Harry looked back in the direction of Mrs Figg’s cottage with regret.  He’d recognised the vial of pain relieving potion amongst a small pile of medical supplies he assumed had been used to patch him up, but he hadn’t had a chance to ask for it before Snape had snatched up his wrist and had begun dragging him down the street.  And despite the Pepper-up and aspirin he was still in a significant amount of pain.  And to top it off, the two remedies he had consumed were now sloshing uncomfortably around his already sensitive stomach.  To Harry it seemed Snape, in his apparent fury, had gone and forgotten all about his poor physical condition. 

“Sir… please…” 

“What?!” Severus snapped, irritated enough that the boy was failing to keep up and was forcing Severus to drag him along behind him, but now he was beginning to whine annoyingly.  The Potions Master was more than preoccupied enough with his tumultuous thoughts about the teen’s allegedly heavy handed guardian, Potter’s odd behaviour of defending his uncle and the damage the man had apparently inflicted- 

With an abrupt jolt, Severus realised just what he had done.  He spun toward the teenager.  Potter was paling again, almost before his eyes. 

“I… I’m not feeling too good, Sir… please, can I sit down for a minute?” 

They were approximately half way between Wisteria Walk and Privet Drive by now and looking around Severus felt relieved to spy a low garden wall just a few metres away and he quickly guided the ailing boy to the makeshift seat. 

“Here, sit,” he directed, giving the boy the once over with an assessing eye.  He found the boy’s features creased with strain and swathed in a thin coat of perspiration.  Potter was also breathing shallowly; blowing out each breath in an attempt at calming control. He was also trembling slightly and Severus caught him biting at his lip a few times.  As Potter perched himself on the squat stone fence he immediately wrapped his good arm around himself in a protective and supportive manner.  Severus crouched in front of the teen ready to intervene in case the boy should suddenly collapse again… lamenting the fact that he had not thought to pocket the vial of Pain-reliever that Arabella had presented.   

“You are in pain?” he asked, and although the answer was obvious to him he wished to hear Potter’s viewpoint in case there was more to it than what Severus had discerned… which turned out to be the case.   

The boy nodded with a huffed breath out, “And I feel sick again,” he added softly. 

After a contemplative moment Severus realised he had made a grave error in judgement bringing the injured teenager along with him.  Although if he were to be honest he would say it wasn’t necessarily a bad decision, but the fact that he hadn’t thought about the boy’s welfare at all to begin with.  He had purely been consumed with righteous anger imagining that another adult may have been guilty of abusing a child and that the child in question had attempted to protect the adult from the consequences… it had barely anything to do with Potter at all… but a lot to do with the collection of painful childhood memories that had been dredged from the depths of his own mind. 

Severus quickly pushed the unbidden thoughts back down into the murky pit of his psyche where they belonged… this was not the same… Potter’s upbringing bore no resemblance to his own.  And besides, he had yet to establish if the teen were even telling the truth about how he had been injured; the boy had been remarkably disinclined to discuss the incident and this possible deceit rang true if the brat’s penchant for dishonesty and arrogance were anything to go by.   

‘But still…’ he subconsciously thought; enough doubt swirling in his mind, ‘I will confirm the boy’s story.’ 

“Perhaps I shall deliver you to Madam Pomfrey before I pay your Uncle a visit,” he mused aloud, his eyes roving back over Potter and not liking what he was seeing regarding the health of the teenaged child… he was responsible for the wellbeing of this boy for the moment, after all. 

This comment made Harry spark up a bit and he was suddenly very aware that he just might have gotten his uncle into a world of trouble as Professor Snape had a legendary reputation for being a very dangerous, formidable wizard with ample experience and talent using the Dark Arts.  And Harry knew that the reputation bore more than just a little truth; as he was now very aware that Snape was the spy amongst the Death Eaters for the Order of the Phoenix… he’d had it confirmed by the man himself during Occlumency lessons last year. 

“What?  No… I’ll come with you!” he spluttered but then took in a deep calming breath; he didn’t want Snape to become suspicious.  “I’ll be alright in a minute.”  

Harry noticed that Snape’s eyebrows had drawn together again… he seemed displeased, but amazingly he did not insist that Harry be immediately whisked off to the doting school matron. 

