When Harry slowly became aware that he was sleeping no longer, his sluggish thoughts took a good minute or two to recognize what had broken his sleep. His scar. The sharp, yet subtle burning had sliced through his slumber, his subconscious mind instantly recognizing the danger it foretold. Even so, it took him a moment to completely drag his mind from sleep enough to think clearly. Something was in his room....he could sense a presence like a dark shadow inside his mind.
He waited in silence, eyes held shut in feigned sleep. No sound shattered the silence, not even the slightest whisper of a breath beyond his own. Straining his ears, he realized the wind had stopped at some time in the night, leaving all in perfect, death-like quiet. Then he heard the first sound, a soft click like that of metal on stone. Instantly his muscles stiffened, and even beneath the heavy blankets it felt as if his blood had run cold. A second click sounded, from somewhere toward the end of the bed. Unconsciously, his breath quickened, and he had to make a conscious effort to slow it. What if it was Voldemort? He thought, battling rising panic. What if he'd found some hapless creature to possess, and had decided to waste no time in exacting his revenge? Another sound broke through his thoughts, like that of a sharp blade grating on wood. The bedpost....Harry finally cracked open an eye when he heard the sound a second time, and his breath stopped short.
At first he couldn't discern anything from the pitch darkness, for the moon had long since set beyond the trees. But then he'd flicked his eyes a tad to the left, and he found the source of his terror. About two feet above the end of the bed, a pair of eyes seemed to float in the darkness. The angry, orange fire that flickered within them was so strong that it cast aside the shadows obscuring its face. Scales like that of a reptile encased a short snout, ending in a mouth eternally fixed in a hungry, fang-laced smile. The eyes drew closer, first flowing upward and then forward as the monster's body slid gracefully up and over the edge of the bed. It was almost like a spirit made flesh, in the way it seemed to drift ghost-like through the dark, nothing but twin fires reflecting a demonic face. Sleep had long since vanished from Harry's thoughts, and now his mind raced for a plan of escape.
His wand was across the room, he realized, as something sharp settled quietly next to his ankle. He'd lain it on the bookshelf by the door, and the creature was right /there/. There was nothing within reach to fight with, no lamps or books to stun it with. Only a second passed as he made up his mind then, there was no way he could protect himself without the wand.
Harry shot up in an instant, throwing the covers toward the end of the bed like a quilted net. Then he ran blindly in the dark, very aware of the angry snarl that sounded just to his left, then behind him. Something hard struck him in the knee, and he realized it was a wooden chair; he'd swerved a bit too far left. Limping slightly, he took off again, hands held out in front of him, flailing wildly for the bookshelf where his wand lay. Briefly, his finger touched a smooth, polished surface, and a sort of wild relief washed over him.
It was over in a second. Before his fumbling hands could locate the object of his salvation, something hard and sharp struck him from behind, the force of the collision sending him violently to the floor, narrowly avoiding a broken nose as his face connected soundly with stone. The creature clung solidly to his back, it's claws twisted through the torn material of his shirt. Pushing sharply up from the floor, Harry tried to free himself of either the creature or the shirt, but it sunk the claws in further, breaking skin and locking viciously into his flesh. Harry fell to his knees, struggling beneath the weight and claws of the creature as it climbed further up his back, digging in like a mountain climber scaling a cliff. For a moment, its grip loosened, and Harry could feel its cold breath draw away from his bared skin. Then pain shot through his shoulder as dozens of sharp, serrated fangs drove through cloth and flesh, and Harry finally screamed.
Severus Snape jerked violently up from the pillow, the familiar sound still sounding sharply in his ears. He'd recognize that sound anywhere; he heard it every night in his dreams. It was a human scream, sharp, pained, and laced with fear. But this was no dream, nothing he could simply shut from his thoughts, roll over and ignore. This was real, and Harry was in danger.
