Severus stumbled out of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office, and with a hiss of disgust at his own weakness, he actually fell to his knees. However, a quick glance around showed him that no one was in the beautiful room to comment on his less than graceful antics.

So, with no one but Fawkes the phoenix to bear witness, Severus allowed himself to voice the pain he felt as he hauled himself to his feet. That less than human bastard whom he pretended to serve had definitely surpassed himself tonight. Barely anyone had escaped his wrath. Three had actually paid for their mistakes with their lives.

Severus retrieved his wand from his robes and cast his Patronus. He gazed at his beautiful doe for several painful seconds before imbuing it with the message he wished to relay, and then sent her on her way to find Albus Dumbledore. Then, with a sigh of relief, he eased himself into one of Albus's ridiculously comfortable chairs, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Ridiculous yes, but exceedingly welcome at the moment.

So Potter's relations were dead...well, the two that were necessary to help protect the boy from the Dark Lord anyway. The other waste of considerable space-Vernon Dursley-was still alive, but not by much by all accounts. Severus hoped he succumbed to his injuries. It would only be fitting after the treatment he had meted out on the boy.

Vernon Dursley would never get his hands on Harry Potter again though, even if he did survive. At the very least, the animal should be imprisoned for his crimes against Potter, but fortunately for Dursley, the Muggle authorities would never hear of his crimes because it was highly doubtful that the boy would ever have anything to do with the Muggle world again. And so, the fat Muggle would escape justice.

That is unless some vindictive wizard who shall remain nameless, but has seen the Dursley's handy work first hand, decides to get even on the boy's behalf.

Severus snorted inelegantly. The apocalypse must be nigh, or else the Dark Lord's punishment had affected him in more ways than just the physical. He was sitting here, contemplating taking revenge for crimes committed against the Boy Who Lived...the bane of his life...Harry Bloody Potter. 

Severus rubbed a shaking hand over his face. His stubble adorned jaw felt rough against his palm and he grimaced. He was sure that his already less than attractive face was showing the ravages of the last six or so odd hours. He was thirty-six years old and at the moment, his body felt at least one hundred and six. He was getting far too old to tolerate the treatment the Dark Lord dished out.

Even though he had already medicated himself when he had Apparated back to the Shrieking Shack, Severus knew he needed a stronger dose of muscle relaxant and he also needed a hot, soothing, herbal bath.

Upon the Dark Lord's rebirth, he and Dumbledore had devised what they had decided was the quickest and the most efficient way for Severus to Apparate to the Dark Lord's side when he was summoned.

Dumbledore had constructed new anti-intrusion wards around the Shrieking Shack and the fireplace had been repaired to enable Severus to floo from Dumbledore's office-the only point of floo ingress and egress to and from the castle-and then to Apparate to whence he had been summoned.

Severus had also fashioned a secret hiding place within the brickwork of the fireplace in which he had hidden a cache of potions so that he could dose himself if needs be at the earliest possible convenience. He had taken this step so that if he was subjected to torture as he had been tonight, he would be in a reasonable condition to relate the happenings of the meeting to Albus, and also preserve a little of his dignity.

He did not like to appear anything less than in complete control. Tonight, the application of the Cruciatus Curse had been extreme. And he had escaped relatively lightly compared to some.

The Dark Lord was livid because of Potter's escape.

Green flames flared high and Albus stepped from the magically enlarged fireplace. He, as Severus had done earlier in the evening, had flooed from Poppy's office.

Severus thought about sitting up straight but quickly decided against it. If he tried to move, he knew he would not be able to stifle the groan of pain that would involuntarily escape him. Why he was bothering to try and hide his weakness he did not know, because, despite his best efforts to always appear strong, Albus had often seem him in even worse condition than this and he always seemed to know when he was suffering.

Albus looked searchingly at his less than hale potion's master. His bright blue eyes filled with regret but his mouth firmed into an angry line before he spoke a single word.

"Bad?"

