AN: This is short I know... I am working on more. Simply put I have not had time. I graduated last Friday and so my weekend was not spent at home but with friends and such. This week don't expect much out. I am getting ready to go on a trip. During my trip to Utah... Dear merlin. save me... I will work on the story and hope to up date for you all... So thank you for your kind words and encouragement.

Section 1

Harry remembered a time, when for a brief instant, the pain stopped and he was released from a torture that little knew of. It was the memory that always stilled his beating heart, casting his spent body into stasis.

He had remembered escaping the clutches of his 'family' as if they were his archenemies and he, the super hero. The struggle for freedom and revenge was to be forgotten in the few blissful moments of peace after capture. It was his battered child body, not more then 5 years old that was found comatose by Mr. Granger in a park, where the Dursley's were conveniently dropping off their burden.

Harry imagined the Dursley's scuttling away from himself and Mr. Granger in fright as William cradled the used child's body to his chest in an effort to protect him.

By then, though, Harry knew the truth. Or fragments of the truth that was tainted by his relatives' hatred. He was Harry James Potter. Son of James Potter and Lily Evans. Godson of Sirius Black. He was the Savior. He was the Boy-Who-Lived. He was an orphan boy sent to live in exile from the wizard world for protection with the last of his family that would like nothing more than for him to disappear into the night. He was a wizard. But more than that he was a child, adored by the wizard world, abused in the muggle world and starved of more than affection. Most of all, Harry Potter was a survivor. Even death, he found, could not keep him. His life was already destined. He was meant to be used, abused and thrown away. That was the life he knew and grew to understand by the tender age of 5. Now however, none of that mattered, for the battered body of a 17 year was wasting away in the halls of Hogwarts.

Before Snape's and Hermione's eyes, the blood pooling around Harry's body flickered then vanished, leaving clean smooth unblemished skin in its wake. As Hermione rushed forward to her brother's side, his chest cavity rose once, expelled what air was left in his lungs, then rose again… and again, in a steady pattern.

"Dumbledore." Snape gasped finally gaining his equilibrium. "Someone, you, Jones get Dumbledore immediately! And you Baxton! Go get Pomfrey!"

As the seconds ticked by, waiting for the arrival of the Mediwitch and Headmaster, Snape stood near Harry's feet, memorizing the appearance of the brother and sister, categorizing and analyzing them. These two would push him and the school to the limits, Snape knew for sure.

While trekking to the Hospital Wing and explaining what he had witnessed to the Headmaster, Snape mused that this year would prove to be challenging, dangerous and life threatening if those two had anything to do with it.

Section 2

The following morning Hermione lay in the bed next to Harry's, dozing softly in the Hospital Wing. The Professors and Headmaster had left early in the morning before dawn after Madame Pomfrey reassured all that Harry would be fine and was sleeping peacefully.

Now though, the sun was high in the sky shining brightly through the windows, warming empty beds and stirring Harry from his healing sleep. Moaning softly, Harry buried his face into the pillow, blocking out the sun.

"Too… bright," he groaned, waking. "Mion?" He continued, angling his face slightly away from the pillow. When no response was found, he opened his eyes in tiny slits, searching for his sister. He sighed in relief once he spotted her curled in a ball on the bed to his right, sleeping. Stretching silently, he shifted out of bed and padded down the wing to Madame Pomfrey's station, where she sat reading.

"Ahh, Mister Potter. Awake are you? How are you feeling?" Pomfrey smiled, marking the page before closing it and turning her undivided attention to the young bedridden man before her.

"The loo?"

Chuckling softly, Pomfrey lead the boy back into the bathing and loo area. Moving to a cabinet at the entrance of the room, Pomfrey took out a change of clothes and a towel.

"I set a pair of cloths and a towel out for you, Potter. If you need any thing else just call. I'll be in my office." Pomfrey said before closing the door.

Once he was done with the toilet, Harry disrobed, turned on a shower and stepped under the hot spray of water, letting the heat soak into his skin and turn it pink. Lost in his thoughts, Harry continued to stand under the scalding hot water.

In his mind, he stood remembering an accident that happened when they were in grade school. It was the end of the year, only three more days till summer vacation. Harry was eight while Hermione had just turned nine. Their teacher, Mister Dean Higgins, was a cruel teacher. Strict, demanding and viscous. This day however, Higgins was absent and a substitute was in his place. She was a nice old lady with a thick English accent.

Harry was not remembering her or Higgins though, he was remembering their time in the park. He was remembering the first scar he received. His first violent manifestation of magic. Hermione and himself were with a large group playing tag. Neither were chasers. Harry was being targeted by one of the faster chasers and was dodging as best he could the other children and equipment. The chaser was getting closer and closer until Harry was tackled to the ground and deemed "it" by his chaser.

The moment Harry touched the ground, he was pushed into the trance. Doctor's would later say that Harry had a fit, though the symptoms did not match. Harry laid on the ground stiff and still, locked away from the world. His body was numb until the first lashing struck his flesh. The sharp cutting pain continued for 32 lashing, leaving his back a bloody mess. Tears leaked out of pain filled innocent eyes. Throughout the whipping, a single voice, whispered the same thing.

The voice, year later Harry acknowledged, did more damage than the whipping.

It was a soft, loving voice meant for comforting that whispered into his ear,

"Harry… Dear sweet Harry… such a nasty little boy. Rotten to the soul. Contaminating your friends and family with your filth. You will kill them one day Harry, because you touched them. Because you loved them. No one with such a corrupt heart as your own could save a thing… you will destroy them and force those you love into a half-life far more terrible then your own… silly ignorant poisonous Harry… Go infect those you love… kill them so slowly…"

The soft voice had spoken again today. Saying the same thing over and over until he could recite it without even thinking about it. The voice made it hard for Harry when he was little, because it was similar to the voice of the Granger's. It was a hard chapter in their life as a family, helping Harry get over his fear of their voice. For every time they spoke to him that tone he would flinch and revert into himself. It had been at least three years since the voice last spoke but now it was back with full force. And Harry knew it would cause more damage now then it did in the future.

Harry was drawn out of his musings as someone pushed him out from under the scolding water. Blinking, he tried to focus on who was standing before him speaking but it was muffled. The pain of his abused skin and the venom of the Voice were drawing his attention away from reality until he passed out, slumping to the floor.

Severus Snape had been called by Pomfrey informing him that his charges were awake and that Evans has been in the showers for 40 minutes and still had not come out. Pomfrey would normally investigate however several strong locking charms were in place on the door and she did not know how to undo them. Thus Snape flooed up to the Hospital wing, and unlocked the showers door.

The instant the door opened steam billowed out in thick clouds. Snape cautiously stepped into the room and called out for Harry, however he did not receive an answer. Calling again and getting the same response, Snape moved into the showering area trying to find his charge. The site that he met would haunt him for a long while.

Harry stood unmoving under the showers scolding waves of water. By now the poor boy skin was a deep burnt red with welts and blistered littering the once pale skin. After getting over the initial shock Snape sprung into action. Shoving the boy out of the water and into the wall, then turning off the water and questioning his charge. However half way through his rant, Snape noticed the unfocused eyes and the slight swaying of his body before Harry crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Grabbing a towel and wrapping the boy up in it, Snape picked up Harry and moved back into the Hospital wing and place the limp figure on the bed.

"You will take years off my life…" Snape groaned softly before calling Pomfrey over to heal the boy once again.
Thanks again. Hope you enjoyed it. Sand.