much...might even slam the door on us without bein' able to find out a thing." Ron said, his lip curling up slightly at the last. Harry had never spoken of the Dursleys of his own accord, he only mentioned them at all when directly asked about them. Ron and Hermoine had questioned him about it a little during their first year, but it had quickly become apparant that Harry /really/ did not like to talk about it, it was one of the few subjects that visibly upset him; the only others being Voldemort, Draco, and Snape.

"But what if Dumblefore doesn't know anything? What if we just missed Harry at the train....and the Dursleys just havn't let him answer our letters? Dumbledore wouldn't be able to do a thing then....and neither could we, really." Hermoine said somewhat dejectedly. She and Ron had been sending owl after owl to one another and to Harry, each trying to find out anything at all about Harry's disappearance. The only thing they knew was that he'd gone chasing after Hedwig, and that was the last they'd seen of him.

"Still, we might get Harry in trouble if we just show up on his doorstep. We should see what Professor Dumbledore has to say..." Ron said, and after a silent moment, Hermoine nodded.

"Right then. Let's go write a letter."

"Yes." Potter whispered, quickly reaching up a hand to move his glasses to their proper place on his nose."And Albus told you why you're here, to my deepest chagrin?" Snape said, his lips curling into a snarl at the last. Potter nodded fiercely, not daring to look his teacher in the eye.

"Good. Now, before you get too /comfortable/ I have a few rules to lay down." he said, and Potter raised slightly, expressing his attention. Snape straightened, and in a voice that tolerated no arguement whatsoever, said, "Number one. You are not to enter the room to the left without my permission, that is MY room and I will NOT tolerate intrusion. Your room is through the door on the right. Number /two/. Touch ANYTHING that looks even remotely valuable and I will personally throw you out the third floor window. Number Three. I am to know your whereabouts at ALL times, day or night. The only time you will be allowed to leave the castle at night is when accommpanied by Hagrid and given proper permission by me. I don't want you here, and I'm /sure/ that you don't want to /be/ here, so it would be in both of our interests if you were to refrain from any of your more.../daring/ hobbies. You see anything unusual, you tell me. Understood?" Snape growled angrily, and as if on cue, the fire gave a loud spark and flared momentarily.

"Perfectly, Professor." Harry said, his head hanging even lower. He'd been overjoyed when Snape had rescued him from the Dursleys, unable to suppress a feeling of elation at the prospect of returning to Hogwarts once again. Even being rescued by /Snape/ hadn't seemed all that bad. In fact, Harry had even stopped hating him for a moment. Right about when he'd played his prank on the Dursleys.....Harry was positive that /that/ hadn't been part of Dumbledore's instructions to Snape, and now Harry supposed he'd read too much into the action. At the time, it had almost seemed as if Snape was trying to cheer him up, as if he didn't completely hate him, but rather cared at least a little bit, just enough to seek a little revenge for him. On the flight back Harry had thought even more so, and that was why he'd thanked him, for caring. He'd tried to be strong against the pain, tried to fight off the dizzyness that had fought to claim his mind, fought to ignore the absurdity of the situation. In the end, about half-way through the journey home, he'd passed out. Was that why Snape hated him again? Because he'd been weak? Or was it just the fact that he had to be his 'guardian' all summer? Harry certainly didn't like the idea either, but it still hurt for some reason. The knowledge that he'd mattered at least a little, and then was nothing once again; Harry hated the feeling. And if Snape wanted to hate him for all he was worth, well, Harry could quite happily oblige with the same.

"You'd best unpack your things, Potter, they're already in your room." Snape said, staring so coldly at the boy it was a surprise he wasn't frozen on the spot. Potter nodded and disappeared into the right-hand room, the sound of rustling clothes and the stacking of thick books followed a moment later.

Severus Snape sank heavily into a chair near the fireplace, leaning his head back against the thinning cushion. This was /not/ his idea of a /vacation/. Sighing heavily, he cast a quick glance at the lighted doorway, and then reached for the 'Daily Prophet,' that lay on a table next to the chair. One eyebrow quirked up at the headline, which read,"Rash of Animal Deaths Sweeps Countryside," and was followed by several photographs of the victimized creatures. After a moment's perusal the paper was tossed aside, and Snape rose from the chair. It was late, and he was in no mood to read or simply contemplate the fireplace, Potter's presence had put him far too much on edge. Hopefully the boy would have enough sense to go to bed too, Snape thought, and slammed his door with a deliberately loud bang.

It did not have a name. It didn't have a home or family. And most importantly, it did not have a mind of its own. It had a mission, a /purpose/; and that was the driving force behind its every thought, every action, and every breath. Without its mission, it was nothing. Mindless. A thing of flesh and life, but more dead than a corpse years rotting beneath the earth. It was simply a /thing/, for it had no name for itself and nor had its master given it one. It wasn't worth such a privilege; and it didn't care. It existed for the mission; and there was simply nothing more to say about it.

It moved silently through the forest, which it knew had a name and a death toll, but nothing approached it. Nothing would dare. It stunk of dark magic and blood...of things left in the dark and never meant to see the light of the sun, never to be seen by another living thing. No, even the foulest of the forest's children ran quickly from its sight, or its stench, whichever they had been unlucky enough to detect. The creature didn't care; it wasted no thought on the creatures that ran from its path. The castle. The castle was its goal. Yes....

The creature slid quietly into the shade of an old oak tree, wrapping its small body around the base of the tree trunk. It squirmed for a moment, tossing up leaves with its claws to hide itself from prying eyes. Straight ahead, past the cottage and the vast green lawn lay the castle Hogwarts. Rising high above the surrounding forest, the flaring shades of evening light beyond it cast deep shadows across its face. The creature settled itself again, attaining a less straining position. It would have to wait till nightfall...it could not be seen until it had completed the mission. Staring fixedly at the castle, it narrowed its amber eyes, lips pulled back from misshapen teeth in a proud snarl. Tonight then....tonight it would fulfill its purpose.

The past three days had been hell. If Snape had been horrid during the school year, he was even worse now. The man spent most of his time off in the corner of the room, scribbling on scrolls and experimenting with new potions. He rarely spoke, and when he did, it was curt, rude, and directly to the point. Harry did his best to keep out of his way, and only spoke when it was absolutely necessary. Snape had already blown up at him twice, once when Harry had neglected to mention he'd gone to visit Hagrid, and the second time when he'd been perusing the tomes lining Snape's massive bookshelf. Harry had reasoned that it had probably contained some of Snape's infamous 'dark magic.'

Harry was lonely. To be truthful, he'd never felt so alone in his life. He'd thought he'd be happy here....with Dumbledore and Hagrid, and indeed it was better than the Dursley's, but it wasn't at all what he'd envisioned. For some reason, Dumbledore and Hagrid were both busy most of the time, with Hagrid making constant rounds of the forest, and Dumbledore dashing to and fro. The castle was huge and empty...and Harry missed his friends. Ron and Hermione meant more to him than anything in the world; they were his family. They cared about him, he /mattered/ to them; and he would have given his life for them in an instant. Harry remembered the many days and nights he'd spent locked in the darkness of his cupboard, tracing shapes in the dark air and daydreaming. His fondest dream had always been of his parents, laughing with them and feeling their arms wrapped tightly around him. It was a dream he still had occasionally, though now it usually had Ron and Hermione standing at his side, with Dumbledore and Hagrid standing in the background like some quirky grandfather and lovable uncle. Dumbledore had once told him that his deepest desire was to know his parents, but he'd been wrong. Harry's deepest wish wasn't just to know his parents, it was to be loved. To be loved like Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loved their house full of red-haired children, like Hagrid took to every beast that wandered into his path. He wanted something every child should have, whether muggle or wizard. He wanted a........

"POTTER!" the sharp voice shattered his thoughts like a fist through a windowpane. Harry leapt to his feet, turning to face the dark and brooding source of the sound.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, unaware that he had done anything wrong. Snape was glaring at him impatiently, his arms crossed and his head tilted slightly back. Thankfully he didn't seem to be overly angry, merely put off about something or another.

"Why are you still here? Go DO something....go /play/ or whatever it is you children find amusing." Snape commanded, thrusting one spindly finger toward the door.

"But Professor Sn..." Harry began to protest, but Snape interrupted before he got out another word.

"No excuses. Your presence is disturbing me. There are plenty of other windows in the castle if you insist on being idle." Snape said, crossing his arms once again. Harry nodded dumbly and sauntered toward the door, pausing only to snatch his broomstick from the corner. Perhaps a ride wouldn't be so bad after all....

I understand that you are concerned for Harry, but I can assure you that

he is perfectly safe, and not with the Dursleys. I apologize if you've had any trouble reaching him by owl post, I believe the Dursleys destroyed anything that may have arrived there during his short stay. He's here at Hogwarts if you need to reach him, I'm sure he'd be happy to hear from you.

If you would, please forward this letter to Ron Weasley when you're through, I'm sure he'd like to hear about Harry as well.

Albus Dumbledore

P.S.-- I do so hope that you're enjoying that book I lent you.

Hermione read through the letter a second time before allowing the parchment to roll up once again. She settled back in her chair and watched the owl that sat on a nearby table, lapping from a saucer of water she'd left for it. Though she had no reason to distrust Professor Dumbledore, and every reason /to/ trust him, she couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. The letter also left far too many questions unanswered, for instance, /why/ was Harry at Hogwarts? And why hadn't he received any of their letters? Surely the Dursleys hadn't actually gotten a hold of them....

Raising her momentarily neglected quill to her lips, she immediately began to scribble out her own note on the back of the parchment, requesting that Ron try to get a hold of Harry at Hogwarts as well as asking his opinion of the whole situation. Rising from the chair a moment later, Hermione knelt on the floor next to the owl's current perch and reattached the small parchment to its leg. It looked up at her and bobbed its head, requesting instructions.

"Take this to Ron Weasley, at The Burrow, please." she said, and the owl hooted once, and then flew off toward the open window and into the deepening evening.

Snape paused on the doormat that read, 'Home Sweet Home,' and knocked violently on the door, then turned around and tapped his foot impatiently. He'd get this over with, then he could resume the /important/ task of monitoring his potions. Thankfully the Potter brat was already in bed, and hopefully had the sense to stay there. The door creaked open a moment later, and Hagrid's looming figure and light smile loomed in the doorframe.

"Professor! Come in, come in! I've got some tea on the table, if yer interested." Hagrid said, stepping aside. Snape turned slightly, replying with an annoyed glare before stepping through the doorway and standing firmly next to the fireplace, blatantly ignoring to proffered tea.

"I'd like to do this quickly, if you don't mind. What is this thing you're supposed to show me?" Severus said, and Hagrid paused in his task of tea pouring. The Gamekeeper's face seemed to transform instantly, switching from its usual, jovial expression to its grim counterpart.

"Alright then, straight to business." Hagrid said, then retrieved an old potato sack from the corner of the room. "This is what I was supps'd to show yeh." he said, and emptied the contents onto the floor at Snape's feet with a soft 'thump.' The Potions Master's eyes widened momentarily as he stared down at the corpse. It was a baby deer, split from neck to tail in one, clean cut. "Been findin' dozens of dead critters out in the woods, all killed jus' like that. I told Dumbledore 'bout it, I suppose he thought yah might know somethin', what with your history an all." Hagrid said, stumbling over the reference to Snape's past, for it earned a harsh glare.

