Harry hummed to himself quietly as he lay flat on his bed. Snape had been called away by Dumbledore for some ‘important business’ that not even Snape was allowed to know in advance. The man had been most apprehensive about leaving Harry alone in the house without anyone to protect him, but Harry had eventually managed to persuade him – with a couple of helpful comments from Shadow, which he had used to great effect – that he would be fine.

He and Shadow talked almost constantly these days; the more they said, the more there was to talk about and Harry was actually wondering whether he ought to tell Snape about Shadow, or about him being Harry’s father first. Shadow was as much a part of Harry’s life as Snape was at the moment; true, he got plenty of letters from his friends and Remus and Sirius, but it wasn’t anywhere near the same as having someone right next to you who you could bounce ideas off. Harry had actually caught himself wishing that the holidays could be longer, which would never have happened at the Dursleys. Unfortunately, the best he could do was to make it memorable; after all, not all of Snape’s belongings had gone missing by accident!

“Shadow?”

‘Uh huh?’

“Do you think that if I started exercising my magic more regularly, the problems would stop?”

Shadow rolled over and blinked at him lazily. ‘If you think about it, that’s exactly what you’ve been doing recently. It hasn’t helped any, has it, really?’

Harry sighed and stared up into the canopy of his bed. “No, not at all. In fact, it seems to be getting worse with the more time that goes by. Even not using it at all doesn’t help. I’m starting to get worried, Shadow. I mean, Snape’s been good enough about it so far, but I’m sure he’s reaching the end of his tolerance...”

Shadow sighed and ran the tips of his fingers up and down the scar on his cheek, like he often did when he was thinking. ‘I think you should tell him about it soon. Magic should always be taken seriously, no matter how harmless it seems... this could end up being something extremely dangerous if it gets much worse.’

Harry screwed up his face and tried to think. “I don’t know... It would mean he’d know it was my fault that all his belongings were being mucked around with; and he can get awfully possessive about his stuff, and I really don’t want to be shouted at. Besides,” Harry peeped up at Shadow through his fringe, “you said that the Potter line wasn’t old or strong enough to do wandless magic on such a scale. We’d have to tell him the truth, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.”

Shadow let his hand fall away from his cheek and it dropped on the bed with a soft thump. ‘Will you ever be ready?’

“Probably not.”

‘Better sooner than later, then.’

Harry blew out a breath, making his fringe fly upwards. “Yeah, I suppose. I just need to psych myself up first.”

Shadow gave him a troubled look and Harry flopped back on the bed to avoid it. ‘OK, just don’t leave it too long. I’m worried about you. About this.’

Harry smiled up at the canopy. Even after all these weeks with Shadow, it was still nice to hear those words out loud. Unfortunately, it did come with the side effect that Shadow would nag him until he did as he was told, all in his best interests, of course. I’d better distract him with something. I wonder what... 

“Shadow?”

‘Uh huh?’

“Let’s go flying!”

The brown haired boy sat bolt upright. ‘Oh yes! Let’s do that!’ Shadow scrambled over to his trunk and snatched up his replica of Harry’s Firebolt, which Snape had obligingly resized a few days earlier. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before, come on, come on!’

Harry laughed and grabbed his own broom. “Hey, Salem, want to come flying with us?”

Salem raised his head and glared at the two boys. “By my scalesss! If you’re trying to kill yourselves, don’t you dare drag me along with you! I’m going back to ssssleep.” The little snake curled up on Harry’s pillow and turned his back on the boys.

Harry grinned. “Sssuit yourself! Bye, Salem!”

The two of them scrambled down the stairs, laughing with enthusiasm as they went, and drunk on their temporary freedom within the Manor. Yes, they could go anywhere they pleased when Snape was there, but being home alone brought a whole new excitement to the idea.

The second that the back door was open, Harry mounted his broom and kicked off, swiftly followed by Shadow. The two of them looped and soared, diving in between each other with every swoop. Harry realised that like this, it truly was as though Shadow was racing along beside him, enjoying the bright sun and the stiff breeze.

They tossed their brooms around as if they were the original test pilots; dodging between the orchard trees, then flying straight up, higher and higher until the air went thin and the sun’s rays no longer warmed Harry, and then down, to the far away spec that was the Manor house in such a steep dive that not even Snape would have been able to watch. The wards crackled blue in the air around them; depicting the edge of the Manor even that high in the air, and Harry was always careful not to test them. Instead, he flew in tight circles around the house, trying to beat Shadow, who matched him equally in weight and speed.

It was on the third turn that disaster struck. Harry didn’t even feel it coming. All of a sudden, his magic surged within him, stronger than before, and, having no convenient object nearby to dissipate itself on, it vanished Harry’s broom.

The shock and the terrible fear that suddenly clutched at Harry’s heart kept him silent all the way to the ground; a full two storeys.

