Everything happened so quickly.

One moment, Harry had been weaving through the crowd, following just a few feet behind his father. The next, he was clutching his forehead as a sharp, searing pain erupted from his scar. He gasped, shutting his eyes, his fingers rubbing the spot on his forehead where the scar would be if it wasn't for the Polyjuice. It was beginning to wear off now; Harry could feel the jagged edges of the scar slowly forming beneath his fingertips.

Distinct pops of apparition sounded behind him, and Harry whirled around, instantly catching sight of a cluster of dark robed figures appearing down the cobblestone street.

A chill ran down his spine as a high-pitched, hissing voice echoed in the distance. He could recognize that voice anywhere...

Did he somehow find out I was here?

Harry frantically looked in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, hoping to catch a glimpse of his father, or Kieran, or even Clarice, but all he saw were a sea of people rushing past him, pushing and shoving each other out of the way in their haste.

Spells began flying in every direction, and Harry managed to duck in time, just narrowly avoiding a spell that hurtled past his head. It ignited a row of shops behind him, causing Harry to dive out of the way, using his arms to shield himself against the debris raining down around him.

After scrambling to his feet, Harry attempted to head toward the Leaky Cauldron, but ended up even further away when he suddenly got caught in a massive surge of frantic wizards and witches.

How was he going to find his father now?

Just then, Harry spotted two twin redheads dueling with a couple of Death Eaters down the street, in front of a colorfully decorated storefront. Must be the Weasley's new joke shop, Harry concluded as he remembered giving them his unwanted winnings from the Triwizard Tournament...

Something caught his eye— a Death Eater was crouched behind a pillar, his wand aimed at one of the twins, a deadly spell forming on his lips...

Before Harry was even aware of what he was doing, he had drawn his wand and was sprinting as fast as he could towards them.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, hitting the surprised Death Eater squarely in the chest.

His sudden appearance proved to be a distraction as both twins turned to see what had just happened. One of the other Death Eaters took the opportunity to send a hex at the twin on the left— Harry thought it was George— and struck his leg. With a pained yelp, George fell to the ground, his leg bent at an odd angle.

"Incarcerous!" Harry yelled, and ropes sprung from the tip of his wand, binding the Death Eater's arms to his sides before he was able to cast anything else.

A rapid sequence of spells were fired back and forth as Harry and Fred dueled the two remaining Death Eaters. Harry managed to stun one while Fred disarmed the other before also capturing him ropes. Then they hurried to check on George, who had sought shelter from the battle behind an abandoned street cart.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, kneeling beside George. His leg appeared to be in bad shape.

"Yeah, I think I'll be fine," George said in a tight voice.

"Help me bring him inside the shop," said Fred, swinging George's arm over his shoulder and supporting him as he stood up. Harry did the same on George's other side, and they made their way into the joke shop. As they entered, Harry briefly glanced around at all the merchandise lining the many shelves, spotting some Skiving Snackboxes that were piled to the ceiling.

"Thanks for the help, mate," George said as he slowly lowered himself into a chair.

"Yeah, we came quite close to being offed by those Death Eaters," said Fred, glancing out the window before giving Harry a small grin.

"No problem," said Harry, waving away the gratitude.

Fred furrowed his brows, staring at him for a moment.

"You seem really familiar..." he said with a quick glance at George, who nodded his head in agreement. "Have we met before?"

Before Harry could answer, a slight breeze from the door blew his fringe away from his forehead, and recognition dawned on both of their freckled features.

"Harry?" Fred asked incredulously, his eyebrows raised.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it's me," he confirmed, briefly running a hand over his scar and smoothing down his fringe to conceal it again. The Polyjuice must have completely worn off by now.

"You look a bit different, Harry," Fred said, seeming to take in Harry's new appearance. "Care to tell us why?"

"You sort of look like someone I can't quite place my finger on right now," George added, a tiny smirk on his pale face, even though he looked to be in a considerable amount of pain.

"And what are you doing here? We thought you were supposed to be with your relatives..."

