Snape leaned close to the door, hearing some sort of heated discussion taking place. Looking around, he scowled at the lack of windows that would let him see the area he wished. Quickly making a decision, Snape strode around the house, intending to go through the kitchen door, making sure that the delicate cloak was still doing it's job.

Just before he reached the door though, a sudden noise inside the garden shed rang out. The noise was immense, as though a suspended container full of pipes had fallen from the ceiling.

Snape wasted no time, dashing toward the small unit, hoping that the remoteness of the possibility that Harry was inside was in his favour. Just as Snape reached the door, hearing a panicky murmuring from inside, the kitchen door flew open, illuminating the back yard and shed.

Turning abruptly, Snape saw Vernon standing just out the door, looking absolutely apocalyptic.

“BOY!!” he shouted, striding purposefully towards the shed, his hands balled into fists of rage and his face purple. “GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT!!!!!”

Snape was surprised to say the least, but his concern spiked to new heights and he drew out his wand, as the sliding door squeaked open, revealing a trembling boy that Snape found he could barely recognise.

“POTTER?!!!” Snape thought, feeling his eyes widen as the boy stepped into the backyard. Whatever Snape had planned to see when he'd arrived there, this most certainly was NOT it.

Potter was littered with welts and bruising of three different shades, and he was sure that he could see patches of blood on the rags he had the gall to call clothes. The night was cool, and Harry only had a t-shirt five times too big for him, a threadbare pair of trousers, and no shoes. Snape could hear his teeth chattering from where he stood.

Vernon roughly shoved Harry to one side, nearly sending the boy tumbling to the ground, and stood in the sheds doorway; seemingly frozen. Slowly, he turned back to Harry, making the boy shake even more violently.

“So,” Vernon began, deathly quiet. “Didn't like your new accommodations, did you? Hmm? You should at least be grateful that I didn't throw you back into your old cupboard while Mr Phillips was here. At least “he” appreciated our generosity.”

Snape could only stare as Vernon spoke so calmly, yet threateningly at the same time. He barely even noticed that Harry had frozen in terror, until he let out a small cry as his uncle struck at him.

So acute was Snape's shock, that all he did was stare, as Vernon first backhanded Harry, sending him into the wall of the shed, then hurling another crushing blow to his midsection, making the boy double over in pain.

As Harry sank to his knees, clutching his stomach and coughing, Snape came to his senses, brandishing his wand, feeling a surge of anger towards this Muggle almost completely take over his mind. Just as Vernon directed a kick to Harry's stomach, Snape discarded Harry's invisibility cloak, tossing it off to the side as Vernon whirled around to face the intruder.

“Touch that boy again, and you'll wish you never set a hand on him,” Snape snarled, putting as much venom into the soft spoken words as he could muster.

“Who the bloody hell are you?!” Vernon demanded, not even noticing Harry struggling to regain his regular breathing. “Get off of my property! This is none of your business …… Freak!” he added viciously, spotting the wand that was pointed at him.

“On the contrary, Mr Dursley,” Snape countered silkily, sparing a second to glance at a still winded Harry, who was thankfully starting to stand up again. “It is very much my business. I've been sent here to determine Potter's living conditions, and find them not quite up to standard. He is leaving with me, right now. Am I understood?”

Vernon's eyes narrowed dangerously, as he edged cautiously towards the shed, slowly reaching just inside the door and grasping something as he replied, “This boy isn't going anywhere. I read that letter that arrived here! The Freak ends up killing whoever he associates with — ”

“None of that was his fault,” Snape cut in sharply, seeing Harry wince in the corner of his eye at the mention of the disastrous ending of the previous term. “Potter didn't get anyone killed, Dursley,” he snarled, not seeing the flicker in Vernon's eye as he firmly grasped what he'd been groping for. “You are not this boy's judge, jury and executioner, and you no longer have any say on what is to be done with him. Potter,” Snape barked, making the weary boy startle slightly. “We're leaving. Where are your school things?”

At this, Harry's eyes grew sad and he eyed a patch of what seemed to be burnt grass.

“I see,” Snape nodded, sending Vernon a glare that could melt stone, as Harry limped to his side. “Not to worry, Potter … they can be replaced. I've already retrieved some items from your room, so we can leave now, if you wish?”

Harry paused for a moment, before nodding quickly and turning away, following Snape back towards the house. A light clicking sound brought both Wizards to a stop, turning around as Vernon spoke vehemently.

“I told you he wasn't going anywhere,” he said, staring down the length of the rifle at them. “And seeing how you're the only one who knows of his punishments, than I suppose you'll do just fine…”

The barrel swung around to Snape, who was too shocked to even move, and held steady for a moment, before a deafening thunder rocked the night.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. The first thing Snape recalled feeling was a profound sense of disbelief. After all his years as a spy, cheating death around every corner, and here he was facing his demise at the hands of a Muggle.

