The hall gasped in shock.

Dead?

No.

It can't be.

But he's...

Wasn't he...

He's alive!

But he isn't.

What can we do?

Why did he...

The Boggart?

But that wasn't...

Was it?

Fuck.

But he's...

The hero?

The saviour?

The...

hope.

And we can't...

Could we have...

Is it our...

Who's fault?

Should we have...

But he's thirteen!

Was.

And if he's...

What about You-Know-Who?

But he's gone...

Isn't he?

Did he really kill him as a baby?

And if he's back...

Fuck.

Malfoy broke the silence by walking into the hall face covered in tears. He wore the robes from yesterday. His hair was in disarray. His friends trailed behind him begging him to turn back. Then he said one thing and the hall erupted into chaos.

"I loved him."

That night they heard the heart breaking howling of a grim across the lands of the forbidden forest and echoing through the castle.

Harry opened his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He was meant to be dead. He should have been dead. He jumped off the fucking Astronomy Tower. What the hell was going on?

He sat up. He felt stiff.

Stiff but very much alive.

Why?

Harry looked around him.

Yep. Definitely not dead. The Astronomy Tower. The dark shiny brick walls that apparently refused to let him die. Maybe there was some sort of enchantment, one that stopped people from jumping or being pushed off.

Fucking magic.

But... Harry remembered jumping. He remembered the freeing feeling. The numb. The...

Shit.

He remembered dying.

Then how is he alive now?

Harry stood up. He was... fine. Although... apparently covered in blood.

His own blood.

Well that didn't make any sense. He was meant to be dead. He had jumped. He had felt the black. He had saw the white. Walked towards it. Floated. Met... someone. Some woman. And then...

Woke up.

It was quite anti-climactic.

Was he a ghost?

Harry spun slowly around in a circle, taking in everything around him. Looking for... something. Some reason to explain his... not-deadness.

There.

In the corner of his eye.

A flash of white.

He turned and walked towards it. The light got bigger and soon transformed...

Into that woman from his not-deadness-travelling.

She had long flowing red hair that reached the floor around her. Her dress was blue, long sleeved, and had dazzling embroidered gold symbols. Runes. Harry could distinguish a couple. Life. Death. Power. Sheep?

He wasn't very good at runes.

Her lips were soft and her face was fair and enchanting. She looked at him with worried eyes and a confused stare, they were blue and soft. Overall she looked blue and soft.

She made Harry want to hug her.

He cursed himself in his mind.

Oh and lets not forget the wings. The very big wings that stretched three metres either side of her shoulders. They were thin and a pale pink.

She was an angel.

She spoke. Her voice melodic and calming,

"Hello young one... I am sure you have a lot of questions."

Harry said sharply,

"Why aren't I dead?"

The angel was slightly taken aback by his sharp tone but brushed it off quickly. She said,

"You have been given the gift of rebirth based on a loop hole given to you many years ago. Normally the angels do not interfere with life and death but you are different-"

"How?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly at being interrupted but answered,

"Inside you were... two souls. One was foreign and joined out of accident. It was unnatural. We had the option of killing this soul instead of you. To give you a second chance in life and-"

Harry raised an eyebrow,

"You're telling me, that there were two souls inside me... this whole time! And why? Why did you... 'save' me? I don't want it. Take it back. I'm sure the other soul would much rather live."

She paused,

"Well... err... that's not... how it works. Um... You can't..."

She cleared her throat, her voice back to its majestic quality,

"Young one, you have been granted a gift because your life is thickly entwined with destiny. What you do will effect all of wizard kind. We have granted you a second chance. A way to do things right. And have freed you from this second soul-"

Harry asked,

"And how will you stop me from ending my life again? I assume this 'gift' was a one time deal. You can't do it twice? I don't want to live any more. How. Will. You. Stop. Me?"

She stared for a second,

"I err... We err... thought you... regretted it..."

Harry chuckled,

"Well... Thanks for that. I'll be sure to look for you in the afterlife. I suppose I'll just go end my life again."

Then Harry turned and started to walk to the ledge of the Astronomy Tower once more. She shouted in anger,

"By the lord of the angels I summon you to cease your moving."

Harry stopped.

Shit.

"By the lord of the angels I summon you a guardian to heal you."

Harry heard the pitter patter of feet on stone.

Fuck.

"By the lord of the angels I summon you to live until the next blood moon. Use my power to bind this promise. Take my angelic magic to stop the attempts to bring him to my world. Use it until I am weak. Until the moon passes."