Harry sighed, glancing out the window at the quickly dwindling crowds. This wasn't the time to explain everything right now, and he didn't exactly know where to begin anyway. He just needed to find his father and get the hell out of here.

"Er, it's a bit of a long story... Better save it for another time. I need to find—"

Harry cut himself off, hearing that same cold, hissing voice again. But this time, it sounded considerably more closer than before.

"Did you really think you would escape unpunished, Severus?"

Harry's heart leapt into his throat as he heard who was being addressed.

"How does it feel to throw your life away for a weak boy?" Voldemort continued when he received no response from Snape. "Betraying me for all these years... I should prolong this for as long as necessary, don't you agree?"

There was a short pause, then Harry heard, "Crucio!"

Taking a steadying breath in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself, Harry clutched his wand tightly and emerged from the shop. He heard the twins urgently calling his name behind him, but Harry paid them no mind as he continued on.

No one else is going to die because of me, not if I can help it. 

Several feet down the street, Harry saw them.

His heartbeat seemed too loud in his ears as he drew closer to the scene. Voldemort had his back to Harry, his wand raised, staring down at a dark robed figure on the ground in front of his feet. Not a sound escaped from Snape's lips as his limbs twitched and quivered uncontrollably from the curse.

"Leave him alone!" Harry shouted, immediately acquiring the attention of both Voldemort and Snape. He attempted to put up a brave front, concealing the increasing terror just below the surface.

Voldemort released the curse on Snape and whirled around, appearing surprised for a split second at the interruption, before he set his eyes on Harry.

"Ah, how nice of you to join us, Harry." Voldemort's red eyes gleamed, his lipless mouth curling upwards into an unpleasant smile as he closed the distance between them. "Saves me the effort of having to find you myself."

The pain in Harry's scar returned with a vengeance now, and he tried his best to ignore it, not wanting to display any of the discomfort the scar was causing him.

"Well I'm here now. So let him go then," Harry said, standing his ground and resisting the urge to go to his father.

Snape appeared to be in a badly injured state; his robes were torn, blood seeping from his side and a rather large gash on his leg was bleeding profusely. The man was paler than usual, his black hair plastered to his face with sweat. And when Harry met his father's eyes, what he saw in them nearly broke his resolve. There was a touch of anger in those dark eyes, but what was accompanying the anger was something akin to... fear?

No, surely Harry was mistaken; since when was Snape ever afraid of anything? He couldn't remember a time when he had ever witnessed the usually stoic professor ever being frightened.

"How noble of you Harry," Voldemort sneered, drawing Harry's attention back to him. "Coming to the rescue of a man who has always despised you."

"Leave him out of this. It's not him that you want," Harry said, forcing a false calmness into his voice. He pushed away the panic threatening to overwhelm him, but he couldn't see any way out of this situation. Hopefully, someone had alerted Dumbledore and the Order, and they were on their way. Maybe he could stall until they arrived...

"On the contrary, Severus here," Voldemort gave a swift kick to Snape's injured leg, causing the man to barely suppress a pained groan, "has committed the ultimate crime of treachery."

Voldemort smirked at Snape's obvious pain.

"And he will pay dearly for his betrayal, but I suppose I should wait to finish him now that you have arrived," Voldemort continued softly. "I want to extract every last bit of agony before I get rid of him."

Harry's grip tightened on his wand, his heart thudding loudly against his ribcage. We'll see about that.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, hoping to catch Voldemort off guard.

But the spell was blocked with a lazy flick of Voldemort's wand, and at lightning speed, a silent spell was fired back at Harry. With a hastily erected Shield Charm, Harry attempted to block it, but after a loud bang, his shield broke. He hissed, clutching his arm as a large cut appeared on his arm from his elbow to his wrist.

Ignoring the throbbing in his arm and the blood soaking his robe sleeve, Harry sent back multiple spells in quick succession, hoping at least one of them would hit their target. But Voldemort simply flicked his wand as if he was merely swatting away some annoying flies, and all of Harry's spells disintegrated.

