An owl landed in front of him. The letter was addressed to Snape. Before he had time to open it, there was a bustle, and yelling.

Snape jumped up without hesitation, and hurried over. Several people were restraining someone. Snape couldn’t see who. “Come on, you nutter, drink up.”

Someone said cheerfully. There was a further struggle.

“Oy!” Snape yelled. Several people turned, and Snape saw they were crowded around a bloodied and beaten Harry Potter. He looked up at Snape, ashamed. His cheeks burned pink.

“Let him go.” Snape demanded.

“He’s a nutter!” A boy protested.

“He’s trying to cause panic.” Another said. Snape looked at the boy holding a potion.

“What are you trying to pour down his throat?” He demanded.

“The Draught of Living death. He’ll never wake, but he won’t die.” The boy explained, proud of his clever idea.

“That’s illegal. I would advise you to let him go.” Snape replied coldly.

“Or what? You think he’s going to try to bring You Know Who back?” The boy asked, sneering at Harry. Snape drew a deep breath.

“Let’s see, how about fifty points each from your respective houses, and a month's detention?” Snape demanded. Everyone scrambled, dropping Potter like a load of rubbish. Snape offered his hand to Harry, who looked up in surprise, taking it. Snape smiled, pulling him to his feet.

“They won’t hurt you ever again. I’ll see to it. But for now, you need to go see Madam Pomfrey.” Snape said gently. Potter shook his head.

“I’d rather not.” He whimpered. Snape hesitated, then led Harry up the stairs, to the seventh floor corridor. Harry didn’t resist, and Snape walked past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls ballet. Harry mused over the picture for a moment, when a door opened, and Snape led him in.

It was like the hospital wing, but without madam pomfrey, and there were books lining the walls. Books about healing. Snape made Harry lay down, and began to peruse the volumes.

Once he found one he thought was useful, he sat beside Harry and began to scan the pages, looking for a remedy. Harry watched, anxiously.

“All right, I think I know what to do.” Snape beamed.

He pointed his wand at Harry’s limp wrist.

“Episkey.” He said softly. Harry smiled, moving his now healed wrist. Then, aiming at Harry's face, Snape muttered,

“Tergeo.” Instantly, Harry’s bloody face was clean. There were several deep gashes now clearly visible.

"Vulnera Sanentur.” Snape now muttered. They closed.

“For now, you’ll need rest.” Snape told him. Harry nodded.

“Won’t you stay with me?” He asked. Snape smiled.

“Of course.” He agreed.

“But Potter, be warned. Your story is causing a bit of trouble for you, and those around you.” Snape informed him.

“I just, I want to give as many people a chance as possible. What if he starts killing again? What if he—?” But Snape cut him off.

“Then you will stop him, like you’ve done three times already.” Snape replied.