A/N: Warning: Descriptions of injuries caused by abuse

Harry awoke in agony. A burning ache encompassed the entirety of his back whilst the sharp stabbing in his side made sure he was fully cognizant that at least a couple of his ribs were broken. He tried to take a deep breath and almost passed out from the pain.

He groaned and attempted to rise from the small, thin mattress he slept on in his 'room', the cupboard under the stairs at number four Privet Drive. One of his eyes was swollen shut and blood had dripped down from a cut on his forehead, drying in his eyelashes and obscuring his vision. Even though he knew he would need time to adjust to his eight-year-old, malnourished body again he could tell that something was seriously wrong with his left arm as it dangled uselessly at his side. He groaned again as he reached up with his right hand, wiping the blood from his eyes. He drew it back suddenly and stared at it closely through his one good eye. His fingers had encountered a thick, black, tar-like substance intermingled with the blood. The Horcrux was gone.

He knew that Dumbledore wouldn't be held up indefinitely and he had to get his aching body moving. His limbs protested the movement but if he were to escape, he needed to do it soon before his future Headmaster made an appearance.

Wincing, Harry put on his glasses and shuffled closer to the door. He pushed, relieved to find that Uncle Vernon hadn't locked it after throwing him carelessly into the cupboard the night before. A faint glow in the hallway suggested the early morning sun was beginning to peek over the rooftops of Privet Drive and he knew that his aunt and uncle would be waking soon. He dragged himself into the hallway and, using his one good arm, he slowly began to pull himself upright with the help of the radiator, not noticing the blood dripping from the wound that had reopened on his forehead and staining the cream carpet that his aunt was so fastidious about keeping clean.

Finally upright, Harry paused to cough quietly into his hand. The pain in his side flared and he reached out to steady himself, leaving part of a bloody handprint on the floral wallpaper (that he himself had helped put up whilst his cousin Dudley had lounged in the living room watching television) that lined the hall. He gathered his strength and limped slowly towards the front door. A grunt from upstairs and the sound of a bed creaking made Harry freeze for a moment, then pushed him to attempt an increase in speed. Ignoring the torturous feeling throughout his body he reached his destination. Silently, Harry turned the key and eased the door open, then he staggered out into the brisk morning air. Heavy, ponderous footsteps began to echo through the floorboards, indicating that his uncle had awoken, and Harry pulled the door quietly shut behind him.

Whilst he was no healer, he knew enough to know he needed to get help as soon as possible. His head was spinning, and he felt as though he would pass out at any moment. Knowing he had no intention of ever returning to this place that had been more of a prison than a home, he glanced back once more, just in time to see the shadow of a figure pass the window of his aunt and uncle's bedroom. Thoughts of the family he'd built and lost - rather than the poor facsimile of the one he was leaving now - filled his mind and he shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts but causing the spinning sensation to intensify. He turned on the spot, the motion causing waves of agony throughout his body once more, jolting his concentration and causing his disapparition to falter, sending him away to an unknown and unplanned destination, rather than to the home of Andromeda Tonks as he had planned.

Harry hadn't ever really liked apparition, the feeling of being forced through a very tight rubber tube was never particularly comfortable but when injured as badly as he was, it was almost unbearable. He landed and immediately checked himself as best he could to make sure he'd not been splinched. Satisfied for the moment that he was all in one piece, he tried to hobble forward and stumbled as his ankle gave way under his weight. He stopped, gingerly he placed his foot back onto the ground and tested the strength of his ankle. He grimaced as he limped forward once more and looked around.

He found he was on a dingy street lined with dilapidated brick houses but he did not recognise the location he had arrived in. A tall chimney belonging to a factory, or a mill was just visible in the distance and a row of broken streetlights did little to help the early morning sun as it struggled to provide any illumination to the road. Harry staggered again, this time falling and thumping against a door that had paint peeling from it and appeared worn with age. A jolt of pain lurched through him and he checked himself over once more as quickly as his injuries would allow, assuring himself that he'd definitely not been splinched. He shuddered, briefly closing the eye that was not swollen shut as he tried to gather the strength to apparate again to a more familiar locale.

There was a sudden sensation of weightlessness and then pain rocketed through his body as it made contact with the hard floor beneath him. Harry screamed at the impact and just caught a glimpse of a tall figure standing over him before he passed out.