"Crucio!"

The intense pain filled every part of him, clouding his senses as the feeling of hot knifes pierced his skin. His limbs were jerking uncontrollably as he bit his lip to prevent any screams from escaping. There was no way he would give Voldemort the satisfaction. It was no wonder people went insane from this. The pain was so overwhelming, consuming his entire being, all his senses blazing with agony. Harry didn't know how long he was held under the curse, but it felt like an eternity had gone by before Voldemort finally lifted it.

"Did you like that, Harry?" When Harry didn't respond and simply glared, Voldemort continued, "Now that I seem to have acquired your attention, onto the important matter at hand." Voldemort stared down at him with glinting red eyes and demanded, "Tell me what you know about the prophecy."

"Why do you think I would tell you? I would never tell you anything!" Harry snapped, attempting to quell his trembling as he scrambled to his feet. His entire body ached, and he staggered sideways a bit, finding it difficult to keep his balance.

Voldemort didn't appear angry at Harry's refusal, he only seemed slightly amused. "Well, perhaps a larger dose of pain will loosen your tongue," he said, raising his wand at Harry again.

Harry steeled himself for the waves of pain to hit his body, fully expecting the Cruciatus curse again, but instead, it was like a whip was slashing into his back, tearing relentlessly into his flesh. It was as if someone was lashing him, over and over. Harry collapsed to the ground on his hands and knees, gritting his teeth and making an effort to not make a sound.

It's not like this was new to him.

The pain kept coming in waves, becoming more intense with each passing second, until Harry was afraid he might lose consciousness at any moment.

Then the curse suddenly lifted.

"Have you had enough, Harry?" Voldemort asked silkily.

Again, Harry didn't respond, continuing to glare at that ugly snake face. He was still on his hands and knees, feeling distinctly vulnerable to further attack, but he couldn't muster up the strength to get back on his feet at the moment.

Another flick of Voldemort's wand, and the curse resumed. This time, Harry couldn't hold back his screams of agony, the curse seeming infinitely more intense than before. He hated hearing the satisfied laughter coming from Voldemort.

The curse was held for the longest time, and Harry was edging into unconsciousness. Right as he was about to give in to the blissful darkness, Voldemort finally lifted the curse.

"I must commend you on your resilience Harry, however, I have other means to achieve what I desire."

Before Harry was aware of what was happening, Voldemort had swooped down directly in front of him, menacing scarlet eyes locking onto green ones. He instantly felt a harsh probing in his mind, tearing through his non-existent shields and ripping into his memories. The sensation was excruciating, as if hot needles were being plunged through his skull. Harry heard a distant screaming, but wasn't sure if that was actually coming out of his mouth or happening in his mind. Snape wasn't exaggerating last year when his father informed him about Voldemort's skills in Legilimency during those terrible Occlumency lessons. Now, more than ever, Harry wished that he mastered Occlumency when he had the chance.

The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley had drifted into the far distance. Memories began flashing by, memories that Harry never wanted anyone to see, especially not Voldemort.

Uncle Vernon yelling at him for messing up breakfast; Aunt Petunia swinging at him with her frying pan, just barely missing his head; Dudley and his gang chasing after a younger version of himself; his relatives laughing at him as Ripper chased him up a tree; a red-faced Uncle Vernon throwing him into his cupboard; Harry on the floor of his bedroom with Uncle Vernon looming over him, his belt raining down on him as he ranted about his worthlessness...

"Ah, your Muggle relatives aren't very fond of you, are they Harry?" Voldemort's voice taunted in his head.

"Get out!" Harry shouted, desperately trying to rid his mind of Voldemort's unwanted presence.

Thinking back to when he had been possessed by Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic, Harry concentrated on his more cherished memories of his friends and Sirius. His exhaustion was settling in, his last reserves of energy slowly depleting, but nonetheless, he focused and managed to pull forth those treasured memories that Voldemort would never be able to understand.

