For now though I ask that you be nice; it's been a while since I've written HP fanfiction and I do admit I'm a bit rusty. Just a reminder; the Prologue is half the length of normal chapters and I might be a bit slow on the update. Please enjoy; any questions can be directed to me in a review if you wish.     

"I could not love except when Death mingled with Beauty's breath." ~ Edgar Allan Poe

 Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: Year 2018

    19 years had indefinitely passed since the great Hogwarts Battle; 18 since the disappearance of Harry James Potter and 17 since the arrival of the shy, soft spoken and sorrowful ghost that had attached itself to the potions classroom in the dungeons. Since the constant fights between the Bloody Baron and Nearly Headless Nick that broke out; Professor McGonagall now the Headmistress of Hogwarts had no choice but assign a new ghost to the honour of leading the Slytherins and protecting them from beyond the grave and keeping a watchful eye out for abused and suicidal children. The young ghost who was often jokingly referred to as the 'Weeping Serpent Child' because of the immaculate robes the boy had been wearing when he died and was often the cause of much scrutiny as to his identity. 

    Black and silver wizarding robes of the finest silk often flickered and swayed to the soft spoken teen's unsure movements. Dark eyes; the colour often dulled  by silver tears were a difficult colour to distinguish but when one really looked past the stylish black rimmed glassed the distinct colour of emerald green smattered with flecks of pitch stared back with the wisdom not even Dumbledore had been able to show. The teen's hair was darker than midnight; its fine strands shimmering in the ghostly silver light that often surrounded him. Messily cut locks framed a boyish face and nose that was slightly crooked. As if had been broken but not set right. When someone inquired about his death the young man merely smiled softly and hid from sight; but despite his shyness and frightened demeanour he was gentle and loving to those who opened up to him.

    "Young Master Snape; your attendance is required to be present at the Great Hall for the arrival of the new first years." McGonagall said softly after having finally cornered the young ghost late that afternoon on the 1st of September. She was well aware of the silvery blood staining the dungeons grounds beneath the ghosts hovering form. The strict Headmistress' dissipation towards ghosts in general changed the moment she approached the young teen; something about his demeanour and loving heart was one of the few good things that survived from after the war almost twenty years ago.

     "Yes Professor." A strong voice said; bowing to her in respect before floating off into the Potion's classroom.

     "Oh and Harry;" The Professor called out softly; those endless emotion filled eyes catching hers as the ghost turned back around. A small smile passing his pale lips.

     "You know you can come to me if you need anything."

     "Yes Professor; I know." Harry said softly. Once again turning to head to the classroom only to be stopped by her voice again.

     "One last thing; Harry." Harry nodded his head and faced her the last time with a gentle but masked an irritated smile underneath.

     "Professor Snape will be here tonight." At those simple words Harry found great comfort; his green eyes sparkled lightly and his mouth twisted into a genuine smile of happiness. He hadn't seen his father for many months now and now when he was finally able to Harry could barely contain his happiness. It didn't matter if he was dead; he could still see Severus Snape. The man who not only saved his life since he had entered Hogwarts many, many years ago but also became the only true family he had left. When Harry had been forced to watch his father get ruthlessly attacked by Nagini - out of Voldemort's anger at the Elder Wand not working for him. Harry had lost it; somehow having the strength to confront the man whilst managing to literally kill him on the spot where he stood along with that infuriating snake. Severus Snape survived to tell the tale but it had been Harold Barnaby Slytherin - Snape that had died that night. It had been merely two years after finding his true place in the world beside a loving father.

     "Thank you Professor McGonagall; I look forward to seeing him again." Harry said softly; with a final smile he pushed himself forward and into the Potions classroom. There was a reason why he was always in the dungeon and it was because he was waiting for the return of Professor Snape. Out of the whole castle; only the staff knew who he really was and what he was doing there. Like Professor McGonagall; she was always there to make sure he was still alright in the castle when no one else was around. Sometimes Harry could be found in the small graveyard just outside the castle doors; it was where he was buried after all and sometime he felt as if it gave him some comfort rather than wondering aimlessly. Just like very little people knew of his true inheritance; to the world he was known as Harry James Potter but in reality he was but a shy and brilliant child with the true name of Harold Barnaby Snape. A child that was often underestimated until he truly got to know his father.

     The classroom door shut behind his drifting form. He himself didn't remember much about his own death only that after a while of drifting through a painless purgatory that he had ended up back at the castle of Hogwarts. He was happy in both life and death and too content to make a move to return to the true spiritual realm.

      Harry didn't like when he was surrounded by so much happiness; all that the classroom greeted him with now was the silence of many months of neglect and underuse. Harry knew that if he were to cross into the room behind the classroom he would be inside his father's study and some ways further down the hall and next to the Slytherin Dormitories was the private quarters of the Head of House. Wandering the halls gave Harry much time to ponder his life and current death but nothing seemed to stop him from finding any regrets besides the many deaths he had caused and the subsequent pain he had put himself through. There was a reason why his eyes were so much darker and filled with more wisdom than Professor Dumbledore's had held; it was because Harry had learned from a very early age that abuse and neglect can often break a child and make him into a man before the age of ten. A wary disposition towards the world that Harry knew all too well. Understood too well and also lived through a little too badly. 

