When the feeling of being squeezed through a narrow tube stopped, Severus immediately checked on Potter. Even if the child wasn't injured seriously, he could have had a bad reaction to the new magic. The pulse he felt was steady, if a bit fast and the breathing was normal. Catching himself before he sighed in relief, the Potions Master took the brat up to the guest room. The next step would be to fire-call Poppy; for though Severus new enough healing magic to heal minor wounds, she was the true master in Healing.

Going to his study on the ground floor, he took a pinch of Floo powder. Tossing it into the roaring fire, he stuck his head in the resulting green flames shouting "Poppy's office, Hogwarts!" Severus gripped at the rug beneath his hands as his head spun about in the normal traveling fashion while leaving his body anchored. While it was a novel experience for those who hadn't done it before, the Potions Master hated Floo travel as a whole and communicating this way was even worse.

Biting back a wave of nausea, he called out "Poppy! Poppy, if you are for once not tied up with things, answer your fire at once!" Despite the harsh words, there was no true rancor in his voice. Just a sense of dire urgency that wasn't normal for the tactiturn man. Poppy Pomfrey, Healer of Hogwarts, came bustling into her office a few minutes after Severus called. Seeing her associate in the fire, she knelt in front of him while asking "What is it, Severus? Why the urgency?" Snape quickly explained the situation, and Poppy agreed to come immediately after collecting her medi-kit.

Pulling his head out of the fire, he removed the ward that prevented Hogwarts' staff from entering his home. A long three minutes later and the Floo flared green again. Out stepped the Matron, her eyes glinting her business steel. Severus beckoned to her, and they both climbed the stairs to where Harry lay sleeping on top of the covers. Poppy sucked in her breath at the state of the boy, but she quickly shed the feeling of horror. Now was not the time to be sentimental. Quickly and efficiently she removed the boy's clothes with her wand and began treating him. It only took twenty minutes, but for Severus they seemed to be an eternity. Finally Poppy came back downstairs where she had shooed the Potions Master.

"Well?" he asked, his black eyes unable to hide his concern for the boy he claimed he hated. Pomfrey sighed, and stated quite calmly "I treated his injuries. Oddly enough, I found that this incident for some reason caused Glamours I didn't know were in place to fall. On the boy's back are many scars from a whip. A few date to only a couple weeks ago, but the oldest date back to before he came to Hogwarts. It is strange that I would not know of these marks, for I did a complete scan the first time Mr. Potter was admitted to the Infirmary in first year. That he was able to hide them even at that age suggests very strong magic."

Severus remained silent, though inwardly he was amazed. The child had never seemed anything special, despite the damned prophecy made when he was a babe. Poppy proceeded to tell him that she had found scars on the boy's shoulders that did not come from a whip, but from a knife. The interesting thing about these scars were they weren't stab marks but rather as if someone had drawn the edge just hard enough to draw blood. The Potions Master cursed vehemently, at least mentally. That Potter had scars like those suggested that they had been self-inflicted.

As Poppy left, she told Severus "Keep an eye on him, Severus. There's no knowing what the child will do now. Also, I suggest you put a basin near him, as he is likely to suffer from a hang-over after consuming as much alcohol as he did." With that she took her leave, returning to Hogwarts to catch up on some paper work. She left a nicely puzzled Snape behind her.

He paced his study quietly, trying to think. All in all the signs were not good. Dursley had a lot to answer for, but the one who Severus truly wished to question was Albus. More then anyone, Sev knew that the Headmaster had ways to keep tabs on all his students. Especially one as important as Potter. Merlin help them, but the boy was supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world. Some savior he'd make if his mind was infected with madness, or worse the child totally turned his back on the Light and opted to become a Dark tyrant in his own right. If what Poppy said was true, then Harry had enough magic to displace the Dark Lord and become a worse menace. That was the grimmest possible future, for then they would be fighting one who had managed to defeat the greatest evil wizard of the present day. They might not win that battle.

