“Now where’s Potter?” The woman paled, with the look of someone who had just realized she forgot something of vital importance; she gulped nervously and refused to look at him. “Do I have to repeat myself? Where’s the boy?” he demanded, his voice cold as ice.

Shaking a little the woman finally pointed to the locked cupboard under the stairs. Potter was in there? Severus’ stomach sunk, the boy he saw had been him, and Potter had not looked well. The Potions Master wondered for an instant, how had the boy managed to hide what went on at his home? From the pieces of the puzzle he had completed, the only conclusion he could draw was that the abuse was not a recent development. Snape then pushed those thoughts aside; it was not the time to dwell on them. He would get his answers later, once he was able to talk to Potter. That is, if the boy wanted to talk about it at all. From experience, he knew few children in his position did, at least in the beginning. As he walked to the cupboard with the intention of getting the Gryffindor out, the huge fat boy came in complaining and whining that he was hungry, and demanded to eat in that instant. Snape glared at the boy, before ordering him.

“Go to your cousin’s room, pack his things and bring them down,” the massive kid cowered at his look, then stared at him wide eyed with fear but did not move. “Now, not next week, move it boy!”

“B… but… he doesn’t have any things! Besides that ma… stuff! And that’s his room!” He said pointing at the cupboard.

‘These people have to be joking! I thought that was just the place were they punished him, not his bloody room!’ Severus thought starting to feel furious. He ran a hand trough his hair and took several deep breaths trying to calm down. How dare they treat a wizard, or any human being for that matter, like that? ‘That’s no place for a child, be it Potter or anyone!’ How could Dumbledore let his Golden Boy live with such beasts? And then, have the gall to he send him back every summer! ‘No wonder the child always asks to stay at Hogwarts during all breaks and especially the summer.’

“You mean to tell me he sleeps in THERE?” He fixed Dudley with a glare that clearly stated ‘you-better-not-be serious-or…’ The whale of a boy paled a bit, but he was too obtuse to understand the whole treat behind the glare.

“Leave my Duddykins alone! You… you…” Petunia Dursley jumped in what she believed was her son’s protection. It only served to anger Severus even more, his head snapped in her direction, wand leveled at her heart.

“Quiet woman or you’ll be getting a nasty hex… actually I might do it anyway,” he added the later as an after thought. “Now let this…” his wand changed targets and with a light wrist flick settled between the huge boy’s brows. “Excuse for a boy answer, he does have a tongue in that cavern he calls a mouth, doesn’t he?” The dark wizard ordered her ready to stupefy the woman if she so much as moved; his voice was full of disgust and barely contained fury. For the first time since he ever heard of Voldemort’s ideas, twenty years ago, he almost agreed with the Dark Lord's treatment of muggles… almost; at least, where the Dursley family was concerned. He still had trouble believing they kept Potter in the cupboard. How many years had the boy been sleeping in there?

“That’s… that’s where… he always slept before those… those… letters that drove Dad crazy came,” the whale of a boy managed to stutter, since he was still in one piece, and quite stupid to realized his precarious situation, he decided to complain. “Then when he returned for the summer the first time, he got my second room; he had it for three years! It wasn’t fair and I needed it!” Dudley whined, not realizing that he was only incurring in the wizard’s wrath. Severus took a couple more deep breaths and shook his head to dispel the desire of cursing the boy. Regardless of his previous actions, pointing his wand at him for a moment before he returned it to target the woman, cursing a child went against his principles. He never had, and if he could help it never would, not even to please Voldemort, and had almost paid with his life then for refusing to do so then. Yet Dudley Dursley came close to making him betray those principles.

“And I thought Draco Malfoy was the embodiment of the spoilt and pampered brat, even over Potter. This… boy is much, much worse,” he muttered to himself.

“He’s never been any good except for doing my homework, but he can’t anymore since he’s at that school, and that was bummer because I had to find someone to replace the freak.” The whale boy went on, complaining about what he believe were just grievances against Harry. “Besides with all those screams at night it’s better if he stays…”

“Get.out.of.my.sight,” Snape said through clenched teeth and hardly containing himself. “Before I turn you into the animal version of what you are.” At the boy’s stupid puzzled look, he clarified. “A whale,” after his threat, the huge kid grabbed his behind and scuttled to his mother as fast as he could. It was really strange behavior but Severus was at the moment too furious to puzzle over it.