     But it was the deaths of those close to him that ate away at his happiness; like Sirius, Remus, Lilly Potter and even James Potter - even though the man wasn't his real father - Harry still mourned for them all. It was that sadness that was always impressed upon him; making his shoulders droop as dark and unforgiving he was towards himself - Harry forgave everyone else that had caused him just as he had forgiven his father for always treating him as if he was truly hated by the man.

~~~~

     Harry sat wistfully at an unoccupied seat at the Slytherin table; a sorrowful smile spreading across his lips as he watched all the students walked into the Great Hall -some he recognized others he did not. Despite him being a ghost most children avoided him in favour of speaking to their friends but it was strange that no one ever dared to chase him away from his chair when he had finally chosen it. This time; Harry sat where he knew he could see his father when he finally arrived. Excitement was building in his stomach as he watched the Sorting with a strange detachment. 

      "Hello." A small voice whispered; dragging Harry from his thoughts abruptly. Turning his full attention towards the person who had called out to him; Harry started softly at first. Dark blue eyes; filled with turmoiled emotions and uncertainty was a small glimpse into the child's personality. It was eyes that Harry knew very well; eyes that belonged to the Malfoy family just as that hair was a platinum blonde that Harry had also known for many, many years.

    "Ah; a Malfoy." Harry said softly. "What's your name little one?" Harry asked; it was strange that this child seemed to be more comfortable talking to a ghost than the other children around them.

    "Scorpius. How'd you know my family name?" He was definitely a curious one; definitely better suited for Ravenclaw Harry thought to himself. He could also see the spark of intelligence in those eyes that indicated this child knew far more than his age permitted. It was the sad light that startled Harry a bit but he would talk to his father about it later.

     "Hmm; let's see. I knew your father. A misguided man but he had a good heart in the end." Harry said solemnly.

     "You knew my father? Can you tell me...?" The youngster was getting animated and excited; Harry smirked crookedly - he was a very excitable child but Harry couldn't help but feel something just a bit off about his shy behaviour. With the admiration he showed at the mention of his father's name; Harry didn't think it was Draco that made him like that. Someone else; perhaps his grandfather?

     "Of course; Draco and I were constant rivals that often tore this castle apart more than we kept the peace." Harry reminisced happily. Launching into stories that he could still grasp onto that would lighten the mood the child seemed to carry around him.

     "What's your name?" The blond haired child asked excitedly after hearing some of the stories he had always wanted to hear but was too scared to ask about. His grandfather didn't like prying into the past but this ghost seemed nice enough to tell him much he didn't know himself. It was only courteous to ask for his name...

     "Harold Barnaby Snape; but you can call me Harry." The ghost replied. He had forgotten how missed being able to just talk to someone without having to scare them or scold them for sneaking out of bed after curfew.

     "Harry; like Harry Potter?" The young child asked in awe and Harry laughed but gave a small but almost indistinguishable nod; luckily Scorpius hadn't seen it because the Headmistress was making her announcement for the year and the blond had found something better to look at. The Head of Slytherin House had just arrived. Harry stilled momentarily before he smiled at his father; getting a curt nod and a gentle flash in dark eyes in greeting. It seemed that even though many months had passed his father hadn't changed much; his pitch black hair was neat but already the potions fumes made it greasier and if Harry looked really hard he could see his father had a grey streak running through most of his long bangs. He chuckled; most likely the older man had put up much of fuss over that little fact. 

     "Good Evening new students and old; the Slytherin house is aptly named after the great Salazar Slytherin who was one of the four founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Professor Snape; your Head of House and also your Potions Master. If you'd follow me I'd show you to your dorms; the prefects had been called to a meeting. Any questions above what I am going to tell you can either be addressed to me or to the Slytherin Ghost; Young Master Harold here."  Snape pointed to the hovering form that was a little behind him. Harry smiled and lifted his hand in greeting; when his father waved his hand Harry knew that that was his queue to leave them be in the common room whilst Severus told them about the house rules. Harry smiled and headed for his father's quarters. They had much to talk about. 

    "It's been a while; Harry." A smooth voice interrupted said teen's thoughts; causing the younger one to turn around. Mindfully aware that his mortal wound was dripping silvery blood onto his father's most loved carpet in his private chambers.

     "Hello father; I'm glad to see you again." Harry said happily; not caring that he was now claiming the dark velvet couch as his own. His father's dark eyes were observing him again with that 'look'. The look that was buried in guilt, pain and deep regret. With a sigh; Harry adjusted his black rimmed glasses with uncertain fingers before he turned back towards Severus Snape. Moving as close to the Potions Master without touching him as Harry knew it caused other people discomfort to be touched by something colder than ice and filled with more emotions of regret than a Weasley that had stolen a cookie out of the cookie jar when they weren't supposed to.