Hitting the ground hurt, but the full pain of the experience didn’t hit Harry until about two seconds later. He managed a soft, gasping groan deep in the back of his throat as he saw Shadow alight a few feet away and run up to him. He heard the boy’s desperate shouts at him to stay awake, to stay conscious, but much as he wanted to, he could not. His last thought before the world slipped away was thank goodness Shadow’s OK.

HPSSHPSSHPSS

Severus’ Apparition took him to the foot of the Manor’s drive and he alighted, feeling very pleased with his outing. He couldn’t wait to tell Harry about what he and Dumbledore had been up to; doubtless the boy would be very interested. In light of his victory, Severus allowed himself a leisurely stroll up to the gates of his Manor as he phrased just what he would say to the boy, so that his words would have the maximum positive impact.

Putting smarmy buggers in their place was always his favourite pastime. And on this occasion, after taking care of a certain three people, he and Albus had set the scene for yet another family to get their comeuppance, not that he’d tell Harry that yet.

He let himself through the gates and strode across the lawn, surprised as always at how much he had missed his home, especially now that Harry was here. He glimpsed something red out of the corner of his eye and out of idleness turned to see what it was.

The next second, he was running as fast as his legs would carry him towards the object, fear pressing down on his lungs until he could hardly breathe. His remaining good humour was left in tatters, replaced by a dark panic that threatened to consume him. Within seconds – though it had seemed like hours – he dropped down beside the boy and scrabbled for his pulse.

“Harry, Harry.” His words came out in fearful, little wheezes, and then all his breath gasped in relief when his searching fingers revealed that the boy was, in fact, still alive. Badly hurt, but still alive. Reading the results of the diagnostic spell that he cast a bare second later was almost like looking back two weeks in time; broken ribs, broken ankle, but there also a concussion and what looked like a greenstick fracture near his left elbow. There was also no explanation for his injuries.

Gently, carefully, he wrapped his arms around the child and slowly lifted him from the ground. The boy whimpered in his stupor as the new position jarred his ribs. “Sshh, shh, Harry, I’ve got you. It’s all right, I’ve got you.” Severus kept up the litany all the way back to the house; trying to push back some of the appalling panic that had him tight within his grip. Or maybe he was trying to stop the awful stinging in his eyes whenever he thought about Harry dying. It didn’t help that he had to walk as slowly and carefully as possible to stop himself from accidently damaging the child any further.

No, no please, not this child. Anyone, any child but this one. Please not my Harry.

Severus carefully made his way over to the fireplace and used his wand – which had been in his hand ever since he had cast the diagnostic – to levitate some Floo powder into the grate. “Albus,” he whispered softly, so as not to disturb the boy in his arms or to betray the roughness of his throat. “There’s an emergency at the Manor, please get here immediately.”

He then turned and slowly ascended the stairs, praying for Albus to come soon and to help make it all alright again. After all, that’s what the old man did best. Didn’t he?

It’s all my fault. I never should have left. Harry, what has happened to you? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. Forgive me, forgive me, please. Not Harry, not Harry, sod it, I’ll do anything.

Severus gently laid Harry on his bed and started whispering charms and incantations, summoning and using potions, in an attempt to stop the internal bleeding, to mend bones, to prevent the boy’s brain swelling so much that it alone might kill him. Where was the calm fatalism that he always felt when operating on himself now? How could he feel so composed while sewing up his own arm when he felt as if he were about to drop his wand as he spelled Harry’s ulna back into place?

Please let him be all right, please, please, please. Albus, where are you?

And finally it was time to cast the last spell. Severus could barely do it; his teeth were clenched too tightly and his wand trembled in his hand. After this, if the spell didn’t work, Harry might never wake up again.

“Enervate…” Severus closed his eyes and prayed harder than he ever had in his life before. To who, he never really worked out; Merlin perhaps, or Lily. Mostly Lily.

She would never let her boy die, would she? She’d never let him slip into an eternal coma, would she? If this doesn’t work, I’ll never see him again… never speak to him again. And I’ll have failed her again. Please…

Severus hands twisted in his own robes and a single tear squeezed out and down his cheek.

I can’t, I can’t, oh, please…

A soft moan came from the bed. Severus’ eyes snapped open.

Harry…

“Uh… where am I? Ah, hurts,” Harry mumbled, his green eyes opening and staring blearily around the room. “Uh, hello, P’fessor, when’d you get back?”

“Harry!” Unable to help himself, Severus scooped the boy up against his chest as gently as he could, his mind repeated one word over and over like a broken record; alive, alive, alive! Severus gently settled the boy more comfortably in his arms and held several pain potions to his mouth, helping him get them past his lips far enough for him to swallow the vile liquid.

Harry didn’t protest at the Professor’s behaviour, just leaned closer, as if the man’s mere presence could stop the pain. That was how Dumbledore found them a short while later.