One Harry Potter lay in his bed in Number 4, Privet Drive. The house was silent, and far off in the distance, the chirpings of crickets could be heard. The leaves of the trees rustled quietly in the night, but Harry as oblivious to all this. He was curled up sideways and snoring softly, fast asleep.

Suddenly, a small pop could be heard outside, and four figures appeared in the darkness. Each of them were dressed in black robes, concealing them within the shadows, but their deathly pale masks shone eerily in the moonlight.

"Get moving," a feminine voice ordered. "Lucius, Goyle, Crabble guard the door. I'm going in."

Lucius Malfoy growled under his breath at being ordered around, especially since that order was to stand outside and do nothing. After all, HE should be the one commanding everyone, not some other Death Eater, and definitely not Bellatrix Lestrange. When Bellatrix had still been in Azkaban, he had been his master's right-hand man. He had been the one to control the rest of the Death Eaters, but after the breakout in Azkaban, the woman had been restored to the one in control. His fists clenched, but he obeyed, standing next to Crabbe and Goyle.

Bellatrix chuckled softly at the reaction she had caused. Smirking, she stepped forward before whispering a soft Alohomora. The door clicked open.

However, she didn't step in immediately. She knew that if she did so, the wards and blood magic would throw her back out, not to mention that fool Dumbledore would be notified. Oh no, that wouldn't do at all. With a cruel smile, she turned and transformed into a serpent. With a hiss, she crawled in through the crack. The wards seemed to shudder for a second before going back to their original state.

She transformed back into her human state and nodded in satisfaction when the wards didn't go off. It seemed that they had been fixed on the outside, but not the inside. This suited her master's plan perfectly. Smirking, she headed upstairs towards the row of bedrooms. Pushing open the first door, she found two figures, fast asleep. Ah, the Dursleys. Smiling sadistically, she thought of the perfect wake up call.

Pointing her wand at the male, she hissed, "Crucio."

She smiled as the man suddenly began screaming, and his wife woke up beside him. “Vernon, Vernon!” She called. “Wake up! What’s wrong?”

It was then that the woman looked up and spotted Bellatrix. Taking in her appearance, she shrieked, “YOU!! Y-You’re a freak! What have you done to my husband?”

Bellatrix smiled cruelly. “Petunia Dursley, are you not?” She twirled her wand between her fingers. “I’d say that it’s a pleasure to meet you, but that would be lying.”

Meanwhile, Vernon continued writhing. He coughed, and blood began to drip out of his mouth.

“Stop it!” Petunia shrieked. “What are you doing to him? Make it stop!”

“Have you never heard of the Cruciatus curse, you Mudblood?” Bellatrix spat. She then smirked. “You want it to stop? Very well. Avada Kedavra!”

The emerald beam of light hit Vernon on his chest and the man slumped over, lifeless.

“No! What have you done to him?” Petunia quickly turned to his husband, desperately checking his pulse. She let out a cry when she found none. “YOU! Y-You killed him! You freak! You dirty fr---“

Slap.

She was cut off abruptly by a sharp slap on her face. She looked up, horror on her face. “You—Y-You dare HIT me?”

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. “Dare? Of course I dare, you fool. As a pureblood, I’m able to do anything I want with you. Including killing you, starving you. And your whale of a son.”

“D-D-Dudley?” Petunia’s eyes grew wide. “No, please, no – don’t hurt my little Duddykins. He’s innocent, oh, my poor little baby… no, please don’t hurt him…”

Bellatrix smirked before aiming a kick at Petunia’s stomach. The woman groaned at the impact, falling onto the bed. “Silent, women. Petrificus Totalus.”

As Petunia fell still, Bellatrix exited the room, heading for the next room down the hall. Pulling it open, she saw that an enormous boy lay on the bed, snoring loudly. She snorted disdainfully. As much as she would love to torture this boy first, she had to find Potter. She would have her fun with these Mudbloods later.

Finally, she came to the last room, and with a whispered spell, the door clicked open. Walking in, she raised an eyebrow as she saw Harry curled up on the bed, fast asleep. “My, my, Potter. All quiet and fast asleep. What a convenience.” With a sneer, she whispered a Stupefy and watched in satisfaction as the boy froze.