"I saw something like this in the 'Daily Prophet,' it appears to be happening in a few other places as well." Severus replied, crouching down to get a closer look at the animal.

"It's got no blood innit, none on the ground where I found 'im either. Right mystery, that." Hagrid mumbled. Snape was still knelt next to the creature, one hand held to his chin in contemplation. He couldn't remember ever hearing of anything of the sort, either from his experience with dark magic or during the more..../questionable/ years of his life. It was totally new, and highly unusual. It was true there were many potions and some complex spells that made use of animal blood in dark magic, but not of such a large scale. Also, nearly all of the spells required the creature either remain alive after the usually small amount of blood was taken, or that the creature was ritually slain with its throat having been slashed. This filled neither requirement.

"I'm sorry to say I've never run across anything of this nature before......I've heard of remotely similar incidents, but never anything of this nature. Highly unusual......obviously done by human hands, as well...." Snape mumbled partially to Hagrid, and partially to himself.

"There weren't any footprints nearby, an' Fang couldn't catch a scent of the murderer either. Somethin' abnormal's behin' it." Hagrid said, now seated at his table and lightly stirring his tea. "Sure you don' want some tea?" he asked, his voice hopeful. Snape stood up slowly, still studying the creature at his feet. Tea did sound rather good at the moment....he supposed his potions could wait a few moments at least.

"Very well, just one lump if you please." Snape said, and took the chair opposite Hagrid as one sugar cube was dropped lightly into his cup. "Thank you." he muttered, taking the cup and stirring it lightly. Neither spoke for a moment, Hagrid fidgeting uncomfortably and Snape lost in thought. The silence stretched on for several minutes, interrupted only once by a loud yawn from Fang, who lay sleeping by the hearth. After scratching the back of his head nervously, Hagrid cleared his throat and did his best to start a conversation.

"So, Professor.......how're, eh, you an' Harry gettin' along?" Hagrid said, suddenly interested in stirring his tea once again. Snape's eyes snapped up from the tabletop to stare coldly at Hagrid, one corner of his mouth curling in anger.

"Fine." Snape growled, his dark eyes flashing. Hagrid knew very well that to continue the subject would be risking pain of injury, to his eardrums at the very least, but it was a topic he very much wanted to discuss. Harry hadn't been his usual self at all when he'd visited the day before; he'd been depressed and lonely, and very angry. From what Hagrid had heard, Harry and Snape weren't getting along at all, and they most certainly weren't 'fine.' To be honest, Hagrid couldn't figure out why Dumbledore had left him with Snape in the first place. But, since he had, Hagrid was going to do his best to make things better for his young friend, even if it meant risking Snape's wrath.

"Harry's a good kid, Professor. He's had a rough lot....." Hagrid began, but Snape interrupted with a loud, sharp laugh.

"Oh, a hard lot indeed! A few monsters and instant fame, oh the /horror/ of it all!" Snape roared, throwing his arms toward the ceiling and then placing his palms firmly on the tabletop. "Spare me the 'poor Potter,' pity fest Hagrid, I might become ill." he said, and then slumped back in his chair, arms crossed tightly. Hagrid furrowed his brows and stared back, leaning toward Snape across the table. His expression was one he rarely displayed, it was anger.

"Now you listen to me, Professor..." Hagrid rumbled, his eyes dark and expression fierce. Snape looked up, his face lined with surprise. Hagrid continued, locking the Professor's gaze with his own, "Harry's a good kid, I've never met a grand'r soul than his. He's had a rough life from the day he was born, and I wager he's got a hell of a life ahead o' him yet. And you want ta know what the most amazing thing about him is?" Hagrid paused, but Snape stayed silent, still watching him with mild surprise, "He's turned out good without anybody ta guide him. The Dursleys sure din't bother ta tell 'im right from wrong, he learned that all on 'is own." Hagrid leaned back in his chair, crossing his own massive arms defiantly. When he continued, his voice was lower, almost sadder in its tone, "He din't have nobody till he came ta Hogwarts, an now he's alone again an' feelin' it more 'en ever, Professor."

Hagrid continued to stare at Snape like a fierce dog waiting for its prey to move. Snape did his best to glare back, but for perhaps the first time in history......he looked away. His dark eyes sparkled with a bitter anger, coupled with a fresh hatred for the man that had /dared/ to argue with him. But he didn't argue, there was no point in making a fool of himself attempting to rescue his fallen pride. Hagrid had spoken the truth, and he'd spoken it with a passion Snape had never expected from the soft- spoken giant. Normally Snape didn't care if something was the truth or not, especially where Potter was concerned. Any other night and he probably would have argued far into the morning hours, but tonight the truth had been unusually sharp. Tonight it had struck a chord that Snape preferred not to be struck again. Rising slowly from his chair Snape cast Hagrid a fierce, slit-eyed glare.

"Rubbish," he growled, and then whirled toward the door, "You're a fool Hagrid, a /worthless/ excuse for a man." he hissed, and then stalked out the door, slamming it fiercely behind him. He didn't look back as he sped quickly across the lawn, his hands clenched tightly into white- knuckled fists at his sides. The heavy wooden doors into the castle flew open at his touch, slamming hard against the rough stone behind them. Snape could still hear the sound reverberating off the walls as he turned down the first flight of stairs, his cloak whipping violently behind him like a dark testament to his mood. He didn't pause till he reached the top of the very last flight of stairs, leading down into a dungeon hallway. Gripping the mahogany railing tightly in one pale and shaking hand, he sat down on one of the steps, leaning back against the cold stone wall. He drew up one knee and rested an elbow on it, reaching up with a hand to smooth wild hair from his face and grip a handful of it tightly.

Potter. It was always /Potter/. Now just the same as then, the precious Gryffindor was held high in the spotlight. Oh, everything was always /so/ much worse when it happened to /him/. Yes, indeed! Snape thought sourly. He fisted the hand in his hair, gritting his teeth in restrained fury. No. He would /not/ dwell on it, he would not waste his time on things that could not be fixed or changed. Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, he opened his tightly shut eyes and stared at the stone step beneath him. The night drew onward, the moon rising yet higher in the sky as he sat alone on the stairwell, staring blankly into the darkness.

Harry almost didn't hear the door creak open, or the soft click of it being shut once again. The room was nearly pitch black, with only the twin slivers of moonlight escaping through the windows on either side of the fireplace, in one of which Harry sat partially blocking the light. The only sound was the soft rustling of cloth as someone crossed the room, stopping only once they'd neared the fireplace.

"Potter....?" the voice said, its tone unusually quiet, lacking the usual knife-like edge that lay hidden beneath each word. Harry turned slightly, allowing one leg to fall from the window ledge. Professor Snape stood there, his face only partially highlighted by the moonshine. His black eyes shone differently with the small amount of light, the swirling fire that always burnt in their depths reduced to mere embers.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. Surely something was wrong, if the Professor was acting in such a fashion....

"Couldn't sleep?" Snape asked softly, then turned toward one of the chairs facing the fireplace and sat down, hidden in the darkness. Harry closed his mouth on the question that had been forming in his throat and stared at the patch of darkness that was Snape. Turning back toward the window, Harry sighed, and replied after a moment.

"I tried, but I gave up and came back out here." Harry said, his eyes fixed on the grove of trees. The silence stretched on for another moment, and Harry followed the path of a night owl over the distant trees, swooping and dipping in the intensifying wind.

"Potter...." the voice sliced through the darkness, slightly sharper than the speaker intended, Harry turned back around again. Snape cleared his throat and continued, obviously having a hard time with the words, "I apologize for kicking you out, earlier. I was out of line." Snape said, his voice once again calm and controlled. Harry stared into the darkness in disbelief, then fidgeted lightly on the window sill.

"That's alright, Professor. I'm used to it." Harry replied, smiling slightly. Snape said nothing after that, and for a long time they sat in silence, staring into the quiet night. After a while, Harry had to stifle a yawn and rose from the window ledge. Harry heard Snape turn slightly in his chair, watching him.

"Goodnight, Professor." Harry said, slipping off toward the doorway to his room.

"Goodnight, Potter." was the reply from the shadows, and the door to the small bedroom swung silently shut.

Two fierce amber eyes split the darkness like lanterns, casting a vague glow upon the scaly flesh surrounding them. The creature crawled silently along the floor, claws clicking occasionally on the stone like metal on a window pane. It slipped through a wooden door like a phantom, scuttling along the floor until it detected its quarry nearby. Yesss....soon its mission would be completed. It drew up on its hind legs, wrapping long claws around the edge of the wooden structure before it. Its eyes were level with its quarry, and lantern eyes narrowed at the sight. There, just ahead....snuggled warmly beneath a layer of blankets and tightly clutching the pillow beneath its head. The creature smiled, flicking out a long tongue to run across the row of jagged teeth lining its jaw. The mission. It was time to complete the mission.......

When Harry slowly became aware that he was sleeping no longer, his sluggish thoughts took a good minute or two to recognize what had broken his sleep. His scar. The sharp, yet subtle burning had sliced through his slumber, his subconscious mind instantly recognizing the danger it foretold. Even so, it took him a moment to completely drag his mind from sleep enough to think clearly. Something was in his room....he could sense a presence like a dark shadow inside his mind.

He waited in silence, eyes held shut in feigned sleep. No sound shattered the silence, not even the slightest whisper of a breath beyond his own. Straining his ears, he realized the wind had stopped at some time in the night, leaving all in perfect, death-like quiet. Then he heard the first sound, a soft click like that of metal on stone. Instantly his muscles stiffened, and even beneath the heavy blankets it felt as if his blood had run cold. A second click sounded, from somewhere toward the end of the bed. Unconsciously, his breath quickened, and he had to make a conscious effort to slow it. What if it was Voldemort? He thought, battling rising panic. What if he'd found some hapless creature to possess, and had decided to waste no time in exacting his revenge? Another sound broke through his thoughts, like that of a sharp blade grating on wood. The bedpost....Harry finally cracked open an eye when he heard the sound a second time, and his breath stopped short.

At first he couldn't discern anything from the pitch darkness, for the moon had long since set beyond the trees. But then he'd flicked his eyes a tad to the left, and he found the source of his terror. About two feet above the end of the bed, a pair of eyes seemed to float in the darkness. The angry, orange fire that flickered within them was so strong that it cast aside the shadows obscuring its face. Scales like that of a reptile encased a short snout, ending in a mouth eternally fixed in a hungry, fang-laced smile. The eyes drew closer, first flowing upward and then forward as the monster's body slid gracefully up and over the edge of the bed. It was almost like a spirit made flesh, in the way it seemed to drift ghost-like through the dark, nothing but twin fires reflecting a demonic face. Sleep had long since vanished from Harry's thoughts, and now his mind raced for a plan of escape.