Then she disappeared.

Double fuck.

Harry felt her magic run through him, a temporary feeling of joy and love running through him.

Then it was gone.

He was depressed again. Harry heard the door of the tower open. He felt the magic holding him to the spot end. He turned around dreading what he would see.

His guardian.

His healer.

The one summoned by an angel herself.

Severus Snape.

"Fuck."

Snape was walking to Potions. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay in bed and mope and weep.

That boy was like Lily.

He had Lily's eyes.

And now he thought he had definitely misjudged him.

What he had thought was defiance was fear. What he had thought was arrogance was a feeling of worthlessness. What he had thought was cruel had been kindness. Sneers had been sniffles. Shouts had been terrified cries.

The boy who looked like James was nothing like him.

It was sadly ironic how like Snape he was.

Abused. Depressed. Alone. Hiding behind a mask. A life filled with cruelty and hopelessness. He was also a half-blood and had a hidden intellect.

Now that Snape thought about it he was indeed smart.

Somehow this child had... prospered. He had found friends and a life and... But he didn't did he? He had been stuck with an impossible mission. He had faced the Dark Lord himself at only eleven. He had faced the scorn and mistrust of his class mates at twelve. Branded a dark wizard. And every year his escape from abuse had been more isolation and depression and hurt.

Hope that he would be loved and accepted had been crushed at the realisation that he had more enemies in this new world. That he had more people that hated him. That he had more stress and responsibility.

And his home life had been worse.

Snape couldn't have imagined it. That Harry Potter would have had a worse home life than him. His father had beat him. Insulted him. Wounded him beyond measure that even now he only saw his life worthy for someone else.

Before it had been for the Dark. Torture. Killing. Betrayal.

Now it was for the Light. Spying. Torture. Killing. More Betrayal.

Snape didn't see much of a difference between the two. Only that his job in life was to serve.

But even this came no where near as close to what Harry's life had been like. His mission to kill the unkillable. The sole purpose of his life to be murder since he had been branded at the age of one like cattle. That Dumbledore didn't care for his well-being in the slightest. That all Harry needed to do was to be strong enough to defeat the one that even Dumbledore could not slay.

And his home life had been worse. To be locked in a cupboard, starved, beaten, berated...

Raped.

To steal a child's innocence in the cruellest of manners. To assert how worthless they are. To taint them in that way. To ruin them in that way.

Snape had dealt with only one sexual abuse victim in his house. A girl called Dorothy Swingler. Seventh Year. She had come to his classroom and revealed what her boyfriend had done. Then at the end she had told Snape to do nothing. Not to punish. Not to reveal this truth. Not to even save her from him.

She had said she deserved it.

Snape had told Dumbledore.

Dorothy hadn't come to him again.

Her boyfriend had been Bill Weasley.

Now Snape could not help the feeling of dread that rested icily in his bones. He had not seen it because he had thought that Dumbledore had simply spotted the issue.

Now he can remember the faint smell of ash that had surrounded Dorothy a few days after the incident.

The smell of an obliviate.

Dumbledore had done nothing. He had hidden the truth because the Weasleys were a poster family for the Light. They embodied the 'goodness' of magic. They were kind and humble and...

Dumbledore had done nothing.

Snape suddenly felt a calling to him. An angelic calling that he could not turn away from. He dropped the book he was carrying and ran as fast as his feet could carry him to the Astronomy Tower.

Why was he going there?

What was going on?

There was a feeling through him. A feeling like he had a new purpose. He had a new mission. He had a new goal. A feeling of warmth that surrounded him like the embrace of a lost friend. A feeling that he could not shake and didn't want to.

He was needed.

And then he saw Potter running to the ledge.

"Stupefy."

The boy dropped like a stone. The look of determination imprinted on his face. A serenity.

Snape stood in shock. His eyes widening. His face paling and body stiffening.

How?

Harry awoke sitting on a small black leather chair in the Headmaster's office. Surrounding him was the Headmaster himself, Professor Snape and Professor Lupin.

He sat up and looked around, guilt falling quickly onto him. He noticed the not-so-subtle containment spell surrounding him. He couldn't leave the chair.

He said quietly,

"So... I'm sure you have some questions."

Lupin nodded. Snape simply raised an eyebrow, and Dumbledore said,

"Yes. To begin with we would like to discuss... How... How you are not dead?"