     "Stop it." Harry said firmly. "I did what I did for you; for my friends and most of all for myself. I know you feel guilty for not being able to save me back then Father; but you know very well that I did it for everyone." Harry said; his tone holding a dangerous quality that neither brooked any form of argument or denial of his words.

     "But as my son I should have..." Harry sighed at the words. Flicking his messy black bangs over his shoulder; a dangerous pout crossing his lips unconsciously.

     "Yes, as your son - Severus Snape - I did what I was supposed to do. I did what I was destined to do." Harry said with a finality of acceptance. He had long ago come to terms with his death but never once did Harry blame his father for so much as a second. Within moments the proud Potions Master deflated at those words; even when Harry knew his father had not excepted the explanation he had won the argument for now. Harry hurried back to his favourite seat as he curled up on the couch; his father picking a book from the shelf to his left before placing it on the low coffee table. Opening it on a new chapter before sliding it over to the sprawled ghost on his couch. It was a ritual between father and son; a sort of truce and offering. Even as a ghost Harry couldn't pick up the book himself but he had enough energy to flip pages and read.

     "Thanks." Harry whispered; his glasses now being wiped on silk robes to clean the lenses of blood both father and son knew was there from the final fight. Placing them back on his nose he turned his head towards the book; his mouth parting slightly as he started reading over the contents of the book.

      "Potions for the Souls of the Dead. By Eli Watkins..." Harry said ruefully; his green eyes turning towards the dower Potions Master - highly amused at the spark of mischief he saw in those black eyes.

    "Very ironic; don't you think Severus?" Harry dared to use his father's given name. A smile splitting his face as he shook his head. If his father was choosing to be quiet then he would be too. Turning back to his book; both men fell into a comfortable silence. Only the flick of pages disturbed their companionable silence every now and then. The silence was thick with a thousand unspoken words but it was not uncomfortable; merely a comfort of understanding drifted in the air that suggested they had much more time together and that all those many words could fit in their moments together. In time; they would spoken but for now - father and son kept things quiet and simple. 

    "Harry?" After several hours of silence; the youngest of the Snape's looked up. His pitch flecked green eyes connecting with his father's inquisitive eyes.

    "Yes Father?" Harry asked; sitting up from his laying position and memorising his place where he had stopped reading.

    "What do you think of this year's students?" The question was not an uncommon one so Harry let a long ghostly breath escape his lips. He had suspected something more intrusive to his health. 

    "Well; they seem to be fine. I don't detect any true hostility towards each other like we had last year. They seem like a gentle bunch considering this is the true generation of the people who had survived the war; it seems the prejudices has died down somewhat and tonight I saw some interaction between both Slytherin and Gryffindor House as if the legendary rivalry between them doesn't seem to exist anymore." Harry mentioned thoughtfully; he had been wondering since the start of that evening if he had missed the child of Ron and Hermione but Harry couldn't be sure if she would be attending Hogwarts this year. The years that passed seemed to become too insignificant to count. 

    "Well that's good; Albus would have been happy to see the truce last for more than a few years." Harry knew what his father was talking about; he was talking about a friendship between the Houses in the future and not subtly asking Harry to be the mediator.

    "I saw Professor Dumbledore a few days ago." Harry admitted absently; remembering that he had seen the older man in the graveyard - looking solemn in his own death as he counted the headstones of the dead again. It seemed to be all the man did these days. 

    "Oh; what did he say?" Severus Snape asked with curiosity. His son rarely divulged information about his life around the castle when he wasn't around.

    "Nothing;" Harry smirked. Sliding his glassed back up his nose once again. "Just smiled like always did you know. Before my sixth year that is." Harry cringed at the thought and words leaving his mouth; the pain he felt rushing through his nonexistent beating heart was excruciating. He could still remember the sorrowful look as his only grandfather figure was pushed off the Astronomy Tower with no mercy. At that time Harry had hated his father more than anything even when he had been aware of who he was to him. That had not been one of his most like memories.

     "Harry?" Dragging himself back to the present; Harry smiled sorrowfully and rose from his position on the couch. Fingers sneaking beneath his glasses to wipe away the signs of his impending tears. Even ghosts could cry. 

     "Sorry, Father. But I'll better go check on the first years; there's bound to be a few crying this time and maybe I'll go visit the other houses as well. You know how I hate to see other's suffering." Harry admitted; even though he knew he was just running from a painful confrontation.

     "I know Harry; I know. Now run along and don't disappear where I can't find you." Harry chuckled loudly; sometimes his father forgot that he was already dead and couldn't possibly get into more trouble.  And if he so much a wished it; he would truly never be found again. But Harry wouldn't do that.  