In slow motion, Snape watched as a spark ignited, making the nose of the barrel flare with flame as the rifle kicked into Vernon's shoulder in recoil. He heard a high whistle, as the hot lead sped toward him, and tensed in resigned preparation for it's impact …… when suddenly a panicked cry rang out and a body was flung into the bullets path.

Time righted itself, and Snape only just managed to fling his arms around Harry's middle, as the force of the impact sent the boy reeling backwards, colliding with the shell-shocked Potion's Master. Dazed beyond thinking, Snape found himself automatically cradling the boy in his arms, as he slowly lowered him to the ground, unable to tear his eyes from the Emerald gaze, clouded in pain.

He felt warmth surrounding his hands and forced himself to look down, feeling the daze vanish as he saw a crimson stream flowing steadily from the boy's shoulder, covering his hands as he held the shaking child to him.

“Serves him right, the murderer,” Vernon's gruff voice growled, breaking the strange moment between Snape and Harry.

At the comment, Snape saw red. How could the boy's own Uncle be so indifferent about possibly killing his only nephew? If it weren't for the fact he was a Muggle, Snape would have sworn Vernon was a Deatheater.

“One less freak to deal with,” Vernon added smugly, before looking at Snape and facing the barrel of his rifle at his chest once more. “Soon to be two…”

Snape's mind went into overdrive, planning an escape in the amount of time it took for Vernon to swivel his aim. Quick as a flash, Snape drew his wand, trying to ignore the slickness on his hands as he felt the shaft of wood slide minutely in his grasp. Pointing it at Harry's cloak, he yelled “Accio!” catching it with the same hand, just as he put as much energy as he dared into Apperating with Harry.

Just as the scenery faded and vanished, the last thing Snape heard over Harry's laboured breathing was a gunshot.

They were surrounded by a myriad of colour for a split second, as they both travelled from one spot to another, when as suddenly as it started, it was over. The echo of the gunshot directed at him was still audible in the still night air, as Severus gently lay a barely conscious Harry on the cool ground.

Knowing he had to hurry, as they were now beyond the wards and protection of the house, Snape spared a moment to check over the boy's health.

Harry's skin was pale and clammy, and although he was trembling slightly, he was burning up with fever. The gunshot on his shoulder was still bleeding freely, and Snape could tell that it needed attention immediately. During the quick once over, Snape spotted several rather severe bruising and welts. He was about to take a closer look, when Harry suddenly erupted in a coughing fit, leaving him exhausted and his breathing even weaker. Deciding he'd wasted enough time, Snap quickly gathered all his hidden belongings, placing them with Harry's and shrank them. Gently, he picked Harry off the ground and cradled him, before concentrating intently and apperating, back to Hogsmeade.

Snape looked around quickly when he arrived at the small village, thanking Merlin that the streets were empty. A painfully weak gasp from the boy in his arms made Snape's mind snap back on track, making him walk briskly towards the castle in an effort not to jostle him too much. Although mindful of the boy's comfort level, Snape also knew that time was of the essence, especially with that shoulder wound still expelling the life of the near sixteen year old.

Snape looked down at the raven head resting on his shoulder. Fifteen? It was hard to imagine him being that age, seeing how small and light he was.

“A fine way to celebrate your birthday, tomorrow, Potter,” he muttered; though his voice lacked the venom it would normally hold. “No thanks to me…” he added, barely above a whisper.

Snape knew he should be feeling immense gratitude for what Harry had done for him, but all he could come up with was a profound sense of confusion, bordering on resentment. What could possibly have possessed the boy, for him to go and do something so foolish? So stupid? So … Gryffindor? With all the effort they'd gone to, to make sure he doesn't get killed, and he goes and tries it voluntarily!

Snape's anger at the situation had pushed all thoughts of thanks or sympathy from his mind, leaving only an urge to bite the boy's head of by the time he reached the front doors to Hogwarts. Little did he know, that that alone could do more damage than anything had previously…

“POPPY!!” Snape yelled as he burst into the Hospital Wing, gently setting an unconscious Harry on one of the beds. “POPPY, GET OUT HERE NOW!!”

Madame Pomfrey stuck her head out of her office (which doubled as her bedroom), still wearing her nightcap, looking at Severus with bleary eyes and a confused expression.

“Severus? What on earth — ”

“Just shut the bloody hell up and get over here!” Snape cut her off sharply, before turning back to the figure on the bed. “Mr Potter requires your assistance…”