Severus took a deep breath and then nodded his head without lifting it from where it rested against the padded chintz back of the chair.

Dumbledore strode to the cabinet beside Fawkes's perch. The phoenix watched with bright eyed curiosity as his companion poured two tumblers of Ogden's finest. Severus also watched as his friend and mentor crooned to the phoenix and scratched his head. He spoke, but the words were unintelligible to Severus's ears, but Fawkes seemed to understand.

Albus held one of the tumblers up and the bird tipped his head to the side. Severus sat up a little straighter and managed to stifle most of the groan that rose to his lips. After a few seconds he saw a thick, silvery tear slide from the phoenix's bright eye and fall with a tiny plop into the glass of whisky. It was quickly followed by another.

Dumbledore stroked the beautiful, scarlet head again and then walked around his desk to pass the glass to Severus. ‘It is fortuitous that Fawkes is here tonight. This will hopefully take care of the worst of it.'

Severus took the tumbler in a shaking hand and stared at the contents. He knew just how lucky he was that the phoenix had given him two of his precious tears. Fawkes did not give his tears freely and as the bird had already healed the worst of the injuries around Potter's face earlier, this was even more unexpected.

Severus raised the tumbler in a salute to the amazing bird and then threw the whisky to the back of his throat. Within seconds, the aches and tremors still assailing him disappeared entirely. He no longer felt as though every muscle in his body had been shredded, one fibre from the other, and that each one of those fibres was working independently of the others. His thirty-six year old body felt as though it had just rested for a solid eight hours on the most comfortable bed in the world.

Severus shut his eyes and sighed his relief. "Thank you Fawkes."

Fawkes dipped his magnificent head but then began to preen the feathers on his golden breast, so Severus was unsure whether the bird had acknowledged him or not. He knew the bird was intelligent, but he wasn't sure whether he responded to any but Albus's voice.

Severus looked across at Albus who was sipping his unadulterated whisky, his tired, world weary eyes gazing, unseeingly across the room. Albus had not had the benefit of Fawke's healing tears and the old man looked even older than his one hundred and fifteen odd years.

Severus knew the old man felt as if the weight of the wizarding world was on his shoulders. Usually he bore the burden stoically, but tonight, with Potter's mistreatment coming to light in the most brutal way possible and with the Dark Lord's henchmen invading the boy's summer residence, the weight was more than one man-even one as great and powerful as Albus Dumbledore-should have to bear. And he, Severus was about to add to that weight.

"Potter's aunt and cousin are dead."

Dumbledore sighed and placed his empty glass on his desk with exaggerated precision. ‘I know. Kingsley contacted us." He pierced Severus with those blue eyes. "Was it an accident, or did the protection fail, enabling Voldemort to get to the Dursleys?"

"It was an accident, a stupid Muggle car accident. It would appear that Potter's uncle is not as adept at controlling a car as he is at beating up children."

Dumbledore banged his clenched fist down on the desk. "But how did he know, Severus? How did Voldemort know so quickly that the wards were now useless?"

"A lucky happenstance. He has known for a very long time that Potter lives in Surrey. He had conducted some research, Muggle style. He knew, from those who went to Hogwarts with Lily..." at a look from Albus, he inserted darkly, ‘...not me Albus! He learned that her maiden name was ‘Evans'. And a certain blonde Slytherin boy who shall remain nameless, had overheard Potter talking about his Aunt Petunia, and wasted no time in relaying this information to his father.

"It was a simple matter for him to break into the appropriate Muggle government buildings and check their records. He found out that Petunia Evans married Vernon Dursley, and the rest as they say, is history."

Dumbledore had leapt up and was pacing in front of the fireplace. "But even with all the relevant information, he would not have been able to touch Petunia or her son."

Severus sighed. "He knew the address, Albus. He even knew the car registration. He has been keeping watch on the area for months. Your wards were extraordinary. They encompassed the whole of Privet Drive, and its nearest environs, so anyone who wished Potter harm could not get any closer to the Dursley abode than several streets away. And of course, the blood protection kept Potter safe even when he was further afield.

