Severus Snape was in a good mood today.

Sure, his leg was still giving him trouble (courtesy of Hagrid's three-headed monstrosity), and he ended up having to skip breakfast to avoid being late to his morning classes; but the afternoon classes with the first-year Gryffindors more than made up for all the unpleasantness he'd been forced to deal with.

Severus smirked. As far as he was concerned, any day spent knocking down James Potter's spawn a peg or two was a good day.

The boy had barely set foot in the castle a scant few months ago, and already he had everyone (students and teachers alike) eating out of the palm of his hand. The entire school was raving about the so-called magical prowess of the Brat-Who-Lived. McGonagall of course, was at the head of the crowd, telling everybody she met about how Potter's spawn was a Transfiguration prodigy just like his arrogant father. She'd even used (or abused. . . . in his opinion) her position as Deputy Headmistress to bend the 'No First years' rule and gotten the pathetic child a position on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Even Flitwick, to Snape's surprise, wouldn't stop gushing about the brat and his skills with Charms; and don't even get him started on Dumbledore and his damned twinkle.

To top it all off, the incredibly fortunate brat had somehow managed to take down a fully grown mountain troll while presumably trying to save the obnoxious Granger chit (no doubt the foolish beast had simply knocked itself out with its own club). Rather than berate him for his recklessness however, the entire school was exalting him to the high heavens. Saint Potter, putting his life on the line for a lowly Mudblood with no friends. It was a wonder they hadn't built a statue in his honor and started worshiping him by now!

Now the boy was strutting around the school as if he owned the place. The Weasley boy, the idiot Longbottom and that Granger girl constantly followed him around like obedient dogs. The similarities between him and his arrogant father were so profound that sometimes he felt sick to his stomach.

Naturally, Severus had taken it upon himself to introduce the pampered little Prince of Gryffindor to the harsh reality of the Wizarding world.

When Malfoy had sabotaged Longbottom's cauldron again in today's class, Severus had purposefully turned a blind eye. He had taken a vindictive pleasure in docking Gryffindor several points for Longbottom's clumsiness (that boy should never have been allowed to set foot in this school) and the Weasley boy's outburst over the perceived injustice of the situation. Then he had topped it all off by insulting Potter once again, going out of his way to point out how James Potter had been a similarly incompetent brewer who had once destroyed an entire lab during one of his classes.

The boy had surprised him at that point. Instead of the violent reaction Severus had expected, the brat had simply stared at him with the same neutral expression he always wore in the dungeons.

Severus had to admit, however grudgingly, that the brat had actually impressed him back then. He'd shown a level of self-restraint that James Potter would never have been capable of. He had, however, made the mistake of looking directly at Severus when submitting his potion at the end of the day.

Seeing those beautiful green eyes up close on the face of his old schoolyard adversary had struck a nerve within him; and for the first time in a long time he'd lost control and done something he'd sworn never to do.

He'd insulted Lily before her son.

Severus had cringed internally the moment the words left his lips, but he couldn't suppress the small burst of happiness he felt when the boy's mask dropped and his emerald eyes flashed in anger. He savored the pleasure of being able to get under the skin of the usually unflappable Brat-Who-Lived.

He grimaced in distaste. If only it didn't come at such a high price. . . .

He sighed as he made his way back to his quarters in the dungeons. After a day like this, he wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a hot water bottle for his leg.

As he rounded a corner, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and his world went black.


When Severus finally came to, it took him a few minutes to realize just how bad his current situation was.

He was stripped down to his boxers, his hands tied behind his head; he'd been blindfolded and his mouth was gagged. To make matters worse, he seemed to be locked in an unused bathroom of sorts (if the smell was anything to go by).

His first reaction was that he had fallen victim to an unsavory prank by the Gryffindor twins. He was already thinking about how best to go about convincing Albus to get those demons expelled when he felt something cool run down his bandaged leg.

Then his world exploded into pain.

Something that felt like a strong metal rod struck his injured leg with enough force to crack the bones underneath. Severus screamed in pain, but the gag in his mouth muffled most of the sound.

That was when the Hogwarts Potions Master realized he was a dead man.

Again and again the rod struck, and Severus shrieked in misery as he felt his femur break cleanly in half. He struggled valiantly against his bonds, trying hard not to black out as his unknown assailant went to work on the lower half of his leg, shattering the fibula and the tibia with little effort.

Twenty minutes later, every single bone in Severus' right leg had been pulverized. The sheer pain had caused the distraught Potions Master to void his bowels, and the air was filled with the nauseating smell of his wastes.

His attacker didn't seem to be fazed in the least, however, as he went to work on Severus' other leg. The Potions Master struggled to stay awake against the vicious onslaught on his limb, feeling every single bone crumble against the relentless blows.