There were bits and pieces of memories from his years at Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione... last year's Christmas spent with Sirius... the fun times spent with the Weasley family...

He let those small feelings of warmth and happiness envelop him completely, holding off the darkness that Voldemort was trying to smother him with.

Even a few memories of Snape had slipped into the mix. His father's voice echoed in his mind as the memories resurfaced...

You didn't deserve that... That is no way to treat a child... Because, you are my son...

Voldemort abruptly withdrew from his mind, eliciting a loud gasp from Harry when he did. From where Harry was laying on the ground, panting, he watched as Voldemort moved towards Snape, gazing intensely at him before turning his sights back on Harry.

Please... please let the Order get here now...

Harry didn't think he could take anymore.

"I now understand who you received your appearance from," Voldemort said softly. "I must admit, I had thought you were better than that, Severus." His features bore a disgusted look as he again pierced Snape with his red-eyed gaze. "When did you have relations with that Mudblood?"

Snape didn't answer, but he did send a glare at Voldemort, a glare so potent it could have burnt a hole right through him.

"Tell me, Severus, have you developed feelings for the boy?" Voldemort demanded.

His father had opened his mouth to reply, with what, Harry would probably never know, because the abrupt sounds of Apparition prevented Harry from hearing Snape's answer. He prayed it was Dumbledore with the Order finally arriving, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't Death Eaters coming to watch the show.

Voldemort raised his wand again, and before Harry could even attempt to defend himself, a purple spell surged from Voldemort's wand and sped rapidly towards him.

It met its target, and Harry's entire world instantly went dark.

Severus didn't know how he always got caught up in these situations, but he had been frantically searching for Harry amidst the chaos when he was seen by the very last person he wanted to be seen by. After dueling with some amateur Death Eaters, who he took out easily, Severus was confronted by his former master. The Dark Lord was certainly less than pleased with him, and Severus had countered all the curses thrown his way until one of them slipped past his Shield Charm. He was disarmed, his wand rolled out of reach, and Severus suffered a Cutting Curse to his side and a Bone-Breaking curse to his leg. Then the Cruciatus Curse, which Severus was all too familiar with after being in the Dark Lord's ranks all those years.

The only slightly comforting thought running through Severus' mind was that he was hopefully buying Harry time to leave. He knew that Harry didn't stand a chance against the Dark Lord. The boy wasn't ready, he was only sixteen after all, and if the Dark Lord was preoccupied with Severus, there was less of a chance he would find Harry before help arrived...

But then, of course, the boy had come rushing to Severus' aid.

His heart had leapt into his throat when he saw Harry running towards them.

Foolish child!

Severus wanted to scream at him to leave, to run as far away as possible...

Why did the boy have to come save him? Why did the boy have to possess this infuriating hero complex?

If he'd only just have a sliver of self preservation instead of always rushing head first into dangerous situations without a thought of his own safety...

Then the torture had started.

A rage like Severus had never felt before rose within him as he struggled to sit up, trying to ignore the agony in his bones, and make it over to Harry. But the Dark Lord was blocking his path, and Severus could do nothing more than watch it all happen, as unbearable as it was.

A small amount of pride had fluttered in Severus' chest when he watched how Harry endured those painful curses. The boy wasn't letting a sound slip past his lips, but Severus knew he was reaching the end of his rope. When Harry's tortured screams filled the air, Severus would have given anything to ease his pain, his heart clenching painfully as they continued. He felt utterly useless. Surely there was nothing worse than having to hear his son being tortured while he sat a few feet away, entirely helpless to stop it. Severus knew those pain filled screams would be a reoccurrence in his nightmares now, and he prayed desperately to any deity listening that help would arrive soon.

A few moments later, his prayers seemed to be answered when Severus heard the sounds of Apparition nearby. Relief coursed through him when he finally saw Dumbledore, a tall and imposing figure in his purple shimmering robes, hurrying towards them.