“Excellent.”

She levitated her the Boy-Who-Lived out of the room and down the stairs and back out the front doors. With a nod at her minions, she raised a hand in signal.

With a pop, the four figures disappeared, along with one Harry Potter.

Behind them, the Dark Mark floated eerily above #4, Privet Drive.

"Potter!"

Harry groaned. It was dark. Everything hurt ... especially his eyes. They ached like someone was poking his eyes with hundreds of thousands of little needles.

"Potter!"

Who was that? It sounded ... like Snape. Yeah, Snape, that was it. But what was Snape doing in his bedroom?

"Potter! Dammit, Potter, wake up. We need to get out of here now."

He sounded awful scared, Snape did. Why? It was just his bedroom...

And then everything came rushing back to him. The Dursleys... the Death Eaters... Voldemort's spell.

With a gasp, he tried to open his eyes... just to realize that his eyes already were open; he just couldn't see anything.

"Potter, thank Merlin."

Snape sounded relieved.

"Professor?" he croaked, facing the direction that Snape's voice had come from. "What--"

"Don't talk Potter, we need to get out of here," came the reply. "Can you walk?"

Harry shifted a bit, trying to figure out his surroundings. He was laying on something hard -- a stone floor, it seemed, and damp to boot. Placing his hands carefully, he tried to lever himself up -- a task that was rather hard without his sight. After stumbling a bit trying to straighten surprisingly sore knees, he finally managed to get into a standing position, though he could feel himself swaying unsteadily. Something was wrong with his head -- it felt all foggy. He reached up to rub at his eyes but was stopped by Snape's voice.

"Potter! Don't!"

He froze immediately. He heard Snape stumble unsteadily to him. Harry frowned in concentration, trying to figure out what his senses were telling him.

There was something wrong with Snape. He was walking strangely, dragging one leg slightly. His breathing was a bit ragged, wet sounding, as if there were liquid in his lungs. He documented mentally the Potions Master's progress across the room to his side.

"Are you all right?" he asked, turning carefully to face the direction he heard Snape approaching from.

Snape ignored the question. "Don't touch your eyes, Potter. There still might be a chance a mediwizard can fix them," he said gruffly. "We need to depart the premises immediately. My cover has been blown."

Harry nodded and then realized something rather stupid. "Um, where's--"

"The door is approximately six feet in front of you. It is open and un-warded. Do try not to trip over Avery. He's sprawled out to the right of the doorway."

Harry took a tentative step forward. Then another. Behind him, Snape growled impatiently, "At this rate, Potter, we'll get to the doorway by the time the Dark Lord realizes I'm not quite as loyal as previously believed."

Harry muttered an unfavorable comment under his breath about his professor's ancestors and their unfortunate habit of breeding with dogs and rodents. Snape muttered something equally unfavorable back, ending with an expletive. Then he moved forward until he was next to Harry and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist. "Put your arm around my shoulder," he said in his classroom voice, the tone that meant do-what-I-say-because-I-feel-like-using-y

ou-for-potions-ingredients.

Harry tentatively wrapped an arm around Snape's shoulders. Without wasting a second, Snape started walking forward at a much faster rate, taking Harry with him.

They made surprisingly good time through the winding passages in the building. Even more surprisingly, they met up with no Death Eaters on the way. However, just as they exited the building onto the grounds, their good luck came to an abrupt end.

"Do my eyes betray me? Is that the traitor and the prisoner, hmmmm?"

Even before Snape hissed, "Lucius," Harry knew that it was the senior Malfoy, just by the fact that he had the same oily voice and overly erect stance as his equally pompous son.

But then Lucius was yelling "Avada Kedavra", and a spell was whooshing past awfully close to his right ear, and there was no more time to contemplate the similarities between father and son. Snape gave him a shove and yelled, "Run, Potter! Straight forward -- don't stop!"

Harry stumbled forward, feeling another spell whoosh by him again as he ran unsteadily forward, praying to whatever deity would bother listening that he didn't catch his foot on anything and trip.

