Chapter Text
Harry gasped as he broke the surface of the water, desperately filling his lungs with air and flailing to stay afloat.
He could still feel the cold fingers of the inferi clawing at him, trying to pull him down, make him one of them.
Dumbledore’s pained sobs echoed in his ears as he'd laid curled up in the boat comments before Harry was yanked into the lake.
“Professor!” Harry called, splashing around to situate himself.
It was far too bright, he couldn't see the boat, he couldn't see the headmaster, he–
He wasn't in the lake.
He finally blinked and saw past his panic.
He was in a dirty, yellowed city river, the waters smelling of rotten trash (not rotten flesh) and carrying detritus down to where it piled on a link chain fence near a bank of dried, dead grass and skinny trees.
This wasn’t the cave by the sea. Grey and washed out buildings surrounded the river in the distance with heavy smog covering the somber sky. He needed to get out of the water. The smell was already making him nauseous. Quickly, he swam to the nearest bank.
“Where am I?” He coughed, looking around.
There was no sign of the Headmaster. Maybe it's another test, or he accidentally apparated somewhere. Was that even possible? He thought it’d be better to go to those buildings. At least then he'd be with civilization, he could ask where he was.
Harry didn't need to get too close to see that there was nothing civilized about those buildings.
The decrepit factory was a sad pile of abandoned and vandalized buildings that not even squatters seemed to frequent, due to the lack of windows and walls and the abundance of pests and trash.
Harry swore he saw a rat the size of a kneazle scurrying around and he took his wand out, just in case.
Well, at worst he could use this place to Apparate, if he could find out where he was. Wouldn't do to splinch himself because he'd tried crossing the entire country in one jump.
He was trying to recall a location spell when he heard a noise that didn't sound like a rat or any other such critter.
He stiffened and listened quietly for a moment before he heard it again.
Quiet, high pitched sobs.
Harry aimed his wand in front of him as he tread closer to the sobbing noises. It seemed to be coming from just behind that broken wall. He peeked over just enough to see a little black-haired boy sitting on the dirty floor sobbing as he hugged his knees.
The young boy looked absolutely dirty and was covered in awful bruises, some were purple, and some were already black. This was all familiar to Harry. He knew abuse when he saw it. He quickly put his wand back into his pocket and was about to speak but a crunch of concrete under his shoe already alerted the boy to his presence.
The little boy gasped and shot his head up at the stranger, scrambling to get up and flee but failing, yelping as he fell.
One of his little, skinny legs was an ugly blue and looked painfully swollen.
Huge black eyes looked at Harry from behind greasy, matted long hair that belonged more on a stray mangy dog than on a human child.
“D-don' get no closer!” He squeaked in a thick accent.
“Wait! Wait, it’s okay! I-I’m not here to hurt you.” Harry put his hands up, showing the pitiful boy he meant no harm.
That leg really looked like it was in dire need of attention. There was definitely blood clotting inside. The pain would only get worse from there if it wasn't treated soon and there was no other one here but him. He slowly crouched down as he went closer to the boy, moving slowly, lest he tried to run again.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. If you could let me have a look at that, I think I’ll be able to heal it.” He said.
The boy's big dark eyes widened when he saw Harry's hands. More specifically, his wand.
“You're a wizard?” He asked with an awed little breath.
Harry winced, realizing he should have not approached. Amuggle with his wand out.
Except, the boy wasn't a muggle, was he?
“I'm a wizard, yes,” he smiled encouragingly.
“My mom is a witch,” the boy said, seeming to lose all his apprehension upon learning Harry was magical, and not a muggle.
Harry stepped closer, and the boy looked at him with open curiosity now. “Can you really heal me?” He asked hopefully, pinning Harry down with big, dark doe eyes that could make a statue soften.
“I will try,” Harry nodded.
He crouched next to the boy, wincing at the painful looking leg, and tapped his wand to the swollen flesh.
“Episkey.”
The swelling went down considerably, and it didn't look so painfully red anymore, though there was still some bruising. Harry wasn't the best healer, but he was glad to see it had done something.
“It worked!” The little boy grinned, his mouth missing a couple teeth and the rest looking worryingly crooked.
Harry wondered if the missing ones had fallen naturally… Now that he looked closer, the boy's face was covered in dirt and grease, but also blood and.
Oh bloody fuck.
“Your nose is broken,” Harry noted with a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach.
Who hit a child hard enough to break their nose?
The boy flinched and touched his nose carefully.
“Ma hit me with a pan. She got annoyed cuz I kept whining 'bout bein’ hungry,” he admitted with an embarrassed flush, barely visible under the bruises littering his face, and all the dirt.
“Well, let's fix that, too, yes?” Harry asked, trying not to shake with anger as he remembered the times Aunt Petunia had swung a pan at him, too.
The boy nodded and stilled as Harry cast the same healing spell.
“I can breathe again!” The boy exclaimed with relief.
His nose was still a bit crooked, but it looked so much better.
Harry went ahead and cast a cleaning and refreshing Charms on the boy, who shuddered at the cold tingling sensation, and then giggled.
“That tickles!”
Harry grinned.
“Yeah, it does. Okay, so what's your name, little guy?” He asked after pocketing his wand.
“Severus. Severus Snape,” the boy replied, turning Harry's world upside down for the second time that day.