His wand was across the room, he realized, as something sharp settled quietly next to his ankle. He'd lain it on the bookshelf by the door, and the creature was right /there/. There was nothing within reach to fight with, no lamps or books to stun it with. Only a second passed as he made up his mind then, there was no way he could protect himself without the wand.

Harry shot up in an instant, throwing the covers toward the end of the bed like a quilted net. Then he ran blindly in the dark, very aware of the angry snarl that sounded just to his left, then behind him. Something hard struck him in the knee, and he realized it was a wooden chair; he'd swerved a bit too far left. Limping slightly, he took off again, hands held out in front of him, flailing wildly for the bookshelf where his wand lay. Briefly, his finger touched a smooth, polished surface, and a sort of wild relief washed over him.

It was over in a second. Before his fumbling hands could locate the object of his salvation, something hard and sharp struck him from behind, the force of the collision sending him violently to the floor, narrowly avoiding a broken nose as his face connected soundly with stone. The creature clung solidly to his back, it's claws twisted through the torn material of his shirt. Pushing sharply up from the floor, Harry tried to free himself of either the creature or the shirt, but it sunk the claws in further, breaking skin and locking viciously into his flesh. Harry fell to his knees, struggling beneath the weight and claws of the creature as it climbed further up his back, digging in like a mountain climber scaling a cliff. For a moment, its grip loosened, and Harry could feel its cold breath draw away from his bared skin. Then pain shot through his shoulder as dozens of sharp, serrated fangs drove through cloth and flesh, and Harry finally screamed.

He was out of the bedroom in an instant, the door banging roughly against the wall behind. He'd grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow without even thinking about it, and its tip was ignited in false light before he'd made it even halfway across the main room. Even as his hand flung open the door to Harry's room, he was already whispering a spell to light the torches within. They flared vividly to life as a second bang of a door resounded, and the first thing he saw was the blood. His eyes were drawn to the crimson smeared on the stone like a moth to a flame, an assault of memories threatening to invade his thoughts. He growled darkly, shaking his head briefly to free it from the chains of the past. Eyes once again refocused on the present, he found the source of the scream. A streak of crimson was smeared across the floor in a ragged pattern, the trail left as the battle had torn across the room. Just to the right of the bed, Potter lay struggling valiantly with a creature unlike any Snape had ever seen. Neither combatant seemed to take the light or his presence to heed, and Snape paused in acting only long enough to whisper the words of a spell.

"Secerno secrevi secretum!" he said, wand aimed directly between the creature and Harry. The two were instantly struck as if by a massive wind, Harry flying back onto the bed behind him and the monster smashing wetly into the solid wall. It slid to the ground, leaving a crimson trail of its own on the gray stone before settling dazedly on its feet. Harry struggled to sit up on the bed, his eyes vainly trying to focus on the creature. The beast was preparing to pounce yet again, muscle cording beneath its mottled hide, and its eyes focused solely on Harry. Jaws clenched, it started to jump, but Snape was faster, his wand aimed the instant the creature had fallen.

"Avada Kedarva!" Snape hissed, his eyes cold and deadly as a snake's. After a brilliant flash of sickly green light, the creature fell to the ground with a loud thump, claws rattling against the stone as its eyes rolled back in its reptilian head. Dead. From his place on the bed, Harry stared at his professor in shock, eyes opened wide. Snape, however, wasted no time in shoving his wand down the side waistband of his pants and dashing to the bedside.

Harry was a mess. The boy grimaced in pain as he leaned forward from the edge of the bed, struggling to stand. The skin of his back was coated with deep gashes, the surrounding skin and cloth dyed crimson. His front was in a similar condition, with one particularly large gash running from temple to cheekbone on his face. The worst, however, was the bite wound at his shoulder. The flesh was badly torn, glistening wet and raw in the firelight.

"Professor...." Harry said weakly, struggling to focus his eyes on the figure standing just before him, but Snape interrupted him with a stern glare. He bent down toward the bed and scooped Harry up in his arms in one smooth motion.

"Later, Harry." he said, and turned to dash out the door with his charge. Harry blinked in surprise as he was carried out into the main room, held protectively against his teacher's chest. Had Snape just used his first name? He thought, and then, as they entered the dark hallway, his vision faded to black, and his thoughts succumbed to unconsciousness.

Once she'd lain eyes on the boy, she was instantly awake and in full nurse mode. She was out of bed in a second, automatically tucking her feet into the fuzzy pink slippers that sat by the bed.

"Into the hospital wing!" she commanded, and dashed after the Potions Master as he turned out the door. For obvious reasons, her rooms were only a door or two away from the hospital wing, and it seemed as if they hadn't moved at all before they stood in the now brightly lit rooms, with Madam Pomfrey sprinting about for the necessary salves and wrappings. After Harry had been lain down on one of the hospital beds, Snape stood back quietly and watched the nurse go to work, fetching a basin and several rags that she placed on the bedside table. As she squeezed a rag out into the basin, she turned her gaze to watch the tall man that stood on the opposite side of the bed. Truth be told, she didn't like the man very much at all. Even when he'd ended up in her care for some reason or another, he'd always been bitter and rude, constantly glaring about the room as if daring anyone to approach. But now.....she wasn't sure what to make of it. His mouth was drawn tight, and his hair was still a tangled mess of lank curls, mussed by sleep. Blood was speckled across his shirt front and smeared thickly across one forearm, but he didn't appear to care. He was watching the boy with a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, but for some reason Madam Pomfrey didn't think Potter was the one the deadly gleam was meant for.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked calmly, not honestly expecting an answer, and was therefore startled when Snape's voice broke through the silence. Only his mouth moved as he answered, the rest of him was as still and quiet as if he'd been carved from stone.

"A monster... probably sent to kill him." he said in a very flat, low tone. He then blinked as if something had broken his pattern of thought. "If you'll pardon me, Poppy, there is something I must take care of. I'll be back before long." he said, then whirled and left quickly out the door, the soft sound of his footfalls sounding quietly from the hall. Sighing heavily, Madam Pomfrey turned back to her patient and resumed the task of washing away the blood.

"I swear, Mr. Harry Potter," she said tiredly, "You get in the strangest messes."

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." Snape said dryly, and Harry nearly jumped. The man still hadn't moved, and Harry noticed for the first time how tired he looked, as if he'd been awake for far too long. Harry searched for a reply, but a sudden rush of words from further in the hospital stopped him short. Madam Pomfrey came rushing in a moment later, with Albus Dumbledore walking slowly behind.

"Ah, you're awake Harry. How are you doing?" Dumbledore asked, as Madam Pomfrey immediately took a hold of Harry's arm and began checking the bandages wrapping his shoulder. Professor Snape finally moved then, rising from the chair and turning to leave in one swift motion. He was up and out the door before another word could be said.

"Okay, Professor. Just pretty sore." Harry replied, his eyes watching the doorway where Snape had disappeared.

"Of course you're sore, Harry!" Madam Pomfrey said, still roughly wrapping and unwrapping bandages. "You were cut up pretty badly, and lost quite a bit of blood. You'll be pretty weak for the next couple of days." she said, then stood up from her work, stowing a spare roll of medical tape on the hospital tray.

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, and she blushed slightly before taking the rest of the supplies and heading off to put them away. Harry turned to Dumbledore, who was still watching him with a slight smile.

"What was that thing, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked, absently toying with the extra-tight bandage that wrapped his wrist.

"Professor Snape said he'd never seen it's like before. After he brought you here last night, he took the carcass down to Hagrid. We're stopping by later to see if he's found out what it is." Dumbledore said, absently perusing the items on Harry's breakfast tray. After a moment he selected a piece of biscuit and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Can I come?" Harry asked, anxious to find out what it was for himself. Dumbledore paused, mouth twisted wry in thought.

"I suppose, if you feel up to it. And if Poppy's willing to let you out of her sight." he said, laughing lightly at the last. "Just get yourself some rest for now Harry, I'll send someone to fetch you when its time." he said and wandered toward the door.

"Thanks, Professor. I'd like to know what it is too." Harry said, and Dumbledore smiled lightly.

"Get some rest Harry. I'll see you later." he said, and disappeared out the door. After Dumbledore's figure disappeared from the doorway, Harry thought he saw a brief flash of something black from beside the door, but then shook his head when it disappeared. He was probably just imagining things, he thought, after all, why would Snape still be hanging around? Then a thought struck Harry, and he stared at the door with eyes widened.

'Snape saved my life........' he thought, '...again.'

It was absolutely, positively the most hideous thing Harry had ever seen. And judging by the way Hagrid was pacing back and forth beside the kitchen table where the thing lay, Harry was pretty sure he'd never seen its like either. Dumbledore had come to fetch Harry late in the afternoon, having somehow or another convinced Poppy to let him go. Now, Harry, Snape, and Hagrid stood in Hagrid's hut, all eyes focused the monstrous carcass splayed on the table. Even dead the thing was frightening, Harry noted. The eyes that had formerly been filled with hellish fire were now empty black sockets, as if indeed its eyes actually /had/ been made of flame. The body was perhaps the worst, all five feet of it seemed to resemble no one creature, and yet many at the same time. It was a mismatched creation, as if nature had been unable to decide on one single species, and had instead taken a piece of each. The head resembled some repulsive cross between a lizard and a goblin, angled and hairless, with that horrible, wicked grin still baring fangs even in death. Its body was harder to place, for while its back was a sleek skin of spine-ridged scales, its spindly legs were coated with coarse fur, and a mangy, lion-like mane sprouted from just above the shoulders. Harry shivered slightly, remembering the sight of the ghostly eyes floating toward him through the air, and the feel of the wickedly hooked talons tearing into his skin.

"Any luck, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked, setting his cup of tea on the table next to the beast. Snape was leaning in a nearby corner, staring at the creature with a mix of disgust and confusion. Hagrid stopped his pacing and leaned one hand on the table, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry ta say I've never seen nothin' like it." he said, "Though I do recognize /parts/ o' it, if that's a help." he said, then sat down heavily in the wooden chair across the table from Dumbledore.

"Parts of it?" Snape asked, lifting his gaze from the creature, one eyebrow raised at the gamekeeper.

"Yeah. That face is pure cave-gremlin, don't have any o' those in this part o' the country. And those scales are just like a dragons. The rest o' it looks like a common critter, a lion's mane, lizard tail, and those claws....some sort of diggin' thing, can't place it exactly." Hagrid said, brows furrowed in concentration.

"Then it must be the result of some sort of magical fusion.....though I've honestly never heard of anything this drastic before. The exchange of one or two features between species, yes, but not an entirely new creature...." Dumbledore said thoughtfully, and Hagrid grunted in reply.

"Seems so. What do ya think, Professor Snape? This is somethin' a potion would do, innit?" Hagrid said, turning to face the Potions Master. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes focused sharply on the dead creature.

"Yes," he said, standing away from the wall to get a closer look at the carcass, "Several complex potions are required for an inter-species fusion, but as Albus already said, it has never been used to such a degree. Something, and someone, very powerful would be required to create something like this. It's far beyond even my capabilities as a Potions Master."

"Could it be Voldemort?" Harry said, and instantly all eyes in the room turned on him, Hagrid cringing slightly.