And even as he heard Snape yelling curses in response to Malfoy, Harry's hand came in contact with the rough bark of a tree, and he ran blindly into the underbrush before him.

Quickly Snape dodged out of the way of a particularly nasty - and quite illegal - hex, cursing Potter in his mind. ‘We must get Mr. Potter back at all costs.’ Dumbledore had said. What was so damned important about the brat anyway? Sure there was that prophecy, but of course Dumbledore had not divulged its complete contents to the order, just that Potter could defeat the Dark Lord.

Snape mentally berated himself for not focusing solely on the battle as he was caught with crucio straight in the chest, injuring his lungs even further. He fell to the ground writhing but not uttering a sound. Years of service to the Dark Lord had taught him not to make a sound no matter how much pain he was in. Instead he concentrated on the wand he had luckily not dropped, willing his magic through it in the form of the killing curse. Now was not the time to have mercy, he was fighting for his very existence.

When the pain disappeared he knew he must have hit one of those attacking. He lay still for a moment, trying in vain to catch his breath, then got to his feet as quickly as his protesting muscles allowed, facing the pack of Death Eaters once more. There were more than he originally thought, but less than he would have expected, only about six. The Dark Lord was also missing and he realized that the order must be keeping him and the rest of the Death Eaters busy. Dumbledore had said if he and Potter weren’t out within an hour he would be coming after them.

Keeping his mind off the pain shooting through his left leg and concentrating on breathing, he quickly and methodically began cursing the rest. One fell to another killing curse, three more to a well placed and extremely powerful blasting curse. A cutting hex sliced through his left arm just as the last of them fell, leaving a deep, but not quite life-threatening gash. He ripped a piece of cloth off his cloak, wrapping it tightly around the wound. Then he turned to the woods and ran after Potter, praying no one had followed him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry ran through the forest on autopilot, branches whipping at his face, bushes grabbing at his clothing, roots tripping him up. He couldn’t see, a fact of which he was all too painfully aware of, but right now he needed to concentrate on getting out alive. He’d rather be blind than dead right now.

A large root tripped him and he crashed to the ground, scraping his palms and twisting his wrist as he tried to stop his fall with his hands. A sob escaped his lips and he felt tears running down his face, but he ignored it. He could feel a sticky substance on his palms, blood from the scrapes. He groped for something to help pull himself on, his hands finally coming intact with a tree trunk. Placing both hands on the tree, he carefully pulled himself to a standing position.

Harry stood absolutely still, listening for anyone following him. The woods were eerily silent, not a sound echoing through the area. It was if the woods were dead. Suddenly he was glad he couldn’t see his surroundings, glad he couldn’t imagine a large shadow was actually a hideous beast waiting for him to make one false move.

He tried to hold his sobs in and stop his ragged breathing long enough to be able to truly listen. When he did, he realized he could hear the babbling sound of running water off in the distance. Trying to pinpoint the location he decided it was somewhere to his right. It might be easier to follow a river bank than run through the underbrush of a forest.

Harry sucked in a deep breath, getting ready to walk toward the water. He suddenly found he didn’t want to let go of the trunk. The trunk was something known to him, something safe. The darkness out there was dangerous, was unknown. He clamped his eyes tightly shut and willed himself to take a step away from the tree, and then another, keeping his hand on the tree as long as possible. He inched slowly forward, probably even slower than back in the . . . was it a dungeon he was in?

Finally he was far enough so that the next step would mean he would no longer be able to reach out to the trunk. Sucking in a deep breath he reached out in front of himself, luckily coming in contact with another tree trunk. He quickly stepped over to it, hugging it like it had just saved his life. He continued in this fashion for a while, always listening for footsteps or voices, pausing every now and again to listen to the river.

When the sound of branches snapping finally did reach Harry’s sensitive ears, his breath caught in his throat and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. He went around the luckily large trunk he was currently touching and crouched down in the bushes at the base of it. The footsteps quickly approached - two sets of them. Neither had the same sound that Snape had due to his injured leg. It must be Death Eaters.