Severus had heard enough. He… disliked Potter, the boy was annoying, but… he would not have subjected even him to sleep in that place. He did not believe the brat had ever done anything to merit such treatment, regardless of his crazy escapades at Hogwarts might suggest. Snape had to admit that he was wrong about the kind of life the boy led, completely wrong, and he considered himself not only observant but also quite good at reading people. Severus hated being mistaken. He was probably going to have to spend quite some time re-thinking his views of 'the-boy-who-lived’ and was certain he would have to change his behavior towards him too, he should not add to the abuse the boy had already received. Potter had obviously never been pampered by his relatives, much less loved in his life. Dreading what he would find, he went to the locked cupboard and hunkered before it.

“Alohomorra,” he said softly and the locks opened with light clicks. The stench of sweat, old blood, pain, and bodily wastes coming from inside the small place made him gag. It was almost as bad as the stench he remembered from Riddle House’s dungeons. “What the…”

‘How the hell did he manage to contain that inside without the Ministry noticing the use of magic?’ He thought, because it was clear Potter kept the stench confined to the small cramped space using magic. There was no other explanation.

Surprisingly enough he had not been able to feel any magic until he was within close distance of the child. Yet another puzzle to ponder later, together with what he now was positive was indeed a ‘notice-me-not’ charm. At the moment, he needed to asses Potter’s condition. Trying not to take any deep breaths as he peered inside, he turned on the single light, and found Potter curled up on a small mattress hardly big enough for him, his trunk under it left no room for anything else. The boy was barely conscious and it took him a while to react, finally he blinked several times and tried to focus.

“Who… who’s…”

“Articulate as ever Mr. Potter,” he sneered hiding the concern he was feeling at seeing the sorry state the boy was in. Concern was something he was rather unused to feeling in relation to Harry Potter, or anyone else for that matter. It had been a long time since he worried about someone, Nan and Albus included.

“Pro… professor Snape?” Harry croaked, turning to where the voice came from. Not really believing anyone from Hogwarts was there. He did not want to hope that he would finally be going home only to realize it was some hallucination because of the pain and the fever he had been suffering lately.

“Clever as always Potter, now get your things and come out of there. We’re leaving,” he ordered the dazed boy.

Potter had been able to move when he saw him outside. However, up close he looked much worse. He was beginning to think the woman gave him more than a light trashing. Though it did not seem like she had much time for that, it certainly explained the way she had looked when she opened the door. Snape was really concerned now, but still refused to show it, and let the emotion take control. At his words, Potter just stared at him with pain filled, wide unfocused eyes, and an expression of complete disbelief on his face.

“Can’t,” Harry finally responded. He hurt too much and was too weak after, first a round with Dudley & Co., and then his aunt. She did not have much time to do any damage; but being dragged by his hair and thrown head first into the cupboard had been quite painful. He believed he might have cracked his skull when she threw him in and he hit the back wall head first.

“Can’t what? Leave? Get out? Sometimes I wonder if that single brain cell Gryffindors have has not expired from loneliness.” Severus snapped at the boy, still doing his best to hide and fight his growing concern for Potter. It would not do him any good, he needed a cool head to check and heal him enough to make it back to his flat. Poppy was not available, and St. Mungos should be only a last resort option, it was too dangerous for both of them to stay in a public place long.

‘Damn Big D and his gang!’ Harry thought, focusing on his anger at his cousin and the Potions Master instead of the pain he felt. Dudley and his ‘friends’ had only made things worse than they had already been, and just when he was finally starting to heal. In addition, Snape’s comment infuriated Harry enough to give him some strength to try to move from his cot. It only resulted in so much pain that he could not help the low whimper that escaped his lips.

“Can’t move Professor,” Harry finally said through clenched teeth. He would be damned if he let any more signs of weakness show. The snarky Professor would surely gloat about it later.

“Why?” Severus asked with a frown, still fighting not to gag at the stench coming out of the tiny room. Finally deciding on muttering a simple air cleaning charm, the one he used to clear the mildly irritating fumes from some of his potions.

“Why?” the ‘greasy git’ had the gall to ask why? Didn’t he have eyes? Or maybe he did not look as bad as he felt, though he doubted it. “Oh maybe it’s because I believe my knee’s broken and probably some ribs too. My right shoulder’s dislocated, my right elbow feels broken, there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t hurt and I’m tired… Voldie’s been quite active this summer, but then you SHOULD know that shouldn’t you? Are those reasons enough? Or how about my head’s hurts so much I really can’t think straight?” The boy snapped at him, his voice pain ridden and full of sarcasm. Harry was actually surprised he managed to say that much, he had barely spoken since he first arrived from Hogwarts that summer.

‘Merlin! And he’s still conscious and able to be sarcastic?’ He did not dwell on the nickname the irreverent boy gave the Dark Lord, although it was quite amusing. In addition, his opinion of the Gryffindor raised several notches. He then pointed his wand at him and whispered a strong numbing charm. With the extent of his injuries, it would not last long; still, it should do for the time being.

