A/N: HP belongs to JKR. Sorry for the delay.

XXXXXX

CHAPTER - 3:

A RESCUE:

Privet Drive was cloaked in a fine sheet of darkness. It was past midnight when a tall, thin man appeared in a corner of the Privet Drive. It was quite difficult to judge his age from the silver of his long hair and beard for he appeared so old that one would wonder how such an old man could be alive and in perfect shape. His nose was long and crooked and his half moon spectacles were perched precariously on his nose. His bright, blue eyes were devoid of their usual twinkle.

It was a moonless night. The sky appeared to be dark black colored velvet studded with glittering pieces of diamond. Albus Dumbledore remembered the last time he had been here almost 14 years back. He never expected to be summoned here in such an urgent manner.

Forcing down the uneasiness he was feeling he took out a silver cigarette lighter and flicked it open. He clicked it once and all the lights from the street light went off plunging the whole street in to darkness.

Gathering his deep blue robes around him, he walked in the direction of 4, Privet Drive. Stepping over the low garden walls, he walked towards the front door which opened noiselessly the moment he placed his foot on the stairs.

"Severus…!" He greeted the dour looking Potions Master who had opened the door to let the Headmaster in.

"What is going on Severus? I asked you to check on Harry, but it seems that something is very wrong here."

Without a word Snape turned and stalked towards the living room confident that the headmaster was following him. He stopped in front of a transfigured bed hiding the person resting there completely from view.

"You better see this for yourself." He moved away from sight exposing the old man to a scene which would definitely leave anyone confused… confused and scared.

On the bed lay a very pale and thin Harry Potter.

Dumbledore did a double take on seeing the pale figure lying on the bed. "Is he sleeping?" The question was asked very softly, but the Potions master only shook his head in negation.

Taking a few steps forward he reached up to the bed and pulled out the covers revealing a ghastly sight.

The boy was pale – almost as pale as Severus himself and was completely skins and bones. He was so very thin that every single bone in his body could be counted with ease. Just three weeks into the holidays and he had lost every pound that he had gained at Hogwarts.

One would have thought that only malnutrition was sufficient – but no… Harry Potter never did things in half. His thin frame was covered with scars – red, angry lines ran from his chest to his torso covering the previous blackened wounds. Quite a lot of the old wounds had opened up and were bleeding freely soaking the sheet in a deep crimson colour. There were angry welt marks on his skin which seemed to be made from being hit by a belt's buckle. His right wrist was swollen and seemed to be broken.

"Oh Merlin… What in the name of Merlin has happened to him?"

XXXXXX

There was darkness all around – but not the oppressing, hurtful darkness which used to scare him as a child. Instead he felt safe, comforted. The darkness enclosed him in its wings as if cocooning him against all his agonies. He felt liberated as he found himself floating in the vast expanse of the darkness.

He didn't realize how long he had been there. He couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything except for the all encompassing warmth which somehow showed no signs of dissipating. He flexed his fingers in the darkness and felt the kinks working out. That was relaxing. He got up and stretched his muscles. Long disuse had rendered them useless; it took him a while to get used to their mechanisms. Finally when he could stand firmly without any support, he looked around.

Darkness….! Night…! Where was he?

And who in the name of blessed Merlin had rescued him from those obnoxious and extremely unreasonable relatives' of his? Try as he might, he could not remember the rescue operation. Who had taken him out of there? Ron? Fred and George? Mr. Weasley?

After thinking for a while he discarded the chances of the Weasleys coming to his rescue because try as he might, the security and comfort which enveloped him now was not their doing. Happiness – he could attach with Weasleys, a carefree attitude was their trademark, but security, comfort, and safety was not something which he could attach with the Weasleys.

Then who – Remus? No.. he would be too busy keeping Sirius company. Harry was not stupid – he knew the last of the two Mauraders were devastated and broken and considering the amount of time Sirius had spent in Azkaban and then the next one year on run, he knew that his Godfather was in dire need of proper food and rest. And he was not that selfish to wish his Godfather or his erstwhile DADA Professor to come to his rescue and get into trouble for him. Sirius was the last living relative he had and Harry was loathe to lose him.

