Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, was annoyed. And lost. Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Somehow -- and he still wasn't sure how he'd managed this - by going UP a flight of stairs which he was quite certain led to Gryffindor Tower, he had ended up ........ in the dungeons.

Harry sighed heavily, opening his eyes and rapidly blinking against the sharp sting that presented itself there. Glancing around the hallway that he now found himself in, Harry finally shrugged his shoulders, quickly walking forward and opening the nearest door.

Simply opening a door had never caused any damage before, as far as Harry could remember. And really, it was the easiest way to find out just where he was - and how to find his way back upstairs.

The sight that met his eyes, however, was not one that he had expected.

A young boy sat in the middle of the room, potions ingredients spread out around him like so many toy blocks. He glanced up as Harry opened the door, a wide grin splitting his face.

Harry blinked in surprise, taking a cautious step forward, only to come up short as the boy flickered out of sight, before disappearing altogether, much like watching a television flicker out of reception.

Harry opened and closed his mouth soundlessly sever times, in what he could later realize resembled a fish out of water. However, he couldn't seem to think of anything appropriate, or even intelligent to say, and finally settled for, "Huh?"

Harry would later wonder why that particular scene had frightened him so much, enough to make him stumble back, out of the room and bolt down the deserted hallway.

If he had been thinking clearly at the time, Harry would have realized what a foolish move that had been. However, fear and stupidity usually seem to go hand in hand.

After what seemed like hours of running, but was really only a matter of minutes, Harry collapsed into one of the small alcoves that seemed to populate nearly every hallway of Hogwarts (if you knew where to look).

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Harry wrapped his arms around them, head dropping down and shoulders shaking slightly with the force of his sobs.

It was all just too much - Mikhail, Illiandra, this place, Malfoy........ and now this strange boy, there one moment and gone the next. It was too much, too fast, and it was all starting to catch up with him.

Whimpering softly, Harry clasped his robes in tightly clenched fists, barely even noticing the gentle hand smoothing back his hair, running fingers though the inky black locks.

However, the sound of that soft, cultured voice was more than enough to shock him out of his grief.

"You shouldn't be here, Little One. They shouldn't have let you come." Severus Snape smiled gently moving his hands to cup Harry's face gently, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead, murmuring what Harry first assumed to be nonsense words. However, as his eyelids began to droop and his body to slump forward into Snape's waiting arms, it became blindingly obvious that the words he had murmured had been those of a Sleeping Spell.

He was asleep within moments, his last thought resounding through his head as he slipped into the comforting darkness.

How had Snape cast the spell without the use of his wand?

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thankee to my beta! you rock! and more is comming -- already have ALOT written, just need to type it up and send it off to my beta. so expect more soon :D