Harry coughed out the dust that seemed insistent on making its way into his lungs and lifted his head blearily. His scar was burning so fiercely he almost couldn’t see.

Death Eaters.

Harry gasped in a breath, which only sent him into another coughing fit and scrambled to his feet, swaying. The sound of cold, high laughter filled his ears and he turned towards the sound, hand already reaching for his wand... which wasn’t there.

Voldemort stood before him, looking both familiar and completely different; the bright red eyes were the same and so was the drawn, white skin, but this version of Tom Riddle looked a lot more human. Thick, brown hair still grew from his head and his fingers were strong, no longer the thin, spider-like things Harry had last seen. With a jolt, Harry realised that this was how Voldemort must have looked when he tried to kill Harry the first time, and felt a surge of anger rush through him.

Voldemort stopped laughing and regarded Harry with arrogant amusement. “And so our little guest joins us for the evening. How shall we entertain him, my faithful?”

A low murmur of amusement ran around the circle, but Voldemort just kept staring at Harry, a cold smile etched on his face, head cocked slightly to one side. Harry didn’t dare take his eyes off the evil man, feeling like a mouse trapped in the gaze of a rattlesnake. One wrong move and he’d be dead.

I should have listened to Snape...

Voldemort idly twirled his wand between his fingers. “Welcome, young Potter. I am Lord Voldemort – welcome to my court.” He idly flicked one wrist as if to display the large ballroom that Harry had just realised they were standing in. “I wonder if you have heard of me in your time... Hmm, but no matter. My loyal followers have brought you here so that I may ask you a few questions.”

Harry felt himself shaking with temper. How dare this man – this murderer – even try to pretend that he was anything other than wicked? That he would simply put Harry back after he’d squeezed all the information he could from him? Harry’s only chance was to keep him talking... and look for an opening to escape, or to make him so angry that he made a mistake. With Death Eaters on all sides, he knew he stood a very slim chance of getting out of this alive but he had to try.

“Yeah, I know who you are, Tom!” he sneered with false bravado, even as his hands – which were hidden in his pockets – started to shake with fear. “And I don’t care much for you. I would never answer any question you gave me, even if was to ask the time of day!” Harry finished his sentence and clenched his jaw tight, praying that he’d be able to hide the fact that he was terrified from his antagonist. Towards the end of his speech, his voice had started quavering imperceptibly as Voldemort’s expression changed from surprise to masked anger.

“So,” Voldemort hissed, voice deceptively calm, “little Potter doesn’t want to play. You may grandstand all you like, but you will end up telling me that which I will in the end – they always do. Tell me, Potter, have you ever been on the receiving end of an Unforgivable?”

Harry clenched his jaw tighter – until his teeth hurt – but there was no way he was going to give Voldemort anything he wanted, not even for the satisfaction for telling him that Harry’d been under all three at his hand and had survived.

The Dark Lord’s smile became even crueller as he mistook Harry’s silence for ‘no’. “Well, then, let me introduce you, Harry.” He raised his wand and Harry braced himself. “Unless...” – he lowered it again – “unless you have something useful to tell me?”

“I have nothing to tell you, Voldemort!” Harry spat.

“Such a pity,” Voldemort sighed and raised his wand again, this time with intent, his features twisting into ugly shapes as he prepared to spit out a curse.

“Wait!” Harry gasped, panicking, the words tumbling over each other as they fought to get out. “Not honourable enough to give me my own wand? Don’t you know that only cowards attack unarmed...”

“Crucio.”

Painpainpainpainpain. World going dark. Screams around him. No light. Pain. His screams. Fearpainfear. Oh please God, let it stop. No more. I’mscared, I’mscared, I’mbreaking. Please stop.

The agony fell away and Harry came back to himself.

“Nothing to tell me, Harry?” a soft voice mocked.

Harry spat blood out of his mouth – must have bitten his tongue – and snarled, “Never, you bastard!” His voice was a hoarse replica of its former self.

“Such a pity,” the voice sighed again. “Crucio.”

Pain. Agony. White hot needles. Bone deep. Stabbing, twisting, breaking, hurting, hurting, hurting. Blackness going white. Dying, I’m dying, it hurts please stop no more. PAIN!