He was out of the bedroom in an instant, the door banging roughly against the wall behind. He'd grabbed his wand from beneath his pillow without even thinking about it, and its tip was ignited in false light before he'd made it even halfway across the main room. Even as his hand flung open the door to Harry's room, he was already whispering a spell to light the torches within. They flared vividly to life as a second bang of a door resounded, and the first thing he saw was the blood. His eyes were drawn to the crimson smeared on the stone like a moth to a flame, an assault of memories threatening to invade his thoughts. He growled darkly, shaking his head briefly to free it from the chains of the past. Eyes once again refocused on the present, he found the source of the scream. A streak of crimson was smeared across the floor in a ragged pattern, the trail left as the battle had torn across the room. Just to the right of the bed, Potter lay struggling valiantly with a creature unlike any Snape had ever seen. Neither combatant seemed to take the light or his presence to heed, and Snape paused in acting only long enough to whisper the words of a spell.
"Secerno secrevi secretum!" he said, wand aimed directly between the creature and Harry. The two were instantly struck as if by a massive wind, Harry flying back onto the bed behind him and the monster smashing wetly into the solid wall. It slid to the ground, leaving a crimson trail of its own on the gray stone before settling dazedly on its feet. Harry struggled to sit up on the bed, his eyes vainly trying to focus on the creature. The beast was preparing to pounce yet again, muscle cording beneath its mottled hide, and its eyes focused solely on Harry. Jaws clenched, it started to jump, but Snape was faster, his wand aimed the instant the creature had fallen.
"Avada Kedarva!" Snape hissed, his eyes cold and deadly as a snake's. After a brilliant flash of sickly green light, the creature fell to the ground with a loud thump, claws rattling against the stone as its eyes rolled back in its reptilian head. Dead. From his place on the bed, Harry stared at his professor in shock, eyes opened wide. Snape, however, wasted no time in shoving his wand down the side waistband of his pants and dashing to the bedside.
Harry was a mess. The boy grimaced in pain as he leaned forward from the edge of the bed, struggling to stand. The skin of his back was coated with deep gashes, the surrounding skin and cloth dyed crimson. His front was in a similar condition, with one particularly large gash running from temple to cheekbone on his face. The worst, however, was the bite wound at his shoulder. The flesh was badly torn, glistening wet and raw in the firelight.
"Professor...." Harry said weakly, struggling to focus his eyes on the figure standing just before him, but Snape interrupted him with a stern glare. He bent down toward the bed and scooped Harry up in his arms in one smooth motion.
"Later, Harry." he said, and turned to dash out the door with his charge. Harry blinked in surprise as he was carried out into the main room, held protectively against his teacher's chest. Had Snape just used his first name? He thought, and then, as they entered the dark hallway, his vision faded to black, and his thoughts succumbed to unconsciousness.
It was 4:30 in the morning when Madam Pomfrey received three of the worst shocks of her life. First there was the initial shock of her bedroom door slamming violently open, startling her so badly that she nearly fell out of bed. The second was the sight of a bare-footed Severus Snape standing in her doorway, dressed in his nightclothes of a long gray shirt and black pants. (Seeing him in anything but his black robes was shock enough) And the third shock was the sight of the badly wounded boy draped across his arms. It was none other than Harry Potter.
Once she'd lain eyes on the boy, she was instantly awake and in full nurse mode. She was out of bed in a second, automatically tucking her feet into the fuzzy pink slippers that sat by the bed.
"Into the hospital wing!" she commanded, and dashed after the Potions Master as he turned out the door. For obvious reasons, her rooms were only a door or two away from the hospital wing, and it seemed as if they hadn't moved at all before they stood in the now brightly lit rooms, with Madam Pomfrey sprinting about for the necessary salves and wrappings. After Harry had been lain down on one of the hospital beds, Snape stood back quietly and watched the nurse go to work, fetching a basin and several rags that she placed on the bedside table. As she squeezed a rag out into the basin, she turned her gaze to watch the tall man that stood on the opposite side of the bed. Truth be told, she didn't like the man very much at all. Even when he'd ended up in her care for some reason or another, he'd always been bitter and rude, constantly glaring about the room as if daring anyone to approach. But now.....she wasn't sure what to make of it. His mouth was drawn tight, and his hair was still a tangled mess of lank curls, mussed by sleep. Blood was speckled across his shirt front and smeared thickly across one forearm, but he didn't appear to care. He was watching the boy with a dangerous twinkle in his eyes, but for some reason Madam Pomfrey didn't think Potter was the one the deadly gleam was meant for.