~~~~

     The silence in the corridors of Hogwarts was disconcerting. Harry knew that it would be suicidal for the students to already sneak out of their beds in the first week of school. Heading first to the infirmary to see if any students were sick or injured; Harry paid a visit to a grey Madam Pomfrey and her younger apprentice. She would be retiring soon; saying that she was too tired to truly continue her job and Harry understood.

     He smiled as he entered the room; it held so many memories but best of all it held the memory of the day he found out about his true inheritance. That day he had cussed up a storm and denied everything until the changes started and Harry knew he was no longer the child of a Potter but he was truly a Snape. Sitting on one of the free beds; Harry laid back his smile turning into a scowl as he was thrown head first into his memories. Memories he would rather forget but also memories that now meant the world to him even after his own death. The first years would have to wait; Harry thought tiredly.

   Allowing his mind to drift into the distant past he bit back his whimper of both pain and happiness. It had all started a few weeks before he had made the biggest mistake of his life; the Department of Mysteries.

 Number 4 Privet Drive: 22 Years ago- Little Whining, Surrey

     Harry James Potter was once again escorted back to the place that he hated more than anything; especially that he was now in a very delicate emotional state. There was nothing to stop the immense guilt he felt; no shield to cease his remorse and find some sort of comfort to help heal his broken soul. To add to his pain was the fact that he was back here. Not even the threat of having an escaped convict as a godfather had stalled the hatred between him and his relatives; no his Uncle Vernon was happy enough to lift his hand to his nephew and continue to abuse his power when Harry himself had no means to protect himself. Even though they were his legal guardians and were supposed to protect him; Harry knew it was but a mere hollow wish that would never come true. This was his worst summer yet; it was barely a few months since he stayed here and now as he experimentally move he found that it was impossible without invoking pain through his body. Locked in his pitiful excuse of a room and left to deal with his wounds by himself. For Harry's free spirit it was a very cruel punishment; what he did to deserve this he would never know but by now Harry had known never to question the actions for his relatives. Questions often brought him more trouble than he could fathom and it was also why he stayed as quiet as possible this time.

     No; after a whole month of pain and desperation - Harry knew that he was giving up on speaking entirely. A slow decision that he would become mute to the outside word. After all; it felt that every time he opened his mouth someone was criticizing what he was saying or simply thought him a liar. It made him angry beyond comprehension and when it was like that he didn't want to speak. In his mind he could barely fathom the sadness in his heart and soul. It was like something very important had shattered inside of him during his brief time in that graveyard. 

    Harry however; had no idea what had made his relatives so desperately angry with him. The mere thought of having to face his uncle in a rage again was enough to make him curl up in a little ball of misery against the far wall. He knew the position was not helping his health at all; nor was it going to increase his healing process but right now Harry felt too much pain to care much. He knew he was deeply distressed and even the slightest of movement ignited desperate pain across his limbs and especially across his back. Harry groaned in pain; this time a whip had been his uncle's mode of punishment; where the fat man had gotten it from Harry didn't know but he had taken it across his back with a satisfaction that made the teen gag at the perverse pleasure he had seen dancing in those beady eyes. The instrument of pain had left deep gashes across his back, neck and thighs; almost all twenty of them bleeding and soaking his sorry excuse of a shirt in a deep crimson. There was even a stinging wound on his cheek and forehead where the whip had missed and landed in his face instead. He was lucky no more damage had been done than that.

    Biting his lip to stave off a whine of pain; Harry quelled his fear and tried to make his body a bit more comfortable. Stubbornly refusing to voice his anguish at every small movement he made. Strange that it had his head spinning when he wasn't even that injured. Finally managing to lay on his side; Harry closed his eyes and prayed that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't leave him here much longer. Even now; he could feel his body being drained of its life force and his magic for once did not try and heal the damage. Why did it feel like he was literally dying? It was strange this bone tiredness that he couldn't shake and like his blood was burning through his veins harshly. Could his own magic turn against him if his wish for death was strong enough? There were many questions that Harry couldn't answer like what would be the point of continuing to live after the pain he had caused another student and family? How did it feel to die? Would his pain disappear and would he see his mother and father then?

    Harry had no answer the questions. In his own eyes he saw himself as useless now; even Professor Dumbledore was powerful enough to kill Voldemort by himself so why not just allow himself to slip away? His eyes were strangely dry for all the sorrow in his being; his breath shuddering in his chest as the pain of a few broken ribs pulled at his consciousness. He didn't remember how he got them but he was pretty sure his cousin and his friends had done something to him. His arms were littered black and blue with defensive wounds; some even getting infected with a dark red around them. Others oozed blood slowly that reopened at his every move.

     It was very painful to feel but for some reason Harry was grateful for the physical pain; it distracted him from the immediate sorrow digging into his soul and tearing him to pieces. Is this what Professor Lupin felt when both his best friends died and the other was carted off to Azkaban? The desperate helplessness that he was dying on the inside and no one was there to console his pain and fear?

    'Sirius.' Harry called out in his mind; he wanted his godfather so badly that it hurt him inside. Where was he? Harry clenched his eyes shut and tried to see through his blurry vision. His glasses had been broken in the scuffle and left him nearly blind; he also knew that by the time he could get new ones his eyes would be worse than before. 

    "BOY! Get down here now! Breakfast isn't going to make itself!" Harry shuffled; steadfastly ignoring the pain and setting about schooling his features into neutrality. It was best that his relatives did not see his pain and desperation. Feeling his way downstairs, limping slightly and his breath hitching every now and then Harry pressed forward and prepared himself for another bad day that he knew could only get worse. Going by his aunt's disappointment; he was in for another beating later that day when his uncle came home.