"Why do you say that, Harry? Do you have reason to believe that it was him?" Dumbledore said, the serious tone of his voice making Harry slightly nervous. Slowly, he nodded, raising one hand to lightly trace the lightning bolt scar.

"My scar woke me up when the creature came into my room. I'd felt something earlier in the day too, something to do with the forest near here. I think the thing must have been hiding out here before it snuck into the castle." he said, casting a guilty gaze down toward the table top.

"And you thought it wise not to mention this?!" Snape snapped angrily, eyes flashing. Harry sunk lower in his chair, and was extremely grateful when Dumbledore spoke up, obviously to avoid adding to Snape's fury.

"Why don't you tell us exactly what happened, you mentioned something about the forest?" he said, leaning toward his young student. In the corner, Snape slumped back against the wall once again, arms crossed in frustration.

And so Harry told them about his scar burning when he'd glanced at the particular stand of trees, and he told them about hearing the creature in his room, the floating eyes, and finally the attack and rescue. Snape spoke briefly as well, taking up at the point at which Harry had passed out. When the tale was complete, the tea cups were empty and the sun was flaring orange as it began to dip beneath the treetops.

Dumbledore and Hagrid both wore expressions of worry and slight apprehension, but Snape simply seemed to be angrier than before.

"So he knows Harry's here, then...." Hagrid mumbled, nervously playing with the teacup that he held in his palms. Dumbledore nodded.

"It seems so, but it doesn't seem as if Hogwarts' warding spells will do much good if he's recruiting creatures like these. The spells weren't designed to keep out animals. We'll have to make some adjustments....." Dumbledore said, then sighed heavily as he rose from his chair. He looked as if he was going to say something more, but a sharp intake of breath from Snape stopped him shortly. The man had stiffened, his facial features momentarily frozen in a mix of slight fear, pain, and surprise. Harry noted with curiosity that he was clutching one forearm in a claw-like grip, his jaws clenched tightly. Snape's eyes snapped up to meet Dumbledore's concerned gaze, and the older wizard immediately joined the younger in the corner, where they shared a few brief, whispered words. Snape then nodded grimly, and dashed quickly out the door without a glance behind. The Headmaster's face seemed pained about something as he stared at the closed door, his eyes swirling with a mix of emotions as he waged some inner war. When he turned back to the table, he looked tired and a little sad, the blue of his eyes dulled slightly.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, eyes wide and body tense with concern.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Harry, not yet anyway. I'm sure you'll find out for yourself soon enough." he said, and raised a hand at Harry's waiting protest, "I'll not say a word. Let's return to the castle now, I'm sure Poppy will be furious with me for keeping you away so long."

After their thanks and goodbyes had been given, Harry trudged out the door after the Headmaster, glancing around to see if Professor Snape was still in sight. The man was long disappeared though, and Harry sighed heavily in defeat. After the previous nights ordeal, he was even more confused by Snape than before. Every time he thought he had the man figured out, /something/ happened and his assumptions were thrown out the window. For example, he knew that the professor had rescued him the first time in order to pay a debt to his father, and his rescue from the Dursley's had been at Dumbledore's request; but now Snape had saved him a second time, and without any apparent reason. And then there was the hospital wing, where Snape had (he assumed) kept a diligent watch over him in the night, and then again in the morning (from the shadows, no less). As much as he tried, Harry just couldn't figure Snape out. One minute he was the vicious, nasty, and thoroughly cruel Potions Master Harry was familiar with, and the next he was almost---protective, in way. The night Snape had rescued Harry from the Dursleys, he hadn't bothered to lend Harry a hand, even though he'd been limping painfully about, and even after he'd passed out, Snape had just tossed him over his shoulder like an old piece of luggage. But last night---last night Snape hadn't wasted a second in obliterating the monster and rushing Harry to the hospital wing, and Harry remembered quite clearly his own shock when his Professor had so carefully picked him up and carried him out of the room. After last night, Harry wasn't entirely sure of how to think of Snape anymore, he couldn't hate the man after he'd saved his life, and yet he couldn't bring himself to like the man after being yelled at all afternoon.

Another confusing thought plagued him then, one that he'd been mulling over for days and found it impossible to answer. Why /had/ Dumbledore sent Snape to rescue him? And why of all places had he made them /live/ together? It was obvious that Snape would be a good defense should Voldemort decide to attack (Snape was formidable enough that Harry was sure even You-Know-Who would pause to consider his chances), but wouldn't McGonagall or Dumbledore himself have been protection enough? And back to the Dursleys....Dumbledore never had explained why he'd sent Snape to bring him back to the school. Had Voldemort been sighted near Privet Drive? Or had Dumbledore changed his mind, and had simply decided to heed Harry's request to stay at school for the summer? Harry doubted both options, and so, as they were nearing the main entry to the castle, he decided to ask outright.

"Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?" he asked, and the older wizard stopped and turned to him, smiling slightly.

"Of course, Harry. Though depending on the question, I can't guarantee an answer." he said, his arms folded idly behind his back.

"Why did you decide to let me stay here for the summer?" Harry said, fidgeting slightly under the Headmaster's kind gaze. The old man laughed lightly, reaching a hand up to adjust his half-moon glasses.

"I didn't send for you Harry, I had no hand in the matter." he said, smiling even brighter than normal. Harry thought he caught a mischievous gleam in the man's eye, but he wasn't sure what to make of it. Blinking in confusion, Harry unconsciously reached up to adjust his own glasses, his eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"But I thought you sent Snape to bring me back....." Harry said after a moment, and turned to watch the Headmaster with blatant confusion. At the mention of Snape's name, he thought he saw a brief flicker of pain and concern flash across the wizard's features, but it was quickly replaced by an amused smile.

"/Professor/ Snape, Harry." Dumbledore reminded him, "And no, I did not send Severus to fetch you. I only asked him to take you home." Dumbledore laughed at the expression of pure disbelief on his student's face, and put a hand on his shoulder, leading him toward the waiting doorway, "Come on then, I must get you back or Poppy will have my head." Harry allowed himself to be led through the doorway and back up to the hospital wing, all the while one thought playing over and over in his head.

Snape had brought him back.........

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

"Dad! You're home!" Ginny Weasley exclaimed as she dashed from the living room, already dressed in her nightclothes. Mr. Weasley dropped his suitcase and lifted her into a fierce hug, stroking a hand through her mane of wild hair.

"Isn't this a bit late for little girls to still be awake?" he teased as he returned her to her feet, though his eyes were tired and his smile didn't reach them.

"I'm not /that/ little, dad!" she said, ending on a yawn. Ron and Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway, the former approaching and claiming her own embrace from the man.

"Off to bed with you now Ginny, I'll see you in the morning." Mr. Weasley said, and she obeyed after a quick goodnight was said to both parents. Ron stayed near the living room doorway, smiling at his father.

"You're home awfully late, did something happen at work?" Mrs. Weasley asked, taking his coat and hanging it on a hook near the door. His face was lightly strained as he reached down toward his suitcase, as if he was reluctant to speak. Mrs. Weasley turned to Ron, her face worried.

"Ron, maybe you better wait upstairs...." she began, but her husband shook his head.

"No, he'll want to hear. I've heard about several things today, and one concerns a friend of his." Mr. Weasley said, and Ron's eyes instantly widened. He rushed to his father's side, worry now etched on his own face.

"What? What's happened?" he asked eagerly.

"Nothing too serious, don't worry." he said quickly, then ran a hand through his hair and continued, "A great number of council and ministry members were attacked recently in their own homes. Two died as a result, and several were severely injured. All were attacked by a type of monster no one has ever seen before, and each one is vastly different than the others. It's as if dozens of new monster species have suddenly popped up out of nowhere......" he paused to rub a hand across his tired eyes, and his wife and son waited patiently.

"Harry was attacked too, Ron. One of those monsters broke into Hogwarts last night." Mr. Weasley continued, and Ron instantly paled.

"You don't mean.....is he....?" Ron stammered, his hands latched onto his father's robes. Mr. Weasley put a hand on his son's shoulder and smiled reassuringly.

"He was injured pretty badly, but he's going to be fine." he said, and Ron instantly sighed in relief, wiping a hand across his brow. "However, the Ministry of Magic is /very/ concerned with the fact that a monster like that could even get inside of Hogwarts, a virtual magical fortress. I've been asked along with some others to go over there tomorrow to help cast another shielding spell."

"Can I come? Please, Dad, just to see how Harry is doing?" Ron pleaded, and his father laughed slightly. He'd been expecting the question.

"Yes, you can come. I took the liberty of calling your friend Hermione and invited her along too, we're going to pick her up on the way." he said, and though Mrs. Weasley was giving him a funny look, probably concerned about taking two children along on a business trip, she smiled nonetheless.

"Poor Harry, that child is always getting in such messes....." Mrs. Weasley muttered, heading back toward the living room. Ron and Mr. Weasley silently agreed, Harry was only two years into his Hogwarts education and already he'd fought Voldemort twice, and it didn't seem as if he'd be getting a break anytime soon.

"We'll be leaving at noon." Mr. Weasley said, and Ron nodded. He then turned and dashed upstairs to scrounge up something to give Harry as a get- well gift.

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

Hagrid trudged slowly through the dark trees, humming lightly under his breath. Fang was just ahead of him, sniffing the various plants and objects that littered the ground. Dumbledore had asked him to monitor the area, hunt down any monsters that may have been lurking about. So far he hadn't seen or heard any, but then again, he hadn't heard anything /else/ either. Any experienced woodsman knew that dead silence was not a good sign, for it usually suggested the presence of a predator, or something worse.

"Smell anything, boy?" Hagrid asked, and the dog cast him a despairing gaze, whining slightly. They continued on through the forest, the flickering lantern not casting nearly enough light to set Hagrid's mind at ease. A nervous rumble from Fang caused Hagrid to stop in his tracks, one hand unconsciously reaching toward the umbrella clipped to his belt. Fang was standing in the path just ahead, and was slowly backing away from a particular bush ahead of him.

"Easy boy, looks like you found somethin'." Hagrid said, and took a step back when the eyes suddenly appeared between the branches. It was possibly one of the most eerie sights he'd ever seen, the pair of twin flames blinking at him calmly from within the bush. Then they drifted forward out of the shadow, accompanied by a loud, threatening hiss.

The creature that emerged was twice as large as the carcass that still lay on Hagrid's kitchen table, and aside from the eyes and claws, they looked nothing alike. This monster was mostly covered in coarse brown fur, with a face that looked something like a deer's, and more like a demon's. A spiked, raccoon-like tail swished angrily behind its vaguely canine body, and it bared a mouthful of teeth far too large and sharp to conceal behind its lips. Hagrid was thankful when it didn't attack immediately, it gave him the moment required to work out a suitable plan. When if finally leapt a moment later, mouth gaping and eyes flaring brightly, Hagrid was ready. His hand darted quickly toward the ground, and grasped a thick, fallen tree branch firmly in his fist. Then he brought the wood quickly up from the ground, and it connected solidly with the creature's jaw. As the beast fell hissing to the ground, Hagrid whipped the branch around again, and viciously slammed it flatly on top of its skull. It fell over on its side a second later, unconscious.