"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked calmly, not honestly expecting an answer, and was therefore startled when Snape's voice broke through the silence. Only his mouth moved as he answered, the rest of him was as still and quiet as if he'd been carved from stone.
"A monster... probably sent to kill him." he said in a very flat, low tone. He then blinked as if something had broken his pattern of thought. "If you'll pardon me, Poppy, there is something I must take care of. I'll be back before long." he said, then whirled and left quickly out the door, the soft sound of his footfalls sounding quietly from the hall. Sighing heavily, Madam Pomfrey turned back to her patient and resumed the task of washing away the blood.
"I swear, Mr. Harry Potter," she said tiredly, "You get in the strangest messes."
Harry squinted against the sharp light that invaded the darkness behind his eyelids. Disoriented, he reached out to the spot where his glasses usually lay, but his hand failed to find them. In fact, the bedside table wasn't even there. Surprised, he opened his eyes and gained a bright, blurry view of the hospital wing. Memory of the past night resurfaced; the monster in his bedroom, the fight, and finally Snape killing it with that sinister spell. Once he realized where he was, he reached over to the other side of the bed and found his glasses waiting on the hospital tray, along with his steaming breakfast. He sat up slowly, wincing slightly from the wounds on his back and shoulder that hadn't been completely healed. It was then that he finally noticed the silent figure seated nearby, his chin rested on his knuckles and elbows on his knees. It was Professor Snape, his expression blank as he watched Harry, black eyes twinkling in the bright morning light. He'd made no move to show he'd noticed Harry had woken up, but by the way his eyes were focused on him, just like a hawk's on its prey, left no doubt in Harry's mind that he had.
"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." Snape said dryly, and Harry nearly jumped. The man still hadn't moved, and Harry noticed for the first time how tired he looked, as if he'd been awake for far too long. Harry searched for a reply, but a sudden rush of words from further in the hospital stopped him short. Madam Pomfrey came rushing in a moment later, with Albus Dumbledore walking slowly behind.
"Ah, you're awake Harry. How are you doing?" Dumbledore asked, as Madam Pomfrey immediately took a hold of Harry's arm and began checking the bandages wrapping his shoulder. Professor Snape finally moved then, rising from the chair and turning to leave in one swift motion. He was up and out the door before another word could be said.
"Okay, Professor. Just pretty sore." Harry replied, his eyes watching the doorway where Snape had disappeared.
"Of course you're sore, Harry!" Madam Pomfrey said, still roughly wrapping and unwrapping bandages. "You were cut up pretty badly, and lost quite a bit of blood. You'll be pretty weak for the next couple of days." she said, then stood up from her work, stowing a spare roll of medical tape on the hospital tray.
"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey." Harry said, and she blushed slightly before taking the rest of the supplies and heading off to put them away. Harry turned to Dumbledore, who was still watching him with a slight smile.
"What was that thing, Professor Dumbledore?" he asked, absently toying with the extra-tight bandage that wrapped his wrist.
"Professor Snape said he'd never seen it's like before. After he brought you here last night, he took the carcass down to Hagrid. We're stopping by later to see if he's found out what it is." Dumbledore said, absently perusing the items on Harry's breakfast tray. After a moment he selected a piece of biscuit and chewed it thoughtfully.
"Can I come?" Harry asked, anxious to find out what it was for himself. Dumbledore paused, mouth twisted wry in thought.
"I suppose, if you feel up to it. And if Poppy's willing to let you out of her sight." he said, laughing lightly at the last. "Just get yourself some rest for now Harry, I'll send someone to fetch you when its time." he said and wandered toward the door.
"Thanks, Professor. I'd like to know what it is too." Harry said, and Dumbledore smiled lightly.
"Get some rest Harry. I'll see you later." he said, and disappeared out the door. After Dumbledore's figure disappeared from the doorway, Harry thought he saw a brief flash of something black from beside the door, but then shook his head when it disappeared. He was probably just imagining things, he thought, after all, why would Snape still be hanging around? Then a thought struck Harry, and he stared at the door with eyes widened.
'Snape saved my life........' he thought, '...again.'