The world collapsed, at least what it felt like to Harry. It took him several minutes to realise that it had only been the cession of the curse and nothing more. His breath came in harsh pants, echoing through the loud silence. Every limb ached and twitched, as if his nerves were still trying to tell him to twist away from the source of the agony.

A mock-gentle hand stroked his hair and a fresh spike shot through his scar, causing him to moan and try to twist away despite his body being unable to obey.

“Poor Harry,” the soft voice crooned in his ear. “You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you? But it doesn’t have to be like this. Just tell me one little thing from the future and I’ll make it all better. You see this?” A quiet clink rang through the room as Voldemort set down a small phial of liquid in front of Harry’s half-open, gritty eyes. “For each one thing you tell me, you get a sip of this. After each sip, you’re pain will lessen and lessen until it fades away entirely. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it, Harry? A removal of pain for just a little bit of information? That’s not so bad at all.”

He’s right. It’s not as if any information I give him will be worth anything after two more days, and it hurts so much!

I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want any more Cruciatus to be cast on me. Information really is a little thing compared to more pain.

But...

A lot can happen in two days. Look at me. People can be captured, killed, tortured just because of something I say. If I give in now, there might not be a future to go back to. And besides, who’s to say that’s really a cure? It’s not like I could ever be able to trust him...

Harry drew a long, shuddery breath, and let it hiss out of his mouth in two syllables, “’uck. You.”

The hand stroking his forehead suddenly became harsh, fisting in his hair and slamming his head hard into the marble flooring. His glasses – which had been holding up valiantly until then – cracked and shattered.

“So be it,” the voice hissed, going high and cold. “Crucio!”

Pain.

“Crucio!”

Pain.

“Crucio!”

PAIN!

Harry was going mad. He was sure of it. Just like the Longbottoms. How much Cruciatus could one person take? He felt he had already passed breaking point long ago. So why could he still think? It was almost as if Voldemort wasn’t concentrating properly.

“Those you see around you are my inner circle, Potter,” the voice whispered. “They are the most faithful, most loyal, but I have just Summoned the rest of my followers to witness in your death. Someone like you should be made an example of so that it can be known no one can stand before Lord Voldemort, not even time travellers! Does it make you feel proud, Harry? That so many are coming to witness in you death? Almost like,” a soft laugh, “you’re famous.”

And isn’t that ironic? You’re crazy, Voldemort! I’m just a fifteen year old boy. I never wanted to be anyone special, all I wanted was for someone to love me, to care for me, like a mother... or a father...

“Crucio.”

Pain was back. Pain upon pain. Unending agony. Twisting, gripping, strangling, hurting. Enough, pleaseenoughnomore. Painpainpainpainpain. Light, dark, sparkling, twisting, dancing. Pretty light. Pain fading. Pull back, away from pain, hide me, hide deep, never come back...

“Stupefy!”

The pain stopped but Harry found he didn’t particularly care as he allowed his mind to drift deeper and deeper. Soon, nothing would be able to hurt him ever again.

“Harry!”

Wait, he knew that voice. He struggled not to lock himself away just yet and found it much harder than he expected.

A hand grabbed his upper arm tight and yanked him across the floor, sending spikes of agony rocketing through him, but this time the pain wasn’t so bad – was it? – because it meant that this was real.

“Harry, hold on.”

That voice again. Yells and flashes of light were going on around him and Harry just had to know what was going on. He struggled against the rushing tide of blackness that threatened to trap him in his own mind and tried to fight towards the sound of that voice. Something thin and cold slipped around his neck and he was pulled tight against a strong, warm body and then suddenly, everything was whirling, the world twisting away from under his body, until the only thing solid left was the person behind him, holding him tight.

It was too much. Harry gave up against the rush of the tide and allowed himself to topple into darkness.

With a sound between a groan and a gasp, Harry pulled himself back to consciousness and lay panting, weak as a kitten, scared to open his eyes in case he didn’t like where he’d washed up.