"It just so happened that last night, an extra vigilant servant-Yaxley, to be precise-was hovering near by, apparently at his own discretion, and he caught sight of the Dursley's car about a mile from their home. Yaxley has an excellent memory for numbers and so realised whose car it was immediately. He followed them on his broom and witnessed the accident that killed Potter's aunt and cousin. He was able to get word to the Dark Lord within minutes and he ordered the attack on Potter's home."

Albus dropped heavily back into his chair. He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "Lily's protection would not, of course, protect Petunia and Dudley from anything but wizards wishing to harm them. If Harry had been in that car, he too could have been killed."

Severus had actually thought of that himself. Living in the Muggle world was much more fraught with danger than living amongst wizards. Car accidents, electrocutions, aircraft and train crashes. Not to mention the illnesses that seemed to pass wizardkind by.

Most modern technology had passed wizards by and there was no doubt that it was much safer in the sheltered enclave that was the wizarding world. The worst danger that wizards faced today was an attack by Lord Voldemort and his underlings. Of course, Muggles were in just as much danger as their magical counterparts in that respect. But no-one was as actively sought by the Dark Lord as Harry Potter. Well, the old man sitting across from Severus  at the moment was very high on his list as well.

"How much of Privet Drive has been destroyed, Severus...how many killed?"

"He was not happy to find the boy gone. Moody was right, I'm afraid. There is nothing left. As for casualties..." Severus shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. At least sixteen houses were destroyed. I only got this information in dribs and drabs from other Death Eaters. The Dark Lord was not in the mood for story telling, Albus.

"As soon as he saw me, he cast the Cruciatus Curse on me," said Severus bitterly. "I suppose that he thought it would loosen my tongue. He thought I would know why Potter was not at his relative's home...it took a long time for me to convince him that I had no idea what machinations you had in the works."

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes were somehow dimmed with the regret he felt. He sighed deeply. "All of those poor people dead. Dead because Tom Riddle cannot control his temper." He looked at Severus and the regret in his eyes deepened. "I am sorry Severus. I cannot ask you to keep going back to that..."

"Do not tell me to stop, Albus. The information I bring back is essential, you know it is. Tonight was an aberration. My skills are too important to the Dark Lord for him to do away with me. He is usually much more in control than he was tonight. He thought he had Potter...he was mistaken.

"I am to report to him as soon as I have found out what your plans for Potter are."

Dumbledore nodded tiredly. "Between us, we will come up with a credible story...and also the reason why I did not confide in you."

"How is Potter?"

"I had to stun him again. Just after you left. None better than you knows how angry Voldemort was. I was afraid that Harry would injure himself again, he was so distressed."

Severus stared into the empty grate. It seemed that the boy's connection to the Dark Lord had intensified since his attempted possession of Potter at the Ministry in June. Dumbledore had told him about the episode. And since that time, the Dark Lord's temper was much more volatile. Potter was in for a rough time unless someone could help him learn to Occlude.

That meant either himself or Dumbledore. And they all knew just how successful his attempts had been.

But what was your main goal, Severus. Helping the boy...or humiliating him?

Severus squirmed a little in his seat. He had certainly not made it easy. But then again, Potter was so guileless, he doubted that the boy would ever be adept at Occlumency. But unless something could be done, Potter was in for a rough trot until he could ‘fulfil his destiny'.

"Our young Muggle friend made herself useful by making Harry more comfortable."

Severus looked at his boss, his brow furrowed. "More comfortable. He was unconscious, in a comfortable bed. What precisely could a Muggle do to make him more comfortable?"

Albus raised his eyebrows; Severus could see he had a slight smirk on his face. It was quite apparent even through the abundant facial hair. "Miss Hanson soothed young Harry's fevered brow, Severus. It seems he's found himself another mother figure."