"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it boy?" Hagrid asked Fang, while playfully tossing the branch in the air. The dog cocked its head to the side, as if to say (you call /that/ not bad?!). A loud roar suddenly echoed from far off in the forest, and the dog instantly hid behind its master's leg, shivering with his tail tucked between his legs. Hagrid reached down and scratched the dog behind the ears, his grip tightening on the tree branch.

"Looks like its gonna be a long night, don' it boy?" he said, and stared off into the waiting darkness.

The morning sun was shining brightly through the opened curtains when Harry awoke to his second morning in the hospital wing. In the many visits he'd made to the hospital wing during the past two years, he'd noticed that Madam Pomfrey had a rather-- /over-zealous/ appreciation for sunlight. Every morning at the crack of dawn the curtains were flung wide, no matter how much any patients unlucky enough to be located near the windows protested. Harry was grateful he was near the door, for it allowed him at least a few more hours sleep, until the sunlight crept into his far side of the room.

Yawning, Harry sat up slowly, rolling his left shoulder to test the injured flesh. Madam Pomfrey had told him not to use the arm much for a while, and judging by the sharp pain that shot through his shoulder, he wasn't in any hurry to use it either. Suddenly, a loud, excited barking erupted from somewhere outside the castle. Curious, Harry quickly put on his glasses and slipped quietly out of the bed, he didn't want Pomfrey to know he was up yet if she was nearby. He padded softly across the room to the window, blinking away the sharp light that stung his bleary eyes. The instant he glanced down toward the lawns however, he was wide awake.

Fluffy.

The huge, three-headed dog was standing on the main lawn, all three great, pink tongues lolling out of the gaping mouths. The interesting thing though, was that the massive tail was wagging furiously, whipping through the air with enough force to cause the tall grass below to wave in the resulting wind. Harry was pretty sure he was gaping, though it took a sharp, happy bark from one of the dog's three massive heads to draw his attention to the fact. Below, Hagrid was standing about twenty feet ahead of Fluffy, waving a giant tree-branch in the air. The half-giant was laughing heartily when he sent the branch flying off behind him, the dog nearly knocking him over as it dashed after it. Fluffy was on it in an instant, the three heads momentarily fighting over possession of the stick until the left finally won. The left head was held significantly higher than the others as the dog trotted back to its master, dropping the stick obediently at his feet. Harry groaned and leaned his head against the window. Something about the sight of the beast that had practically eaten him (on two occasions) behaving like a gigantic puppy was just a bit disturbing.

"Good Morning!" the bright, excessively jovial voice of Madam Pomfrey rang from behind. Harry turned to face her, his eyes still slightly wide from shock. The Nurse had just walked in the door, a mug of steaming coffee held in one hand. She was smiling brightly as she walked up beside him, and made a slight clicking sound of disapproval in her throat when she looked out the window.

"Morning, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, stifling a yawn.

"Honestly, the way that man behaves with that beast---I don't even want to think about all the times he was in here when he first got it, always getting bitten or stepped on. Hmmph." She muttered, still staring out the window, then she turned back to Harry, taking a quick sip of her coffee. "And how are you doing this morning, Mr. Potter? Did the sleeping potion help at all?" she asked, and Harry nodded. Because the wounds on his back weren't quite healed, it still hurt quite a bit and kept him awake. With the sleeping potion, he'd gone out like a light.

"Yes it did, thank you." he said, and she set her coffee aside, then latched onto his arm and maneuvered the injured shoulder toward her.

"Let's just check on this, shall we?" she said, then unwrapped a few of the bandages. She fiddled with them for a moment, then tightened the bandages again. "It looks alright for now, I changed them not two hours ago while you were sleeping. I'll need to put new ones on in a few hours, alright?" she said, her face warmed by a gentle smile.

"Alright." Harry replied, tugging the sleeve of his pajamas back down over his arm.

"Now, why don't you go get changed and head down for some breakfast? Dumbledore would like you to come out to the front lawns afterward, he didn't say why." She said, and nudged him lightly away from the window.

"Okay, thanks again, Madam Pomfrey." he said, and took off to fetch his clothes. What could Dumbledore possibly want with him outside? He wondered. Hopefully nothing more had happened during the night, though thankfully he was still the only resident of the hospital wing. Grabbing his jeans and tee-shirt off the bed-side table, he headed out the door.

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

Harry had been on edge all the way through breakfast, he couldn't help but think that something was wrong. After all, since his return for the summer Dumbledore had only asked to see him once before, and that had been about the monster attack. Although, if something bad had indeed occurred, surely Madam Pomfrey would have known, wouldn't she? He thought, then continued on through the foyer to the main doors. He opened them carefully, trying not to strain his healing injuries too much. Simply moving caused a few of the wounds to stretch and break open, and it certainly wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Once on the stone steps that led down to the lawn, however, Harry was even more confused. A little ways off, Dumbledore was standing with a group of witches and wizards, all talking animatedly. Nothing really seemed to be the matter though, no one was yelling and they didn't seem to be in a hurry of any sort. Then Harry spotted a red haired head among the wizards, and recognized the man instantly. Mr. Weasley. That meant that the dozen or so people gathered around were most likely members of the Ministry of Magic, probably there to see about the mysterious creature. Harry shrugged and continued down the stairs and onto the lawn, heading slowly toward the group.

"Harry!" a familiar voice exclaimed from somewhere behind him. A huge smile spread across his face as he turned around, for running toward him were none other than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They slid to a stop when they reached his side, panting heavily.

"Harry! You're ok!" Ron exclaimed, a bright smile lighting his face. Hermione was so happy that she was laughing slightly, still holding her stomach as she caught her breath.

"Of course I'm okay." Harry grinned, "Don't think that I'm not thankful or anything, but--what on earth are you guys doing here?" he asked, and Ron laughed.

"That's what we wanted to ask /you/." Hermione said.

"My dad's here with the Ministry to perform some spell, and we came along to see how you were doing. We heard about the attack." Ron said, his eyes sliding to the white wrappings that shown from beneath Harry's shirt sleeve.

"Really, Harry, how are you? What happened?" Hermione asked, nervously rolling the newspaper that she held in her hands.

"I'm fine, honest. I can't use my left arm much yet, though." he admitted, sighing heavily as he stared at it. He wouldn't be able to fly his broom until it healed, and the weather had been perfect for flying lately, he hated to miss out on the opportunity. Neither Hermione nor Ron looked entirely convinced, for they cast a worried glance at one another and then at Harry.

"There's something you're not telling me." Harry stated, placing a hand on his hip. Hermione nodded, and Ron scratched the back of his neck idly, looking off toward the forest.

"We saw it in the paper this morning, Dumbledore was going to tell you, but we told him that we would." Hermione said, and handed the rolled paper to Harry. He unrolled it carefully, and stared in confusion at the front page. The main article was about something called a 'Dark Mark,' appearing over the home of a recently disappeared muggle family.

"What's a Dark Mark?" Harry asked, but Hermione only thrust her finger at a particular paragraph of the article. It read:

"The missing London family are believed to be

victims of the Death Eaters, loyal servants of

You-Know-Who. The family had been, until

recently, the guardians of Harry Potter, the

only person known to have faced You-Know-Who

and lived. Muggle authorities have not yet

released the names...."

Harry stopped reading, his eyes frozen on the page. At first he didn't react at all, but merely kept staring at the page, blinking. Then he slowly handed the page back to Hermione, continuing to stare at the ground. He didn't know how to react, for some reason he wasn't sad or upset, and he was shocked more than anything. There was one feeling, however, that he did recognize squirming in his gut. It was guilt. The Dursleys had disappeared, had probably been killed, and all because Voldemort's followers had been looking for him. Because of him, they were gone.

"Harry...I'm so sorry..." Hermione began, but Harry cut her off with a violent shake of his head.

"Don't be." he said, then turned abruptly toward the empty side of the lawn. "Let's go for a walk, okay?" he said, and the three walked off around the castle, away from the Ministry group. They walked in silence for a moment, with Harry staring at the ground ahead of them.

"What's a Dark Mark?" he said after a while, and Ron jumped in surprise.

"It's You-Know-Who's symbol, a skull with a snake crawling out of the mouth. It's sort of his signature, it's left after nearly every attack." Ron said. Hermione opened the newspaper to another page, and showed it to Harry. Unlike the rest of the pictures, the one he stared at did not move. It was a black and white rendition of the Dark Mark, and as he stared at it, Harry thought he could sense a distinct drop in the temperature.

"What about the Death Eaters?" he asked as Hermione rolled up the paper again.

"You-Know-Who's followers, fellow Dark Wizards that carried out all sorts of murder and destruction for him. After he lost his powers, most of them were imprisoned, and a few who claimed to have been under his control got off free. There are still a number that weren't caught though, and every once in a while they'll do something like this to remind everyone they're still around, waiting for their master to return." Hermione said, shoving the rolled paper in the back pocket of the jeans she wore.

"Oh." Harry replied, imagining a group of hooded wizards blasting into number 4, Privet Drive, wands waving and green light flashing. He shook his head violently, earning a sharp pain from his shoulder. Hermione suddenly perked up, her eyes snapping wide as some thought took her by surprise.

"I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, and pulled something out of her side pocket. It was a disposable camera. "I brought this along to get pictures of the school, without all the people bustling about." she explained, winding the camera with her thumb. Harry and Ron cast each other a quick glance, and then both settled for staring at their companion as she fiddled with the device.

"Why don't you two stand right over there?" she said, shooing them to a point on their right. They complied silently, waiting patiently for Hermione to get the right angle on the castle behind them. "That's perfect!" she exclaimed, and snapped the picture. But Ron and Harry ignored her, for they were too busy staring at the figure that had wandered up behind her.

"Well, looks like all the Gryffindor trash is here for the summer." the figure sneered, and Hermione turned slowly around, her face twisted in disgust.

"Looks like Slytherin House knew who to leave behind then, too, Malfoy." Harry replied, glaring harshly. Hermione quickly rushed over to stand beside her friends, and Malfoy laughed.

"Oh I'm just here with my father, he wishes to speak to the Ministry about some of Dumbledore's actions---we heard about what those muggles did to you, Potter. It wasn't very wise of the old git to leave you with them, now was it?" Malfoy sneered, and Harry stiffened, one hand unconsciously flying to the arm that had been broken. It wasn't completely healed either, still throbbing now and then.

"Why should you care what happens to me? It's none of your business what Dumbledore---" Harry began, his face turning pink with anger. Malfoy crossed his arms and sneered again, biting back a laugh.

"It is my business, after all, if Dumbledore sent you back to that family and then didn't even bother to rescue you himself, how can he be trusted to make decisions for the rest of us students? I know /I/ don't want to go to a school with a Headmaster like that!" Malfoy said, his mouth twisted into a wicked smirk. The smirk transformed into a frown then, when he noticed that the three weren't paying attention to him any longer. They were staring at something just above him, probably just trying to annoy him, he thought.