The owner of the house was a tall, thin man whose very demeanour actively discouraged visitors to his home. Fortunately for Harry, he was also a wizard. He had woken a couple of hours previously and had been finishing a few tasks before preparing to head to work, so he was awfully surprised to hear a thump on his front door.

Shock and outrage filled his very being as, upon opening the door, a small boy collapsed into the hallway. The child screamed as he hit the ground before immediately passing out. It was clear he had been beaten to within an inch of his life and so the broken, emaciated body of the child was carefully gathered into thin but comforting arms and delicately moved into the house.

The man moved swiftly. Based on a cursory examination as he climbed the stairs, he knew time was of the essence. Despite this, he gently and tenderly lay the boy on his bed and, picking up his wand from the bedside table, began to cast spells over the limp figure, attempting to determine the extent of the injuries. He was sickened that someone would do this to a child and unwanted memories of his own childhood floated to the forefront of his mind unbidden. He swore out loud and promised himself that this boy would not suffer any further. He would do whatever he could to protect the tiny, ruined figure he'd taken into his home.

The boy coughed weakly and his breathing shallowed. Sensing the life force in front of him begin to wane he hastened immediately into the adjoining bathroom where he selected several potions that would help fortify the child. Moving faster now he made his way back into the bedroom and cautiously lifted the boy's head, cradling it in his lap and slowly trickling the potion into his mouth. He massaged the boy's throat, encouraging him to swallow and murmuring words of comfort in a low voice. The boy began to respond and his eye fluttered open.

"I need help. Perhaps Dumbledore…" whispered the man to himself but the boy's hand shot out and grabbed him, an action that would have certainly caused him pain - confirmed a moment later by a weak groan.

"Not… Dumbledore…" he begged, clearly struggling to speak. "He knows…"

"What does he know?" the man asked.

"About the beatings…" the boy shuddered.

The man sat back, still lightly supporting the boy's head. How did he know Dumbledore? "What's your name?" he asked.

"Harry Potter," said the boy, finally passing out again as the potions began to take hold.

Severus Snape carefully stood, allowing Harry's head to rest softly back on the pillow, and felt a burning rage inside. Lily Evans' son lay devastated on the bed and Dumbledore knew it was happening. He thought back to his previous vow of protection and knew that, even for the spawn of James Potter, he would not allow this to continue.

After checking him over once more and ensuring that Harry was responding well to the potions. Snape turned and left the room.

He poured himself a large shot of Firewhiskey and sat heavily in his armchair, involuntarily recalling the beatings his own father had inflicted upon him as a child. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass and watched the flames flickering in the fireplace then, knocking back the drink in a single swallow, he stood, took a small pinch of powder from the jar on the mantle and knelt to make a floo call.

Madam Pomfrey was checking her stock of potions when she heard a voice calling from her office. Poking her head through the door she was surprised to see the face of Severus Snape peering back at her from the fireplace.

"Good morning, Severus – how can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Poppy, I need your help and you must keep this a secret – no one can know, not even the Headmaster." Snape's tone of voice, and the rapid cadence with which he spoke, did more to rouse her concern than his words. "There was a knock at my door this morning. When I opened it, a small boy collapsed into my hallway. It's clear he's been severely beaten and I'm afraid he's close to death."

Madam Pomfrey's instincts as a healer kicked in immediately. "Give me two minutes Severus then I'm coming through." She withdrew from her office and proceeded directly to the potions cabinet where she extracted a range of potions to cover as many eventualities as possible – not knowing what she would find when she reached the child. A minute and a half later she climbed out of the fireplace and into the home of Severus Snape.

Snape showed her to his room. She couldn't help the soft sob that escaped her lips when she saw the small, frail, battered body of a boy who, from his size, appeared to be no older than six years old. "Who did this to him?" she growled angrily.

"I'm not sure Poppy," sighed Snape. "He woke for a few moments – just long enough to beg me not to call the Headmaster and to tell me his name."

"Well? Who is he?"

"Harry Potter"

This time Madam Pomfrey was unable to stop the cry of despair as she looked down at The-Boy-Who-Lived. She took a moment to gather herself and then began to unpack her bag. "I'll need you to start brewing Severus," she stated calmly. "Strengthening solutions, pain-relief potions, and dreamless sleep, please. I have some with me, but I fear I don't have enough." Snape nodded and exited the room, heading for his personal potions lab while Poppy began the long and painful process of attempting to reconstruct the body of the saviour of the wizarding world.

