Blackness, and the sound of shouting and running somehow reaching him. That was all that there was, and finally something cold being poured down his throat, and then no sound at all.

      He fell past a blackness that seemed to go forever. It began and lifted in a measure of time that simultaneously dragged to the ends of the earth and felt like a blink of an eye, and then suddenly Aunt Petunia was there and very angry with him again. She had told him to weed the garden, and once again a few bits of dirt from his clothes had fallen onto her spotless floor. This sort of thing would not happen if she thought to give him a clothes brush or something to beat all the dirt off, or even just give him a moment to shake the dirt away before ordering him inside to do something else. He made to dodge her soapy frying pan as usual, but was distracted by someone who did not belong in the kitchen, wearing black robes and steadily watching him.  The frying pan collided with the back of Harry's head as it had done on more than one occasion when he was not quick enough. Harry saw stars and his head pounded. He hissed in pain, but his breath caught in his dry throat and he began to cough. His vision blacked out as the room spiralled in around him. But he could hear a voice.

      "Drink this," said the voice as he was pulled through the wall of black. The same black robed figure was there beside him now, Harry's swirling vision blurring the face and room so hopelessly that his slow brain wasn't able to make any connections.

     Harry felt a glass on his lips and took a deep gulp, the liquid turning out to be water. He blinked, his head pounding and making him wish to fall back through the oblivion he had passed through to get where he was, the place so far from this one so full of light.  And through it he did fall.

      "Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" screamed a woman's voice.

      His head was still pounding when he had made the journey in and out of the oblivion again, his heart pounding erratically and eyes still blind from the green light that had pushed him through the darkness and into the same strange place he laid so still. The woman's voice rang in his ears and he shivered in a cold sweat. Harry came to realise he was lying down.  It was dark this time, so very dark and completely unlike the brightness he had known earlier. He grew warmer as something heavy was put overtop him, weighing down the softness that covered him. In warmth he descended once more. 

        So many times he fell into the dark, but so many times he awoke. In and out, in and out as he traversed a nightmarish dreamscape filled with the green light and horrifying creatures with too many eyes and too many legs. It was not a nice place to be. But each time he was pulled from the nightmare - through the darkness and into the soft place where he laid - that same voice that had spoken earlier, different from the one screaming, was there to tell him that he couldn't give up, that he would be alright in time. He was made to swallow strange, slimy liquids that tasted awful but made his journey into the place that had now grown light once more easier each time. Until, eventually, his eyes cleared so he could see as he did normally without glasses, and in the light he stayed, able to concentrate on his surroundings.

      Harry's head did not pain him so very much now, though the shower of crimson light pouring through the windows made his eyes ache. The light flowed onto the face of someone sitting in a chair beside the bed that Harry laid in. His face was tense, and dark shadows could be seen beneath his eyes and upon his unshaven face as he slept. Harry's brain began to catch up to his eyes and he made sense of the figure. It was quite obviously Snape, and Harry only then began to connect the far away voice to the image as his tired brain stoked the fire of information that was slowly catching. Harry shifted slightly under the thick layer of blankets, the movement making him feel as though he had survived the worst beating of his life; it was so much worse than anything Dudley and his gang could dish out when they actually caught Harry. Every bit of him ached, even parts of him he didn't know could hurt. Snape did not look much better than Harry imagined he himself looked, for it appeared as though he had not slept in a very long time. As though on cue, while Harry (with his fuzzy, aching eyes and heavy eyelids) surveyed Snape, he jolted awake with a slight intake of breath. His eyes were wide, and he looked surprised.

     "'Lo," Harry said scratchily.

     "Welcome back," Snape said breathlessly, looking relieved as he sat up straight and ran his hand through his hair. Harry blinked in the light. He wasn't sure if the sun was setting or rising.

      "Are we at Hogwarts?" whispered Harry as his waking eyes took in the surroundings that looked so very much like the main area of the hospital wing. He hoped he was not merely seeing things.

      Surprisingly, Snape actually smiled, though it only succeeded in making him look more exhausted. "Yes, we are."

     Harry grinned dazedly, even though he ached everywhere and it was hard to smile due to the fatigue that seemed to permeate every part of him, all the way down to his very bones. "How?"

    "I'm not sure," was the muttered reply. "I suppose we had done what the invention brought us there for, and the magic of it sent us back ... It brought us into the corridors leading to the old dungeons. You are lucky that the antidote is stocked here in the school, so we were able to administer it without further delay."  Snape sounded as though he felt much luckier than even Harry was feeling now.

     "Mm." Harry rubbed his eyes a bit, not remembering a whole lot of what had happened anyways, and so he could only think of being back at Hogwarts. "'S good to be home."

     "Yes, it is," was Snape's eventual reply. He sounded sincere, but a little blue for some reason, and as though he was deep in thought. He seemed to be contemplating Harry as well. "Home." he stated quietly.

     Harry didn't say anything else, and so Snape ran to get Madam Pomfrey, who was absolutely beside herself that Harry had awoken. Madam Pomfrey seemed to have been thinking that there hadn't been a lot of hope, or at least Harry thought that was the case. She herself looked just as tired as Snape, and her normally tidy hair was tangled slightly. She busied herself at once. Harry was patient (even though he wished to be irritable) and let Madam Pomfrey rush over and get him to drink some potions. She then ordered him to stay in bed and sleep. The last of course, he was happy to do. Though he had very little energy he still snickered when Madam Pomfrey ordered Snape to do the same. Unlike Harry, Snape was not amused and scowled heavily, and probably would have stayed if it were not for the fact that Madam Pomfrey threatened to drag him to bed herself. He stalked off just as Harry was falling back to sleep, glancing back once before shutting the hospital wing doors with considerable force. Harry thought he heard a rather impressive curse float under the doors as well as he drifted off and Snape's footsteps began to die away. Harry couldn't help but think that if he had a knut for every time he had heard Snape curse over the past few days he would be rich.

        Quiet in the wing restored, Harry floated down into a peaceful sleep, so different from the blackness of the constant nightmare he had been wandering through for so long during the fight for his life. He did not pause to ask Madam Pomfrey how long he had been out of it. He didn't even think to wonder how near to death he had been. Indeed, close he had been. But just how close, only Snape and Madam Pomfrey knew, and neither Harry nor Dumbledore  knew that both shook upon the decision to never let that piece of information reach their ears.