Gradually he became aware of steady breathing filling the air around him and the strong smell of antiseptic. All of his limbs hurt terribly, right down to the bone, though not quite as bad as it had before. His stomach was twisted in a knot as if he was going to throw up and his head was fuzzy and throbbing, making him sure that even the slightest bit of light making its way into it would cause him to lose consciousness again from the pain.

In short, he felt awfulawfulawful, but would live.

Deciding to risk unconsciousness, Harry slitted one eye open the barest crack. The room around him was blissfully dark, but he couldn’t quite remember the reason why he felt like he wasn’t alone in the room.

Then he remembered the person breathing nearby and, achingly slowly, turned his head to the side.

Professor Snape lay in the chair beside him, fast asleep, and looking as drawn as Harry felt. One of his hands was placed on the bed beside Harry, almost as if the Professor had been holding his hand earlier, but had slipped away when he too surrendered to sleep.

Looking at Snape, Harry felt a wave of relief crash over him. It was real. It hadn’t been a dream. Just as Harry had been ready to slip away into fragile insanity, Professor Snape had come and rescued him, exactly as Harry had prayed he would in the secrecy of his deepest thoughts. And now he felt so safe, knowing that the Professor wouldn’t let anything harm him. Not here. Not now.

Straining his fingers to reach over the blanket, Harry managed to touch Snape’s hand in silent thanks.

Snape immediately gave a silent gasp and bolted upright, eyes flickering through the room to try and pick out any possible danger. Eventually his gaze fell on the bed – and Harry’s slitted eyes – and he stood up abruptly, his hand slipping away from Harry’s as he did so.

“Harry,” he murmured, leaning over the bed. “I am going to give you a potion that will take away some of your pain, but you will need to co-operate with me and swallow when it reaches the back of your throat. Understood?”

Harry tried to speak, but managed nothing more than a gargled whimper, which Snape took for assent.

Snape slowly eased Harry into a more upright position, ignoring his pained whimpers and moans in favour of leaning Harry against him, so the man could tip Harry’s head back.

“Foolish boy!” Snape muttered, his deep voice soothing rather than grating as he gently helped Harry swallow down the dark liquid of the nerve pacifier. “Did I not warn you to be careful? Did I not tell you the Dark Lord was after us both? But no, you had to storm off in a snit and get yourself captured and brought before the Dark Lord himself. What am I going to do with you, foolish child? That’s it, swallow now, that’s it. It will start to work in just a few minutes and then you can start telling me why you did such a stupid thing as to let your guard down, yes?”

Harry felt another slight tremor of pain and whimpered again as it taxed his already over-fried nerves.

“Hush, now. Relax. It will hurt at first, but then the pain will fade. Hush, you stupid child.”

Snape’s voice was still soft and wonderfully lulling, and Harry found himself drifting, listening more to the inflection of it than to what was actually being said. A gentle hand was stirring the very tips of his hair, but Harry felt in nonetheless, and he allowed himself to drowse, halfway between sleeping and waking as the potion did its work.

“S... sorry,” he managed weakly, after the potion finally reduced the pain he was feeling to normal levels. “S... stupid.”

“Hush. Drink this. It is for your overstretched muscles.”

Another potion was held up to his mouth –this one a dirty yellow – but Harry whined and tried to twist away, feeling extremely childish but unable to help it.

“Enough of this.”

Harry felt his head being gently tipped back once more and tried to fight it, eventually giving in as the liquid started to slip down his throat.

“You have been extremely ill. How will you recover in time to say goodbye to your parents while they still remember you if you don’t drink your medicine, hmm? Don’t be silly now.”

“’s... Pr’f’ss’r.”

“Good. Now go back to sleep.”

“’s...”

The next time Harry awoke, he was feeling much more with it, even a little hungry. Groaning, his hands shaking from the remaining nerve damage, he scrabbled for his glasses on the side table, only able to locate them when someone pushed them into his hand.

“Huh?”

Someone’s shaky fingers smoothed over his scar and pushed his fringe out of his eyes. Harry opened his eyes, squinting through the darkness. There seemed to be a lot of people around his bed. At least, their blurred shapes looked like people. He slipped his repaired glasses on and blinked in surprise as the room snapped into focus.

