Chapter 3
The darkness blinded Dumbledore at first, but his other senses kicked in and he smelled blood. A lot of blood. As his eyes grew acustomed to the dark, he made out a lamp and turned it on. He turned around slowly, knowing, yet not wanting too know. Harry Potter, was lying unconcious on the ground surrounded in his own blood. Dumbeldore gasped, and quickly rushed to the desperate boys side. Not knowing any healing spells, he did the only thing he could. He took of his cloak and wrapped it around the boys arm as tight as he risked. Panicking, he thought to take her to Madam Pomfrey, but realized she was still away on a holiday. He needed someone who knew a blood replenishing potion and experience in this matter. He needed someone, anyone. He needed Snape.
In a dimly lit room, a very greasy Severus Snape sat in a chair, sipping tea occasionally and reading a very large, musty book. All of a sudden, Dumbledore appeared in the room and Snape saw a small, unkept boy rapped in rags in his arms.
"Dumbledore... too what do I owe the pleasure?" Snape said somewhat snidely.
Without saying a word, Dumbledore set Harry down on the couch and unwrapped the cloak.
"I'm afraid there has been an incident. An incident in which I gravely need your assistance."
Snape said nothing, but walked briskly to the other room, fetched a potion and went about his work.
Fifteen minutes later, Harry was tucked neatly into bed, in clean clothes with his arm stiched and his face ever so pale. The two elder men watched the young boy sleep, and wondered what has happened to there young hero.