Severus wondered silently what Potter was up to once again; he’d assumed the boy would take the first opportunity to get away from him.  But he was also considering how he would get to the truth of what had happened between the boy and his uncle if Potter were not there to give his perspective of events.  He supposed he could just perform Legillimency upon the man – but he did not wish to alert the Ministry of Magic by breaking the statute of secrecy because of the unauthorised use of magic upon a Muggle if it turned out to be unjustifiable.  No: Potter seemed to be adamant that he could tolerate the visit, and his curiosity piqued about the teen’s odd behaviour, Severus decided he would allow him come. 

“You have two minutes, Potter.  If you are not recovered enough by then, I will escort you straight to the matron.”  ‘And Legillimize you instead,’ he thought in addition.   

He stood upright and surveyed the dark street out of habit… but had he thought about the action consciously he still would have done the same.  Years of deceit had trained Severus to remain constantly vigilant and ever wary. 

The nearest house’s lower floor curtain flapped suddenly back into place as he moved his gaze to it, and further up the street a young woman walking her small dog had crossed over to the other side of the street upon sighting the strange dark-haired man in the weird, flowing robes; but neither presented a threat to Severus or his charge, so he turned his attention back to the boy. 

Harry sighed silently, “Okay… that’s fine, Sir,” he accepted, but he knew he would struggle to keep up… he only hoped he could just hold out until he got there to head off any real threat to his family. 

After a few moments, Harry suddenly worried how he was actually going to achieve that against Snape of all wizards… and then abruptly realised that he was not even in possession of his wand.  He patted himself down gently with his bandaged left hand to make sure it wasn’t tucked away in some unnoticed place, but came up empty. 

Severus watched Potter pat himself down worriedly, appearing almost stricken when he still came up empty handed.  He already had a suspicion as regards to which of two articles the teenager could be hunting for.   

‘It’s about time the foolish boy queried its location!’ he thought, and he further wondered just what thoughts had prompted the search. 

“A problem, Mr Potter?” he drawled unhelpfully. 

Harry looked up at the dark man a little discomfited, “Ah... er, Sir… did you happen to pick up my wand from the alley?  It’s just that… um, I don’t seem to have-” 

“Relax, Potter!” Severus interrupted the teen’s rambling, reaching into his deep inner robe pocket and retrieving the teenager’s backpack; restoring it immediately to its original size.  “It’s in there,” he said, slinging the resized backpack onto the wide stone wall next to the boy. 

‘What prompted the boy to desire his wand,’ Severus again wondered, and suddenly he almost smirked.  ‘Revenge?’ he thought with perverse amusement, and very briefly he considered whether the boy had more in common with him than he had first thought. 

Potter attempted to open the pack beside him, but found it impossible with his bandaged hands.  He looked up at Severus with hesitant hope. 

“Er… would you mind, Sir?” 

Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation, ‘Merlin, anyone would think I had become Potter’s personal slave,’ he thought with exaggeration, but nevertheless he reached for the bag again and unfastened the flap.  Another glance at the boy confirmed for him that he would need to retrieve the wand from the depths of the backpack too, so he rummaged inside it until he grasped the slim length of holly, pulling it from the bag and presenting it to the boy. 

Harry clumsily took his wand back and stowed it away in the side pocket of his jeans.  When he looked up he found the professor holding out a familiar pair of spectacles to him. 

“You shall also be requiring these, I imagine,” the man said, sounding bored. 

Until now Harry hadn’t even realised he was without them, so distracted was he by all that had happened… and was still happening, in fact. 

“Er, yeah…um… thanks,” he said softly, taking the glasses from the man and sliding them awkwardly back onto his face; his vision immediately sharpening, though they made no difference to the remnant swirling dizziness he was still experiencing. 

Severus froze instantly, flicking his eyes up to the boy’s now filtered green eyes; finding the likeness to James Potter instantly heightened.  Though, when he found no evidence of sarcasm or mockery in the features he had instinctively decided to hate so absolutely, he tilted his head to the side a little in a curious gaze. 

“Two in one day… you must be feeling off colour,” he said smarmily with a soft snort, not able to stop himself responding with sarcasm despite the fact that he really was quite appreciative of the voicing of Potter’s apparent gratitude.  But Severus was not in the habit of treating this particular boy with respect, after all. 