"What? Trying to be smart? Just wait until....." he began, but then the Granger girl lifted the camera in her hand and snapped a quick picture of him, and he stared at her in surprise. The other two were still staring above him, Weasley's mouth was twitching slightly.

"What? What is wrong with you three?" Malfoy persisted, his arms placed stubbornly on his hips. Then something foul blew across the top of his head, and he noticed for the first time the immense shadow looming over him. Slowly, very slowly he tilted his head back and looked up. He was only dimly aware of the roaring laughter that broke out in front of him, for he'd never been more terrified in his life. Above him hung three huge, monstrous heads, with glistening black lips pulled back from dozens of yellowed fangs. Three sets of eyes were focused entirely on him, and a low, rumbling growl was emanating from a neck three times as wide as a tree.

He ran faster than he ever had in his entire life, completely ignorant to the several camera flashes behind him.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were laughing so hard that they ended up sprawled on the grass, wiping tears from their eyes. Across the field, Fluffy was still chasing Malfoy, though obviously it was just for fun, for the dog was purposely keeping pace with the terrified boy. The three finally returned to their senses when a second looming figure approached and gave each of them a hand up from the ground.

"Well now, I dare say that's the funniest thing I 'ave ever seen in me life." Hagrid rumbled, his mouth curved in a wide grin. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all grinned in return, and Hermione was positively hugging her camera.

"Did you see his face?! I've never seen anybody look so terrified in their life!" Ron said, holding his stomach to keep from laughing again.

"He'll never live /that/ one down!" Harry laughed.

"And I've got pictures!" Hermione exclaimed happily, holding the camera in the air like a hard-earned trophy. She grinned maliciously as she stowed it safely back in her pocket, patting it fondly.

"Looks like you all 're gonna 'ave an interestin' year." Hagrid said, "How're you doin', Ron? Hermione?"

"We're fine, but why is Fluffy out running around?" Hermione asked, and Ron nodded.

"Oh, that. Nuthin' to worry about, he's trained real well now. I have 'im guardin' the castle at night, he'll keep those monsters off the grounds. I caught fifteen critters meself las' night, and then I had to bring out Fluffy to help. He's been locked up fer too long now, all this runnin'l do 'im good." he said, glancing to the horizon where the dog was still having a grand time with his new toy.

"/Malfoy/ will do him good, you mean." Ron snickered, "You have /so/ got to make me copies of those pictures, Hermione!" he continued, she smiled brightly and started laughing again. Hagrid was looking off behind them, then gave a loud whistle.

"Fluffy! Go home, boy!" he yelled, and the dog complied immediately, sauntering off in the direction of Hagrid's hut with heads bowed in disappointment. "We gotta get inside now, you three. Them Ministry folk'll be castin' that spell, an we can't be out 'ere when they do. You can come to me hut, if ye'd like." he rumbled, and the three nodded.

"That would be great, Hagrid." Harry said, and the three headed quickly off toward the hut, each stifling a laugh in turn when they spied Malfoy once again. He'd climbed up a tree.

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

Dumbledore slid the glasses off his nose and rubbed his eyes, sorely tempted to head to his rooms for a nap. For the moment though, he was content to stay where he was, seated at a table in the Great Hall. The last of the Ministry members had just left, as they'd spent a good part of the evening arguing with Lucius Malfoy. The Ministry had predictably sided with Dumbledore, seeming as it had been partially their idea in the first place to leave Harry with the Dursleys, and now that the muggle family was gone, it was a tender subject and Malfoy's arguments had been virtually ripped to shreds. He'd gone home with his proverbial tail between his legs. He had, however, put up quite a fight, for the sun had set several hours earlier. Dumbledore was just preparing to rise and head upstairs when the nearby back door to the hall was flung open. When he recognized the figure that stumbled through the door, he was on his feet and at the man's side in an instant.

"Severus!" Dumbledore gasp, helping the disheveled wizard to a seat at the table. The Potions Master was in a very bad condition, though his face was as rigid and unyielding as ever. One hand was clutching his ribcage as he caught his breath, and the other hung at his side, the fingers bloody and twisted. His face was covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his eyes were dull and unfocused, tell-tale signs of the Cruciatus Curse. The pale face was also scratched and bruised, blood matting some of the surrounding hair.

"They know....." he gasped, turning his head to cough wetly, he leaned forward against the table, resting his arms across it. For a brief moment, pain flashed across his features, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Pain could be dealt with later, right now he had a job to do.

"Severus, let's get you up to the hospital wing...." Dumbledore began, but Severus shook his head, flinching slightly when Dumbledore placed a hand on his back. The Headmaster sat down beside him, waiting silently for him to speak. It pained him to no ends to see Snape in such a condition, but he knew that the man wouldn't move an inch until he was good and ready. They'd been through similar scenarios before, though never before had Severus been beaten so horribly. Before, there had been an occasional Cruciatus Curse, and the odd, mild beating now and then, but they had never been severe; it wouldn't do to ruin a useful tool, after all.

"They know....." Severus began again, stifling another cough.

"That you were spying for me?" Dumbledore asked, and the Potions Master closed his eyes, nodding silently. "Oh dear......" Dumbledore whispered, suddenly overcome with fear for his friend. Time after time he'd sent Snape off to gather information, and time after time he'd fought against his own guilt for it. In later years, before Voldemort's fall, there had been several instances where they'd feared he'd been found out, and Dumbledore had asked Severus not to chance returning. Severus had refused outright, desperate to attempt to alleviate the guilt that always weighed heavily on his heart. Though he never said a word about his years as a loyal Death-Eater, Dumbledore knew without a doubt that Severus waged an inner war every day of his life, constantly assaulted by the vicious memories or his past. He knew Snape would sacrifice himself in an instant if it could erase the things he'd done, and that was why Dumbledore trusted this man more than any other. That was why he'd entrusted him with Harry Potter's life.

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

Harry was ecstatic. Ron and Hermione had been allowed to stay for the night, as Mr. Weasley promised to return for them in the morning. He'd been having one of the best times of his life, spending the day chatting, playing chess, and joking with his friends. Hermione turned out to have a lively sense of humor when she didn't have homework to worry about. Madam Pomfrey had agreed to let them stay in the hospital wing since there weren't any other patients, and they'd already rearranged several of the beds. Now they were on their way to the Great Hall for a late supper, all running excitedly down the hall. It felt wonderful to be able to wander around the castle without having to worry about losing house points or getting detention, and Ron was currently taking full advantage of that freedom. He was running along side Harry and Hermione, impersonating Draco's fateful first meeting with Fluffy.

"Ahhh! I'm a rich little Slytherin brat, look at me run!" Ron intoned, and Harry and Hermione giggled.

"I think we should get Fluffy a /really/ big dog treat for that one, I /love/ that dog....." Ron said as he slowed down beside them, grinning ear to ear.

"That dog tried to eat us, remember?" Hermione said, though she too was grinning.

"So? For chasing Malfoy I'd forgive that big mutt if he /had/ eaten me." Ron said as they approached the back door to the Great Hall. Hermione had her hand on the door handle when they heard voices from within, and they instantly froze.

"Who is it?" Hermione whispered, and Harry stepped quietly forward, pressing his ear to the wooden door.

"Snape and Dumbledore, sounds important." he said, and Ron and Hermione instantly scooted up next to him, pressing their own ears to the door. Harry found himself somewhat relieved to discover that Snape had returned, though he hid the emotion from his face.

{"What do you mean?"} Dumbledore's voice said, the tone filled with worry. When Snape replied, his voice was ragged and pained, and Harry couldn't help but bite his lip. Something had obviously happened to Snape after he'd run off......

{"It wasn't Voldemort...."} Snape continued, pausing to emit a very ragged, painful sounding cough.{"It was his power....I could feel it, but the man I saw was /not/ the Dark Lord...."} Snape continued, breathing heavily.

{"But he summoned the Death Eaters?"} Dumbledore asked, and Snape presumably nodded before replying.

{"He bore the Dark Mark on his own arm, but I know I've never seen him before."} Ron, Hermione, and Harry pulled away from the door momentarily, all wide eyed and confused.

"What was Snape doing with the Death Eaters?" Hermione wondered aloud, keeping her voice at a whisper.

"Isn't it obvious? The evil git /is/ a Death Eater......I always knew that man had to have some nasty secret...." Ron said, his arms crossed smugly.

"No, he can't be." Harry said, shaking his head vigorously. After all, why would a Death Eater save his life?

"Harry's right, Ron. Professor Snape is a Hogwarts teacher, and if he was a Death Eater, why would he be telling Dumbledore all that about the Dark Lord?" Hermione said, her own arms crossed. She was convinced that Snape was the most evil teacher on the face of the planet, but she knew that Dumbledore would never have hired anyone who served Voldemort. Ron made a sound in his throat, his brows turned down slightly.

"He's probably just playing the double agent...." he muttered, and they all returned their ears to the door, listening intently. For a moment, no one inside spoke, and they only heard the sound of Snape's ragged breathing. But then Snape spoke up again, his voice low and pained.

{"He's after Harry...."} Snape said, and everyone was surprised at the emotion in his voice, and that for perhaps the second time in history, he'd used Harry's first name. {"Before, he was just trying to get his body and power back...but now he doesn't seem to care about that. He wants Harry out of the way...."} Snape said, and coughed again.

{"He's safe here, Severus. The ministry came and helped me put a few more warding spells on the castle, so that none of those monsters can enter. Hagrid has Fluffy on patrol too, and tomorrow I think I'll send the ministry an owl and request that we be temporarily cut off of the Floo Network. As long as Harry stays on the grounds, Voldemort can't get to him."} Dumbledore said firmly, but Snape didn't sound like he believed him.

{"He'll find a way."} he said, and then there was the sound of something being scooted back from a table.

{"Now let's get you to the hospital wing, I'll not have you dying at my table, Severus."} the Headmaster scolded, and Snape replied with a hoarse laugh. The three eavesdroppers stepped away from the door and slipped quietly off into a nearby shadow, struggling to be silent. A moment later, the door opened and out stepped Dumbledore, supporting a severely injured Snape. The two walked slowly down the hall, the latter limping dramatically. When they'd disappeared around a far corner, Ron, Hermione, and Harry emerged, heading through the door to the Great Hall.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked as they sat at one of the tables, all still in slight shock.

"He seemed awfully concerned about you for some reason, Harry. What's going on?" Hermione asked, watching Harry expectantly. Harry sighed and stared down at the table, struggling to find the answer.

"I'm not real sure either, Hermione. Snape's been different this summer....I don't know what to make of it. One minute he's our mean and nasty Potions Master, the next, he's rescuing me from the Dursleys or some horrific monster." Harry said, his voice dropping slightly at the mention of his missing family. Ron and Hermione were watching him with strange expressions, something akin to worry. It was Hermione who finally asked the question that both she and Ron had been pondering.

"Harry, what did Draco mean when he said he'd heard about what the muggles did to you?" she said, her voice soft. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to that question.

"It's nothing." Harry muttered, his eyes distant. Unconsciously his hand drifted over to clutch his forearm once again, the memory of how it had been broken still fresh in his mind.