“Oh, Harry!” Lily leaned in and finished off pushing his fringe off his face. “When we heard you’d been captured– that you’d been hurt–” With a sob, she broke off and gently pulled Harry into a hug. His skin protested as it was touched, but he leaned into the embrace all the same, after all, it was the first – and probably the last – time that he could remember his mother comforting him.

“Evil bastard.”

He turned his head slightly, which still felt sore and stuffy, and caught sight of James and the other Marauders sitting on the other side of the bed, all looking quite pale.

“Hey.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, but more easily than i had before. Which reminded him... “Where’s... Snape?”

“Sev didn’t come, but he was worried about you too... even though he wouldn’t admit it,” Lily said, drawing back and smiling.

“Tell him... thanks,” Harry said, smiling slightly. “But, I meant...”

“He means Snape from his time,” James muttered, sounding slightly disapproving, but resigned all the same. “He went to brew more potions for you and allowed us to watch over you instead – on pain of excruciating agony if we let you overstrain yourself. So no marathons just yet, OK?”

“’Kay. What time, well, what day is it?”

“Thursday afternoon – only a few more hours until Dumbledore’s spell starts to work,” Lupin piped up. “We were beginning to wonder if we’d be able to say goodbye.”

A knot settled in Harry’s stomach. He’d almost lost them without a proper farewell for the second time and it was such a relief to know that he hadn’t missed out that he couldn’t speak for a moment.

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered. “I’m going to miss you so much when I go.”

James made as if to punch him on the shoulder, but reconsidered at the last moment. “You’ll see us on the other side, yeah? We’ll be waiting for you.”

James’s words almost clogged up Harry’s throat again as the second meaning of those words – the one James hadn’t meant, but that was true all the same – hit Harry between the eyes. He managed to remain in control of himself to choke out, “Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.”

“It’s been great, Harry!” Sirius added in, his huge grin infectious. “I’ll always be sure to remember the Fantastic Food Fight! Don’t forget to show me the photo of you nailing Snape with the cake when you get back.”

Harry snorted in remembrance. “I won’t, I promise. But in the mean time, you all have to promise to get V... You-Know-Who back for me since I can’t, OK? And don’t get caught!”

A round of laughter came from the Marauders’ side of the room, while Lily just rolled her eyes and muttered, “Boys!” sounding so much like Hermione that Harry had to give a soft, wheezing laugh too.

“Listen,” James said, turning earnest again, “Snape’ll be back soon. So... bye, Harry. This week has just been the best! Stay safe, Windhover.”

“Great to know you, Prongslet,” Sirius said, his grin now tempered with a bit of sadness as he ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’ll prank that bastard of a Dark Lord so badly he won’t know what hit him!”

“If Dumbledore’s spell lets you remember to,” Harry said softly.

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. “That old spell only affects memory – not emotions. And I most certainly hate that son of a bitch enough now to give him a good taste of the Marauder temper!”

Lupin stepped forward and gently rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I’ll make sure they those two idiots keep their heads while doing it.”

Harry grinned. “Thanks, Moony. P- Peter?” he asked, suddenly feeling the full conflict of his emotions concerning the small, chubby boy and the man he would become – hate warring with sympathy, warring with concern, warring with disgust. “I need you to help Remus with looking after these two – keep them out of too much trouble and don’t let them forget that while they’re talented, it doesn’t mean that they’re invulnerable. Can you do that for me? Remind them to be cautious?”

Harry smiled as he watched the short boy nodding eagerly. He knew it wouldn’t make any difference, but he felt better saying it and maybe, maybe someday in the future, Wormtail would remember that he had once had honour... and true loyalty.

“Bye, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” he added, starting to smirk. “Mischief managed.”

Another laugh sounded out through the small, hospital bedroom and he found himself on the receiving end of many gentle pats, hugs, and hair ruffling. He was quite certain that he saw the flash of a camera go off at some point. Laughing himself, he weakly fought free and waved as Lupin, Sirius and Pettigrew walked out through the door, Sirius only pausing to drop another small stack of photos on his bedside table.

