1

It was 11:00, and all was silent. However, this would not last long. Abruptly the tranquil atmosphere ended as a scream wrenched itself free from an occupant at Number 4 Privet Drive, in the village of Little Whinging. Where a rangy, brown-haired boy with a lightning-shaped scare was currently in the basement. There was a large pool of his blood surrounding the all-be-it petite, 12-year-old. Another splattering of blood joined the rest at his feet as yet another shriek broke free from the child, brought on by the kid's very own uncle, a walrus of a man who went by the name Vernon.

"I'll beat it out of you this time, you freak!" raged the obese man. Yet, instead of fright, the boy felt nothing but anger and anticipation. For he would soon see his one and only friend, Tom. Just as the thought flittered across Harry's mind, his uncle screeched in furry. The concept had brought a smile to his face. Vernon's face morphed into a violent shaded of Puce before he turned and retrieved an all too familiar knife.

"I've had enough of your freakiness contaminating my family. Should never have let you go that freak school!" He began to turn around.

"At least you'll never be going back, and you won't be bothering my family anymore." He smiled, wide and creepy, before stepping back towards Harry. Who was now terrified. He didn't recognize the look in the eyes of the other. He'd been beaten systematically throughout his whole life, so not recognizing the expression and knowing his uncle, this would be new and hurt much, much more. Faster than Harry thought was possible for his morbidly obese uncle to move, he was across the room, and Harry was bleeding again. Only this time, he could not scream, couldn't even whimper. His vocal cords sliced clean through, as was Vernon's intent all along. To stop the boy from screaming out as he died. Yet, he forgot to factor in the exact reason he was killing the boy.

His magic.

Severus Snape was deep in thought as he diced up the following ingredient for his current potion. The Anakoufistikós Efiáltis

potion he was attempting to invent was proving quite finicky. He was struggling to get the Psilocybin mushrooms to not react with the Valeriana Officinalis. It was causing the drinker to be trapped permanently within the dreams. He was attempting to add Stewed Mandrake when he heard a weak plea.

"H-help mee!" Severus was shocked.

'That sounded like the Potter brat.' he thought just as Fawkes flashed next to the potions master, cawing like his life depended on it. Reasoning that the headmaster wanted to see him, he grabbed onto Fawkes' tail feathers. Bright orange flames immediately consumed him. So bright that he had to close his eyes. When he opened them again, he was astounded. He did not arrive in the large and objectively beautiful circular room, full of curious silver instruments whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke, with the portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses and the current Headmaster, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Instead, he was in a dark, dingy room. Potter was lying half-dead, his hand clamped onto his throat as vast amongst of blood gusted and joined the large pool surrounding the boy. The sent pf death hung heavy in the air.

"Not if I can help it," muttered the man as he leaped into action, demanding that Fawkes bring him his healing potions. Except, Fawkes decided to fley forward and cry into the wound on the boy's neck. The usually tanned skin stopped draining of color quite as rapidly, though it was still far paler than Severus liked, and it was draining slowly still. The boy began to thrash about as his throat commenced knitting itself back together. Finished, Fawkes flashed out, and then he was back, carrying Severus's kit. Quickly, he rushed forward and administered a sleeping drought. Once he was sure the boy was safely asleep, he scooped him up bridal style while Fawkes landed on his shoulder.

Harry opened his eyes wearily.

'Shouldn't I be dead?' He thought, opening his mouth to call out. However, nothing came out of his mouth, and he began to panic. Suddenly, out of nowhere came Severus Snape, his potions professor.

Harry attempted to scream though it didn't work.

'Why?!' he screamed internally, mouth moving, 'why can I speak?!'

"Mister Potter, calm yourself!" Demanded Snap in a calm tone and without his usual sneer.

'What in Merlin's name is going on here?!'

"Again, Mister Potter, calm yourself. Otherwise, I will give you a calming draught." This time his tone was slightly irritated, though not as much as Harry had come to expect. Harry looked up, pleading, as his most despised Professor came to stand at the head of the bed that he was currently laying in. Seeing Snape's confused face, Harry attempted to speak again. When that didn't work, he mimed drinking something. Recognition flashed in the Professor's eyes briefly before the man spun on his heels and sped away, cloak billowing behind him. He returned with a potion bottle filled with indigo liquid that, once uncorked, smelt of lavender, warm sugar, and sweet mint.

"Here you are." Again his tone was calm and kind. As soon as the bottle was in his grasp, Harry inhaled the potion. Gradually the composure settled within him, causing him to look back up expectantly. Snape cursed and spun around again. Harry wanted nothing more than to call out to him, asking where he thought he was going. Nevertheless, as his voice continually failed him, the boy quietly sat there waiting to see if the man would return. Which, of course, he did, holding a ballpoint pen and a notebook.

"I assume you've some questions for me." The greasy-haired individual chuckled as the boy made grabby hands, nodding aggressively. The items moved from the older to the younger male, who began to write so fast Severus was sure he saw smoke. They stayed like this for several minutes before Severus became impatient.