Harry shrugged,

"An angel."

The others looked incredulous. Snape spluttered,

"What?!"

Harry shrugged again,

"An angel said they wanted to give me a second chance. Something about two souls in my body."

He paused, thinking about what he needed to do,

"Well... I'm fine now. Can I go?"

Lupin stared with unbridled worry. Dumbledore said gently, as if not to startle him,

"No. I'm afraid this is a serious matter. And we have much more to discuss."

He didn't look as if he was to continue so Harry sighed, shoulders drooping slightly, and said,

"Okay. What?"

Dumbledore coughed awkwardly and then said,

"A few teachers and students have brought worry to me about your home life. What do you have to say on the matter?"

Harry sighed again and said,

"My family treats me like a prince. I live in a castle. Everything is fine. Can I go now?"

They didn't look convinced.

Well fuck Harry thought They sure as hell shouldn't look convinced.

Lupin said quietly,

"In class your Boggart was... your uncle and pointed quite obviously to some sort of ab-"

Harry interrupted, glaring slightly, he said icily

"I'm afraid you must be mistake. Sir. I will have you know my home life is fine. Now. If I could please go..."

Snape then said,

"Draco Malfoy also provided me with a memory that outlined this abuse and a suicidal goodbye speech of some sort given by Mr. Potter himself."

Harry paused.

He was an idiot.

He had forgotten about the fucking memory.

Harry said,

"Well... that... is... uh... untrue. I have done nothing of the sort and the very notion that you would think I was suicidal is quite frankly disrespectful."

Snape chuckled darkly and said,

"We have obvious evidence of you being suicidal. Your corpse being one."

Harry paused again. Then he said flustered,

"Well... I mean... Uh... I..."

Dumbledore said calmly,

"Mr. Potter, it would seem some unsettling things have come to light. We, the staff and myself, will do our best to remove you from your home situation, however-"

Snape snarled,

"Headmaster, I do not think you understand how grave the situation is. I believe it would be best if we watched the memory. Mr. Potter, under no circumstances, will be returning to his so called family."

Harry said nervously, ignoring the confusing thoughts of why Snape even cared,

"That won't be necessary. I think we can all just return to what we were doing and-"

Dumbledore ordered,

"Get the pensive."

Harry's eyes widened in alarm,

"I really think that-"

Snape replied,

"Yes Headmaster."

Snape left the room to get the pensive, all the while Harry was sitting there babbling in worry,

"I mean... It was a mistake. And I'm the Boy Who Lived its not like my family would treat me with disrespect. You shouldn't even be worrying. This is hugely unnecessary. I'm fine and the notion that I'm suicidal is just silly. So yeah. I did kill myself. But, it was a one time thing and I'm okay now. Its just silly to even-"

Snape returned, an unknown emotion on his face. He said,

"The pensive."

Harry gulped.

"I mean its not-"

Lupin and Dumbledore stood and wondered over to the box. Harry stared in alarm,

"Its not what it looks like. I... I faked it. Yep. I'm a liar and its untrue and..."

They disappeared into the silvery liquid.

Fuck.

Harry stared in apprehension as their bodies outside the memory seemed to quiver. But why would they quiver?

He could only think of a few reasons.

Anger.

Sadness.

Laughter?

Would they laugh? Would they find his trials funny? Were they in that memory joking to one another? Did his struggles in life not meet their standards? 'Oh kid, you've been raped, well whatever. Quit your complaining. Did you think we'd feel sorry for you? Plus we hate you now 'cause we know you're gay. Also we blame you for the abuse. And you're a freak.'

Harry wondered why the voice berating him had an American accent. Did that make him racist? ...Against Americans?

He started to fidget in his seat. What would they think? What would they do? What would happen to him? Would he go back? Would they blame him? Would they not believe him? Harry couldn't help the nausea that rose in his throat at the thought that they would blame him.

But they would...

Wouldn't they?

He was a freak. Wasn't he? But how could he believe the Dursleys... They had lied before. About his parents. About his name. About magic.

About.

Well.

Everything.

But they had been so certain about this. They had called him 'freak' until the age of six. Said he was unnatural and unworthy. That they did everything for his own good. That his opinions didn't matter and it was his fault.

So why didn't he believe them now?

Why was he angry?

Why would he be even more angry if they blamed him?

It was his fault.

Wasn't it?

And why did he want no one to know?

Sure. It was embarrassing and a little frightening for everyone to find out you were a freak. But Harry had already thought they knew.