"And just precisely how many mother figures does Potter need, Albus?" asked Severus in a distinctly nettled voice.

"After the ministrations of his aunt, I would say that Molly Weasley and Erin are just the tip of the iceberg. Minerva tries to hide her own tendency to fuss behind the strict schoolmarm façade.

‘But truly, Severus, as Harry was denied the real deal, and the one who should have taken over the position fell down badly on the job, I do not think it hurts that our young Gryffindor has some women who are quite happy to mother him.

"I would think that Molly Weasley has enough children of her own to mother," said Severus in a carefully disinterested voice, "and the Muggle might consider herself a bit young to be a mother to Potter."

Albus smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "I do not think that age comes into it, Severus. Nor does fecundity. These two women see a young boy in need-a very engaging young boy..." Severus snorted but Albus ignored him. "...and they want to care for him. So does Minerva but she is restricted by her responsibility to so many other children as well as Harry."

Severus bit his tongue in an effort not to make anymore scathing comments about Potter and all his potential mothers. Both wizards sat in silence for several minutes. Finally, Albus stood. "I think a good dose of bed might do you good, Severus. Your patients will be fine until daylight. They are all sleeping soundly now."

"Now? Were the night's revelations too much for the Muggle to get her tiny little mind around?"

Albus raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Severus, you know very well that our world is an awful lot to get ones head around when you have been brought up to believe that magic is illusion."

Severus snorted, but he said no more. He couldn't really, not when he remembered his own mother's story and how difficult it had been for her husband to get his head around the fact that there was such a thing as real magic. The Dursleys were not the only Muggles out there who hated magic.

But at least he had had his mother to counter his father's negativity. Potter had had no-one. Could he really begrudge the boy the attentions of a beautiful young Muggle female. Suddenly, the last eight hours and all the people who had inhabited them were too much for him to get his mind around. He was even too tired to walk down to the dungeons.

Albus held out a beautifully etched silver box to him and Severus took a pinch of the Floo powder from within.

"I will see you at a more respectable hour...say nine-thirty, in the hospital wing."

"What about you Albus? I hope you are going to bed."

"I'll rest in the hospital wing. I'm expecting Kingsley within short order anyway, so I don't want to settle into a deep sleep. Besides, I haven't been subjected to several rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. Also my boy, the older one gets, the less sleep one needs. Now go, I don't want to see you for at least six hours."

"You will call me if I'm needed..."

Albus held up a reassuring hand. "Rest assured, if your patients need you, I will call."

Severus nodded and threw down the Floo powder before calling out his dungeon destination.

8888

Erin lay curled on her side, eyes still shut, but her mind whirling with frantic activity. She was frightened to open her eyes because of what she would see. All was quiet at the moment, but she knew that all the characters from the nights fantasy were still here. Well, most of them, anyway. She wasn't sure whether Prince Severus was back from his mysterious assignment. But she was sure that Geppetto, and the Wick...no, that was Professor McGonagall, and that nightmarish vision, Mr Moody and the unconscious Remus, and Nymphadora, who liked to be called Tonks, were all still here.

But the strange people from this alternative universe weren't the only ones here, were they? The reason that she was here at all, was unconscious in the bed opposite. If she had not gone on a rescue mission, she would not be here now, she would be curled up in her own bed in her parent's house on Privet Drive.

Yes, that's where she would be, because it could not possibly be true what Mr Moody had said last night. It could not possibly be true that there was nothing left of Privet Drive. She refused to believe it.

But instead of being curled up in her own bed she was here in a strange bed in a strange dormitory (hospital ward, she had been told) in a building she had also been told was a castle. And all because she had been worried about her young neighbour and had once again rushed in-fool that she was-where angels feared to tread.

Well, she had always known she wasn't an angel.

No, apparently, she was a Muggle. As were the Dursleys and everyone else in the world that she knew. Except, for the Dursley's nephew...