"Harry..." Hermione persisted.

"I don't want to talk about it." he said firmly, his voice holding a pleading note. Hermione nodded, letting it go.

"What's all this about Snape, then?" Ron asked, his face twisted in slight disgust. Harry laughed slightly, and his friends both stared at him in confusion.

"I've been staying with him for the summer." Harry replied, and laughed again at the expressions of pure horror on his friends' faces.

"You've been staying with /SNAPE/? And you're still ALIVE?!" Ron screeched, his chair falling to the floor behind him as he rose. Hermione was gaping at him like a fish.

"Yeah....Dumbledore made me." Harry replied, his mouth twisted in a slight smile. Now that he thought about it, it really hadn't been so bad staying with Snape.

"Bloody hell, Harry, it must be horrible! You're coming home with me tomorrow, whether my dad agrees or not!" Ron said, leaning across the table. Harry shook his head vigorously, still smiling slightly.

"No, Ron. Thank you, but it's alright, really. He /did/ save my life." he said, and Ron joined Hermione in gaping at him.

"But...doesn't he yell at you and torture you? Make you sleep in a corner and scrub his floors or something?" Ron asked in disbelief.

"He yells sometimes, but he usually just sits by himself, working on his potions or reading. I've pretty much got free-run of the castle." Harry said, and his smile slowly transformed to a slight frown. He was worried about Snape, "I hope he's alright...." he added.

"I can't believe Dumbledore made you stay with him..." Hermione said, blinking at him, Harry shrugged in reply.

"It's not so bad...." Harry said, and Ron and Hermione gave each other a look.

"Your not actually...starting to like the evil git, are you?" Ron asked with an expression that clearly said he hoped not.

"I don't know, he's not as bad as he is during the school year. I don't like him, but then I don't' hate him either. You know, he actually apologized to me the other day," Harry said, and his friends gaped at him again.

"Professor Snape? Apologize? Now /that/ is getting really scary..." Ron said, shivering slightly.

"You know Harry, everything weird really /does/ happen to you."

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

Night passed and morning came all too quickly in Harry's opinion, and it seemed he'd barely batted an eye before Mr. Weasley arrived and led Ron and Hermione off to Hogsmeade, where a company car was waiting for them. They'd stayed up most of the night, talking quietly and laughing at Ron's jokes about Malfoy. Snape had been laid in a bed at the far end of the room, next to the window, and Madam Pomfrey hadn't left his side even once all night. Harry fully intended to check on him as soon as he could, but Pomfrey refused to let him visit even after Ron and Hermione had departed. She'd given Snape a powerful sleeping potion, and he hadn't once stirred the entire night or the following day. It wasn't until the next night, Harry's last in the hospital wing, that he finally got his chance.

It was close to midnight when Madam Pomfrey finally left for her own rooms, completely exhausted from her constant vigilance. After she'd left, Harry had slipped from bed and silently crossed the room, pausing to snatch a blanket from his bed to ward of the night's chill. When he reached the Potions Master's bedside, he paused and watched him for a moment, it was strange seeing the Professor like that. His face was completely devoid of its constant sneer or angry glare, it was soft and pained in sleep, almost vulnerable. Harry sat down in a chair near the bed and settled into it comfortably, wrapping the blanket tightly about himself as he watched his Professor. He'd been determined to stay awake, but it didn't take long before his eyes started to droop, and he fell to sleep at last.

-----

Severus Snape jerked awake when a bright light suddenly pierced the darkness behind his eyelids, and he opened them to see Poppy sauntering away from the opened curtains, whistling innocently. Grumbling, Severus dropped his head back to the pillow, wishing more than anything that he was back in his dungeons, where the windows were on the /west/ side of the castle. Now that he was awake, he could feel every cut and bruise he'd earned the day before (or had he been here longer?) screaming in protest to his position. He shifted in the bed, rising up on his elbows to sit up against the pillow. Casting a quick glance down at the horrible hospital garments someone had stuck him in, his lip curled in disgust. He missed his robes, too.

A soft snore from nearby drew his attention, and his head whipped over to stare at the small figure curled in a nearby chair, tangled within the white cotton hospital blanket. Potter. The boy had fallen asleep in the chair, his head rested against his shoulder and the back of the chair. For a moment, Severus watched him in confusion. Surely Potter hadn't actually been /concerned/ about him, the mere idea was laughable. And yet, there the boy lay, snoozing happily. The boy snored a second time, and jerked awake, one hand instantly flying up to straighten his crooked glasses.

"Morning, Potter." Severus said, and the boy nearly jumped out of the chair.

"Professor!" Potter said, and he was actually smiling. He stood up from the chair and stepped closer to the bed, absently rubbing the injured shoulder that didn't appreciate the unusual sleeping position. "Are you okay?" the boy asked, and Severus bit back on a sarcastic reply. His first reaction would have been to reply with a , 'I'm in the hospital wing, Potter, what do you think?' but something in the boy's concerned expression made him change his answer.

"Yes, thanks to Poppy." he replied, then, almost as an afterthought, added, "And how about you?" Potter looked mildly surprised at the question, and Snape wasn't entirely sure why he'd bothered to ask in the first place.

"I'm good. Madam Pomfrey is letting me go today." he replied with a smile, and Severus smiled slightly in reply. Poppy /was/ rather possessive of her patients. Shifting his position again, Severus pulled his arms out from under the covers and sat up higher, stifling a yawn in the process.

"Shouldn't you be down having breakfast?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded slightly, though his gaze was strangely unfocused.

"Yeah, I guess I'll see you later?" Harry said, rising from the chair.

"If Poppy will let you." Severus replied, and Harry nodded again, heading slowly off toward the door. Severus stared after him in confusion. Potter had seemed pretty normal at first, but then something had distracted him, but what? The realization of what had happened brought a fierce wave of shame and slight fear. He glanced down at his arm, clenching the muscle tightly. The Dark Mark.

Harry had seen the Dark Mark.

The day passed by in a slow, strange fashion, with only the growing shadows within the hospital wing providing any testament to the passage of time. Everything seemed blurred by a strange sort of haze, a sleepy detachment from anything but the steady hum of thought and the frequent flare of pain. Severus Snape had experienced that same sort of drugged daze many times before, but on this occasion it was different for many reasons. The foremost difference was the fact that never before had he been injured so severely, and the second, never had he cared so little. In past instances he’d lain in the hospital bed, sorting out everything he’d learned about the Dark Lord’s plans and plotting how best to thwart them. But now----now something completely different ruled his thoughts, eating away at his usual indifference to the world. It was the fact that Harry Potter had seen the Dark Mark.

Ever since the boy had left that morning, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about it. Severus realized that not a month ago he couldn’t have cared less if the boy discovered his dark secret, but something was different now. Now, he felt a wave of shame and revulsion every time he thought about it. Both emotions he was intensely familiar with, he’d lived with them every day of his life for over fifteen years. But the fact that Harry had seen the hated Mark somehow made it ten times worse.

For a moment, thought paused, startled by a small realization. When had he started calling the boy by his first name? Severus wondered. When had he stopped being just another Potter, and become Harry? Frowning, he thought back, struggling to find some seemingly insignificant instance that could have caused the shift. He thought back to when he first set out to rescue the boy, an uncharacteristic action if taken at face value. However, his purpose in that had been more selfish than humanitarian. Seeing the boy treated so maliciously had triggered a barrage of unpleasant memories, memories of his own parents visiting similar tortures upon him. No, he hadn’t rescued Harry just for /Harry’s/ sake, he had done it to spite the Dursleys. He’d torn their ‘toy’ away from them, denying them the sick pleasure of cruelty for the sake of cruelty. The mission had been as much to prevent Harry from suffering a mirror of his own fate as it had been a late-sought revenge. Despite that unpleasant discovery of common ground, Severus realized that he’d still fairly detested the child afterward. So what /had/ it been, then?

Groaning in frustration, he sat up slowly in the bed, hissing sharply as a pain flared across his bruised back. He remembered being kicked there a few times, probably by Goyle. Sitting up all the way, he swung his legs off the bed and looked around, hoping beyond all hope that Poppy wasn’t around. He would figure out the workings of his own mind later, at the moment he just wanted to get out of the wretched hospital garb and be back down in his own pleasantly dim rooms. Unfortunately, his black robes were no where to be seen. Nor was his wand, for that matter. Evidently, Poppy had predicted he’d try to leave, it /was/ a routine they went through every time he ended up in the hospital wing. This time, she probably suspected that he’d rather be stuck in the hospital than be seen in anything other than his trademark robes. She was sorely mistaken, Severus thought, for he’d damn well rather be butt naked than play the invalid.

Casting a wary glance around the room, he slipped quietly from the bed, padding softly toward the door. Poppy was apparently absent, for neither sight nor sound betrayed her presence. Severus slipped quickly out the door, determined to be gone and locked safely in his chambers before the nurse returned. He was just begining to feel pleased with his success when he heard the tell-tale snap of a clipboard.

“Good evening, Severus.” The nurse’s voice said curtly from behind. He squared his shoulders and turned around slowly.

“Evening, Poppy.” He said in a monotone, glaring at her in annoyance. She was standing in the center of the hallway, clipboard in one hand and wand in the other. She had his own wand thrust into the pocket of her apron, he noticed.

“Back into bed, Severus, before I send you there myself.” She said, waving the wand tip in his direction. He didn’t have any doubt that she would, as she’d done just that on at least two occasions. The embarrassment of being petrified and then levitated back into the hospital wing was certainly not something he wished to repeat.

“Very well.” He grumbled, attempting to stalk back into the room. The limp degraded it into something more of a stagger, though, and he just knew that Poppy was grinning. Once he’d crawled reluctantly back into the horrid little bed, Poppy twirled her wand triumphantly and returned it to its place in a side pocket.

“Honestly, Severus, you should know better by now. You try that every time you’re here, and never /once/ have you made it to the dungeons.” Poppy huffed, rustling through the papers on her clipboard. Severus crossed his arms and glared, frowning.

“I made it to the stairs once.” He muttered defensively, and Poppy made a disgusted sound in her throat.

"I try to heal you people and what do I get? I get to spend my day chasing down escapees like some sort of /prison/ guard. You’d think I tortured you or something, for heaven’s sake!” she said angrily, placing her hands on her hips.

“Well, you ARE a bit rough….” Severus sneered, and Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Small price to pay for regaining the use of your limbs!” she shot back, and stomped further into the hospital, her back turned as she scribbled on the clipboard. Severus frowned as he remembered something, his eyes refocusing on the empty doorway.

“Where’s Harry?” he asked, and Poppy turned back around, wearing a surprised expression.

“Harry? I saw him wandering around the castle several times today, he’s probably still doing the same thing. Why do you ask?”

“He mentioned he’d stop back by.”

--------

The long, dark halls of Hogwarts seemed unsurpassably lonely without their fill of bustling students, chattering voices, and fluttering robes. It was dark and desolate, even more so knowing that the classrooms were empty and silent, filled with patient desks and bare podiums. Harry realized he must have passed down that same hallway at least five times that day, crisscrossing up and down staircases as he wound aimlessly through the castle. All he cared about was that he was moving, physically doing something as his mind reeled in confusion, turning in upon itself and back again. For nearly the entire day only two things laid claim of his thoughts. The first was the Dursley’s fate, and the second and foremost was the Dark Mark.