It was three long days before Harry fully regained consciousness. His eyelids slowly opened, and he peered around, bleary-eyed at his unfamiliar surroundings. He was surprised, but gladdened, to realise that his body ached from a lack of use rather than what had been inflicted upon him. His throat was dry, and his voice cracked as he croaked out a hello in the hope that someone would hear him.

"Ah, you're awake."

A voice emanated from a shadowed corner of the room and Harry was astonished to see his old Potions professor lean forward from an oversized wingback chair. Harry tried to sit up, but Snape moved quickly to his side to ensure he stayed still. "Lay back. Poppy will have my head if she thinks I've let you move around without her say-so."

Harry remembered the many vociferous telling-offs he'd received from Madam Pomfrey during his numerous stays in the Hogwarts hospital wing and immediately lay back without argument, a wry grin teasing the corners of his mouth.

"Here, you need to drink all of this." Snape handed Harry a large vial filled with a thick, grey liquid that looked particularly unappetising. "It's a nutrient potion – we've been coaxing them into you every three hours for the last few days." He noticed the revolted look on Harry's face. "There's water next to you too but only sip it – we don't want you bringing the entire lot back up".

Harry was thrown by the concern Snape was showing him – this was possibly the longest Snape had ever gone without insulting him. It was completely out of character compared to the frankly terrifying amount of hatred shown toward him in his original timeline. He swallowed the potion, almost gagging on the consistency as it slipped down his throat, before reaching quickly for the water to wash away the horrendous taste. He noticed his glasses, which were sat on a dark wooden unit next to the bed, had clearly been repaired as they were no longer cracked and twisted as they had been following his encounter with his Uncle Vernon. He slipped them onto his face and blinked as the blurry room sharpened into focus. Harry turned as best he could to take a better look at Snape.

"Poppy will be here shortly," Snape said watching Harry closely, "but I do believe we need to have a little chat before she arrives, don't we Mr Potter?"

Harry realised his Occlumency walls were down and slammed them up as quickly as possible, but Snape merely smiled, a shrewd look on his face. "My my, Occlumency? That's an awfully advanced skill for one so young and supposedly unfamiliar with the magical world. Besides, it's a little late for that Mr Potter. On the morning after your arrival, you woke briefly but were unable to communicate so I took the opportunity to… glance… at your mind. Simply to determine what had happened and who had harmed you, but I found something more. It appears we have quite the history… or perhaps that should be future… don't we?"

Harry was shaken but remained silent.

"Come now, I think we can dispense with the games here. I've seen some of what is in your mind – I was especially curious after you begged me not to speak to the Headmaster. I think it's for the best if you tell me what is going on." Snape sat back and waited silently, fingers steepled in front of his face.

Harry took a deep breath and thought through the situation. He was firmly in Snape's control with no means of escape – he was far too weak to try apparating again – and Snape clearly already had some idea as to Harry's origin. He looked at Snape, wondering how little he could get away with telling him but before he could open his mouth, Snape leant forward once more.

"Harry…"

This unsettled Harry – it may have been the first time Snape had ever used his first name.

"…I've seen inside your mind, so I know you're not ignorant of my secret, the reason why I began to spy on the Dark Lord. I know you are conscious of the fact that I hate your father. I expected to look at you and see the arrogant face of James Potter sneering back at me, but your eyes are pure Lily." Snape paused. "I also know you're aware of how I felt about her. She was my first friend and I loved her – but I threw that all away and drove her into the arms of your father. For her sake, I would help you."

Snape took out his wand and Harry tensed instinctively. Snape gave no sign of having noticed and instead raised his wand and spoke.

"I, Severus Snape, do hereby swear on my magic to protect and assist to the best of my abilities, Harry James Potter in his endeavours to vanquish the Dark Lord known as Voldemort. So mote it be." A blue glow surrounded Snape briefly before dissipating.

Harry considered Snape for a moment, then sighed. Of all the things he'd thought Snape would do, taking a vow on his magic was not one of them. Knowing he had no other option, he took another sip of water and then began to speak.

Having filled Snape in on the details of his return Harry lay back and waited for his reaction.

"If I hadn't seen for myself, I wouldn't believe it," Snape murmured. He sat up straighter in his chair and looked Harry in the eye, endeavouring to counterpart the 37-year-old mind with the 8-year-old frame in front of him.