Harry Potter. After the shock of finding out that there was such a thing as magic it had been even more of a shock finding out that the sad young boy she had only met a few days before, was actually a wizard. Compared to the people she had met last night, he just did not seem very wizardy. He just seemed to be a normal teenage boy.

Erin huffed a silent, decidedly unamused laugh. ‘Shock' was such a bland word to describe the emotional roller-coaster she had been on since waking in this strange, strange world.

Perhaps cataclysmic better described the upheaval that had wrenched her from her safe, comfortable suburban life.  Her kind nature and penchant for interference had sent her on a rescue mission and she had ended up in the Twilight Zone.

Erin had worried about Harry after they had separated yesterday afternoon. Petunia Dursley had proven to her at lunch that she had no love for her nephew and Vernon Dursley was such an unpleasant looking man, Erin just knew that he was abusing Harry...the bruise on his face, the guarded movements, as if his ribs were broken.

Erin hadn't meant it to happen, but after she had gotten home and worried over the events of the afternoon, she realised that she had probably caused a lot of trouble for Harry. He had looked positively sick when his uncle had driven up and seen them together.

And then later on when she had seen the Dursleys leaving without Harry, she had wondered whether she should go and check on him. But she had had no idea how long the Dursleys would be away, and so she had tamped down her impulsiveness and turned her television on instead. Her mother would have been proud.

But when she had seen the very suspicious character crossing the lawn of Number Four, she had had to act. And here she was. But she had been right to be worried about Harry. The glimpse of the boy's battered form that she had seen before she had lost consciousness had confirmed all of her fears.

Of course, at the time, the desperate thoughts racing through her mind told her that the intruder-the one who had been leaning over him when she had crept through the doorway-had been the one who had attacked Harry.

After waking up here, she had been disabused of the idea that the intruder-Prince Severus to be precise-had attacked Harry; he had in fact been assisting him. Erin turned over in the bed and surreptitiously opened her eyes. She was looking across the centre aisle running the length of the ward, directly at Harry where he lay curled up under the covers, his shock of jet black hair all that could be seen.

 As she had left him on his back after she had sponged him down, Erin assumed that Geppetto had lifted the spell that had rendered Harry unconscious. She couldn't imagine anyone positioning the boy so that he was curled up like a cat; so he must have moved by himself, in his sleep.

As Erin watched, Harry turned over and burrowed even further under the covers, as though he was trying to hide from the world. Now all that she could see from her recumbent position was the hair that stuck up untidily at the back of his head.

Erin felt her heart lurch. It was that untidy hair as much as it was the world weary sadness in those beautiful green eyes that drew her to Harry in a way she had never experienced before. She had been teaching adolescents for six years but in all that time, she had never felt for another child what she felt for Harry.

If Harry was a much younger child, she could almost imagine that she was becoming clucky.

This poor boy had been despised by his relatives, but for the life of her, Erin could not even begin to imagine how Petunia Dursley could have held her nephew in such contempt. Had it been because Harry was not an ordinary boy. Had Petunia and her husband and son despised Harry because he was a wizard? But why should that have been a problem? After all, Petunia's sister had been a witch and surely Petunia had loved her sister. Or had the Dursleys just objected to having to bring up a child who was not their own?

Erin sighed. She knew that she should feel upset about the deaths of Petunia and Dudley. After all, Dudley had only been Harry's age. But it was hard to feel sad because they had been such obnoxious people. If she felt sad about anything, it was because they could have had a very different life if only they could have extended their hearts to encompass Harry within their family circle.

Erin knew, she just knew that Harry would be upset about his aunt and cousin's deaths. They had mistreated him for what had probably been most of his life. They had actually told all the neighbours that the boy was a dangerous delinquent. But he had kept silent about his mistreatment at their hands. Erin could not see how Harry's school teachers had not picked up on his abuse. And she was pretty sure that he must have been abused, mentally and physically from when he had first come to live with the Dursleys.