     Biting his lip to stop himself from uttering a single words and noise of pain; Harry was sure that his lips would be bleeding for the rest of the day. Even as his eyes swam with dark spots he continued to use his Gryffindor tenacity to push it aside and try to stay out of trouble.

~~~

     It was a strange day on the Hogwarts school grounds; clouds that had pulled in from the northern highlands were heavy with moisture and they were already awaiting another bout of rain. However; this time a dark and ominous cloud had covered the entirety castle - it was almost completely black and it was unnaturally cold for the summer weather that they were supposed having that time of the year. If Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore didn't know any better he would say that it was his Potions Master that was causing the dark clouds; that scowl and sneering features were just classic for his gloomy disposition. In a world where magic existed whimsically Albus was sure that Severus was the cause for this unbearable change in weather. With a sigh he proffered up one of his precious Lemon Drops but as always it was refused; a fact that never went past the elderly wizard at any given time. Biting back his smile of glee at Severus' look of pure death; Albus settled back into his chair. Resting his chin on his propped up hands - nonchalant to the world around him. Fawkes was singing a little trill of both his and the Headmaster's amusement.

     "You have need of me Headmaster?" Severus drawled in annoyance. He was wishing he could whip out his wand and curse the older man for that look but for now he kept his twitching hand under control. He had many potions to finish before the start of the new school year and it was a mere two months away. Not that he'd expected much of a holiday but it was at least more peaceful without a castle full of sniffling children; children who sometimes made his life absolute hell.

     "Severus? I need you to do a favour."  One elegantly sculpted eyebrow shot up in mock surprise.

     "I would never have guessed Headmaster." Severus drawled sarcastically. That was until a shrill sound of an alarm shrieked throughout the room. The deafening sound making both colleagues jump at the sudden noise; Severus would however never admit his slip. It was in that single moment that the Headmaster's twinkling grandfather facade crumbled into a million pieces. Severus Snape had never seen the older man's face fall as quickly as a grim countenance stared back at him. The older man was on his feet faster than Severus managed and rushed over to one of the strange knick knack that was still blaring constantly.

     "Headmaster?" Severus ventured cautiously; he felt the tension in the air - the dangerous aura that seemed to spill from Albus Dumbledore was frightening and both filled with sorrow and pain. It was a strange combination for the Potions Master to observe and also spelt out that whatever the Headmaster was going to ask of him was now taking a back seat to the contraption the older man was fiddling with. The elegant wand pulled from purple robes was waving at the device before it was silenced; with its silence came the unspoken words that something had just gone terribly wrong.

     "I'm sorry; Severus but I'm going to have to ask you accompany me." Albus said; setting his wizarding hat right atop his head before he headed for the floo in a quick pace. Severus nodded uncertainly; he had no idea what he was getting himself into this time. Elegantly stepping out of the green flames with a grace not many could master; both Severus and the Headmaster made their way towards the younger's quarters.

     "I need you to gather an emergency positions kit Severus; one that can possibly save the life of someone who is dying." Severus made no protest at the stern voice of his mentor and did as he was told with a sigh. That was just like Albus; telling him so much but revealing so little. In less than a moment he had gathered the black box and shrunk it before placing it into one of his robe pockets.

     "Where are we going?" Severus asked after walking behind Albus towards the Apparition point. The silence of the last two minutes were wearing on his nerves in ways he could not explain. He was anxious about what he was going to find when Albus finally revealed the gravity of the situation to him.

     "No time; my boy. Grab on." Severus cursed; he had barely grabbed a hold of purple sleeves before he was transported away from Hogsmeade. The uncomfortable feeling of side alone apparition was wreaking havoc with his immense control. When Severus' world finally stopped spinning and his mind cleared a bit he bit back a sigh; they were definitely in one of Muggle London's suburbs. Sneering distastefully at the white picket fence staring back at him; each one looking just as offensive as the next. Without taking time to complain about the situation - which was rare for the dour potions master - Severus rolled his eyes instead and headed in the direction the Headmaster had taken. The older wizard was a few steps ahead him already and clearly in a great hurry. Severus kept his head down and followed; he would ask his questions later. That was until he saw the white house with the number 4 blazoned on the boring white wall. Severus stopped in his tracks; his stomach dropping. He recognized the place they were and it did nothing to stop the dread that he felt crept over him. 

     "Oh no! You did not just bring here!" Severus Snape hissed like the snake his House was well known for. He was not happy about the outcome of this situation. "I will not play Medi-Wizard to one of Potter's victims of misfortune." Severus couldn't contain his rage any longer and it showed. Although one stern look from Albus Dumbledore had him following anyways. He wouldn't dare to disobey the Headmaster even if it was the bane of his existence. Severus could feel a major headache attack his forehead without remorse; he had not become a spy to look after arrogant children who couldn't contain his anger and magic when he needed to. 

     "You will do as I say Severus. You will help whoever needs it and perhaps for once you can see that Harry is not what you see him as." Albus warned dangerously. Severus blinked; suddenly bewildered at the tone directed at him. Severus cringed internally as the Headmaster's body radiated fire and absolute rage; Severus for a moment swore that Albus might release Fiend Fire on a muggle district without remorse and breach the national secrecy act without any regret. A small breath of surprise left Severus' lips when Albus did indeed take out his wand and blasted the perfect white door off of its hinges; splintered wood dancing in the air a moment before falling like shrapnel and embedding themselves in anything in its path.

    "Petunia Dursley." The headmaster's voice was deathly quiet but as dangerous as a roaring lions. It was in that moment that Severus knew why the Headmaster hailed from the Gryffindor House; in those moments he was as fearless as a lion and twice as dangerous.

     "Have I not warned you not to lay your hand on your nephew? Have I not been kind enough to give and your bastard of a husband a single chance to redeem yourselves from your past sins?" Albus hissed as a horse faced woman came screeching into the foyer. Severus cringed at the volume of her screams but was interrupted from scarring her in shutting up. He recognized however but it barely made him like her more; he had always hater her and wanted to sneer at her but was interrupted as Albus Dumbledore waved Severus away to go find whoever was injured. Severus for once was relieved when he was waved aside; he had never before heard the deadly anger in his mentor's voice nor the pain and great disappointment that he felt rolling off Albus in waves of dangerous emotions.

     The walk up the stairs was brusque and uninterrupted even when a large man suddenly started yelling at him and demanding his attention. Severus frowned; he could spot blood on the man's hand and some spots on his trousers that were flecked with the viscous liquid. Sneering and sending his best Slytherin glare at the man before he told him politely to get out of his way; Severus stopped on the landing. His eyebrow twitching in annoyance before he set out to found the injured child.

     A sense of dread settled across his stomach; he had a feeling that something was very wrong.