"So just to be clear, you need to get away from a century-old master manipulator who currently has control over almost every aspect of your life, destroy several cursed, dark objects that are currently tying the Dark Lord to this mortal plane before facing and defeating him, and change the very fabric of Wizarding society, stopping the destruction of everything we know, before you leave school?"

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up"

Snape looked again at the boy in front of him and nodded thoughtfully before a small smirk appeared - an expression Harry thought looked thoroughly disconcerting on the usually sneering face of the Potions Master. "What can I do to help?"

Harry grinned. He had his first ally.

"Severus?" a voice called from downstairs.

"We're up here Poppy. He's awake."

Harry glanced at Snape, "What does she know?" he murmured hurriedly.

"She knows who you are and that you were hurt by the family that Dumbledore placed you with. He's not in her good books and she won't report anything back to him. Don't mention the time travel but you can trust her with anything else." Severus responded in a low voice.

Poppy Pomfrey bustled into the room and immediately moved to Harry's side. "Hello there Harry," she said kindly. "My name is Poppy. Severus and I have been taking care of you since you arrived on his doorstep a few days ago. I'm going to run a few tests now to see how you're doing, alright?"

Harry nodded then sat back and allowed her to conduct an array of tests that he was perhaps too familiar with. He had been through these so many times that he found he had to stop himself from answering her standard questions before she could ask them. Hopefully, this time around there wouldn't be a need for Madam Pomfrey to effectively reserve a bed in her ward for him.

She finished her tests and gave a satisfied hum. She looked at Harry with a gentle smile on her lips. "Well Harry, I had to regrow a number of your bones due to how badly damaged they were. I stopped the bleeding in your lungs and healed your back, although there will be some scarring. With a bit of rest and plenty of care you should be physically fine…" She hesitated, trying to determine how to approach the next subject. With a look of compassion in her eyes, she asked her question. "Can you tell me how you got these injuries?"

Harry had never liked to discuss his life at Privet Drive before but knew that honesty here would work in his favour when it came to changing his guardian. Over the next half an hour he told Severus and Poppy about how he was treated by his relatives and watched the anger grow in the adults sitting by his bedside. "You poor boy." Madam Pomfrey whispered, blinking tears away, "How could anyone do that to a child, let alone a member of their family?" She focused on Severus. "And the Headmaster left him there?" she demanded.

"So I've heard. I understand Minerva was there on the night he was left and objected to it, but he proceeded regardless."

There were many things that Poppy was willing to do to help Albus Dumbledore, but the systematic abuse and neglect of a child was not one of them. She decided herself that, from this moment on, her trust in the Headmaster would no longer be absolute and without question and she would, instead, determine for herself if he was really doing what was best for those involved. Without thinking, she'd already taken that first step by not informing him about the goings-on in Spinner's End.

In order to evade suspicion over his whereabouts, Poppy had informed Dumbledore that Severus had fallen victim to a contagious muggle illness, and she was monitoring him carefully at his home, allowing them both to be away from the castle and out of the immediate sphere of control of the Headmaster.

"Harry – I need to leave you now, but I must insist that you remain in bed for the next two days. You'll also need to continue taking the potions I've prescribed so we can get you back to the height and weight you should be. Once you're up and about again we'll start you on some physical activity to build your muscles back up, OK?" Poppy smiled down at Harry, employing the soft gentle voice normally used by adults speaking to a small child.

"Yes, Poppy," Harry said meekly, remembering he had to act his perceived age. "And thank you for helping me, Ma'am."

"Oh, and so polite, even after all he's been through." A wide smile spread across Poppy's face and Severus leant back out of her line of sight as he struggled to maintain his composure at Harry's performance.

"Severus – I'll be back in a couple of days." And with that, she swept from the room.

They waited until they heard the tell-tale sounds of the floo in action and looked at each other once again.

"Get some rest, Harry. I'll be back up in a few hours with some food for you." Severus stood and made to leave the room.

"Profess... ermmm… sir?"

"Call me Severus, Harry"

"OK – Severus… wow, that's weird… I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're welcome, Potter. Just don't make me regret it." A mock glare made sure Harry knew he was joking as he turned and left Harry alone with his thoughts.

Cross-over work this time. Mjimeyg has written three of my favourites so, in honour of chapter three, have three recommendations - "Harry Potter: Geth" (Mass Effect), "What's a Gungan?" (Star Wars) and "Pack" (Jurassic Park)