Harry woke up in the hospital wing and the first thought that went through his head was; oh no not again! Despite being a bit groggy, the teen recognized where he was immediately. He loathed the hospital room: the smell, the mood and the sheer pristine cleanliness of it. Couldn't he go through just one school year without ending up the dreadful room? He hated the infirmary even worse when he couldn't remember who or what had put him in there. And that was precisely what was happening at the moment – Harry couldn't remember a thing.

Harry groaned, being very annoyed with the situation. Once again he was alone in the room surrounded by nothing white walls and empty beds with white linen sheets. Nobody else was as accident prone as he was, although Neville could give him a run for his money. Even so, Neville's accidents did not usually involve the infirmary, Neville was just clumsy. Harry's accidents, on the other hand were more serious. If it wasn't a broken arm, it was basilisk poison. If it wasn't a concussion, it was second-degree burns from an angry fire-breathing dragon. So what was it this time; another Quidditch accident? Had somebody attacked him from behind? Or maybe it was another mishap in the potions lab?

Harry rubbed his eyes, pushed the covers aside and sat up. He knew it had to be something serious because had it been a minor injury, he'd be able to remember. Moreover, he'd be hounded by his friends, all eager to know if he had to stay overnight. No one was here, however, a clue that Madam Pomfrey had shooed them away so he could get rest.

"Mr. Potter. Awake I see, how do you feel?" Harry turned towards the all too familiar voice of Madam Pomfrey. The young Gryffindor moaned in mental distress. It wasn't that he did not like her, it was just that she always reprimanded him for ending up in her care and half the time it wasn't even his fault. Plus, she always had the worst tasting potions around…blegh!

"Okay I guess," Harry answered, though he did feel a bit odd. Something was off, he just couldn't put his finger on what was wrong. "What happened?" He asked, reaching over to the night-stand for his glasses.

"Oh, it's complicated, dear."

"Complicated?" Harry echoed, frowning. Oh great! That meant it probably wasn't a Quidditch accident.

"Mmm. Sit up a bit more and let me run some tests," she ordered.

Harry listened and leaned against the headboard while Madam Pomfrey casted the diagnosis charms.

Maybe he had gotten into a fight with Malfoy? Or maybe somebody tried to kill him again? He wouldn't be surprised if somebody did try to attack, kidnap, and torture him and then send him to a long overdue, grizzly death. What scared him, was that the thought of death didn't scare him…if that made any sense. A normal person would be terrified of having a target on his back, the biggest target in all of the Eastern Hemisphere in this case. But him? Oh no, he wasn't really scared, he was used to it. Was that a good thing or bad thing?

Or maybe he was overreacting. This was Hogwarts, it was safe here, no one could hurt him. Well…except for the DADA professors, Harry reminded himself.

"Well, good news. You seem to be in fine order, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey as she tucked her wand away and took down notes for the records. Harry mused absently over how long his record was going to get by the time he graduated. Students on the Quidditch team all have long and the worst hospital records…but he'd bet his Firebolt he would have the longest and most awful of injuries. Wonderful! Here he was, breaking records again without even trying or meaning to.

"You best stay here another day just in case. But you should be out of here by tomorrow morning," Madam Pomfrey continued.

Another day and night? That was another bad sign.

"Do I have to stay?" Harry complained, he as eager to find his friends and find out what happened. "I feel fine, really."

"Well of course you'll need to stay, you've only been incapacitated for the past month dear," Madam Pomfrey tisked . "I'll order you some breakfast. You must be famished."

Harry's eyes bulged. "A month?"

A month? What the heck happened?

The medi-witch signed as she turned around to Harry. It was going to be difficult to explain to the child. The situation was much more complicated that can be expressed through words. It was quite obvious that Severus had become very fond of baby Harry. Her friend and colleague for fifteen years, had spent more than a month caring for and tending to Harry.

In that short time, she had seen thirty years of scars washed away. When Harry laughed, Severus smiled. When Harry cried, Severus frowned. And when Harry clung to him like a limpet, Seveurs was proud. Now, all that had been stripped away. Once again, Severus has lost someone he cared about. But, has he really? Harry was still here. But, he possessed none of the memories of his time as a baby. How could he? He has no idea of how for one month, the man whom he shared such animosity was his 'dada'.