“I get the idea Potter. I just put you under a numbing charm…”

“THIS IS A DECENT HOUSE YOU WILL NOT USE YOUR STINK…” Petunia shrieked outraged at the use, yet again, of magic in her house. This had been the last straw in her tolerance of it.

“STUPEFY!” Snape roared with barely a backward glance at the woman, his voice laden with anger.

Petunia Dursley had been in the process of standing from the chair were she sat when the spell hit her with such force that she toppled over, chair and all. Snape heard the clatter, but paid no attention to it. He would have preferred to have given her a taste of an atormentar*, one of those curses created during the Spanish inquisition. It was rather archaic but not considered dark as it was used to ‘show’ inquisitors what their victims felt. On the other hand, he could have used a cruciatus, but that one would probably call the Ministry’s attention, he really was in no mood to deal with those imbeciles. Still it would do her good to feel what pain was, instead of inflicting it on a child.

The whale boy started shrieking when he saw his mother fall so he got stupefied too to keep him quiet, no need for the neighbors to call the muggle authorities… although, on second thought, it might be interesting to hear how that Dursley woman explained Potter’s condition to them. How long had Potter been in that condition anyway? The stench in the little cupboard suggested at least a few days. It filled him with rage, as a Professor he had sworn to protect his students from harm, ‘Golden Trio’ included, and it was an oath he took to heart. A low chuckle and then a pained whimper brought his attention back to 'the-boy-who-lived' although at the moment he appeared to be ‘the-boy-who-was-barely-alive’.

“That felt good, thank you Sir.” The comment made Snape look at him quizzically, but Harry was not looking at him, and just went on and explained. “You have no idea how much I wished I could curse them. A cruciatus would have been much better,” Severus could not help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. He would have never believed Potter capable of wishing the cruciatus on anyone. One of his Slytherins… yes they would have, but not a Gryffindor. “But you might have gotten in trouble.”

“My thoughts exactly Mr. Potter, it seems we finally agree on something. And I can still curse them,” he responded wryly and allowed himself a small smirk. He had been there less than an hour and he already ‘hated’ those two. He could only imagine what it would have been to see them everyday.

“It’s ok Sir, they aren’t really worth getting in trouble, or I would have risked an expulsion long ago.”

‘He would have actually cursed them? Now that’s interesting,’ Severus thought and decided to file that information for later.

Severus got Harry out carefully from under the stairs. Without the charm, it would have been a painful ordeal. As it was, he had a bit of trouble since he could not levitate him out of it; he had to take the child in his arms, hoping not to worsen whatever other injuries he had. He set the boy on the couch in the living room then went, got the trunk, and owl cage out. He asked if everything was in there before he shrunk and put them in his jeans’ pocket. As he appraised the child, he realized Potter was practically a skeleton. He had been quite thin when he left the school because of the strain of the tournament and Diggory’s death, but he had lost even more weight since then, so on top of being beaten the boy had not eaten enough. He wondered if it was because he could not eat or because his relatives did not feed him. The way things were, the second option seemed more probable.

After a quick diagnosis spell, he came to the conclusion that Harry's assessment was mostly correct. Although he found no explanation to the nerve damage indicated, and it was not light either, since he could feel the slight involuntary trembling of the boy and see the minute twitching of his hands. Somehow, it reminded him of the after effects of several cruciatus curses, but there was no one to submit him to it. The wards would have detected any Death Eaters inside, and knowing how they operated, they would not have left the boy there. It had to be something else; the spell he used was a simple one, just to find to the more important injuries. Once back in his flat he would cast something more specific.

Potter’s shoulder was indeed dislocated, the left knee, foot and ankle were broken as well as his femur (only a hairline fracture actually). There was a slight crack on his skull and a contusion because of it, the elbow was only badly sprained, and some of the ligaments were thorn. Two ribs were broken, and another had a nasty crack, all that besides being black and blue on the areas where he could see skin, though he was probably bruised all over. Severus felt relieved that he could correct most of the injuries with his knowledge of medical spells.

Early in his studies to become a Potions Master he had received some training in medi-wizardry, it was necessary when dealing with all types of healing potions and even poisons. He was certain he would have reached at least a level four* in medi-wizardly, if he had taken the placement exams. However, at the time, he had not been too keen in a medical career. Later on when he did well enough as a businessman, chemist and as a Potions Master he saw no reason to pursue that area of studies. Snape had also practiced a lot during his time as a Death Eater; the knowledge had been handy for desperate situations, of which he found himself in many. The Dark Lord had appreciated that extra skill; it had made him a more valuable element than the majority of his followers. It was because of his valuable skills that he had been allowed some of his ‘eccentricities’, as well as the chance to prove himself again when Voldemort returned, any other would have been dead at first sight.