He did feel a little discomforted though when it became apparent that his spiteful comment had caused the teen in front of him to dip his head in sad disappointment.  Usually his remarks were designed to effect that very reaction in his students, the Griffindors especially, but today he’d not meant for it to be taken as criticism and regret sprang from some unknown depth in his chest. 

“Come, boy, the two minutes is up,” he said, changing the subject very deliberately. 

Harry cringed reflexively again at the use of the moniker, wondering silently just why he hated being addressed by the simple expression to this extent. 

Severus noticed the teen’s response; and not for the first time today.  He wondered to himself why the teenager recoiled a little when he had definitely not presented a physical threat of any kind; a vague, unsettling suspicion about the child’s home-life again weighing in his gut. 

Severus straightened to his full height quickly, watching cautiously as the teenager hitched his backpack into place over one shoulder and also rose to a standing position to be sure he was actually secure on his feet, before he set off at a pace that, whilst appearing brisk, was in actual fact subdued a little from his normal resolute gait. 

Harry set off after him; at first making a valiant effort to keep up, but soon he lagged behind by several meters; really pushing himself merely to keep going.   

‘Only another hundred yards or so,’ he encouraged himself; believing wholly that if he did not accompany Snape on his visit to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia that he might in fact end up entirely without blood relatives.   

Harry was blowing out each breath battling the growing nausea and dizziness with determination but also a great deal of furtiveness.  He decided he would not ask to stop and rest this time (nor indeed allow the Potions professor to see that he was struggling); and in fact he would not stop at all unless he physically dropped from exhaustion; because he did not want to give Snape any excuse to send him to Madam Pomfrey before the confrontation. 

A couple of minutes later Harry saw, aided by the light cast by the streetlamps, the dark lanky form of Snape approach the door to number 4 Privet Drive ahead of him.  The tall professor rapped sharply upon the neat wooden door with his knuckles, despite the obvious doorbell framed just to the side of the entrance; he waited seemingly patiently for someone to respond. 

In the time it took for somebody to answer the door, Harry had arrived on the brink of exhaustion to stand a little behind the man on the doorstep.  He let his bag slip off his shoulder and land with a soft thud to the ground. 

Harry badly wanted to squeeze himself in between the dark man and the door, effectively shielding the occupants from the threat the wizard posed, but he was having trouble just standing up straight; his knees threatening to buckle beneath him and the blurred black clad figure in front of him seeming to tilt oddly.  Automatically he thrust out his left hand and grabbed a fistful of black robes from in front of him to steady himself. 

Severus started as his robes were snatched firmly from behind, but he quickly realised it was just the boy trying to keep his balance.  He swung his arm behind himself to grasp Potter’s elbow, holding him firmly in place.  If the teenager collapsed here he would crack his head on the paved pathway: a complication both he and Potter could definitely do without. 

He was about to turn to attend to Potter more appropriately when the door in front of him abruptly opened; the light from the entrance hall flooded over Severus, but Harry was shrouded in the darkness of Severus’ shadow.   

A distracted, large, whale of a teenaged boy stood in the doorway, glancing back at the noisy television blaring in another room. 

“Yeah… what do you want?” the boy asked rudely, never quite taking in the vision of the tall, dark wizard on his doorstep. 

Severus narrowed his eyes, trying to reconcile the excessively large, blonde teenager slouching in front of him; with the slim, decidedly not tall, dark-haired teen clutching Severus’ robes desperately behind him: but found it rather impossible.   

‘This surely cannot be Potter’s cousin?’ he thought, baffled.  The dark man had known that Potter had a cousin, though had never had an opportunity to observe him.  What he saw now most definitely did not merge with his pre-conceived idea of what the boy should look like. 

“I’d like to speak with Mr Vernon Dursley… your father, I presume?” he asked in a clipped tone, seeking to confirm his thoughts. 

At Severus’ deep, authoritative request the boy finally focused his attention on the visitor.  His eyes bugged to huge orbs in alarm and let out a small squeak at the sight of the dark, menacing looking wizard before him. 

“Uh…uh… um… D-Dad’s not here,” the teenager stammered foolishly. “Mum… there’s a man at the door… Muuuum… MUM!” he yelled frenziedly, backing away from the door; unwisely leaving access to the house open to all.   

