Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Authors Note: Thanks to all the reviewers!

Snape. For the love of Merlin! He must have been the most unluckiest guy ever, running into Snape within an hour of running away. Does my luck only come into play when my life's in danger or something?

Oh. Yeah. Snape seemed to be waiting for him to say something. "…Hello. Sir."

Snape sneered down at the boy. "Potter. Tell me, why are you not with your relatives, and instead in Diagon Alley, buying potions?"

Harry felt like running behind the counter and hiding, so he wouldn't have to answer Snape. Instead he made up a suitable lie. "Buying school supplies, sir."

Eyes narrowing, Snape hissed. "Oh? I didn't know that the supply list included healing potions. Explain why you have those, Potter."

Think up a lie… come on… shit, nothing can explain them…

"Um… I got them for a friend?"

The look on Snape's face clearly told Harry that his lie was quite pathetic. Harry was hyper aware of Snape's eyes scanning Harry's body, and taking stock of the fading bruises on his arms (From where Dudley had pushed Harry into the wall a few weeks ago) and the fresh bruise on his face, from dear old Vernon.

"Is that so, Potter?" A calculating glint appeared in Snape's eyes, making Harry feel like a rare potion that Snape had the chance to observe brewing.

"Yep." Snape didn't seem to believe him, if his lip curling meant anything.

"Tell me Potter, how did you acquire that charming bruise displayed on your face?"

Oh. God. Snape figured everything out really fast. Or at least, he had a suspicion of the truth, or part of it. "Um…" Harry paused. He was going to say 'I fell down the stairs' but that was a terrible excuse, and would be seen through easily. "I got in a fight." It was partly true, anyway.

Scowling, Snape growled. "The truth."

Harry felt like punching something. How could Snape tell that he was lying?! "It is the truth, SIR. I got into a fight. I'm here for my supplies, and the potions are for…" Give a name, give a name. "Hermione. She's doing tests on them to compare and contrast muggle remedies and potions." That was believable, wasn't it?

Snape still looked far away from believing him, but it seemed like he lost interest.

Snape was probably the last wizard to care if Harry was safe or not, and only wanted answers if it meant that he could get Harry in trouble. Snape probably sensed that there was little chance of getting the complete truth, and couldn't find anything incriminating from the little information he knew.

Snape waved Harry off while he went to the counter, and Harry had to repress a giggle of happiness. Ha! He didn't have to go to Hogwarts!

Harry then knew the second that thought passed through his head, that he jinxed himself.

This time, his whole chest was bubbling with pain, instead of only being in his lungs. Harry's breath became labored, and he cursed his luck again. I have to freaking go into a seizure-thing while Snape's in the room. Snape, though, seemed to be deep conversation with the creepy old guy, and didn't notice Harry's fit.

Trying not to drop the potions in his hands, Harry backed away slowly, making his way to the door.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Harry concentrated on moving one foot after the other, and his breathing. Almost there.

Backing out of the shop, Harry didn't notice that there was a step from the Apothecary to the ground, and fell backwards.

CRASH!

One of the glass jars broke on top of Harry, spreading the light blue liquid across his body.

Shit.

Tears began to form in his eyes from the pain. It… hurts… so much! Harry looked upward, into the shop, and was glad to see that Snape and the old guy must of gone into the potion-room. Harry tried to ignore his chest, and wiped off the broken glass and potion spread on him. Using all of his will, he pulled himself up by grabbing the door, and collected his remaining potions. Limping down the alley, Harry headed to The Leaky Cauldron.

A half-hour later, and about twenty concerned glances later, Harry was in his room at the Leaky Cauldron. The pain was almost gone, and Harry felt comfortable surveying his room.

It was small, but cozy. There was a single bed in the corner, and a dark red rug covering the wooden floor. The single window on the opposite side of the room, was framed with lace white curtains, and across from the bed was an old desk and vanity, and a small wardrobe.

Going over to the vanity, Harry sat the potions down. The bruise cream and sore-relief were still intact, but he broke a vial of the stuff for his lungs, and only had one more.

Harry inspected the bruise cream. If this worked, he could get rid of the evidence of Vernon's abuse, and go to Hogwarts to be healed. He was skeptic on the effectiveness of the sore-relief and lung-stuff, so if they didn't work, he would have a back-up plan.

Grabbing a handful of bruise gunk, Harry rubbed it on his face and groaned at the warm sensation that spread across his face. He then applied it to the bruises on his arms and the few fading ones scattered across his chest.

The sticky yellow paste sank into his skin, leaving clear skin behind. Satisfied with the results, Harry closed the lid and put the jar in his trunk. This would come in handy the next time he went to Privet Drive.

Falling on the white cot, Harry asked himself what he was going to do. What if he was dying? A few pain killers wasn't going to help, but what if he went to Hogwarts and they couldn't do anything for him? What if they told him that he his days were numbered, and sent him back to the Dursleys to spend the rest of his days with 'family'?

If he died, Ron and Hermione would be crushed. They deserved better than him, but they still stuck by him through everything. If only they knew… that he was a weak little boy, who couldn't even stick up to his muggle uncle. He could picture their expressions if they heard; Hermione pale, tears running down her face, and Ron confused and shocked. They would pity him, and pretend to understand. But in the back of both of their minds, they would feel disgust. They would ask themselves, where is the Gryffindor hero? The boy-who-lived?

Harry knew that he had to protect his secret to the grave, and always hide behind the Hero persona, and never show the fear that was always present, the fear that was drilled into him from his uncle.

Harry was woken by a persistent tapping at the window. Groaning at the light hitting his face, Harry opened the window for Hedwig to come inside.