“Harry,” James said seriously once only he and Lily remained behind, “we know that Voldemort destroyed your wand...”

James’s words hit Harry like a kick in the gut and he didn’t hear anything much past that; his ears were filled with a dull roaring.

My wand? But what about the twin phoenix cores? The Prioi Incantatum? How am I supposed to stand against Voldemort now? How can I...?

His panic was interrupted as he realised that James was holding out two wands to him. One was a similar dark colour to Harry’s lost one, while the other one had a paler, light colour and was slightly shorter.

“What...?”

“They’re mine and Lily’s,” James said, shifting uncomfortably. “Whichever one is the best fit for you, you can keep. No,” he said as Harry opened his mouth to protest. “Losing your first ‘chosen’ wand can be a huge blow to your magic for quite a while afterwards... unless a close family relative gives up one of theirs. And from the way Snape was talking, it looks like you need a compatible wand more than either of us.”

“But...”

“Harry,” Lily said softly. “Pick one. We really don’t mind.”

“I... OK.” Harry picked up the paler wand and gave it a quick swish. Pale silver sparks shot out of the end, though it was nowhere near as strong a reaction as he had had to his own wand. He felt another pang of loss that he would never hold that familiar holly ever again. Sighing, he picked up the darker one and felt an immediate zing of power shoot up his arm. Holding his breath, he waved the wand and watched as a bright shower of golden sparks lit up the room.

“Excellent! That’s mahogany and phoenix feather, by the way. Eleven inches,” James enthused, picking up the paler wand and handing it back to Lily. “I’ll be able to get Uncle Walter’s spare wand off him at last. That one’s always worked best for me anyway.”

Harry glanced down at James’s – no, his – wand in his hand and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He’d been secretly hoping that Lily’s wand would have been more compatible; after all, he had so few things of his mother’s – just a few photos and an unwilling older sister, who’d been killed several months earlier anyway. He sighed softly.

Never mind.

“Harry,” Lily whispered, seeming to correctly read his mood, “I wanted to give this to you, regardless of whether you got my wand or not.” She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out the crucifix Harry had noticed her wearing earlier. It was very simple – just two bars of silver crossing over each other – but Harry could tell it had been much loved.

“I... I can’t accept that,” he whispered uncertainly.

“Of course you can. Here.” She quickly looped it around his neck and smiled softly. “You look after it for me so it can look after you.”

“Thank you.” His throat felt very tight once more and Harry briefly wondered if it was a side effect of the potions he’d taken.

“So... umm, Harry.”

Harry turned back to James, slightly taken aback by the uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Yeah, umm...” James suddenly moved forward again and pulled Harry into a sideways hug. “Bye, Harry. I feel like I should say something fatherly now... but I’ve no idea what.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry mumbled, voice shaking a little as he hugged him back tightly. “Bye, James.”

Harry’s sore muscles protested as James let him go. The other boy nodded once and walked hurriedly from the room, his head bowed.

“You know...” Lily said softly, “he may not be so bad after all.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered, discreetly making sure that neither of his eyes had betrayed him. “Not so bad.”

Lily hesitated for a moment. “Snape was telling the truth, wasn’t he?”

“What truth?” Harry blinked up at her in confusion from under his messy hair.

Lily regarded him steadily. “About James and I not living past twenty one.”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly,” Harry said hurriedly, glancing away from her.

“Harry, I’m not daft. When you look at me and James sometimes... you look almost desperate. Like if you blink, you’ll miss something important. You can tell me. I won’t even remember after another few hours anyway. You can tell me, Harry.”

“Yes,” Harry rasped, feeling both terribly guilty for being so selfish for needing to tell, and at the same time relieved that he could finally tell. “You both d-die defending me from Voldemort. That’s where I got this scar” – he reached up to touch his forehead, still not looking at her – “where he tried to cast the Killing Curse but my mother’s love – your love – protected me. And then I had to go and live at Aunt Petunia’s and she really didn’t like me, and made me do loads of chores and made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs–” Harry bit his lip hard to break off the flow of words that didn’t seem to want to stop on their own.