   "Mr. Potter! Come out now before I come to find you." Severus warned; he was about to head for the biggest bedroom of the house where he knew the boy would be but stopped in his tracks when he heard a small groan of pain. The white door had several locks and a cat flap; frowning at the image the door made; Severus opened the door which was already pushed open a crack. What he saw drew all the breath from his lungs and sent his mind spinning.

      So much blood; Harry sneered in disgust at the red liquid. It was pouring from a wound at the back of his head; soaking his neck and shirt in red. But not only that; he felt his breathing slow - blood bubbling over his lip and dripping down his chin. How much internal damage had he suffered this time? A whining keen so soft it might have been nothing more than a silent breath; he was in so much pain that he could barely keep up with it anymore. His vision was black; swirling in and out of focus as he curled up on his side. He hoped that the damage wasn't enough to leave him incapacitated for tomorrow because he knew he would have to do the chores his aunt gave him.

     Shifting painfully on his back; Harry couldn't help the small cry that left his lips. The movement making him wince; his back was on fire; not only that but a dull painful throb across his lower back told him that his uncle had most likely bruised one of his kidneys or perhaps even shattered on with the force that the kicks had rained down on him. A ragged breath sounding too much like blood filled lungs assessed that he also broke a rib that had punctured his lung. The bump on his head also meant a concussion that was quite severe but no matter how hard Harry tried to stay awake it felt futile; he was losing it and fast.

    In order to force himself to stay awake a little longer to stop from slipping into a deadly coma; Harry thought back to the events of the past year. It was then that they finally came; the tears he had been dreading to shed the entire summer. It was not helping his repertory function either and caused a coughing fit to wrack through his limp and useless body. Blood not so subtly spraying onto the blue walls before him from the force it was ripped from him. Harry knew that he would eventually have to clean that up too; a hiss of defeat leaving him feeling empty and humiliated. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and he couldn't even protect himself against a fat muggle.

      His eyelids; heavy with regret and fear fell closed at the hurried retreating footsteps of his uncle. How much pain would he have to suffer before he was granted sweet release from everything? Drifting into the darkness that swarmed around him; Harry couldn't care less about the implications of falling asleep with concussion. In that single moment he hoped he would slowly slip away from this world to never return.

     He was no longer needed. 

     'Kill the spare!' That infinitely cruel voice rasped; making a whimper leave his cracked, dry lips. How many times had he wished it was him who had been the spare? He wanted so much to shout 'no' and try everything in his power to save Cedric but there was nothing he could do when those dead eyes stared up at him. His friend was already long gone; leaving Harry to deal with Voldemort and the pain of a cruciatus curse; even that had caused more pain to his body than his uncle had tonight. How Harry longed for a small escape from the world; but it was futile; even in his dreams he was not allowed that small luxury.

     When Harry awoke next it was to the distinctive sound of the door being pushed open; a cry left his lips. Immediately he noticed his mistake as a harsh cough left his lungs; the blood that had finally been stifled was flooding his lungs and mouth again. Harry cried out when he tried to shift his body into a protective position to protect him from more harm. The pain that flared through his body now was much worse than before he had drifted off into unconsciousness.

     A hand was inching closer to his shoulder and even when Harry could only see a pale blur he knew it was a limb and it immediately caused an adverse reaction in him. A shudder of fear wracking his limbs and a small noise of distress was a good indication of how badly battered his body was. His heavy flinch could not be dismissed as a mere movement of unconsciousness; even now when pleas of staying out of harm was not far from his lips - Harry still bit them back harshly. It was strange but he was remembering the promise he had made earlier that day.

     "Harry..." Nothing was making sense but his name; for all the young teen could have known the man was a foreigner. Although that voice was gentle and comforting to his frayed nerves; Harry was reluctant to trust anything. It was deep, rich, calm and soothing - almost like dark chocolate that had melted beneath a magical flame. Harry hated to admit it; but that voice was holding him captive from drifting into that welcoming darkness again. It was almost enough to get him to relax around the man. Harry frowned a few seconds later; a memory struck him on the forehead but the images were blurry; only that voice he recognized. He had heard it somewhere before. The dulcet tones of comfort something he wanted to reach out and grab a hold of but he felt so distant; his body was completely broken and didn't want to listen to him anymore. A hand pressing against his forehead made him jump again before he realized that it was cool against his fevered skin. A true touch of comfort and acceptance; the emotions he felt rising in his heart was causing a single tear to slip past Harry's control. It clung stubbornly to his eyelash and Harry willed it to stay there; lest this person sense it and decide not to help him.

     "Harry. Calm down." There was that gentle voice again; calling out to him and promising something Harry couldn't understand. It made him wonder if his mother and father's touch would have been as comforting as this.

     A horrifying wet breath spilled from his lungs as a cough lodged in his throat. It was getting more and more painful to even breathe. Harry felt it then; the press of something cold against his lips. The instantaneous reaction was for him to jerk away in distress. Harry knew he was chasing his breathing up and the hyperventilating breaths were not helping with his health at all but he couldn't help it. Something was telling him to run; his fight or flight instincts was were clearly making themselves known again. A strange cold numbness spilled into his veins; Harry knew that it meant that the shock of his situation was finally setting in.

      There was the press of a cold bottle against his lips again; this time Harry clenched his eyes shut and shook his head in fierce denial. That was until that hand was back against his forehead just before the shivers started wracking through his body. 

     "Drink it." This time it wasn't a question and Harry obeyed; immediately a garish taste slipped past his tongue. A sigh left his lips when the liquid traced a warm path to his stomach; immediately pushing back the shock and even some of the pain. It also made him a bit more coherent to the world around him; even though he didn't have his glasses anymore he could make out a shape dressed completely in black and even long hair.

     "S-S-Siri...?" Harry trailed off; pain clamping his throat shut. The soft touch in his hair as another glass vial was pressed against his lips was comforting and Harry knew it couldn't be anyone else as his godfather was the only one that loved him like this. The only person he ever trusted. There was no protest as he opened his mouth and consumed the liquid again; this time a whimper erupted from his tongue - ice was freezing the blood in his veins and made his head pound with renewed pain. But that gentle hand was back against his forehead. Soft murmuring words that Harry couldn't decipher.

      "Hush; Potter. It'll pass." That deep voice was like an anchor for his seizing thoughts. The pain passed and with it came a new numbness to his body that Harry did not like but didn't protest this time when he was lifted into strong arms. His nose buried in soft fabric as his exhaustion made itself known again.

      "Sleep Harry." That was all the command took for him to pass out. His last thoughts filled with gentle touches and soft memories of a great big black dog that always loved him more than even his best friends did.