"Hey, girl. I'm glad you found me." Harry ran his fingers through her feathers, smiling at her joyous hoot. Glimpsing a letter tied to Hedwig's leg, Harry removed the letter, and promptly opened it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

This morning, Professor Severus Snape expressed his concern to me, about finding you in Diagon Alley, buying healing potions, all alone. Considering recent events, It is imperative that you inform Headmaster Dumbledore if you are injured or need help. Your relatives home is the safest place for you, Mr. Potter, and you shouldn't leave them unless necessarily. Hagrid will be meeting you in the Leaky Cauldron at Noon today, to discuss why you left your home. If you need help, please don't hesitate to tell him.

Yours sincerely,

Professor Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry scowled at the letter. Snape told on him! Yeah, right, 'concern'. More like wanting to get him expelled… Harry puzzled over the line 'considering recent events'. Had something happened?

Looking at the clock hanging on the wall, he realized it was already Eleven, and cursed. Harry rooted through his trunk, and put on a dark black t-shirt and his school uniform trousers, which actually fit him. Running downstairs, Harry surveyed his surroundings. The Leaky Cauldron wasn't too crowded, with only a couple of tables full, and the bar almost completely empty. Walking past a couple of teenage witches dressed very proactively, Harry ended up in front of the bar, and sat down.

"Hello, poppet." The server grinned warmly at Harry, and patted the boy's head. "Feeling better?" The woman had served him last night, and in the middle of eating Harry's arms started trembling wildly. The middle aged witch had help him to his room, and gotten the potions for him, also. The potions lessened the pain some, but it still was terrible, so Harry was debating whether or not to tell Hagrid about it when he met him today.

Ordering a butterbeer, Harry relaxed in his seat. Really, what were they doing, sending Hagrid? Harry could tell Hagrid that he got lost, and just ended up in Diagon Alley, and Hagrid probably would believe him! He wouldn't betray Hagrid's trust like that, though. Harry would tell the truth. Well, part of it anyway. Hmm… what to tell him?

Contemplating this over a warm cup of butterbeer, Harry almost missed Hagrid come in. Well, almost. It was kinda hard not to notice when Hagrid came in, being the huge man he is.

"Harry!" Hagrid waved cheerfully at Harry, lumbering over to him. "Ah, 'Arry, how's your summer been?" Hagrid sat down on the barstool next to Harry, causing it to sink in.

Harry smiled guiltily at Hagrid. "Same as always, Hagrid." It was true, anyway.

Hagrid grinned at Harry. "So, let's get dow' to business. Why'd you leave your aunt's an' uncles', Harry?"

Should he tell him? Harry looked down, caught in an internal conflict. "My… uncle and I had a disagreement…" Harry felt terrible lying to Hagrid. "I lost my temper, and storm out of the house…"

Hagrid seemed to believe him, and smiled sadly at Harry. "Harry, you gotta be careful'. No stormin' off, tell Dumbledore firs'." Harry nodded his head in agreement, and Hagrid stood up. "Well, If your' alright, I'll be goin'." Harry looked shocked at how easy that was, but Hagrid must of thought it was a look of hurt, for he then told Harry, "I would da' stayed, but I have Hogwarts' business." Hagrid ambled off, leaving a relieved, and slightly disappointed Harry Potter behind.

"The boy looked very ill, Headmaster." Severus Snape said over a cup of tea, sitting across from the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore. Situated in Albus' office, they were currently discussing the young teenage boy named Harry Potter. "Probably got into another harebrained adventure." He sneered under his breath.

"What were the potions Harry was buying?" Albus asked, concerned about the boy he regarded as a grandson of sorts.

Snape scowled at the thought of Harry, and recollected. "Potter-" He spat the name out as if it was poisonous- "Had purchased a Bruise Removal Paste, Respiratory Bothers Cure, and a extremely strong Sore-Relief." Lip-curled, Snape elaborated. "He told me that he bought them for Granger, but I seriously doubt that, since he had various bruises across his arms, and one on his face. I have no idea what the other potions were for, but the Bruise Removal was obviously for him."

The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes disappearing, the worry was obvious in the way he asked, "Did you ask how he got the bruises?"

"Yes, but the boy told me that he 'got into a fight'." Snape scoffed. "Even the most ignorant Legilimens could pick up that lie."

Frowning, Dumbledore sighed. "Hagrid didn't mention any bruises, when I talked to him a few hours ago, so Harry must of used the paste…" Dumbledore took a sip of tea, deep in thought. "I feel terrible leaving the boy in Diagon Alley alone while Black is on the loose…"

"Send the boy back home, then."

Shaking his head, Dumbledore rejected the idea. "Harry told Hagrid that they had a 'disagreement'. If Harry is fighting his relatives, it might be for the best if we let them have time apart."

Snorting, Snape stated his views on that. "Potter probably had a tantrum about not receiving enough gifts for his birthday, or something shallow as that."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that. "Harry is not spoiled, Severus. You don't even know the boy."

"And I don't want to know him. He'll be just as arrogant as his father, no doubt."

Dumbledore shook his head in exasperation, but let it go. He had encouraged Severus several times to get to know Harry, and every time Severus had replied with a negative comparison between Harry and James.

"Maybe I should send someone to watch over Harry for the remainder of the summer…?" Albus mused, ideas forming quickly in his head.

"Pity the poor sod who gets stuck with that job." Commented Severus, unknown of Dumbledore's most recent plan to get him and Harry 'closer'.

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore replied with a too-innocent smile.

A few moments later, across the castle, Minerva could swear she heard Severus' angry shouting, declaring that 'there was no way in hell he would watch the brat!'.

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