As a former Death Eater, Severus Snape was no stranger to pain. He had been on the receiving end of the Cruciatus curse on more than one occasion. But his current situation was beyond even his capacity to bear.

Every single blow that landed on his leg was calculated. It amazed him how unhurried his attacker was, as he went about landing vicious blows on his person with a precision that boasted of experience. Worse still, his assailant was careful to not make a single noise or gesture that gave away his identity.

But even delirious with pain, a part of Severus' mind was capable of enough rational thought to narrow down his suspicions to one person in the castle.

Quirrell. . . .

That was his last coherent thought as he passed out in sheer agony.


Albus Dumbledore strode into the Hospital Wing, his traveling cloak still on his person.

He had arrived from the Ministry to find a distraught Minerva McGonagall waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. She had barely finished speaking when he started moving up the stairs, intending to check on the health of his Potions Master.

"Poppy, how is Severus doing?"

To his slight surprise, the mediwitch merely jerked her head towards her office. Dumbledore followed her in and cast a strong privacy ward around them both.

"Severus is in an extremely bad situation, Albus! The bones in both of his legs have been fractured in multiple places. He also lost quite a bit of blood, seeing as one of his legs was still healing after that run in with that beast of Hagrid's. I'm afraid it'll be several days before I can discharge him from here."

Dumbledore digested all this information. Briefly, he debated about moving him to St Mungo's before quickly dismissing that thought. He had faith in Poppy Pomfrey's skills as a Healer, and he wanted to avoid drawing any more unnecessary attention.

Not to mention there were more pressing concerns to deal with. . . .

"Minerva said that Severus had been attacked?"

Poppy nodded. "One of the prefects found him in an unused bathroom in the dungeons. It was. . . . Albus, it was horrible." She swallowed. "He was stripped naked, his hands were bound behind his head and he was blindfolded and gagged. His legs were absolutely. . . . mangled; and that's not even the worst part."

She gestured to a corner of her office. Lying there was a long partially-rusted metal pipe, splotches of red blood all over it.

Dumbledore felt like he was going to be sick.

"We found this lying beside him. While Minerva and I brought him here, Filius investigated the area." Poppy swallowed again. "Albus, there was no magical signature in that place whatsoever. Whoever did this didn't use any magic at all." She looked at him meaningfully.

Dumbledore understood what she was getting at. Like him, Poppy was veteran of the First War against Voldemort. What she had described was a method of attack favored by low-level enforcers hired by the Death Eaters. In order to avoid detection by the Aurors they had often employed such crude measures, largely for the purpose of intimidating their targets. It was mostly successful since most wizards lacked the physical training to deal with such unorthodox tactics.

To think that something like this happened in his school. . . .

"Albus? Albus!" Poppy startled him out of his reverie. "We have to do something. The culprit is still out there, roaming the school! We have to notify the DMLE!"

"I agree, my dear. I shall floo them myself." He glanced out of the office at the sole occupied bed in the infirmary. He could make out the broken form of his Potions Master, hidden behind the drapes. "Will Severus make a full recovery?"

She sighed. "It's too early to say. The damage to his legs was. . . extensive. I'm afraid mending the bones with magic is out of the question. I'm going to have to vanish them and regrow them using Skele-Gro." Dumbledore winced in sympathy. He remembered too well the discomfort of re-growing bones from scratch.

"It'll take three days for all the bones in both his legs to be completely regrown. Then he'll need a few days of therapy to ensure his legs are still working correctly, or if he'll require additional treatment."

"Do your best, my dear. I shall be on my way. I have quite a few calls to make." Dumbledore walked out of the office and approached Severus' unconscious form slowly.

In hindsight it was pretty clear as to who the culprit was. He'd known the moment he'd understood that the attack had occurred while he was away from the castle.

Only one person in the school was ruthless enough to carry out such a cold, pre-mediated act of violence against another.

Dumbledore's suspicions had been correct: Lord Voldemort was within the school.

No doubt he had found a way around the wards with help of Quirinus Quirell. Dumbledore had long since suspected the DADA teacher to be in league with the monster. He also had some suspicions as to what exactly lurked beneath the stuttering Wizard's turban.

Perhaps it was time to find out.

A cold anger filled the old headmaster's chest at the sight of his injured friend.

Once again that monster had desecrated the sacred halls of his school! Once again an innocent's life had been put in jeopardy because of his carelessness! The incident with Ms Granger and the troll had been bad enough, but this. . . . this was going too far.

Voldemort had finally gone too far.

Dumbledore bade Poppy goodnight and strode purposefully to the quarters of his DADA professor. If it was a fight Voldemort wanted, then by Merlin he was going to get one!


Severus Snape awoke with a start.