With these dark and dreary thoughts on his mind, Sev decided it might be best if he went to bed. But first he placed a basin near Potter, cast a cleaning charm on the boy, and summoned fresh night clothes onto his body. He then drew the sheet over Harry, for the Manor could become chilly during the night. It wasn't as if he cared for the child, it was just that he didn't wish to deal with a brat with a cold. Though his viewing Harry as a brat was quickly dissipating with the uncomfortable realization that the son of his rival had never been pampered in fourteen years.

***

Twelve hours later

It was slow, but Harry eventually drew out of the potion induced sleep. The first thing that he realized was he wasn't at Privet Drive, or the Infirmary in Hogwarts, for the bed he was laying on was much to comfortable for either place. The second was that he didn't ache nearly as much as he should if his last coherent memory had really happened. He quickly pulled his mind away from that, and opened his eyes. His glasses were off, but Harry could see blurry forms around the room. He was in what appeared to be a guest room.

Trying to sit up so he could reach his glasses, he instantly regretted his movement as his stomach heaved. Grabbing the basin that someone had thoughtfully placed by his elbow, the raven-headed child proceeded to spew the contents of his stomach in it. By the time he was finally done being sick, his head was pounding and his mouth tasted absolutely foul. The basin appeared to be self-cleaning however, for it was still empty thankfully. Reaching over to the nightstand, Harry grabbed his glasses and put them on. He saw that someone had put out a glass of water. He gratefully drank the still cool liquid after rinsing out his mouth with it.

Once his mouth was free of the taste of sick, he looked around. The room seemed simple enough. There was a wardrobe against one wall, with a desk and chair next to it. On another was a bookshelf, filled top to bottom with books(titles which he couldn't see from this vantage point). There were two doors, one presumably leading out of the room. The other was open, and led to what was obviously a bathroom. At the foot of the bed his trunk was, and then of course there was the night table next to him. On it was, oddly enough, an electric lamp. Harry wondered at that, for if the basin was anything to go by, he was in a wizard/witch's house. Muggle items seemed rare in such places, or so he thought.

Shrugging, he got up to head for the bathroom. Though he was a bit stunned to realize that he was in night clothes, he took it in stride. After finishing his bathroom in the loo, Harry went over to the bookshelf, curious despite himself. On it, wizard books rubbed elbows with Muggle ones. One of the titles he recognized was Summer of the Monkeys. He had read that once, before Dudley had completely ruined his reputation at the school library. Pulling it from the shelf, he opened the cover. Written there was the initials S.S. Why those initials seemed so familiar, Harry wasn't quite sure, but he figured it didn't matter. Going back to bed, he turned on the lamp and began to read.

Harry was half-way through the first chapter when the door to the hall opened. Having sharp ears, he heard the barest squeak from it. That was enough for him to make him jerk his head up. At least a minute passed before an astonishing sight greeted his emerald eyes. Professor Snape walked in, dressed not in his usual black robes but in casual Muggle clothes. No wonder the initials seemed so familiar thought Harry while he cursed himself for not figuring it out sooner. But who would've guessed that Snape would own Muggle books? For this was undoubtedly his house.

Severus smirked briefly at the shocked look on the boy's face. Then he saw the book in Potter's hands. Instead of getting angry, as one might expect him to, he decided a bit of humor was in order. Putting on a stern face, he crossed his arms over his chest. He then stated in an emotionless voice "Enjoying ourselves are we?" The reaction wasn't one he hoped for, as the boy's brilliant green eyes seemed to shutter over.

At the words Snape said, Harry felt a pang of fear and anger course through him. Maybe he had only imagined the concerned look that the man had given him during the rescue. Either way, he had been about to consider softening his attitude towards the man. Instead, he drew back into himself while snapping angrily "And what's it to you if I am...sir?" Despite the fact that Snape had never physically hurt him, the anger that briefly crossed the man's face at the blatant disrespect had Harry shuddering mentally. He only then realized that he probably should have stayed silent, for now he was in deep trouble.