So again he returned to the same question – who had rescued him? Dumbledore? Nah! The headmaster was too busy to indulge in such unimportant tasks. And why did he need rescuing? What had happened to him? With a pang, Harry suddenly realized that he couldn't remember one single day of his summer vacations? His last conscious thought was about the Leaving feast and his depression over having to go back to the loving care of his relatives.

His panic rising, he looked around in the darkness. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he remember anything? He felt a sudden surge of dread running through him. His last conscious thought before slipping into oblivion was about the identity of his rescuer.

xxxxxx

Number 12, Grimmauld Place was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix as well as the temporary establishment of the Weasleys. Sitting in the bedroom assigned to the twins, Ron and Hermione bent their head over a parchment in an effort to construct a letter.

"But Hermione… why is he not replying to our letters?"

"Maybe he is not getting them Ron." Hermione pointed out in a worried voice.

"But why wouldn't he get them? Dumbledore said that as long as we don't mention what's going on in here; he would see to it that Harry receives our letters. But he hasn't replied to a single one yet. And not just the ones we are writing now, but also the letters which I wrote from burrow haven't been answered."

"Remember our second year Ron when Dobby was blocking his mail. Maybe someone else is doing it this time."

"Yes… but Dobby is employed in Hogwarts. And I don't know about another house elf who would take it upon himself to save Harry from whatever danger is following him this time."

"Oh well… I suppose we could ask Professor Dumbledore about Harry the next time he is here." Hermione said a bit uncertainly.

"Good." Ron pushed away the unused parchment and the quill. "In that case can we go and have our lunch? I am hungry."

"Ron! You are always hungry." But she got up and followed him out of the room and into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was busy cooking lunch for all the people who currently resided there.

xxxxxx

The room was big and warm. And though all the lights were off, a faint light from a small fireplace at one end of the room threw a pearly sheen in to the room giving it a warm glow. A big four poster bed was situated in the centre of the room. On the left side of the bed and just beneath the large windows was a mahogany writing table of sizeable proportion. A straight backed chair was placed in front of it. On the bed stood a table lamp which somehow blended in with the surroundings without any problem. Near the table was a bookcase which held a few books. A chest of drawers was situated at the other end of the room just opposite to the bed. A couch was sitting some distance away from the drawers. At the far end of the room on the right side was a closed door, probably the washroom.

Next to the bed on its right side was a plush armchair which was occupied by a very old man with long silver hair which was held by a red ribbon. He wore bright red robes which were studded with shining stars. His long silver beard was tucked inside his waist band and his half moon spectacles perched precariously on his nose. Albus Dumbledore had been sitting in this same position for the last hour and half.

And before that – before that he had trying to comfort the badly distraught boy who was lying on the bed slipping in and out of consciousness for the last 24 hours and had been unconscious for more than 48 hours before that. Never in his wildest dreams had the headmaster ever thought that his well meaning plans to keep the boy safe could have back fired so badly. And he had himself to blame for that. What had he been thinking when he had placed the child in care of those obnoxious Dursleys? They were the worst sort of guardians for any child and particularly for a wizard child. With a mind block as huge as a rock and an irrational fear towards everything magic, the Dursleys were unfit to raise a wizard child, and that too the one who had a horror in his past. Merlin…! He should have listened to Minerva all those years ago.

Bone weary with exhaustion and guilt, he let his head fall into his palms. He was so lost in his own thoughts that neither did he hear the creaking of the door nor the soft footsteps of a person walking into the room. He came to his senses when a hand held his shoulders in a firm grip.

"All is not lost Albus. He will be fine."

The blue eyes were devoid of their usual twinkling when they met the onyx eyes of his colleague. "I have failed him badly Severus; just like I had failed you all those years ago. I had promised to myself that I wouldn't let another child suffer like you did, but yet again I committed the same mistake."

"Don't blame yourself Albus. You couldn't have known."