For a moment he wondered if it was the pain in his legs which had prompted his return to consciousness. His mouth was still tinged with the foul taste of the Skele-Gro potion. He looked around blearily for a jug of water.

"How're you doing, Professor?"

Severus jumped in shock at the sound of the voice. He whipped around to the chair beside his bed, and was surprised to see a familiar green-eyed first year smiling at him.

"Hi," Potter waved cheerfully.

Severus opened his mouth to admonish the boy for being out of his dorms this time of the night, only to find that he couldn't move.

"Just a Full-Body bind, Professor. Wouldn't want you hurting yourself now, would we?"

Severus glared at him in impotent rage. How dare this brat cast a spell on a teacher? He'd see him expelled for this! He. . . .

Wait. Did he just cast that spell non-verbally? And how did he get past Poppy's monitoring charms?

Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong.

"I just thought I'd come up and check on you, Professor," Potter spoke casually, running his eyes over Snape's legs. "You look like you're healing up alright. Madam Pomfrey's pretty good at her job, isn't she?" He grinned.

He continued to stare at Snape's still form for a few minutes in silence. "I suppose I went a little too far this time, didn't I?"

Severus looked at him in surprise. What in the name of Merlin. . . .

Potter looked at his face and grinned again. "I guess I don't know my own strength sometimes."

Clarity hit Severus like a lightning bolt.

It was him!

Potter was the one responsible for all this! It wasn't Quirrell, it was Potter!

Severus thrashed against the spell in a futile attempt to wring the devil-spawn's neck. He settled for shooting him a venomous glare that would've cowed a lesser man.

But the Boy-Who-Lived merely chuckled. "So you finally figured it out? Good to know."

He moved forward suddenly until he was practically nose to nose with the older man. "I want you to know that I take no pleasure in doing this to you; I really don't. I don't enjoy hurting other people, you know. Even those who obviously deserve it."

He traced the tip of his wand gently over the Potion Master's face. "But it was your own fault, you know. You really shouldn't have insulted my mother like that."

Severus nearly wet himself with fear. What the hell was wrong with the brat? His voice was so. . . . cold, so void of emotion. No child should be able to speak that way.

Those emerald orbs of his cast an eerie glow in the darkness of the infirmary.

"I mean," he continued to speak in that same emotionless tone of voice, "the woman died to save my life. I may not remember her, but still, she died to save me. Don't you think you should respect that, if nothing else?"

Potter fixed him with an unblinking glare. "What is your problem with me exactly, Professor?"

"I get that you had some kind of a. . . . rivalry with my father. But d'you really think its fair for you to be taking out on me? Especially, when the man who supposedly wronged you has been dead for a decade?"

Severus glowered at the presumptuous child. Did he honestly think it was as simple as that? He would've sneered if he could. That boy had no idea what he was talking about.

Potter, however, seemed to read his mind. "You misunderstand me, Professor. It is not that I do not know what happened between you and my father," he moved closer, his voice dropping lower, "it's that I do not care!"

His bright green eyes continued to gaze into the Potion Master's black ones. Taking a risk, Severus sent out a light legilimency probe intending to break the psychotic brat's concentration. To his surprise however, they simply bounced off some rather solid mental shields.

That threw him for a loop. Where in the world did Potter manage to learn occlumency?

If the boy noticed what he was attempting however, he did not react. "Ever since I've entered the Wizarding world, I've had only goal in mind. I want to find the monster responsible for taking my parents. . . . my childhood away from me, and end him."

"Anything that is unrelated to the complete and utter destruction of Lord Voldemort is irrelevant to me." His eyes seemed to glow even brighter. "You, Professor, are irrelevant."

His casual dismissal of Severus' very existence as 'irrelevant' caused a renewed wave of fury. The Potions Master struggled against the spell binding his body, itching to get his hands around the devil child's throat.

Potter merely smirked at him and reclined back in his chair.

"I really don't understand why you insist on continuing this pointless feud, Professor. Just what is it do you hope to gain by defeating me, hmmm?"

"That is, of course, assuming you can actually defeat me. Oh, I'm not talking about a magical duel or anything," he correctly interpreted the look of utter contempt in Severus' eyes. "In a duel I'm pretty sure you can kick my arse. No, I'm not talking about a magical battle; I'm talking about a political one."

"On one hand there's me: Boy-Who-Lived, bane of Dark Wizards, the Golden Gryffindor, protector of the weak and helpless; then there's you: former Death Eater, only able to survive persecution thanks to Dumbledore's good graces, and general all-round unpleasant person."

"Who do you think the people would be likely to support if it came down to between the both of us, huh Professor? How many witches and wizards will line up outside this castle to lynch you when they realize that their Savior is being harassed by a former supporter of the Dark Lord?"