Severus sneered at the teenager and took a small menacing step forward for good measure, disgusted with the blubbery child and his obvious lack of courage.   

The fat boy swiftly turned and effectively bolted from sight.  The dark man didn’t know whether it was simply out of fear or merely to retrieve his mother, but he could hedge a bet that the boy would not be returning to the entrance hallway.  He snorted in disdainful amusement. 

More muffled yelling went on in the background of the house and Severus took the opportunity to spin and assess the teenager who was now yanking back on his robes with a suddenly vice like grip; almost in a restraining fashion he briefly noted, before dismissing the impression.  The boy was breathing erratically and huffing in distress.  Severus was quite alarmed at the state of him. 

‘Foolish boy!’ he thought, ‘Why didn’t he tell me he was struggling this badly?’  Severus shook his robes loose from the boy’s grip and stabilised him instead by gripping the upper part of the child’s uninjured arm.  He shook his wand from his dark sleeve; planning on casting a diagnostic spell on the boy.  He then started to jostle the teen to the low boundary wall a few feet away. 

“Sit down before you fall-” 

Believing the man was trying to shove him out of the way, Harry forestalled him; resisting the man’s thrusting arms... worried about what Snape was intending to do to the youngest Dursley with the abrupt appearance of the wizard’s wand.   

“Don’t hurt Dudley… please,” he begged, taking his own grip on the dark man’s arm. 

Severus was taken aback; the frown of confusion furrowing on his forehead.  “What are you blathering about?” he said, attempting to gain eye contact with the teen.  But the boy was unable to provide him with an answer as Potter’s aunt began to approach near to the open doorway at that moment.   

“What on earth do you mean… scaring my Dudders that way?!  Vernon has gone away on business, what is it you want?!” she snapped frostily, reaching the entrance and placing a fist at her slim waist haughtily. 

At Petunia’s proclamation Harry suddenly recalled his Uncle’s impending sales trip… he had heard Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia discussing the man’s departure time (of late that afternoon) when he had come down this morning for breakfast.  Harry couldn’t believe he had forgotten!  Vernon’s coming three day absence had been the reason for the special roast dinner at lunchtime, after all. 

Severus turned his attention back to the doorway and the thin horse-faced woman standing in its frame.  To say Severus was stunned again was an understatement, but the man was skilled at keeping his reactions private and gave none of it away.  He’d momentarily forgotten somehow that Potter’s aunt was in fact Petunia Evans… a woman he’d known and grown up with since they both were quite young children… and although he’d spent most of his time with her younger sister Lily, he still felt he had known the older girl well enough.  A thousand memories flooded his mind of a time gone by long ago. 

Harry felt Professor Snape stiffen at the arrival of his aunt, for he still had a grasp on the man’s arm. 

"Mrs Dursley, I presume?” he said, quite stiffly, knowing full well the identity of this woman. 

As soon as he turned around Petunia had begun to stare hard at him; eventually her expression turned to one of shocked recognition. 

“Severus Snape…?” she said quietly, shaking her head disbelievingly.  But instantly she spied Harry clinging to his arm; an arm that held aloft a menacing looking wand; and her expression darkened. 

“What do you mean by coming here?” she demanded.  “What do you want?  And where have you been!?” she demanded in turn of each of the males in front of her. 

“Um…” Harry answered, not really sure what to say.  It was true that he’d left without actually telling anyone, but he’d definitely been under the impression that nobody cared anyway. 

Aunt Petunia continued her lecture almost without missing a beat, “I came up to get you… you were supposed to clean up that mess in the kitchen that you made, but I found that you had just run off somewhere without asking!  And what did you mean by mucking up your bedroom the way you did… did you slop it about everywhere just to spite us?!  Vernon said you are to go straight up there when you finally turned up to scrub everything clean!” she ended, flicking her head in the direction of Harry’s bedroom. 

The woman reached out her hand to grab at Potter, her features set with fury and disgust.  Severus had seen that expression on her face many times in his younger years, most often directed at him and he instinctively moved himself forward a step; shielding the boy from his Aunt’s menacing action. 

Harry panicked, all but thrusting himself ahead of Snape in an attempt to protect his aunt; he’d barely heard a word his aunt had uttered: but the Potions Professor’s grasp on his elbow was far too firm; Snape had no trouble holding back the teenage boy. 