~~~

     Severus frowned at the child in his arms; for that was all he was. He was too small for his age and the weight in his arms was almost nothing compared to a healthy teenage boy. His mind was busy trying to analyze what he had just seen. From the way Potter moved away from him even whilst being delirious with pain and a fever showed Severus that this abuse had been going on for a very long time. That little fact sent his guilty conscience racing down a dangerous path again. How had he missed this? His house was known for its abuse from parents and Severus prided himself on seeing the signs early but now he was beginning to question his own credibility. How the hell had it gotten so bad that Harry Potter almost died from the abuse?

     This was never supposed to happen; no one was to miss the abuse of a child at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And yet; they had done it so spectacularly without even getting the thousands of hints Potter had obviously trying to convey to them. It made him feel like he had failed an innocent youth. No; that was exactly what he had done. Harry Potter to die at the hands of stupid muggles that were lower than flobber worms.

     Yes, die. Severus was well aware of the injuries the boy sustained. The injuries themselves necessitated that he put Potter in a temporary stasis to keep his body from destroying itself any further. The potions he had on him were meagre at best and couldn't save a life. It would merely prolong the inevitable. Severus cursed himself now as he had not prepared for an emergency to this extent. What was even stranger was that the teen's magic wasn't fighting his own; animosity between two wizards often caused their magic to clash even in such dire situations. Just which one of them were the cause of this? Like always; Potter's situation always created more question than it had answers. The sound of several people inside the home dragged the potions master from his thoughts as he filed away all the important information he discovered for later analysis. The Hogwarts Professor carefully made his way down the stairs; avoiding causing more harm to the child resting in his arms.

      Keeping his footsteps light but hurried Severus was not surprised to find that within the few moments he had disappeared upstairs the entire house was now crawling with Aurors that were taking statements; making arrests and prepared what looked like a magical reconstruction of the events from the muggles' memories.

      "Sir, can you please leave Young Master Potter in my care?" Severus turned around; coming face to face with a young woman in the uniform of the Ministry Social Workers. That made the dour Potions Master raise an eyebrow before brushing past her; it seemed she was stupid enough to not notice that Harry Potter was in dire need of medical attention. 

      "Mr Potter will be leaving together with me and the Headmaster; I don't have time to stand around and explain these things to the likes of you." Severus sneered in contempt. He knew what would happen to Potter once the Ministry got their hands on him and he refused to see that happen. It was a matter of selling off the Boy-Who-Lived to the highest bidder of a ring of purebloods. And Severus had a good idea who Harry would end up with; Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man who not only had the ear of the Minister but the Dark Lord as well. Considering the fact that the Dark Lord wanted to kill the young wizard; Severus was very much adverse to even thinking of handing Harry off to the witch looking at him with barely concealed hate.