"Aren't you done yet?" questioned the Professor. The kid shrugged and handed over the notebook.

Why can't I talk Were are we and why What happened to my uncle Why did you rescue me How did you save me Where's Dumbledore Why are you helping me Do I have to go back If not, where will I stay Can I stay with you

Snape smiled as he attempted to read the child's chicken scratch.

"Right well, your vocal cords are damaged beyond repair. We are in my quarters at Hogwarts as, for why, why not? Your uncle is fine, at least until I get my hands on him. You called out for help with your magic, and I couldn't ignore your plea. Fawkes flashed me there. Dumbledore is away on business. Even if I hated your father, your my student, and I can't just leave you to die. You'll never go back there while I live. And, yes, you can stay with me if you'd like." Harry fainted, this time without the potion's help.

When Harry opened his eyes next, it was because he required the toilet. He stood and made his way out of the room in an attempt to locate one. Yet, once opened, an alarm began to blare, signaling Snape to come running. Now, this was a good thing as Harry's legs started to give out on him. Severus managed to arrive and catch Harry just before he face-planted. He was carried back to bed and admonished for not waiting for help. Harry just glared until he had the pen and notebook.

I need to pee!

"Oh, sorry. Here come with me." He helped him stand and walk to the door that Harry had thought to be a closet. It was, in actuality, a bathroom. After being deposited back in the bed, he rolled over onto his side and fell back asleep.

Next, he was shaken awake. He glared murderously at the intrusion.

"Sorry, but I am out of nutrition potions, and you need to eat. Besides, I think it's time we talked." Harry grunted in effort as he sat up. Again he was handed the notebook.

What do you want to talk about

"Not yet, right now, you need to eat. Tippy," the man called, and seconds later, a strange creature appeared with big eyes, bat-like ears, dressed in a bright white summer dress and a POP.

"What can I's be doin' for I's wonderful master."

"What can I do for you, master." he gently corrected before continuing to his request, "Please bring me a small lunch for my gest."

"Of course, sir." With a POP, she was gone.

What was that, sir?

"That, Mister Potter, is my house elf." Before harry could ask what that was, a POP signified her return. Tippy set the tray of Chicken Soup on his lap.

So wh he started to write but was interrupted by Snape's voice.

"I won't take that from you, but you had better start eating." after that, he stubbornly refused to talk until harry had eaten half of his soup.

"Full?" Harry nodded anyway to the unnecessary question.

"Righ, first, how long has your uncle been doing that and don't lie. I've seen your back, so I know it's happened before." Begrudgingly Harry began to write.

Since I was 7, I think.

"And have they abused you in any other way?"

Please, define abuse.

"Abuse would be a pattern of behavior in any relationship that caused them to gain or maintain power and control over you. It can be physical, sexual, emotional, economic, or psychological actions or threats of actions that influence another person. Including any behaviors that frighten, intimidate, terrorize, manipulate, hurt, humiliate, blame, injure, or wound someone."

Yes

"Yes to what?"

Everything. My relatives have done all of that. Harry had tears running down his cheeks now.

"I'm sorry, here" He handed Harry a potion vial, "It's a new potion I invented called Anakoufistikós Efiáltis. It'll allow you to dream but not alow nightmares. I tested it for a month." he smiled gently. Harry wanted to growl.

'I don't need or want your pity.'

Ok, but do you think there is any way for me to speak again?

"Unfortunately, no. Fawkes cried in the wound, and if that wouldn't fix it, nothing will."

Why? Who's Fawkes?

"Dumbledore's Phoenix."

Phoenix?

"Oh, sorry. A phoenix is a long-lived bird that ritually regenerates or is born again. Aphoenix obtains new life by arising from the ashes of its predecessor."

Oh. Harry let out a substantial, silent yawn.

"Drink," commanded Snape handing Harry the potion, and, obediently, Harry did just that.

"Oh, finally!"

"Who's there," Harry called, eyes open, but he couldn't see anything.

'Wait, did I just speak?'

"I don't know what was in that potion Severus gave you, but I am very jovial because of it."

'I wish it was bright enough for me to see who's talking.' Light flooded the room, blinding Harry. He looked around and screamed. On the other side of the gray chamber, sitting in one of the bright red chairs, was a man. He was handsome and tall with pale skin, jet black hair, and dark brown eyes.

"Who?"

"I am Tom Marvolo Riddle or Voldemort, but I'd rather you don't associate me with that maniac."

"Okay," he didn't look anything like the Voldemort Harry had met, so he'd give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Where are we?"

"Your Mind."

"Right, ok, that would explain why I can talk."

"You're just going to believe me like that?"

"Why, where you lying?"

"No, but you couldn't know that."

"Yeah, but I trust you."

"Why?!"

"Don't know, just do." he shrugged before thinking about what he just said.

"That's actually really weird, I don't usually trust that easily."

"I know that's why im shocked."

"What do you mean, you know? How could you know?"

"I went through your experiences while you slept."