Was it because he was just not prepared to stoop to their level, or was there another reason why Harry could not expose his relatives? Because all he would have had to do was go to the authorities and show his injuries...and Erin was sure that Harry had more injuries than just the bruising she had seen on his face when she had first met him. He had been guarded with more than just his emotions, he had also been guarded in his movements.

Erin's green eyes narrowed with uncharacteristic hardness. If Vernon Dursley survived his injuries, he had better not step into her path or he might just not survive the wrath of Cyclone Erin!

A movement near the door had Erin looking around. Geppetto, Mr Moody and a tall black man had just entered the hospital ward. They all looked particularly grim. Her movement must have given her away because Geppetto looked directly at her and changed his direction. The two other men followed.

Erin sat up, running her hand over her neckline and fumbling to do up the top button of her pyjama top which had come undone during the night. Geppetto smiled at her, but Erin noticed the smile did not quite reach his bright blue eyes. Erin was amazed that a person as old as Geppetto seemed to still have such a bright penetrating gaze.

"Miss Hanson, my dear, how are you today?"

Erin offered a weak smile in return. "Confused...very confused, Professor. And if what Mr Moody said last night is true, very upset." She turned to Moody and tried not to cringe as his normal, muddy brown eye focused on her and that...that other thing whizzed around and around in his head, stopping for seconds at a time and then continuing it's whirlwind activity. "Is it true that I no longer have a home, Mr Moody?"

"I'm afraid so, Missy," answered Moody in his gravely tones. "The whole street is gone."

Erin stared at him and to her dismay, her eyes filled with tears and she made no attempt to stem their flow. "But why?" she whispered in a choked voice. "How? How can a whole street just not be there any more?"

"Erin..." began Dumbledore in a voice filled of regret, but Erin interrupted him.

"It's not as if we live in downtown Baghdad, is it? We don't have people running around blowing up whole neighbourhoods in this country." She was aware of another figure approaching her bed, this one dressed once again in unrelenting, flowing black robes-Prince Severus. Her tear filled eyes snapped to his austere face but then she looked away just as quickly. For some reason, she did not want to see him sneer at her distress.

"That was my parent's house," she whispered to no-one in particular. "What am I going to tell them?" And then her hands covered her mouth and the tears flowed even faster.

"Pumpkin!" she choked.

All four men looked at her as if she was mad. It was Geppetto who said, "Pumpkin, my dear? What or who is Pumpkin?"

"My cat." Erin looked beseechingly at Dumbledore. "She's only a year old. She can't be dead." She turned to look at each wizard in turn. "Can't someone go and check for me? You're all wizards, aren't you? I know you can get there quickly."

"Erin, it is quite dangerous to go into the neighbourhood at all, at the moment, as I am sure you can imagine," said Dumbledore placatingly. "It will still be very chaotic there, what with the Muggle authorities everywhere and our own Ministry representatives tidying up loose ends and making sure the Muggles authorities there are safe."

Erin's brow creased and she stilled, her eyes fixed on Dumbledore. She sniffed inelegantly and scrubbed at her cheeks, annoyed all of a sudden that she had succumbed to a crying jag. She didn't usually cry.

Dumbledore produced a clean, folded, white handkerchief from somewhere within his oyster grey, crushed velvet robes and handed it to her. Erin dried her eyes and cheeks and blew her nose. She should have been embarrassed to be seen at less than her best, by four men, but a very disturbing thought had occurred to her and her emotional outburst and subsequent blotchy appearance were suddenly rendered unimportant.

"What exactly happened to Privet Drive, Professor?" asked Erin. Her eyes, though still red and swollen, were suddenly flinty. "Unless war has broken out in Surrey, I fail to see how a whole street can disappear."

Dumbledore turned and looked at Harry, who still appeared to be fast asleep. The old wizard pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm. Erin watched, as wide eyed as she had been the night before as Dumbledore wielded his wand. She was unsure of what he had done however.