Potter’s left knee and foot were in a terrible condition, the almost black coloring was disquieting. The bones shattered, damaging sinew, tendons, muscles, and nerves. Shards of bone had also pierced the skin at some point, but at least that seemed to be healing. He had not received any treatment, save for a crude and dirty bandage, and there were already signs of severe infection. Because of that, the boy was probably suffering from bouts of fever, although at the moment he did not have one. Snape could not help but wonder what happened to Potter to leave him in such condition, and what possessed those sorry excuses for human beings that were his relatives to deny him medical attention. The Potions Master could only think that perhaps they worried about all the questions that would arise at Harry’s condition.

Most of the damage he saw, fit with at least one, but probably more than that, beatings, but not the injuries sustained on his left leg. Anyway, he would find out later what happened. At the moment, he had to finish healing what he could, as he believed a specialized medi-witch or wizard should look at the leg; the damage went way beyond his scope of knowledge, so he just immobilized it with a localized version of the body bind spell. One rib needed to heal on its own, since the fracture was too old to treat successfully with magic, and the same applied to most bruises. The elbow, skull crack, and other ribs were relatively easy to heal, and with the right potions, the boy would be as good as new in a few of days. The last he did was pop the shoulder in place, his previous numbing spell making it painless.

Once finished he finally realized that not only the cupboard stunk, Harry too smelled badly. More than an hour cooped up with the smelly teenager in his Land Rover would be a nightmare, even with the windows open. Severus applied a simple cleaning charm that took care of the smell and some of the dirt, but a bath was still necessary. Besides, he suspected the bath would relax muscles that had been in pain too long, and the boy might actually enjoy it. He did not usually let the kinder part of his nature show, but he felt Potter had already been through enough. Besides making sure of his well being was part of being his legal guardian, and he might as well start taking the responsibility. Taking advantage that the muggles were still out, he levitated the boy upstairs.

“Where are we going Sir?” Harry managed to ask weakly. He was surprised at being taken upstairs.

“You stink Potter,” Severus told him, trying to keep his tone neutral. At the moment, there was no need to overly embarrass the boy, at least not more than he was going to be when he realized that his hated Professor was going to assist him in taking a bath.

“I’m sorry Sir,” he muttered. Not really comprehending what the Potions Master had meant with that statement.

“No need to apologize. I assume you had no choice in the matter.” The boy’s eyes had widened at hearing him, he probably expected to be called to task for not being able to bathe. “Now which door is the bathroom?”

“Second door on the left… but… I… I don’t… I… can’t…” Harry stuttered when he realized that in his condition he would not be able to wash himself.

“I know that boy,” he snapped. To his surprise, Potter cringed slightly and he frowned. “I shall assist you.”

“I… umm… you… really… it’s not necessary,” he managed to say as he heard the water start to fill the tub.

“Nonsense boy, you do need a bath.” His tone left no room for argument and Potter surprised him again by not arguing, just turning a bright shade of red in embarrassment.

Severus settled the boy on the toilet while he looked around the bathroom. He found hair shampoo, soap and a strawberry scented bubble bath. Thinking a bit, he decided to add some of it to the filling tub. It would provide the boy with some privacy, even though he would end smelling like a girl, an improvement over his present odor for sure, though Potter might not like it one bit. At the moment, he was in no position to argue. When the tub was full, he levitated the boy into it clothes and all earning an undignified squeak. Once settled he removed the kid’s clothes with a spell.

Potter did manage to wash most of himself with only one working arm, so Severus only assisted him with his back and hair. After he finished, he used a spell to change the dirty water for clean and let the boy soak a bit in warm water. Potter did relax and even sighed in contentment once he got over the embarrassment of having his most hated Professor helping him bathe. Harry should have taken that time to think, there were quite a few things to ask about. But he was not up to thinking straight yet. He was weak and his mind fogged. He had been feeling like that after the vision he had the day Dudley fell on him. Since then he had three other visions and it took him quite a long time to dispel the fog in his brain. The latest had only been last night, so he hoped that Snape would explain why he was there without him having to ask any questions.

Severus noticed that his suspicions about the boy being black and blue all over were true. Also, Harry was even smaller than he originally thought, and much too thin for his age. His bulky clothes certainly covered that fact. After he mentioned it, the boy finally accepted that he had barely eaten since he arrived and that it was probably a week since his last ration; and he had only drunk a couple of glasses of water a day. It was after this admission that the Professor finally understood why the boy had barely grown since his first year, malnourishment, when prolonged, tended to inhibit growth and he had little doubt that that was the case. Snape was a bit surprised that Potter had barely spoken, but he attributed it to being weak, and probably dazed by the contusion and crack on his skull.