Deep down they all knew.

But that memory was different. What he confessed to Malfoy was a part of his soul. It was a part of who he was. It was all of his darkest secrets layed out like a picnic blanket. It was his hidden hurt there for everyone to see. To gawk at. To point and laugh at his misery. To say 'we always knew there was something wrong with you' or 'I understand what you're going through' or 'We. Don't. Believe. You.'

There was some unspoken rule that had always been in Harry's mind. The Dursleys had told him not to tell a soul. That no one would believe him. That they would blame him. That they would simply understand he was a freak. That if he told them they would hunt down and kill him.

Harry wasn't afraid of death.

Frankly he was annoyed that he was stuck here. He still wanted to die. No matter if an angel had granted him with life. He still felt that looming darkness. That fate. Those memories. That truth. Those other names that were his all the same.

Freak.

Boy.

Mudblood.

Dark wizard.

Abomination.

Bitch.

He was also Harry but somehow the name didn't sit right on his tongue. Its as if it were sentient and knew that he had other names. Better names. Names that fit him like a glove.

Harry only hoped that his Golden Boy mask would hold and the teachers wouldn't see how broken he was. Who would want to fix him? Who would care? He could only hope that they believed that he was fine. That they didn't see his inner doubts. That they didn't see his darkness.

Harry also knew hope was a lie and that right then he should have been plotting his own death in that very office, using there absence to his advantage.

Then he remembered the words of the angel.

Fuck.

He had to survive until the next blood moon.

It was torture.

They would surely find some way to fix him. Some way. That could be anything. Therapy to fancy potions to obliviate. What would they do to him? Yet again he hoped they would see what they wanted and not the truth.

Harry knew he was only a tool to them. They needed him for some reason they weren't sharing. That was the only way he could understand last year in the Chamber. Dumbledore had knew where he was and sent his bird. Harry had researched phoenixes in his first week back.

They could teleport people using their own brand of flame travel. They did not follow someone who praised Hogwarts or whatever Dumbledore had said. They followed orders.

Instead of saving him, Dumbledore had sent a bird to aid him in fighting a fucking massive snake!

Harry knew he was their tool. Harry knew he didn't belong to himself. And he knew the hope that he had used to have that this world would be nicer than his last was short lived.

Harry hadn't belonged to himself for a long time and he wasn't about to start now.

But the difference here was he had a choice. He could end his life. He could stop himself from being their tool. He could belong to himself.

So what if his only way of doing that was death.

The teachers left the memory. Shock on their faces.

Tears struck Lupin's. Anger flashed on Snape's. Cold indifference consumed Dumbledore.

They weren't laughing then.

Harry thought it was too late to pretend to be asleep.

Fucking angels!

Lupin didn't know what to think. From what he had seen in class he had expected some sort of abuse. Perhaps a belting here or there.

Not acceptable.

But something people might not have been seen.

What he heard in the memory shattered the very ideas his life was built on. It ruined who he was. It destroyed his ideals.

It. Wrecked. Him.

There were certain things he had always believed.

Light was good.

Dumbledore was right and caring.

Dark was bad. Be it spells or the people that cast them.

Muggles were relatively harmless. They couldn't do much damage and they loved their own.

His whole world view had been shattered. Hearing what those disgraces to existence had done to his cub. His furry ball of love. His student. His brother in all but blood's heir and son and love and life.

It made him tempted to let out his inner wolf.

Torture.

That was the only name that could come to his head.

Fucking torture.

They had ruined his cub. They had beaten him. They had drilled lies into his head. They had worked him like a slave. They had made him believe he was a freak. They had destroyed his childhood and used him.

And they had raped him.

An unspeakable sin. One that could never be fixed. Stealing something that wasn't theirs. Violating one of the most basic boundaries ever known. Destroying someone.

And four times.

Lupin had just stared at that boy in that memory. The one he didn't know if he had ever known at all. Silent tears had flown like rivers down his cheeks.

He should have known.

Then he had turned to Dumbledore beside him. Thinking to see the same anguish on his face. And what Lupin had seen only boiled his rage more.

He looked slightly annoyed.

The fucking sociopath!

How could he just stand there listening to that boy reveal his heart and soul and look slightly annoyed? It was unthinkable. It was a crime in and of it self. And that expression (if you could even dignify it with such a title) led to Lupin's next dangerous train of thought.

He. Had. Known.