A soft sob came from his side, then another and another. Harry looked up to see tears running down Lily’s face.

“Lily... I, I’m so sorry... I shouldn’t have said anything... I–”

“Shh,” Lily whispered through her sobs. “I’m not c-crying for me Harry, I’m... I’m crying for you. I’m so sorry. Can you... can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”

Harry swallowed hard. “I... ’Course I have. I know you didn’t want to...”

He was suddenly cut off by Lily pulling him into a tight hug. His body protested mightily at yet more of the rough treatment, but he didn’t try to pull free, instead putting his arms around her, closing his eyes and hugging her back, suddenly realising that it felt like he’d been hugged more in the last fifteen minutes than he had in his entire life.

“Really now. I leave for a mere half hour and this is what I return to find?” a familiar, sneering voice asked from the doorway.

Laughing, Lily pulled back and scrubbed the tears from her eyes. “Well, Sev, you know me – always emotional. Bye, Harry,” she added softly. “I know we’ll see each other again in heaven, but make sure Sev looks after you for me in the mean time. You hear that, Sev?” she called over her shoulder. “You take care of my son for me.”

And then she was gone, just like the others.

Harry looked up at Snape, flushing slightly as he wondering if his eyes were red. They shouldn’t be; he hadn’t cried at all. Not really.

Luckily, Snape decided not to comment, instead striding forward and handing him a phial filled with murky liquid. “Drink this. It should deal with most of your lingering symptoms and give you enough strength to walk up to the Headmaster’s office. You won’t be able to fully get your co-ordination back for a further two weeks, but you will be able to function.”

“Thanks,” Harry muttered, pinching his nose as he downed the vile substance. “Ugh. Ugh! That tastes horrible.”

Snape wordlessly handed him the water jug and Harry managed to down two full glasses before his mouth felt relatively normal again. His aches and pains, though, had thankfully faded away to almost nothing.

Snape pulled a stack of photos out of his pocket and placed them next to the pile already on the side table. “I collected these from your dormitory.” Then, most uncharacteristically, he hesitated. “Have you any questions you wished to ask me?” he asked, sneer evidently covering up some kind of discomfort.

“Well...” Harry cautiously put the water glass down. “I was wondering how you knew where I was – how you managed to rescue me. I was so certain I was going to die.”

“I am well aware of that!” Snape snapped. “You’d almost completely retreated into your own mind by the time I’d reached you. Had you succeeded, you would have earned yourself a bed next to Longbottom’s parents in St Mungo’s!”

Harry winced and ducked his head. “Sorry.”

He heard Snape sigh above him. “It was not your fault. I am... proud” – Snape twisted the word out as if it was something nasty – “that you held up as well as you did.”

Harry’s head snapped up in astonishment. “You-!” He clicked his jaw shut as he realised that commenting would only result in encouraging insults from the man. “Well... err, I mean, what happened, though?”

Snape gave him a fierce look, before relenting and settling down in the chair beside the bed. “It would appear that the Dark Mark” – Snape’s left arm twitched as he spoke – “reacts to the call of its Master regardless of what time it is in. I had already guessed that the Dark Lord had spirited you away, so all I had to do was follow the Call and, once I had located you, use my emergency Portkey to take us directly to the Hospital Wing.” Snape glanced at Harry through narrowed eyes. “I... regret... that I was unable to retrieve your wand.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to squirm. “I... um... that’s OK. James gave me his. I mean, I’ll miss it loads, but I’ve got his now.” He held up the mahogany wand for Snape’s inspection, still feeling the hum of power under his fingers that meant the wand had chosen him.

Snape sneered at it, but conceded with a nod, his expression slipping into quickly-masked shock as he also noticed the thin, metal cross hanging around Harry’s neck. “That... Lily lost that in our fifth year. She’d had it since she was six and she lost it...”

“I didn’t want to take it,” Harry explained quickly. “But she insisted.”

“Hmm.” Snape’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “Then you had better take care of it.”

“I will,” Harry said hastily. “Are we... when we go to Dumbledore’s office, will we be going home then?”