After some time, Severus resized the trunk, and took out some of the boy’s worn muggle clothes for him to dress in. He then transfigured some of the bathroom necessities into bandages for his ribs and arm, and a sling for the right arm. When they were done, the older wizard descended the stairs levitating the frail boy and deposited him carefully on the couch again. A cursory glance in their direction told him the muggles were still out, he must have put a lot more emotion, anger, into those stupefy than he originally intended. But he had seldom been so angry, and not just at them. He was so angry with himself for not noticing the boy’s situation and adding his own brand of abuse on top of what he got at his relative’s house, and was furious with Dumbledore too. The Headmaster was going to hear a few choice words from him as soon as he could contact him.

Before leaving Severus decided to inform Nan, she would need to make some changes on what she planned for dinner. Potter needed to be re-introduced to solid foods, for the first couple of days, so probably a broth of some kind would do. He intended to get the boy eating again as soon as possible to aid his recovery. He also needed some standard potions to complement his spells and try to speed the bones healing, a painkiller, something to help nourish him faster, salve for the bruises and muscular pain, and he would have to look for a good potion to combat the infection. Several came to mind, but he was not sure which one would work best with the kind of infection the boy had, his diagnosis spell had not told him how extensive it was. Besides, even if he had to have a crash refresher course in healing since the start of the summer, courtesy of the Dark Lord, it had been a long time since he had to medicate someone, including himself. In addition, the medi-wizard or witch that tended to his leg might have a different concoction in mind. Those potions he did not have in stock, his old nurse could prepare.

It was Nan who first introduced him to potion making and encouraged him when she discovered he had the aptitude. She was no master, but she was good enough that he would use any potion she brewed without thinking about it twice. Severus sat on the other side of the couch where he put Harry, took out his muggle mobile phone, and dialed home. There was no need to give those despicable muggles a way to locate him by using their phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry's glasses were destroyed in the accident that broke some of his bones and left his leg a mess about a week ago, or at least he thought it had been a week. That had become the usual interval between his outings to do chores since the summer started. And what a summer it had been so far, with painful visions of Voldemort almost every other day; and nightmares of the third task the rest of the time, he had barely had a couple of restful hours of sleep. He had also been suffering the after effects of the cruciatus from his visions, so his coordination was completely off most of the time. To make things worse tripping down the stairs along with Dudley had almost killed him. Especially because his whale of a cousin landed on top of him and while they fell, he rolled over him several times too, thus causing more damage than a normal fall should. He still had no clue how that happened.

Aunt Petunia decided he was faking most of his injuries and that it would be a waste of time and money to take him to the hospital to treat those that did look ugly, like his knee. She also determined the glasses were a lost case, so after beating him for tripping her poor Duddykins, Petunia threw them in the rubbish can.

His uncle’s fist had also a say later that day, accusing him of wanting to kill his son. Harry would have laughed at the irony of it, since it was him who felt barely alive. No longer was he 'the-boy-who-lived' but ‘the-boy-who-almost-became-a-human-pancake’. That night after his punishment he was thrown back in the cupboard, where he had been staying since he returned for the summer, and had not come out until that day.

Without his glasses, Harry was as blind as a bat. Because of that, and the fact that he had not been thinking clearly for a while, he had not really noticed that Professor Snape was not a dark blur as he was supposed to be. No one had ever seen him wearing anything but black robes and clothes at Hogwarts, that he would actually wear any other color would have been unthinkable by students and probably some faculty members.

As he lay on the couch, Harry began to take notice and realized that where the Professor sat, there was a light blue-darker blue blur. It puzzled him and he wished he could see clearly. It was not that he had had not identified the man. His voice as well as his sarcasm were easily recognizable, but the light coloring of the clothing was… disconcerting. There were also some things he should have asked from the beginning, like why was he there? Where were they going? Why had he taken care of him? He had been kind, in a Snape-ish sort of way, despite his sarcasm. He had also been quite gentle when he took care of his injuries and while he helped him in the bath. Harry however, had been still too out of it with the effects of prolonged pain and hunger, and it was a wonder he could think.

Things became more disconcerting when he heard the man talk to someone he called ‘Nan’ and ask this person to get them several potions. It was then that he realized that Snape was pressing a shiny silvery object to the area where his ear was supposed to be. He could not suppress the thoughtful frown while he tried to think what the thing was.

“What are you frowning at Mr. Potter?” Severus snapped at the boy who visibly flinched, after he finished talking. Good at least he still reacted as he used to at school to his tone of voice, but he worried that his eyes were a bit glazed and unfocused.