Trying to breathe as little as possible, Harry stayed crouched in the bushes, praying to whatever deity was out there that they would just continue walking past him. As they came closer and closer to his hiding spot tears once more fell down his face and he cursed his weakness. He wouldn’t let them see his tears.

Suddenly there was another set of footsteps coming from somewhere in front of him. Cursing his luck, he listened carefully. His heart jumped with joy as he realized it sounded like Snape, as one of the legs seemed to be dragging. Too bad that the other two heard the footsteps as well.

“Who’s there?” One of them shouted.

“Show yourself!” The other demanded. Snape’s footsteps had stopped. The two Death Eaters began walking toward Harry’s tree.

“Avada Kedavra.” Was said in Snape’s voice, and a body fell to the ground. A volley of curses from both the other men followed and Harry tried his best not to be hit or discovered. Unfortunately for him the Death Eater was right next to him and saw him, quickly casting crucio on him. While Harry was screaming in agony Snape took the opportunity to finally kill the attacker. The body landed on Harry and he cried out, recoiling from the dead body.

“Potter?” Snape asked.

“Professor? Where are you? Please, help me.” Harry begged, pride thrown out the window. He didn’t care that this was his most hated professor anymore, he just wanted to get out of this forest, or better yet, wake up and realize this was all one big, horrible nightmare. A hand touched his shoulder and he followed the arm up to his professor’s body, quickly latching onto him. Snape was beyond surprised as Harry clung to him like a lifeline, his face twisted into an uncharacteristic look of surprise.

“Let go Potter.” Snape wheezed, coughing. Harry quickly jumped away and Snape began coughing harshly. When Snape pulled his hand away from his mouth it was covered in blood.

“You’re hurt.” Harry said. He could smell the blood coming from the wound on Snape’s arm.

“Brilliant observational skills, Potter. I have a portkey, we need to use it now before anyone else comes this way.” Snape said, holding out something Harry couldn’t see.

“A p-portkey?” Harry asked. He still hated the things, ever since his fourth year.

“Yes Potter, now grab onto it before I leave you here!” Snape snapped in his classroom voice, the effect slightly ruined by the hoarse quality his voice had taken on. Shakily Harry reached out for the object, missing it by several inches. He groped the air for a moment before Snape became impatient and grabbed his hand, placed it on the object and hissed the activation word. As they slammed to the ground Harry once more clung to Snape’s robes, shaking in fear. Portkey travel was made ten times worse when you couldn’t see where you landed.

“Where are we?” Harry asked fearfully. Snape quickly realized the boy was terrified beyond words.

“Calm down Potter.” He wheezed. “We’re outside the gates of Hogwarts. I just need to send the signal that I have you and then I’ll bring you up to the hospital wing. Now if you would kindly detach yourself from my robes, I would be much obliged.” Snape said. Harry nodded and let go of Snape, but stayed within close proximity of him. After a moment Snape grabbed Harry’s upper arm, Harry jumped, and Snape began to lead him up to the castle.

“What happened?” Harry asked quietly.

“Dumbledore told me to fetch you.” Snape said. His injuries were really starting to weigh on him and he was not in the mood to talk.

“So you blew your cover?” Harry asked.

“Yes, because it’s just so much fun to undergo torture to save your sorry hide, Potter.” Snape said, still able to coat his words in an impossible amount of sarcasm despite his pain.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said softly. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt because of me. I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.” Harry whispered, lost in his thoughts of Sirius. Snape just stared incredulously at the boy, but decided to get himself to the hospital wing rather than try to pry something out of the boy right now. Just as he reached the castle doors Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall came rushing up to them. Immediately the nurse began dragging them up to the infirmary.

“He’s blind.” Snape said before gladly sinking into unconsciousness, the last sound he heard being the two women gasping at the news and Harry’s sobs as the weight of his condition finally sank in.

When Harry woke up, he heard the sounds of a familiar room. It had a slight antiseptic smell mixed with a magical floral scent. There was no mistaking it, he was in the hospital wing. But it was pitch black. Why couldn’t he see anything?