"I do not wish for Harry to overhear any of this. I am sure you understand, Erin. He has been traumatised enough for the present moment." Erin bit her lip. Of course she didn't want Harry to hear, but she had to have some answers.

"I have cast a spell that will stop anyone but the five of us hearing what is being discussed."

Erin nodded. Magic could certainly be very handy. But if her suspicions were correct, it seemed that it could also be very destructive. "What happened at Privet Drive was caused by a wizard, wasn't it?"

To their credit, none of the men looked away. Geppetto, Mr Moody and the black gentleman she did not know looked very grim but the Black Prince, who always looked grim, had the audacity to roll his eyes. Erin bristled.

"Did I just say something incredibly stupid, Mr Snape?"

"Perhaps not ‘incredibly' stupid, Miss Hanson," said Severus in his most disdainful voice, "but why would you imagine that any of us would be interested in the happenings on an insignificant Muggle street if a wizard was not the perpetrator?"

"Severus!" Dumbledore's voice was as stern as Erin had ever heard it but she was not going to let the Prince's statement go unchallenged. Her cheeks had gone red and she leaned forward slightly to make sure Prince Severus was listening carefully.

"As I have already been informed that wizards are human beings just as Muggles..." here, Erin drew quotation marks in the air with her fingers, ‘...are, perhaps I thought that at the very least there might have been a little compassion for the Muggle's who were killed there."

Severus's eyes had narrowed during this diatribe but Erin had not finished.

"And Privet Drive was not too insignificant that it was not the home of one of your own." She flung her arm out and pointed in Harry's direction, "One of your own, I might add, who was fortuitously rescued before the street was, apparently annihilated." Erin's voice had risen with every word so that by the end, as well as having angry tears in her eyes, she was yelling directly at Professor Severus Snape. She was pleased to see two stripes of angry colour high on each of his chiselled cheek bones.

Geppetto was looking sternly at his Potions Master and the tall black man had walked away from the bed. Mr Moody though, for some reason was looking highly entertained. Erin wasn't sure what that was all about but she was too angry to worry about it.

"As were you, Madam," bit out Severus.

Erin grabbed two handfuls of blanket. She wanted to scream, but instead, she hissed, "Yes sir, as was I. And you think that my being rescued when at least twenty others perished makes me feel any better. Well, for your information, IT DOES NOT. You see, I have, in abundance, what we human beings call compassion.

Now it was Severus's turn to make sure that Erin was listening carefully. He placed his fisted hands on the end of her bed and leaned forward over his knuckles.

"What must it be like to have the time to indulge in compassion, Miss Hanson. Unfortunately, we inhuman wizards are too busy trying to stem the tide of destruction and murder being perpetrated by possibly the most evil wizard ever to have lived..."

"Severus, that will do!" boomed a very angry Dumbledore. Erin blinked. Tonks had told her that Geppetto was very powerful, and now, Erin had proof of the statement. There seemed to be a palpable aura surrounding the old man. And obviously, when Geppetto got angry, other wizards listened because, though it was obvious that the Black Prince still had things to say, he clamped his lips together in a thin line and straightened to his full height and crossed his arms.

"It is an unfortunate penchant of yours Severus, to speak without weighing the consequences."

"Do not speak to me as if I am a child, Albus." Severus's tones were deadly.

"Then stop playing a game of one-upmanship." Albus turned to Erin who was looking back and forth between the two men. "I am sorry, Erin. There were many ways that we could have led into the story of exactly what happened to your home. Severus has pre-empted them all. But unfortunately, what he said is true.

"Your home and the rest of Privet Drive have been razed to the ground because a wizard, whose name was Tom Riddle but who prefers the self styled title of Lord Voldemort, was thwarted last night in his attempts to kidnap Harry and as a result, his temper got the better of him and nothing short of total annihilation would appease him."