No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Snape was a Death Eater. It simply did /not/ make any sense. A Death Eater wouldn’t have saved famous Harry Potter from the Dursleys, or from that monster. A Death Eater wouldn’t have been allowed to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and a Death Eater most certainly would not have spoken about Voldemort’s secret affairs with Professor Dumbledore. That left only one conclusion, Snape must be a spy. It explained several things, the Dark Mark for one. It also explained the whispered words Dumbledore and Snape had shared before he’d ran from Hagrid’s hut, and also why he’d given Dumbledore information. And yet-- Harry couldn't shake the persistent feeling of doubt that roiled within his mind.

Another thing that plagued him was why it seemed to matter so much. It was /Snape/, after all, a man whose greatest pleasure in life had always seemed to be ridiculing him beyond belief. Why then, had the discovery horrified Harry so much? Maybe Ron had been right, he thought, maybe he really was starting to like the 'evil git.' Harry stopped in the center of the hallway and shook his head, frowning. No, it couldn't be that, he thought. It was probably just the fact that Snape had saved his life (three times!), and was now was revealed as an agent of Voldemort, spy or no. Looking down toward the end of the familiar hall, Harry remembered what he'd told Snape that morning. Sighing in resignation, he trudged down the hall toward the entrance to the hospital wing.

--------

The sound of soft footsteps drawing near the hospital entrance jerked Severus Snape out of the light sleep he'd fallen into. It was near evening, as the few torches scattered throughout the room had been lit. It was by their light that he spied the figure standing reluctantly in the doorway, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Harry had returned, and didn't look the least bit happy about it. Snape couldn't deny the fact that he was relieved by the sight of the boy in the doorway, for it meant he was at least willing to ask about what he'd seen.

"Evening, Professor." Harry said, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Evening, Harry." Snape replied, doing his best to keep his tone calm and as non-threatening as possible. It was a difficult feat, for he rarely spoke in any other fashion. Harry stepped into the room, crossing silently over to the chair by the bed. He paused, fidgeting a little and still refusing to raise his eyes.

"Professor, I..." Harry began, but Snape stopped him.

"You saw the Dark Mark on my arm." he said, and Harry nodded. "Have a seat, Harry." he continued, and the boy instantly dropped into the chair, his hands folded in his lap. He was scared, Severus realized, scared that he might threaten him or possibly even try to attack him in some way.

"You work for Voldemort." Harry stated shortly, and finally raised his eyes up to meet his teacher's. Snape's eyes instantly turned cold and hard, his lip curling in disgust and anger.

"I most certainly do /not/." he snapped, unable to completely restrain the anger that rose at the very thought. The anger though, wasn't really directed toward the Dark Lord, but rather at himself. "...though I /was/ a servant of the Dark Lord at one time." he said, and even Harry couldn't miss the undertone of shame that rode with the words. Harry's eyes widened slightly, and Snape was surprised when something like /relief/ washed over his features.

"So it's true....you're a spy!" Harry said with a smile, though he himself couldn't explain why the revelation caused such a reaction. Snape smiled too, which added yet another bit of confusion to the mix.

"Correct. I assume you guessed so because of that night at Hagrid's hut?" Snape said, and Harry nodded. Then his eyebrows tipped slowly downward and his eyes unfocused, swirling for a moment in thought. When he looked back up, his gaze was sligthly accusatory, the smile disappeared.

"But if you /don't/ serve the Dark Lord, why have you always hated me so much?" Harry asked, his eyes clearly focused and mouth drawn thin. Snape's own meager smile slipped away then, his face shifting into a more blank expression.

"You know the reason." he said, unable to keep from glaring slightly. This was not a line of discussion he wished to pursue, especially with Harry. He hoped that the boy would take the hint and drop the topic, but he persisted, now also glaring.

"I know /part/ of the reason." Harry said, the tone of his voice clearly saying that he was determined for an answer. The boy crossed his arms and sat straighter in the chair, his eyes focused in unblinking determination.

"It is none of your business, Potter." Snape hissed angrily, his jaws clenched tightly. Why was the boy suddenly standing up to him? He wondered. Normally he would back down at the first hint of anger, but now he was sitting there, arms crossed, practically challenging him to a glaring match. It was probably the fact that Snape was wandless, injured, and dressed in very non-threatening hospital pajamas, he supposed. One couldn't be very threatening while lying nearly flat on their back, after all.

"I can't believe that it's because of what my father did a couple decades ago, and I can't believe it's because I'm famous, either. There's something else." Harry persisted, his own jaw clenched in determination.

"As I said-- That. Is. None. Of. Your. /Business/." Snape enunciated, a low, rumbling growl rising deep in his throat. But Harry just continued to sit there, glaring in return. "Why did you sit there watching me last night?" Snape asked, and Harry's eyes widened in surprise. For a moment Harry looked uneasy, but then his brows furrowed in renewed resolve.

"Why did /you/ watch over /me/ after the monster attack?" he returned with equal vehemence. Snape's teeth were bared in an angry snarl, his fists clenched and white knuckled at his sides.

"Why did you return here, after seeing the Dark Mark?" Snape growled, and Harry recrossed his arms, tilting his head back as he replied.

"And why did /you/ save me from the Dursleys?" Harry snapped, and surprise briefly washed over the older wizard's features.

"Answer my question, Potter." Snape commanded, employing his fiercest glare. Harry, however, wasn't the least bit perturbed.

"Not until you answer mine." Harry replied, leaning back in his chair. The air practically hummed with the tension between the two, charged with equal anger and frustration. Something like a staring contest ensued then, as glare locked with glare. Neither one moved for a long time, not a muscle twitching or an eye blinking. What finally shattered the merciless silence was the shock of brilliant, searing pain that shot up Snape's left arm. With a pained, startled gasp, he jerked upright in the bed, clamping a hand over the flesh that bore the Dark Mark. His eyes narrowed and teeth gritted against the pain, which was far worse that it had ever been before. He supposed that it was a bit of the Dark Lord's vengeance, petty retribution for escaping punishment with his life. Severus didn't even realize that Harry had moved at first, but now the boy was standing on the left side of the bed, watching him with a calm expression.

"Move your hand." he said calmly, and Severus did as he was told, brows knitted in confusion. Harry didn't seem to be really thinking about what he was doing as he stood there, moving instead as if by some instinctual force. He raised his hands slightly and grasped Snape's forearm, palms pressed to the flesh that bore the Dark Mark. Instantly, the pain began to whither, dwindly steadily down until not even a memory of it remained. Snape stared at Harry in shock, his eyes widened and expression slack.

"What did you just do...?" he asked with a hint of suspicion. Harry released his grip and took a step back, his own eyes a sea of confusion.

"I'm...not really sure. It just...felt like the thing to do." the boy answered, his eyes darting to the Mark clearly visible on Snape's exposed arm. The Potions Master had his arm raised and was studying the mark, running his thumb over the infamous symbol.

"You stopped the pain." Snape said, and lowered his arm, quickly tugging a sleeve down to cover it. "That is how The Dark Lord summons his followers....but the pain doesn't subside until we've answered the call, or the Dark Lord stops the summoning. What did you do?" Snape asked again, and Harry shook his head.

"I don't know....it just, popped into my head. I didn't mean...." Harry started to apologize, but Snape stopped him fast with a short, piercing glare. However, once the words had died in Harry's throat, the glare disappeared and was replaced by a highly unfamiliar expression. Snape seemed incredibly uneasy about what he was going to say next, as if he had to fight an inner war simply to put voice to the words. Finally, he turned to Harry and cast his eyes downward slightly, drawing a deep breath.

"Your question." he stated at first, then shifted slightly. "I don't really care about what your father did, nor do I care about your fame. It's obvious to everyone that you hate the attention." he paused again, and Harry stared at him in fascination and bewilderment, and Snape continued, "I've hated you out of jealousy, for who you are. You're strong, Harry, stronger than I ever was at your age. You've lived with pain and ridicule your entire life and it hasn't weakened you. You resisted Voldemort's call, the allure of power-- fought him twice and WON twice. No one had to tell you which side to fight for--you /knew/. I didn't. I envy you for that, Harry. And I've hated you for it." Snape finished, and was staring at the floor, his face more open than Harry had ever seen it. His expression was awash with pain and shame, and Harry stared at him in shock, his mouth slightly gaping. Then, the emotions disappeared, dissolving into a softer, yet still vaguely pained expression. "And as to why I watched over you after the monster attack--Quite simply, I was worried. Now, YOU answer /my/ question." he said, focusing a blank, attentive gaze on Harry. Harry gaped for a minute, wringing his hands in unease. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he stared at the floor, hands hanging lifelessly at his sides.

"I was worried about you, Professor. You saved my life--twice--and I thought that it meant--maybe--you didn't hate me so much anymore." Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. Snape raised an eyebrow, confused by the odd, almost pleading tone of the boy's voice at the last. It almost seemed as if he was desperate not to be hated, grasping desperatly for some hint of human concern. Severus had never expected such a thing, had completely ignored what should have been blatantly obvious. Harry had never been cared for by an adult in his life. The Dursley's despised him (or had, the tense was in question), Dumbledore was more of a mentor, and Hagrid wasn't a permanent figure in the his life. Harry wanted someone permanent, he wanted a parent. It was no wonder that he was desperate, but now that he had focused on /Snape/, he didn't know what to think, or /do/ for that matter. The situation was getting a bit too complex and uncomfortable for Severus' ease of mind, for he realized that he himself wasn't completely innocent on the matter either.

"I don't hate you, Harry." he settled on saying, unwilling to venture into an explanation or a tour of his own mind. The boy looked up in surprise, his eyes filled with an unconscious hope. "You're damn annoying, sometimes, but I don't hate you." he added with a smile, and Harry smiled in return, his entire face lighting up.

"I'm sorry I thought you were evil." Harry said, obviously a little ashamed of himself. Snape snorted in amusement and laughed once, and then fixed a stern glare on the boy.

"Now don't go saying things like that, you'll ruin my reputation." he said in all seriousness, then his expression shifted again, and he motioned for Harry to return to the chair. "Poppy will be returning shortly, care to join me for dinner? Nothing hospital issue though, I assure you." Snape said, and Harry nodded vigouresly.

"Sure, that'd be great." Harry said, and Snape sighed in confusion over the bright smile now plastered to the boy's face, and the light one crossing his own. He had a feeling things were going to be a little odd from now on. Severus had no idea whatsoever what to do about Harry, he wasn't even sure what he thought of the boy anymore. The hate was gone, that much he realized, and he didn't truthfully /dislike/ him, and that itself was confusing enough. But when you threw in the additional variable of Harry's growing attachment, Severus recognized fear curling deep within his chest. Fear of the past, the future, and especially of the unfamiliar, increasing fondness for the Boy-Who-Lived. For the first time since the summer had begun, Severus Snape had no idea in hell what he was going to do.