But the relief was short-lived; Severus' blood froze in his veins when he watched the Dark Lord raise his wand, whispering something in Latin before an unknown spell burst forth towards Harry, hitting him directly in the chest. The boy's eyes had widened in surprise before they closed, and his body went limp.

Within the next second, the Dark Lord had Disapparated before Dumbledore could get too close, escaping capture once again, but Severus couldn't care less at the moment. He was entirely focused on his son.

"Harry," Severus whispered, his heart pounding inside his chest as he slowly dragged himself over to his son, ignoring the protesting aches of his body and the pain radiating from his leg. Besides the occasional involuntary muscle spasms, Harry was very still— much too still— and Severus was beginning to fear the worst. It was terror like he had never felt before.

Is he alive?

"Severus, you shouldn't injure yourself further," Dumbledore said as he knelt beside Harry, a grim expression on his face. "Poppy is on her way."

"I need to get to my son," Severus said firmly, with only a slight tremble to his voice.

He was determined to check on Harry's condition for himself, and missed the surprised look that appeared on Dumbledore's face at his words. Once Severus had finally reached Harry, he gently cradled the boy's head, his fingers desperately feeling for a pulse. He found it a few seconds later, thready and weak beneath his fingertips, but at least it was there.

Severus shut his eyes for a moment, willing his heart to calm its erratic beating.

Harry's alive. His foolish, but brave child is alive...

The relief that flowed through him was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Severus released a shuddering breath, one he didn't know he'd been holding, and lightly carded a shaky hand through Harry's dark hair.

A few moments later, his relief transformed into anger that formed in the pit of his stomach as he turned to glare at the Dumbledore.

"What took you so long?" Severus demanded tightly, his voice still a bit strained.

"Voldemort had ordered his Death Eaters to surround the vicinity and set up wards around Diagon Alley that prevented us from Apparating in. I needed to remove them one at a time to let the Order and myself in," Dumbledore calmly explained. "I was informed that there were also other attacks simultaneously occurring elsewhere along with this one."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were blazing, a hard expression on his normally kind features as he stood and surveyed the destruction around them.

Severus looked around as well and for the first time, realized how much damage had been done to the place. Many of the shop storefronts were blown to pieces and debris was littered the cobblestone street. There was an unusual stillness to the place now, the complete opposite of what it was when they had arrived just a few hours ago when Diagon Alley had been lively and bustling with shoppers on a warm summer day. The street was nearly deserted now, except for the few Order members and Aurors walking about.

A few moments later, Poppy finally arrived.

"Oh, dear. He just can't get a break, can he?" she muttered softly, setting her bag down and waving her wand over Harry. "His body is suffering from the aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse and his back is in bad shape." Poppy quickly traced her wand along the cut on Harry's arm, and the skin instantly knitted itself back together, leaving a nearly imperceptible white scar in its place.

"The Dark Lord also hit Harry with an unknown spell before he Disapparated," Severus said, gazing down at his son's pale face. "I'm not sure what kind of spell it was."

"Whatever it is, my diagnostic spells can't detect it," Poppy said, frowning as she cast a few more different spells. "I think it's best we get him to the infirmary." She glanced over at him, "You too Severus."

"I suggest we should use the Floo, it is less stressful on the body than a Portkey," Dumbledore said as he cast a Feather-light Charm on Harry and gently gathered him up into his arms. Severus had a strange urge to pluck Harry out of Dumbledore's arms and carry his son himself, but he resisted, knowing he didn't have the strength at the moment.

"Severus, you shouldn't try to put any weight on that leg," Poppy said, conjuring a stretcher.

"I'm fine. I can walk," Severus bit out as he pushed himself up to stand. Immediately, his legs buckled beneath him and he staggered sideways into Poppy who quickly steadied him with a hand on his arm. He leaned his weight against her, suppressing a groan at the sharp pain shooting up his injured leg.

Poppy shook her head, clicking her disapproval, and said, "Severus, stop being so stubborn."

And with a flick of her wand, Poppy levitated a scowling Severus onto the waiting stretcher.