Erin planted her elbows on her blanket covered thighs and buried her face in her hands. She rubbed her eyes with her fingertips as though trying to erase the picture Dumbledore had conjured-that of an angry, fairytale wizard standing larger than life, with the wind whipping his long hair and beard around his head, and his black robes around his skeletally thin form, and pointing his wand at the roiling black clouds so that he could harness the force of the storm and direct it at the houses of Privet Drive.

"He lost his temper," Erin said in a dead voice, "and so he destroyed a whole street."

"He and his minions, yes," said Albus. ‘This world of ours is far from perfect, Erin. We too have terrible people whose sole purpose in life is to try to subjugate the rest of the world and make themselves all powerful."

Erin's sad, horrified eyes had been focused solely on Albus, but suddenly they moved past him and focused on something over his shoulder. Dumbledore turned, as did Severus and Moody.

Harry had awakened and was pulling himself up-painfully by the looks of things-to lean against the bed head. He was rubbing his already severely mussed hair with one hand and scrubbing at his face with the other.

Before she realised she had done it, Erin had pushed the covers back and hopped out of bed. As she padded across the intervening space, ignoring the adult wizards and standing on the cuffs of her overlong pyjama pants which she vainly tried to hoist up, all she could think was that this Tom Riddle...this Lord Whatever, had tried to kidnap Harry, but had failed.

Why had he tried to kidnap Harry? Why was Harry Potter, the boy who was reviled by his family in the Muggle world, important enough to be kidnapped in the Wizarding world? Also important enough that he was obviously watched carefully by the witches and wizards in this room.

The boy's awakening seemed to have sent out a silent signal. Minerva appeared in the doorway of Poppy's office where she had obviously been sleeping because her grey hair had been pulled back in a tight, untidy bun and she was sans hat; Tonks, whose hair was long and blonde today bounced through the doorway leading to the landing and Remus too, stirred in his bed. Tonks's face broke into a radiant smile and she headed straight for Remus whilst all the other's made a bee-line for Harry.

Harry opened his eyes and saw many blurry figures descending upon him. His initial reaction was panic and he pressed himself back harder against the metal bars of the bed head until they were digging painfully into his shoulder blades. Then he made out the copious amounts of white hair surrounding the head of the tallest person and the black hair and robes of a person who could only be Professor Snape. He also heard the unmistakable stumping of Mad-eye Mood's wooden leg on the stone floor. He relaxed.

The first person to reach him, he did not recognise until she spoke, and then his eyes widened in shock.

"Harry, how do you feel?" Erin asked, taking his hand where it lay on the covers.

"Err...Erin!' he stammered, looking wildly around at the wizards and witch standing around his bed. "You're here, a...at Hogwarts..."

"Eloquent, as always, Potter," sneered Snape.

Harry flushed. Typical Snape. The git saves him from Privet drive, heals his injuries and then insults him in front of all and sundry.

But it wasn't Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall who took Snape to task for insulting Harry the minute he had opened his eyes. Erin, still holding onto his hand, spun around and confronted Prince Severus.

"You would have to be one of the most unpleasant men, Wizard or Muggle, that I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

Harry's mouth fell open. He exerted a bit of pressure on Erin's hand, trying to convey the silent message that it was not a good idea to poke a sleeping tiger. Even with Dumbledore, McGonagall and Moody there, he was still worried for Erin's safety. But Erin was oblivious, she had something to say, and she was going to say it.

"If your idea of witty repartee is verbally lashing a fifteen year old boy who has just woken up after being seriously traumatized and then spelled unconscious, then you are definitely not as clever as you are nasty."

Harry couldn't really see properly (where the hell were his glasses anyway?) but he could just imagine Snape's lips setting in a thin line and his cold, black eyes narrowing with malice. He had to head Snape off  before he could launch an attack. Erin didn't need to be subjected to the Hogwart's Potions Master's particular brand of invective.

But the unmistakably, deep tones of Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice saved Harry the bother. "I do believe the young lady has yet to see your sensitive side, Severus."