"Please tell me," Harry said again. All this silence was making him worry. What in the world had happened to him? "Is it that bad?"

Madam Pomfrey looked down at Harry with a gentle, but sad look on her face. "No…no you're fine. Well you'll have to find out some time. Now, what is the last thing you remember?"

"Oh…um…" Harry hesitates a moment, trying to recall the last thing he did. "I don't know, I think I was going to class."

"Yes, you were going to Potions. I'm afraid you had an accident."

"Okay. What kind of accident? Is…is it permanent? What's wrong with me?"

Before Madam Pomfrey could continue, the door to the infirmary swung open and Albus Dumbledore walked in, with impeccable timing.

"Ah, Harry my dear boy, I see you're up and at it. Good, good," said Dumbledore as he walked up to Harry. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I guess, but Madam Pomfrey was just about to tell me why I'm in the hospital again."

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey exchanged glances. Both of them were thinking of the same thing.

"Yes. Yes. You should know," said Dumbledore a little more sombre than his usual self, which had Harry worried even more. "You have always been an amazing child, Harry and you have a great capacity to love. So before I tell you, I need you to promise me two things."

Harry wondered what professor Dumbledore was talking about and what his capacity to love had anything to do with the accident. "What is it?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Harry, promise me that you will keep an open mind, and promise me that you will give him a chance."

"Give who a chance?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore answered in a calm tone, looking at Harry in an expression that could only be described as a plea.

This unexpected news stirred up strong emotions in the Gryffindor. "Snape? Why? What does he have to do with it? Is he why I'm in the hospital?" Harry started accusingly. He always knew Snape hated his guts. Now he has physical proof! However, the teenager never thought that Snape hated him so much that he'd land him in the hospital.

"No, no Harry. In fact, Professor Snape has been the one to care for you while you were … incapable of doing so yourself."

"Really? Snape, care for me? I don't understand."

"You will, Harry you will," Dumbledore said. "Now, can you promise me those two things? "

Harry bit his lip as he thought it through. The promises Professor Dumbledore asked of him was going to be very hard, if not impossible to keep. Why should he give Snape a second chance or keep an open mind when the man did neither for him? "So, you want me to keep an open mind and give Snape…uh, I mean Professor Snape a second chance?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I will not make you swear by it, but promise me you will try. If you can, try to speak with him."

Harry's mouth fell open. Now that's insane! Speak to Snape? How the heck…how does he…ehg! No. No way. The only time Snape spoke to him was to rebuke him for his terrible essays and poorly brewed potions. Or to insult his deceased father. Harry would rather have Lockhart make his bones disappear again than talk to Snape.

Dumbledore sensed Harry's unease and explained further, "I know how you feel towards Professor Snape. But he has done quite a lot of you, as you will soon learn. Believe it or not, he has come to care for you a great deal."

Now that, Harry did not believe in one bit. It must have been an act or something. If Snape was kind or caring, he must have had an ulterior motive.

"Why would he do that? He hates me."

"Hate is a strong emotion, you should not use that word so causally," the headmaster admonished. "Professor Snape harbours no such feelings towards you. If you do not trust his words, then trust mine."

Harry shrugged. He did trust the headmaster very much. Hermione told him the same thing all the time, that Professor Snape was a professor and that he did not hate Harry. Well, then why did he feel so hated?

The young man looked up to see both the headmaster and the medi-witch staring at him. He looked away. How could he deny Professor Dumbledore when the old wizard was boring a hole through his head? "Well…I guess so….okay. I'll try. I promise I'll at least try," Harry, murmured reluctantly.

Dumbledore smiled. "Good boy. Now, what I am about to tell you isn't easy to comprehend, but just take it one step at a time. A lot has happened during the past month and many things are not what they were."

"Okay, I'm ready. Just tell me," Harry swallowed, already deciding that he was not going to forgive Snape for whatever the man's done to him and he should have never made a promise he could not keep. Judging by the looks on headmaster and medi-witch's faces, the news was dire.

"You were de-aged by 14 years."

Harry blinked. "I've been WHAT?"