Severus kept growing paler with every single word out of his mouth. He finally realized, with a sinking feeling, that James Potter's spawn was absolutely right in his assessment. In the past few months he had, unknowingly, been digging his own grave.

And that was nothing to say about the other students who'd be sure to support the boy. Realization hit him like a punch to the gut when he remembered that one of the Gryffindors he'd been continually harassing was the only grandson of one of the Governors of the school. Augusta Longbottom would kill him herself if she were to discover how he'd be treating her heir.

Once again Potter seemed to be able to read his mind. He smirked confidently. "Finally figured it out, have you? You know, for someone who's supposed to be the Head of the House of cunning, you're not exactly very sharp."

He leaned forward again, his expression once again cold and distant. "You are an insect that I can squash under my feet whenever it pleases me. You are insignificant to me. You are nothing!"

Severus swallowed in fear, painfully aware of the small trickle of urine going down his leg.

"I came here tonight to make sure you get the message. I have only one goal, Professor: the complete and utter annihilation of Lord Voldemort."

"And you can fight at my side, or get crushed under my heel, but you will not stand in my way."

They locked gazes for several minutes, the boy's bright emerald orbs glowing with the promise of pain and destruction.

Then Potter grinned again. "I should get going now. Take care, Professor. Get well soon."

The Boy-Who-Lived walked out of the infirmary, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across.


As Severus Snape felt the curse imprisoning him fall away, he breathed an audible sigh of relief.

In his short career as a follower of the Dark Lord, he had seen many terrifying things. Yet for some reason, his encounter with the Potter child seemed to eclipse them all.

Never in all his life had he come so close to death (except perhaps for his Sixth year at Hogwarts). For that was what Potter's warning had truly been all about.

Harry Potter's message was extremely clear. If he so chose to, he could kill Severus Snape and nobody would be able to do anything about it. Heck, nobody would be willing to do anything about it. It was the whole reason Potter had chosen to attack him in the first place.

He couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for the child. How positively Slytherin of him!

For a moment he debated showing the memory of this conversation to Albus. Let him see how golden his beloved Gryffindor truly was!

He dismissed that thought as quickly as it came. No, it would not do to make an enemy out of Harry Potter.

Besides, the boy had made himself perfectly clear about his goals. He was committed to the destruction of the Dark Lord. Hell, he seemed practically obsessed with it.

But that was alright. After all, isn't that what they all wanted?

No, it was for the best that Severus never spoke of this incident. He would let Dumbledore draw his own conclusions, and do his very best to stay the hell away from the Boy-Who-Lived.

He groaned softly as he settled down on his pillows.

One thing was for certain, when the Dark Lord finally faced Harry Potter, he would be in for a very nasty surprise.

Severus almost felt sorry for the bastard.

Almost.


AN: Yeah, as you guys might've guessed, I really don't like Snape.

This, of course, doesn't mean that Snape's a bad guy in this story. I'm sticking with canon for most of the characters, so yeah Snape is still on Dumbledore's side. And yes, I'm going for a good guy Dumbledore in this fic.

Now before you all start smashing away your reviews saying "OMG! That's so unrealistic!", know that Harry in this story is pretty damn powerful. So yeah, there will be a few moments where he'll curb stomp his opponents. Seeing as Voldemort is also going to be a hell of a lot stronger than canon, I feel it will balance things out.

And for those wondering why Snape would cave so easily, there're two reasons. One is that Canon Snape despised Harry because he thought he was a "talentless" bum like his father. A cunning and ruthlessly strong Harry will actually impress him.

The second is that Snape is (fundamentally) a bully, and all bullies tend to falter when their victims strike back with sudden and overwhelming force.

"But, but Snape was bullied by James" - and he repaid him by getting him and his wife killed. Then he spent the six years telling James' orphaned son that his father was an arrogant asshole. Think that pretty much makes them even.

"But Snape had an abusive childhood" - so did Harry. You don't see him treating other people like dirt.

"But Snape was a spy, so he had to act like that" - there is not a single instance in Canon where we see the good guys benefiting from his spying. If anything, he's done a lot of shit under the guise of maintaining his cover. He sold out Emmaline Vance, cut off George's ear, did nothing to help the Hogwarts students getting tortured under Voldemort's rule. . . I could go on all day.

"But Snape loved Lily" - bullshit. He was obsessed with her; and when she rejected him for calling her a racist name in public, he went and joined up with the very group that wanted to kill her. That's like your black friend snubs you when you call her the n-word in public, and you go and join the KKK. That's not love, that's fucked up shit.

Personally, I'd love to see him die a slow and agonizing death at Harry's hands, but for the purposes of the story he'll stay as one of the good guys. I'll make him earn it though.