"And yet, I should have known Severus, I should have at the very least guessed. At the end of his first year he had hinted at his reluctance to return to his relatives' home, and thinking that the wards were more important for their safety and that probably he didn't want to go there because of some silly, school boy fight with his cousin I persuaded him to go back. He didn't make the same request again. And yet, year after year he came back from that place more disturbed than happy. And year after year I kept on ignoring the signs… I was only too happy to ignore them… and kept sending him back to that infernal hell."

Severus Snape bit the sharp retort which was at the tip of his tongue. "Yes indeed… and year after year you let him face the dangers alone, you let him compete in that blasted tournament, you let him face the Dark Lord alone and knowing his apparent hatred for secrecy you kept him away from his friends and let him suffer alone… and all that after the child was forced to witness the death of his friend. Bravo indeed; Albus."

But seeing the deep regret on the visage of his mentor, he kept silent about his feelings. "Go and have something Albus. You haven't eaten anything since last evening."

"I am not very hungry Severus."

"May be you are not… may be this is your way of punishing yourself, but Ariana certainly is at no fault. She is waiting for you to eat something. Go and explain your absence to her. She deserves something better than this pure neglect Albus."

Slowly, the headmaster got up from his seat and finally turned to face his younger colleague. His face was marred with deep lines of tiredness and for once Severus was grateful that he had held back his tongue. A painful smile flitted across his face. "I suppose you will be here Severus."

"I will be here. Now go."

With a nod, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry walked out of the room.

XXXXXX

Severus Snape was not a very patient man. In fact, he had no patient, especially with those of slower mental processes. And neither did he have even one ounce of compassion. He had never considered him to be of the emotional types. So what was the reason that he felt an overwhelming sense of empathy with the blasted Golden Boy?

His heart was not in the usual tirades against the son of his arch nemesis and he knew that it was because he had seen his own childhood replay in front of his eyes the day he had gone to check on Harry Potter. He settled down on the chair and prepared for a long vigil. If Ariana had listened to him then by now Albus would be sinking into a dreamless sleep. The idea of drugging his food had been hers and he was in concurrence with it. The old man needed some rest.

He had always thought that harry had had a spoilt and pampered childhood. And consequently he hadn't been prepared to see blatant abuse and mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys. The scene played like a reel in front of his eyes and he let himself sink into the events of that evening even though they were extremely ugly to be remembered. Perhaps he owed them to the boy. After four years of enmity which was based on nothing but false opinion he perhaps had to atone for them.

With a sigh, he waved his wand over the prone form of the boy. Thankfully the temperature was under control and the injuries were healing nicely. The broken bones had been healed by skele-grow and the rest of the bruises were fading. But the child was still painfully thin and he needed adequate nutrients to regain his strength. And maybe a full course of nutrient potions. He had already started brewing them in his potions Lab at his manor. But considering the condition of the boy and Dumbledore's lack of rest, he had hurried to release the man from sitting besides the sick boy.

He spelled a pain reliever and a healing draft into the child's system. Then as an afterthought he spelled a vial of nutrient potion into his system. The slight sound of the opening of the door alerted him to the presence of someone else.

"He passed out. I have put him to bed."

"Thank you Ariana." He turned and smiled at his god daughter who stood in the doorway.

"I should be thank you for responding so soon Uncle Sev." A small smile graced her perfect features and automatically he could feel his own facial muscles relaxing.

"Don't mention it child."

She smiled slightly but didn't go away. Instead she hesitated near the doorway. "Err… umm… need any help? Shall I sit with him while you take a short nap?"

"No… thank you Ariana. Perhaps you should go and rest. I am fine."

"Grandad would be out for the next 12 hours or more. In the meanwhile if you need anything just call me. I will ask Twinkle to respond to your call."

She turned around to leave but then stopped once again. "And don't worry about me. I am not feeling left out. I know grandpa loves him very much." She pointed in the general direction of the bed. "I am just worried that he may not make a full recovery considering the state you brought him in. Grandpa would be devastated… and even Harry doesn't deserve it." Then she turned and left the room softly closing the door behind her.