This had rocked his entire world. Dumbledore. The sworn protector. The leader of the light. The heart of all that was good. The kind grandfather. The one who didn't care about blood or creature status.

The one who was good.

That man had just stood there, staring impassively, absorbing the information. He hadn't cared. And Lupin blamed him for Harry's horrible existence. He had put Harry there. He had taken his cub out of his grasp and placed him with monsters. Monsters worse than werewolves. Monsters worse than creeping shadows in the night. Darkness that enveloped the world and sucked away joy.

Worse than dementors.

Worse than Voldemort.

Worse than death.

To be placed with those monsters.

Lupin's gaze had turned predatory.

Dumbledore would pay. And those muggles. And the whole fucking world if he had anything to say about it.

Snape was the first one to speak. He said icily, his voice coated in anger,

"It would seem, Mr. Potter, that there is an abundance of evidence. Would you care to talk now?"

Harry said weakly,

"I have the right to an attorney?"

All but Snape looked confused. He quickly explained,

"Its the muggle term for legal representative council."

Harry suddenly looked more confident in his idea, he decided to run with it,

"Well... yes... I mean this is simply slander! You unlawfully watch that memory and make assumptions about my home life. This is a degradation of character. I could sue you! And now I think the best decision would be to release me and... let me... and talk amongst yourselves."

Snape snorted,

"I don't think it would be wise to take legal advice from a thirteen year old."

Dumbledore sighed,

"Well I suppose we could."

Everyone in the room looked shocked. Harry looked hopeful. Dumbledore continued,

"Of course, whilst we discuss you will most probably need to be sent back to your family. If all things are as you say they are then you will need to organise legal aid with them."

Harry paled considerably. Lupin snarled,

"NO! How dare you threaten him like this? Don't you think he's been through enough? How could you even suggest he return, even if you are simply using it to manipulate him into staying?"

Then the werewolf crouched down beside Harry, catching his eye, he said softly,

"Harry, I promise you will never have to go back there. I will never let you go back there."

Harry nodded numbly, unsure how to react to the sudden kindness. Snape coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence,

"Uh... okay then. I would have to agree with Lupin on this one. Mr. Potter shall not be allowed to rejoin his family on any account-"

Dumbledore interrupted,

"Surely the blood wards should be-"

Snape said sharply, sending Dumbledore an evil glare,

"On any account."

Dumbledore still looked conflicted,

"We can set up security measures to stop the Dursleys from-"

Lupin stood, hackles raised, and snarled again,

"NEVER AGAIN WILL HE RETURN THERE I CANNOT BELIVE-"

Lupin was interrupted by a small almost unnoticeable cough. Everyone stopped to stare at Harry. The child said softly,

"As I was saying. I... You have no proof and I think it would be wise if..."

He stopped when Snape started to laugh loudly. His eyes wide he said,

"No proof? You've got to be kidding me. We have the memory, in said memory is a full confession and reveal of injuries. Then we have the boggart. And of course the effects the abuse had caused. Your not attempted but successful suicide. I mean... I don't even understand what case you are trying to plead or why."

Harry said gruffly,

"I just want out of this chair and to be able to..."

He stopped.

What did he want?

Harry couldn't die until the next blood moon. Whenever that was. And that was the only thing he really wanted out of life. It was quite ironic really.

The group sat back down as Harry was thinking. He ended with a weak,

"I don't know yet. But... something."

Dumbledore coughed, regaining the groups attention, and said stiffly,

"As it seems quite clear that Mr. Potter will not be returning to his relatives we must discuss actions to what we will do about his other situation."

Harry asked,

"Other situation?"

Dumbledore sighed,

"The fact that you are suicidal. It must be addressed and you must be assigned a therapist or mind healer of some sort."

Harry stiffened considerably.

The others could understand.

Snape felt a calling. He felt a calling deep inside his bones. The angelic feeling from earlier rising inside him, taking control of his body. He felt happy to let it.

"I volunteer."

Then he felt crazy.

Then the others looked at him as if he were crazy. Lupin choked on the air he was so casually breathing,

"Uh... what? Did I... mishear you?"

Snape found himself shaking his head and repeating,

"I volunteer."

A familiar twinkle had entered Dumbledore's eye. As if that had been some missing piece of the puzzle. He said smugly,

"So that's settled."

Harry said in shock,

"Wait what?"

Snape did not just become his angel chosen, mind healer, guardian.

He just didn't.