“What are you doing?!” screeched Aunt Petunia to the Professor, “He has to clean up that mess in his bedroom now… I absolutely refuse to do it for him this time; how dare he think he can get away with that?!” 

“The boy is injured!” Severus informed Petunia indicating to Potter’s bandaged arm and hands, managing to keep the incredulity out of his tone.  

“Injured?  Rubbish, Vernon told me it’s nothing but a scratch!”  Harry’s aunt scoffed. 

“A scratch?  He is cut nearly to the bone!” Severus threw back at her, the incredulity no longer able to be kept at bay.  “You cannot possibly expect him to clean his room up now… he can barely stand up, woman!” 

But Petunia didn’t even register that she had heard what he had said, so incensed by being addressed in such a way by Severus. 

“Don’t you dare ‘woman’ me, Severus Snape!  My sister might have felt sorry for you for a time, but-” 

Harry just now registered that Aunt Petunia had called the Professor by his name… ‘She knows him?’ he thought, mystified… and what was she saying about feeling sorry?  But what was more confusing and concerning to Harry right now was that his aunt was actually daring to glower at the feared Potions Master. 

However the balance of things quickly restored themselves when Severus came to the end of his tolerance for the mouthy woman.  He abruptly took a step up the single stair to the entrance hall and then another that brought him to tower menacingly over Lily’s older sister; dragging the Potter boy with him.   

“Enough!  Do not attempt to intimidate me, Petunia… you have no idea of the things I am capable of!” the dark man hissed threateningly, shooting his most daunting glare at the arrogant Muggle; adjusting his grip on his wand in a very visible and sinister manner. 

Harry’s anxiety for his Aunt’s safety escalated immediately. 

Petunia hastily retreated back a few paces; realising very quickly that Severus Snape was no longer the cocky boy she had been able to lord it over in their childhood, but now a fully grown man; intimidating in both size and demeanour and was also now a fully trained wizard… and she had just made the blunder of trying to oppress him… 

Harry swiftly stepped around his professor, a sense of urgency sweeping over him at the dark man’s threatening tone toward his aunt.  He managed this time to situate himself between the two adults, facing toward Snape though the man still had a firm grip on his left upper arm. 

“It’s okay, I’ll go up and fix it now,” he said in a placating fashion, trying desperately to diffuse the situation, no matter the unfairness of having to clean the blood from all over his room when he felt he shouldn’t have been entirely blamed for that mess to begin with.   

Severus shifted his focus away from Lily’s sister; and believing Potter to be guilty of something given his reactions to Petunia’s seemingly unreasonable demand and gave Potter a deep scowl.   

“What damage have you done to the room?!” he demanded, glaring unrelentingly at the boy.  “Don’t tell me you show as little respect here as you apparently show at Hogwarts!” 

Caught unprepared again to answer the question, Harry stammered, “Er… um… I just spilled something on the carpet… that’s all… I didn’t mean to… I’ll go and clear it up now.”  Harry knew that if he brought up the nature of the mess that he would likely put Aunt Petunia in even more danger. 

As a result of the intense scrutiny Severus was acutely aware that Potter was putting on a brave face; his pale features, the sweat beading ominously across his brow and the crease of strain all served to remind him that the boy was only moments ago on the brink of collapsing again.  Admitting to himself he was having difficulty making sense of Potter’s behaviour, he sent the boy a probing gaze. 

“What did you spill?” Severus quietly asked, instinct leading him to pose the very relevant question. 

“Ah… nothing… I’ll just clean it-” Harry had tried to pull away from the Professor’s firm grasp, but the strong fingers did not release their captive. 

“Show me!” Severus bit out, now sure there was something remiss about this whole situation, pushing the boy toward the stairs. 

Remembering that the amount of blood splattered around his room looked worse than it really had been, Harry forestalled Snape again; not wanting the man to see it for himself.   

“Wait,” he said, despairingly.   

Harry was feeling that odd sense of shame sweep over him again at being so powerless at the hands of his Muggle uncle and along with it this time he felt an intense sense of sadness and hurt that Aunt Petunia hadn’t even cared enough about him to help him stop the bleeding after his arm had been cut, but was now making such a fuss over the mess of the furnishings without any concern for him at all.  

And to top off his bleak emotional feelings, Harry’s head was spinning alarmingly now and the thought of climbing the staircase really was physically far too daunting. 