“That remains to be seen.” The man’s expression softened a little. “I may have been too hasty to dismiss the Headmaster’s idea earlier, especially as the deadline for most people’s memories of this incident will expire within mere hours instead of days...” Snape trailed off and regarded Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Remembering his previous temper tantrum, Harry flushed and shifted a little. “I... think I’ve changed my mind,” he rushed out before he could lose his nerve. “I mean, the main reason I would be staying here would be to get to know my parents better, but that’s stupid, right? It would only hurt so much more once I lost them again – I’m not stupid enough to think I can change the past. And you were right – back home I have people who are able to protect me so much better than anyone here... So... can I come with you?”

Snape gave a wry smirk. “I do believe you are growing up.” He stood in one fluid gesture and beckoned Harry. “Come. We need to leave as soon as possible. I daresay your friends are extremely worried about you as it is.”

“But...” Harry scrambled out of bed, surprised to find himself fully clothed following a flick from Snape’s wand. His legs bowed as they almost forget to bear his weight, but Snape’s quick intervention of grabbing his arm saved him from landing in an undignified heap in the floor.

“Careful, foolish child,” the man hissed in exasperation, using both hands to help steady him. “Only you could forget that you have been deathly ill for the past couple of days. Here.” Snape picked the photos up from the night table and shoved them into Harry’s hands. “Do not forget them.”

“But, I don’t understand!” Harry gasped out, juggling the photographs so he didn’t drop one. “Surely the potion will take us back to the exact time we left, so they won’t have missed us at all.”

“On the contrary...” Snape’s lips twisted into a sneer as he admitted, “Magic is more complicated than that – I did not have enough time to adapt the potion for that purpose, so instead, we shall arrive back precisely a week after we left. That will have given everyone more than sufficient time to ponder our fate, well, your fate” – a corner of Snape’s mouth curled up as if he were amused by something – “I doubt anyone will care about what has happened to me.”

Snape gently tugged Harry out of the room, keeping a firm grip on Harry’s elbow and making sure he stayed steady, not even giving time for Harry to absorb the latest bombshell he had dropped. Harry tried to pull free several times on the long walk – after all, he wasn’t a child anymore – but Snape refused to let go. Eventually, he gave up, instead resigning himself to be carefully pulled through the hallways towards the Headmaster’s office. And besides, it was rather nice to be taken care of... not that he would admit that.

Snape’s face soured as he neared the gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase, acidly snapping out “Jumping Gumdrops!” as if the sweets had mortally offended him. Which, considering the many varying talents of sweets in the Wizarding World, was indeed most likely the case.

Tired out already by the journey from the Hospital Wing up many flights of stairs, Harry didn’t bother to comment, only following where Snape led him, limbs aching and filled with the dull hope that he might be ‘home’ soon. Snape rapped on the Headmaster’s door, barely waiting for the cheerful “Enter!” before pushing the door open.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, idly fiddling with one of his many instruments. As Harry and Snape walked through the door, he glanced up and smiled sadly. “I take you will not be accepting my offer then, Harry?”

Harry gave a quick shake of his head. “’Fraid not, sir.”

“Ah, well.” Dumbledore waved a nonchalant hand. “These things happen. But I must say I am simply glad to see you well and back on your feet.” His infamous twinkle sparkling in his eyes, Dumbledore stood to his feet and pulled two phials of liquid out of his pocket. “I kept them safe just as you asked, Severus. May I wish you both a pleasant... journey.”

Snape simply nodded, but Harry only managed a weak smile as his strength began to wane once more, his mind blanking out the rest of the conversation as his vision blurred a little.

I hope we don’t have to wait much longer... all I want to do is to go back to bed.

A glass tube was shoved into his hands and he was told to ‘Drink,’ so he did. The world dissolved around him, leaving him gasping and clinging to the only solid thing that seemed to be travelling with him through this endless void.

His feet hit the floor and suddenly the air was filled with screams. The person he was holding onto was wrenched away as someone else grabbed him into a rib-cracking hug, screaming “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” into his ear.

He managed to shakily wrap his arms around the person holding him. “Hi, H’rmione,” he murmured. “Missed you.”

Then he blacked out.