“Is that thing a… a muggle mobile phone? Why aren’t you a black blur instead of a blue one? What are you doing here Professor? Why…” Harry let out in a stream, worried that if he stopped the ill-tempered wizard would not deign to listen, much less respond to his questions.

“Mr. Potter I think that was the longest continuous set of words I’ve heard you utter in four years,” he said sarcastically.

Harry glared at him, or at least in the general direction of where his head was supposed to be. Severus was a bit puzzled about the blur part of the questions until he noticed the boy was not wearing his glasses. He was pleased to notice that Potter was coherent enough to ask questions, despite his glazed eyes. He attributed the unfocused look to the lack of his glasses. It also seemed that the crack on is head did no damage to the brain, but then he always believed the brat had a thicker skull than most people did.

“To answer your first question, yes it’s a perfectly functional muggle mobile phone…”

“But… you… how?” Harry stuttered confused.

“Back to incomplete sentences are we?” Severus sneered but then realized that if the boy was speaking of seeing blurs it probably went unnoticed. “Contrary to popular belief Mr. Potter, I don’t hate muggles… well at least not all of them,” he glared with contempt at the still unconscious woman and the… boy. “I find muggle technology quite fascinating and ingenious, but unlike that fool Arthur Weasley. I take the time to investigate what the things are used for. I REFRAIN from charming or be-spelling the things until I KNOW what they are supposed to do and I am certain a spell would make them more efficient. Also I don’t dress in black all the time outside the school.” Harry’s eyebrows shot almost to his hairline at all those admissions; he would have never thought any of it possible. Snape allowed himself a pleased smile; after all, the kid could not see him. “What? Speechless now? And tell me Potter, where are your glasses?”

“My glasses are probably in the rubbish Sir.” Harry responded softly, and then went on explaining, as he did not want him to think he had almost been beaten to death. His uncle had done that a couple of times before, but that was not the reason for his injuries this time. Besides admitting to being abused would amount in his eyes to admit being weak and unable to defend himself from mere muggles. “Dudley fell on me down the stairs last week; at least I think it was last week. They were broken beyond repair according to my aunt, and I’m not allowed to use magic or I might have tried to fix them,” he responded with half a shrug, his right shoulder still not working properly. Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise, that… thing fell on top of Potter, and he was still alive? Ok the boy was quite mauled, but still alive, and it explained the condition of his knee and ankle. It probably took the brunt of the whale boy’s weight when they finally landed. “Why are you here Sir?”

“Headmaster Dumbledore sent me to pick you up. The wards around the house have been weakening slowly and it’s no longer safe. Now, we better get going, I have no wish of being caught in a traffic jam.” The last comment was more to himself than to the boy. Still Harry heard it, and it puzzled him. Since when did wizards worried about muggle traffic? Unless he was talking about broomstick traffic, although that sounded a bit farfetched.

“Traffic jam? Aren’t we going back to Hogwarts?”

“No, not for a few days at least; I have some pending business in muggle London. Besides, Poppy just left earlier today for a vacation in the Bahamas… or was it Puerto Rico? ” He shrugged since he had been in such a hurry to leave the infirmary the last couple of days that he really did not pay attention to the medi-witch’s inane babble. “So there’s no one to take care of you there. Where’s your owl?” He asked changing the subject.

“I left her at Hogwarts Sir. I’m sure Dudley would have found a way to hurt Hedwig if she came with me.”

“From what I saw, I wouldn’t doubt it,” he agreed absentmindedly. He was forgetting something important to do before the left. Then he remembered that to keep Harry protected while in muggle London and with him, they needed to transfer the remaining wards, and sign the apprenticeship contract.

‘He’s not going to like it anymore than I did, but might as well get it over with while he still a bit dazed.’ According to Dumbledore, both the teen and he had to sign the apprenticeship contract and one other parchment for the wards to transfer. He had asked where the wards were supposed to transfer to but had not received an answer. ‘It had something to do with me being the guardian and substituting the blood relations,’ he sighed and shook his head in confusion. ‘Albus was so damn vague about explaining this part, I really don’t like it but… it seems there’s no other way if the boy is to be protected.’

“Mr. Potter I need you to sign some papers before we go out,” he told the boy without preamble.

“Sign? What for?” Harry asked confused. “Besides I don’t think I can, I’m right handed Sir and I my arm doesn’t respond yet.”

“Don’t worry about the arm; just touching the document in the right place will authenticate you. I will also need a drop of your blood.” The blood part bothered Severus a bit, he was sure it was not needed in an apprenticeship contract or a guardianship transfer, but Dumbledore had stressed the importance of this part.

“And what am I supposed to sign?” the boy asked with a frown.