“I can’t, I don’t feel well,” Harry finally admitted quietly and reached up his hand to scrub at his eyes under his glasses and face; desperately trying to rub away the fuzzy, swirling cloud that had settled recently around his head.  His stomach was roiling horribly and it was a wonder that he’d managed to avoid vomiting again to this point. 

Severus instantly became aware of the boy’s increased distress, surveying him closer.  What he saw troubled him, “I shall deliver you to the nurse-” he began to say, before he was cut off by the screeching of Petunia. 

“Oh no, he’s not going anywhere… not until he’s cleaned up that room!  I’m not doing it for him, I told you!” The woman reached out again to grab a hold of Potter and this time Severus was not in a position to do anything about it.  Her hand landed on the bandaged upper arm where she grasped tightly and yanked the boy in the direction of the staircase. 

Harry abruptly hollered out in pain and with lightening reflexes Snape instantly lifted his wand and fired off a stinging hex at the fuming woman. 

She shrieked in pain and shock, releasing her grasp on Potter and yanking her hand back to cradle it protectively; rubbing her smarting arm where she had been zapped.  But then as she came to the realisation that Snape had just hexed her with magic she backed further away in horrified fear, whimpering unashamedly.  He was glaring darkly at her, his dark features set at their most intimidating since he had stepped foot inside the house. 

Harry somehow despite being in immense pain managed to call out in his Aunt’s defence, “No… don’t hurt her… please Sir!  Let’s just go, please!”  He dared place a restraining hand on the tall Professor’s chest. 

Severus was momentarily stunned at the sight of an ailing Potter begging him to leave his aunt alone; especially after she had aggravated his injury with such apparent disregard.  He’d informed the arrogant woman of the true nature of the cut to the boy’s arm (even if he hadn’t believed she was as clueless as she’d indicated), but it was becoming apparent that Petunia carried around no concern for her nephew… Potter’s home life appeared to be as bad as Severus’ instincts had suspected over the past couple of hours.  The reality of it all seemed callous, even from Severus’ hardened viewpoint.  Fury and venom began to bubble within him… this time he was not the helpless victim… this time he would not sit by and let it happen!   

The dark man pushed against the restraining hand of the boy to take a menacing step toward the cowering woman. 

“You stupid woman, did you think I would stand by and watch while you exacted further abuse on Lily’s child?!”  Severus was barely aware of what he’d said in his anger; he was so consumed by rage fuelled by his own childhood experiences. 

But then a meek voice floated down the hallway, “Mum?” 

Severus halted, looking up and spying Potter’s fat cousin looking upon the scene, ashen faced.  The intrusion snapped Severus back to reality and he also became emphatically aware that not just one, but two teenaged boys were in the room with him, one of them immediately in need of medical attention. 

“Please, Sir… can’t we just go…” Potter continued to beg him his face scrunched in pain. 

“I shall be back when your husband has returned… mark my words, Mrs Dursley!” he threatened the quivering woman recoiling in front of him before he surrendered to the restraining hand upon his chest, spun on his heal and ushered an unsteady Potter out onto the garden path with a sweep of his arm.  With an elegant flick of his wand he caused the door of the house to slam spectacularly behind them. 

As both he and the teenager rounded the garden fence, he took a firm grip on the boy’s good shoulder, spun determinedly and Disapparated.  As they reappeared on a dark and deserted narrow country lane, Potter again slipped to his knees and began to vomit.  Severus stood guard behind him, shooting concerned glances towards the bent teenager.  He took note that the bandage around the boy’s upper arm was now discoloured with bright red fluid blossoming slowly outwards. 

‘Damn!’ he thought, ‘Will this wound never clot properly?’ 

After finally ceasing retching, Harry found he had come to the end of his rope.  He bent his head in despair and began to sob whole heartedly out of sadness; of shame; in desolation and hopelessness; in pain, distress and fear … and in sorrow. 

Severus witnessed the boy’s breakdown with an aloof exterior; but inside the dark man was both burning with fury and tearing with a myriad of troubled and empathetic emotions.  The dark man’s heart was yearning for him to comfort the hurting child; let his arms surround him, protect him from the ache… but his head was telling him something different; his head was reminding him that this boy was Harry Bloody Potter!