      He sneered at her; his glare enough to make her melt on the spot. Let them think what they will; he was a spy for Dumbledore and no one wanted to argue against Albus Dumbledore. He still held the position as the strongest Wizard of his age and was also the only one that Tom Riddle truly feared.  

     "Ah; there you are Severus." Speak of the devil; Severus remarked to himself softly before giving a nod of acknowledgement to the Headmaster. Severus however; did not waste another minute and headed towards the fireplace - his robes billowing out behind him on a cloud of deadly black. No one would dare get in his way when he was like this.

      Using the Floo would be the best way to travel and it seemed the Headmaster had already connected it to the Hogwarts network without difficulty. Severus did not wish risking hurting Potter more than he already was; this was also the fastest way to travel without aggravating those severe injuries. Luckily by his actions alone the Headmaster seemed to recognize the dire situation for what it was; giving a final nod before Severus threw Floo powder into the empty hearth. Getting a quick glimpse of Kingsley Shacklebolt before he was whisked away in the green flames; Severus gave a final nod. Poppy Pomfrey's name on his lips as he was transported through the network of fireplaces all across Great Britain.

      In a whoosh of green flames; Severus stepped into the Infirmary unharmed with his precious bundle still intact without any new injuries. He would leave the Headmaster to deal with the situation. What mattered right now was saving Potter's life more than anything else.

     "Merlin Severus! Is that Harry?" The shout started the older man before Severus Snape nodded in confirmation and quickly placed the boy on the nearest bed. Relaying the information swiftly to the Matron of the School's Infirmary before helping her as she asked. It was two gruelling hours before the Boy-Who-Lived was stable enough for the Medi-Witch to start healing his wounds more intently than good path ups to get him out of the woods.  Stepping away from the bedside as Pomfrey began bustling over the teen; Severus headed towards the floo. Silent anger visible in his fast gait; Severus really could not believe he was going to be doing this but for now that seemed to be the best way to deal with this situation and to bring comfort to the teen.

     "Where do you think you are you going?" The witch demanded; hovering around her patient; her face set in grim lines that still spoke volumes of the danger the boy's life had been in mere hours before.

     "To get that insufferable mutt. Potter has been asking for him and it will do him good when he gets out of that coma." Poppy said nothing but she understood what the Potions Master was talking about and waved him off impatiently; she could use his healing expertise to Harry's advantage more but Severus' answer was more than enough for her to understand his reasoning. Harry was most likely going to be very upset when he awoke from this trauma and having Sirius Black there would help the battered child immensely in coming to terms with himself.

     The last thing she heard was the soft spoken grunt of 'Grimmauld's Place' before the infirmary was empty except for the harsh breathing of her patient and his small noises of pain and discomfort even in a deeply sedated  state.

      Out of the immense darkness that surrounded him so completely came a shimmering light that held a warmth Harry was unfamiliar with. He could see clearly again; his fingers tentatively reaching out for that light. He wanted to touch it; become a part of it before disappearing from the world. Closing his eyes whilst wishing that he was closer to the light; it felt as if his world was shattering around its axis. All the pain he had felt up until now was fading and was being replaced with that loving warmth that radiated from the ball of light.

      At the touch of fingers against his cheek; Harry opened his eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision just before he was overwhelmed with the sorrow that was creeping into his bones. Why did he not feel happy to be here? Was this not what he wanted? Why did he not feel afraid of the touch? So many questions but so little answers for him.

      "Oh; my dear Harry. You really shouldn't be here." A soft lilting voice admonished softly. The moment Harry heard that voice he thought he recognized it; it was not someone he had heard speak before but the comfort those dancing fingers across his cheek held was enough to tell him that there was a deep bond between them. Finally; a set of green eyes clashed with another identical set that was framed in fiery red locks. A chocked sound of distress spilled from his lung unconsciously. He knew; knew exactly who it was standing in front of him and touching him so lovingly. 

      "Mum?" Harry asked softly; wanting desperately to know this was not some sort of perverse dream on his mind's part. He so desperately wished it was real...

     "Yes Harry. It's me." She said softly; tears were slowly spilling from her bright eyes and staining her cheeks prettily. Harry was surprised when he felt the touch of soft lips against his forehead before she pulled away from him again. Her long nailed hand resting above his heart before she smiled sweetly.

      "You must continue to live;" She cautioned softly. "Live for your father; Harry. He needs you more than you can fathom. And so do you my beloved child." With that; she gave a harsh push and Harry felt himself toppling backwards into darkness again. The magnetic pull he had felt with her now dulling to a painful throb in his chest. He was losing her again but her words...

      He didn't want to disobey her words; he had finally seen the woman who had done so much for him. He couldn't stop the broken sob that lodged in his throat just as a single tear cascaded down his cheek - followed by another, another and another until he could no longer understand why he was so sad anymore. This was probably the last time he was ever going to feel such love and peace...

     Probably the last time he was ever going to see her...

     The last time he could a promise with her; but how long could he do it? Harry wasn't so sure he could. Living would become more painful after knowing he had finally seen her.