“he’s blind.” The voice echoed in his head. Yes, he was blind. Harry felt a surprising sense of peace begin to fill him. He couldn’t be expected to kill Voldemort if he were blind. There’s no way he’d be able to do it. A huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. But the peace didn’t last and the weight came thudding back. He knew his duty and he knew the prophecy and he knew that he wouldn’t back away from his responsibility. Snape had been there; hadn’t he said that he could still do something? Snape? Snape was hurt.

“Snape?” Harry said out loud.

“Oh, Potter, you’re awake,” Harry heard Madam Pomfrey say. He could tell that she must have been close to his bed, but he hasn’t heard her before.

“Is Professor Snape going to be alright?” Harry asked.

“Professor Snape is in his rooms. If he doesn’t exert himself and stays away from trouble, he should be fine in less than a month.”

“He’s okay?” Harry asked feeling strangely hopefully.

“No, he most certainly is NOT okay. He should remain in the hospital wing for at least a week so that I can make sure the healing potions don’t have any adverse affects, but he refused.”

‘Oh,’ Harry thought. He wished that he could just refuse to stay in the hospital wing, but he knew that wouldn’t work for him. “What’s going to happen to me?” Harry asked.

“What do you mean dear boy,” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“Is there anything you can do?” Harry asked.

After a silence that was just a beat too long for Harry’s liking, Madam Pomfrey replied, “Nothing that we have tried so far has worked. It’s possible that something new will be created that will be able to heal you.”

Harry shook his head. Couldn’t magic cure everything? It could cure Professor Snape and he’d been hurt pretty bad. Harry knew that he wasn’t hurt as bad as that, so why couldn’t they cure him? Maybe they didn’t want to cure him, Harry thought. Maybe there was someone at the school who know how powerful he was becoming and they were getting scared.

That person would have to be Dumbledore; he was the only one with enough influence. He began to wonder why Dumbledore hadn’t been down to the hospital wing to talk to him yet. Was he feeling guilty? No, that’s stupid, Harry thought. Dumbledore was the one who’d been helping him prepare to fight Voldemort. Dumbledore was the on who had put all these expectations on his shoulders. Dumbledore wouldn’t want him to be weak.

“I know it’s hard to take in,” Madam Pomfrey continued. “Is there anything that I can do to make you feel more comfortable?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t need any special favors or people sitting around feeling sorry for him. He was feeling sorry enough for himself. “But what’s going to happen to me?” Harry repeated. “I mean, I can’t see. I can’t go to Hogwarts; how in the world would I be able to keep up in class, and I can’t do magic,” Harry replied. “Am I going to be sent away?” …to St. Mungo’s Hospital, Harry thought but didn’t even want to say out loud.

“Why in the world would you think that? Magic doesn’t require vision. Mind you it won’t be easy, but I’m sure you’re up for a challenge.”

“I can’t even walk to the loo without falling down,” Harry protested. He didn’t like that though of trying to stumble his way down to the Great Hall or to classes with everyone staring at him and the Slytherins laughing at him.

“It will take time, of course, Mr. Potter. You can’t expect to just jump back into doing things the way you’re used to. I would never set you free in the casltle without first helping you learn to use your disability.”

“Use?” Harry asked.

“Your other senses will make up for your lost sight. You will just need to learn how to use them,” she replied.

Harry had a smart remark on the tip of his tongue, but he held back when he remembered that he did in fact recognize his location because of its smell.

“Professor Dumbledore and I have already set up living accommodations for you for the rest of the summer. If everything goes well, you should be able to start coursework again with your classmates in the fall.”

“Living accommodations? You mean I’m not staying here?” Harry asked. St. Mungo’s wasn’t far from his mind. Maybe he could share afternoon tea with Professor Lockheart.

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to be cooped up in the hospital wing all summer. Professor Snape has agreed to keep you in his rooms for the summer.”

“What? Snape agreed. Not bloody likely!”

“Watch your language, Mr. Potter. Your other option is to go to a specialty hospital. Professor Snape has agreed to help you if you don’t want to leave Hogwarts. The choice is yours.”

Harry knew that he had little option.