It was not that Harry did not trust Snape, because oddly enough he did. After all, the man had saved his life several times. It was just that he never had to sign anything before leaving the Dursleys. Also at the moment, he could not read what he had to sign.

“The Headmaster decided that you needed more specific training in Defense Against the Dark Arts among other things. When he petitioned the Ministry of Magic to authorize those extra courses, they refused to deviate from the school plan in any form. Personally, I think Fudge is just trying to complicate things by being a complete imbecile and refuse to acknowledge the Dark Lord's return. Therefore, the only way available for you to obtain this kind of training is if a Master takes you as his or her apprentice.”

“Well the Minister IS a moron,” Harry agreed. He had developed a strong dislike of Cornelius Fudge. “A Master? But…”

“Yes, a Master boy. This is because a Master has complete freedom of choice over what to teach and when, the Ministry can’t interfere, nor can it break a contract once it’s signed. As an apprentice, you won’t be taking lessons with the rest of the school. Yours are to be more personal and intensive. Your duties and responsibilities are not many; you must LEARN and OBEY your Master, and that’s about everything you have to do.”

“That doesn’t sound like too much to ask,” Harry commented.

“No it’s not; although I believe that with your history, the obeying part might give you trouble Potter.” The boy glared at him. “In return, the Master will not only teach you what you need, he will provide and protect you. Although some might want to make you earn your keep. Since you’re still underage the Master becomes your legal guardian, although even after you reach majority you will remain an apprentice until you can pass the Mastery exams, or the contract is revoked by mutual consent.”

“Umm, obeying won’t be a problem I think, though it doesn’t seem the Master gets a lot out of this.” Harry muttered. He was used to do what the adult Dursleys ordered, even though at Hogwarts he rebelled when Hermione and Ron were around.

“It appears so, but this is designed to guarantee that knowledge won’t be lost. This is a very ancient custom that has not changed since it started more than three thousand years ago. It still serves the same purpose now. Besides, as I said, the Master might want you to earn your keep.”

“That’s no problem either, I’ve earned my keep since I was about four or five, so nothing new there, regardless of what THEY might say,” Being an apprentice did not sound bad, and at the moment Harry really did not want to think too much. His head was beginning to throb, and most of his other injuries were also starting to hurt, the charm was probably wearing off. “What about the Dursleys?”

“You won’t see them again, since the Master will assume your legal custody as I said before. Your… aunt has already signed the release and transfer of her rights as guardian. Also once you’re apprenticed the restriction about underage wizards using magic is not applicable anymore.”

“Where do I sign?” Harry asked eagerly, those last words really did the trick.

He would be able to do magic all year long, and not see the Dursleys anymore. He really could not think anything could beat that; and he trusted Dumbledore, so he did not think he would end with someone that was worse than his relatives were. There was also the fact that he would do almost anything to get away from them. Especially his aunt, the woman was vicious; she starved him and took advantage of his weakened condition to beat him. If he had no energy to run, then he could not escape or fight her. Vernon was loud and obnoxious, but he usually was too lazy to give him a beating. That was unless his aunt demanded it, or Dudley got hurt, like when they fell down the stair, even if it was not his fault at all. Vernon could inflict real damage; the man was built like an ox, and whenever he got involved things got really ugly, thankfully, it was not often or he would probably have died at some point. That summer he had only punished him twice so he counted himself lucky. There were also Dudley and his cronies, with their constant bullying, but they were not home most of the time, and as long as he was able to run, climb a tree or a convenient lamppost, he had no trouble escaping from them.

Getting Potter to sign was easier than he thought, although from what he had been able to see, Severus really did not blame the tiny teen for wanting to put as much distance between his magic hating relatives and himself. He omitted telling Harry he was the Master and was glad the boy had not yet asked who he was apprenticed to. Still, if Potter found out before sealing the contract, Snape was sure the boy would refuse to sign. After all, he had verbally tormented and ridiculed him in the lapse of four years. But no matter how he had treated the boy at Hogwarts, the older wizard would never subject him to beatings, starvation, being locked in a cupboard or deny him medical attention. Even Voldemort’s prisoners got to eat at least once a day most of the time. Severus was positive that what he offered Harry was a vast improvement over his actual situation; Potter might get to see it that way in time.

Severus took the boy’s hand and placed it on the parchment, his name appeared immediately on the paper. He then picked the boy’s index finger and after transfiguring an ash tray into a needle he prickled said digit and placed a small drop of blood in the proper place on another parchment. Then signed his own name beside Potter's on the contract, transfigured another object into a needle and put a drop of his blood on top of the boy’s. For a moment, nothing happened, then some reddish mist started coming out of the combined blood drops. It enveloped the both of them swirling lazily and expanding until it covered the whole house and slowly receded to be completely absorbed by their bodies.