XXXXXX

With soft soundless steps, Ariana walked down the corridor and stopped in front of a door. Quietly opening the door, she peeped inside. The screens were drawn thereby obstructing the sunlight from streaming inside. The only light came from a lamp which was placed on the table with its wick lowered. On the bed covered in a red colored spread lay her grandpa. The dreamless sleep potion had taken its toll. He was sleeping peacefully. With a satisfied smirk which could have rivaled Snape's, she made her way far down towards the library.

She pulled open a big tome on healing potions and pored over it. Potions had always been her favorite subject. And she was an instinctive brewer, much like her god father but try as she might she was unable to concentrate on the process of brewing the Draught of Living Death.

Her mind went back to the incidents which had happened 3 days back. She had just flooed into the manor and Penny had put her things in her room when the floo in the living room flared green and out stepped Albus Dumbledore carrying an unconscious and bloodied Harry Potter.

She had been shocked beyond belief when she saw the scene in front of her. Her grandfather was trembling with barely controlled rage and his magic was swirling around him in a silver colored mist. And behind her grandfather was Severus Snape whose usually stern visage was contorted in uncontrollable fury. She wasn't stupid – she had immediately understood that something had happened with the boy, but she didn't know the identity of the injured guest.

However three days later, between sitting besides his bed side, helping her grandfather in administering potions and working along with her god father in brewing the requisite potions, she had pieced together the bare facts of the story.

The boy was Harry Potter, the Boy – Who – Lived, and her grandpa's favorite student. He had been abused by Dursleys and something very dangerous and drastic had happened to him. And it was Snape who had found him in that state. And he had performed the Retribution spell.

Ariana knew that Retribution spell was a very powerful spell and a wizard who felt righteous anger could only cast the spell. And knowing the tumultuous history between Harry Potter and Severus Snape she was not sure how the Potions Master had managed to cast the spell.

With a sigh, she closed the book and let her head fall into her arms. What had happened with the boy who was put in the care of his blood relatives?

XXXXXX

A slight noise from the bed shook Severus Snape out of his reverie. The boy was tossing and turning in his bed, trashing around as beads of perspiration lingered on his forehead. Getting up quickly he walked up to the bed and peered at the sleeping figure. This was the first movement he had seen from the boy in three days.

The boy was caught up in some sort of nightmare. And after seeing firsthand the condition of his home life, Severus didn't have a doubt about the content of the dreams.

He bent down and shook the desperately twitching child. "Potter… wake up."

"No…no…! Don't… don't kill her. Please don't kill her."

Severus sprung back in shock. "Kill her?" What was the child dreaming of?

"Potter… you are dreaming. Get up."

"Gerroffme." He desperately attacked the unsuspecting Potions Master. It was only the lightning fast reaction of years of training at being a spy which saved Severus from being hit.

He watched for a few minutes but somehow seeing the brat struggle with his nightmares didn't allow him to stand back quietly. Very cautiously he approached the badly trashing child and gently shook him keeping his voice as soft as possible for him. "Potter… potter… H...Harry… wake up… you are safe here… nobody is killing you. Wake up."

As suddenly as the thrashing had started, it stopped and limp with exhaustion Harry fell almost lifeless on the bed. Badly scared Severus Snape shook the unconscious teenager. "Harry… Harry… wake up."

He really hadn't expected any response, so he jumped up in surprise when a pair of emerald green eyes blinked open and stared deep into the onyx ones. "Where am I?"


A/N: Sorry for the delay... was caught up in end term exams which were preponed a bit. So i couldn't post the third part in time. Hope this part doesn't need any refreshing of memory for my readers.

Harry Telcontar Holmes: Thank you for reviewing. Alex's entry will surely prove to be a turning point for the story. But who is he and what will he do remains to be seen.

SlytherinLover143: thank you... you are my first reviewer. Hope the length was better this time.

alexm789: Done!

Please read and review...!