“What the hell?” Severus exclaimed clearly surprised, in his experience, an apprenticeship contract did not produce such results; neither did any wards he knew. And he knew almost all of those placed on the house, as he had helped Albus research them. “This isn’t part of the contract, what did you do Albus?” He muttered.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen?” Harry asked worried. Not being able to see much he had not noticed that Snape had signed and used his own blood on the parchment. He had not just seen the red mist; he actually felt a warm tingly feeling all over as his body absorbed it. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Snape asked raising a skeptical eyebrow, although the effect was lost since Harry could not see it.

“I seem to have botched it somehow. Would the wizard Master I’m to be apprenticed with be very angry?” There was fear in his voice.

Severus looked at the parchment; it had already stamped itself with the proper Ministry seals, the time and date of the signature and created three copies. He guessed it was not ruined.

“It doesn’t look ruined to me. In fact, a copy has just transported itself. My guess is that it’s already at the corresponding Ministry office. We better leave Mr. Potter. It seems the wards are completely down now. Nothing should be able to apparate or portkey from inside the house if they were still on.” He said and picked the light boy carefully, making Harry squeak in surprise.

Severus tried not to jolt Potter too much, he had healed most of his injuries, but he still needed at least a couple of days to recover from some of them. He then made his way back to his Land Rover. He managed to open the door without the use of magic, there were too many children outside, some curious about the man taking the strange silent kid away, to risk being seen. Snape carefully settled Harry on the copilot’s seat and secured him with the safety belt; he then went to his side of the car, boarded and drove away from Privet Drive without looking back.

After about ¾ of an hour of silent driving Snape stopped at a petrol station, where he bought Harry one of those sports drinks (Gatorade) and ordered him to drink it slowly. He had a potion that was much better but he never would have thought he was going to need it. The drink would begin to hydrate the boy’s body and get his stomach used to having something inside. It had the added bonus that, due to its slight sugar content, Potter’s blood pressure might rise. It had been quite low when he checked the boy at the house, and it seemed quite low. He would feel slightly better and his head might start to clear. The drink worked after a while, and it was then that Harry realized that he had not even asked the name of the person he was to be apprenticed to.

“Umm… Sir… I was wondering… do you know who is to be my… Master?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter as a matter of fact I do.”

“So… umm… who’s this Master Wizard Professor?”

“I am,” he said glancing at the boy from the corner of his eye. Unlike Arthur Weasley, he had not charmed his SUV, so he needed to keep his eyes on the road. He noticed the boy’s horrified expression and could not hide his smirk.

‘No! No, no, no, no,’ Harry screamed mentally in shock at his own stupidity. ‘Why didn’t I ask before I signed? This is like jumping from the frying pan to the fire! Why did it have to be SNAPE of all people? The only one, besides Voldemort that is, that I can swear will be worse than the Dursleys!’

“But… but you said it was Defense Against the Dark Arts and you teach Potions! I’m no good at Potions!”

“I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts. I do have mastery on it as well and I’m approved by the Ministry to teach it,” when he mentioned the Ministry, his tone was more than slightly bitter. He was approved to teach the subject and yet the board of directors did not ‘allow’ him, an ex-Death Eater, to take the position.

“So the rumors were true,” Harry could not help mentioning. “You wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts instead of Potions. Why didn’t you Sir? As far as I know, none of the other Professors were Masters. With the exception of Mad Eye Moody, but it wasn’t really him.”

“That position is neither something I want to discuss now nor any other time Mr. Potter. Abstain from making any reference to it in my presence. Regarding your Potion making skills, let me be the judge of that. You might not be such a waste of my time if you can deliver the same kind of essays you wrote during your first year,” he stated dryly while he mentally groaned at noticing that he had been unable to avoid the traffic jam.

‘Did he just compliment my work during first year?’ Harry thought gob smacked, a compliment from Snape to a Gryffindor was unheard of, especially if said Gryffindor went by the name of Harry James Potter. ‘I guess this is as close as he would come to one, at least towards me.’

“I will Professor, but… why did you accept to train me? You… I… we really don’t get along Sir,”

“Let me assure you Mr. Potter that I’m no more pleased by this… arrangement than you are, but…” he hesitated a bit before adding his next words. “The Headmaster has his ways of getting people to do what he wants. He got his mind set on this… so; there was no way around it.”

“Umm… I wonder if Professor Dumbledore finally went off his rocket,” Harry muttered, but Snape still heard him.

“It would seem so, although at times I really wonder if that man wasn’t really in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor.”

“On that I would have to agree wholeheartedly Sir, he IS too cunning for a Gryffindor.”