Harry Potter and the Plan for Salvation

Chapter 1 : Albus' scheme

Damn Albus Dumbledore and his hair-brained schemes for unity among, well, the world! That surely has to be his goal, I mean, he wants me, Severus Snape to get along with that idiot boy, Harry I'm-So-Famous-Rules-Don't- Apply-Because-I'm-The-Boy-Who-Lived Potter. Has that man not been paying attention to /I that's happened these past seven years, or is that infuriating twinkle blinding him?

Dumbledore thinks that because the boy's parents were killed the whole wizarding community owes him some sort of debt. Not just Dumbledore, but most of the wizarding population as well. The only thing I'll ever concede to that pompous windbag, Fudge, about, is that Harry's fame has gone to his head and he's an attention-thinking prat. Okay, maybe that's two things, but they apply to one person!

Do you want to know what the barmy old codger is making me do? Heh, I bet Dobby would like to hear me say that. Anyways, since Potter and I don't get along, Albus has gotten it lodged in his head that I shall spend a day /I Potter. Is the man insane?! Strike that. We all know he's insane. He never was normal to start with. Neither is Aberforth, but that's completely off topic. Where was I? Oh yes. Albus' insane plan of the century.

For one whole day, a period of twenty-four hours, I will be in Potter's body, though I won't be controlling him, pity that it is. No, Albus is entirely too smart for that. Instead he goes and finds a spell that's bordering the Dark Arts to use for this special assignment. I mean, the Dark Arts! Hello! Is there anyone home in your head Albus? I see the light on but no one's answering the door!

I'm getting off track again aren't I?

Right. The spell is called Mente Emperramento, and it's purpose is to allow a person, me, to be able to accompany another person, Potter, within their mind. Potter won't even know I'm there, and with luck I'll be able to use Albus' little scheme to my benefit. It would be so nice to have new ammunition for humiliating him. Not that I would ever intentionally use any information I find against him of course, no, because a Slytherin would never do something like that.

I laugh as I walk towards my dungeons, and several portraits look at me in alarm. The great bat of Slytherin never laughs, not unless dire consequences are involved. Dire consequences indeed.

Harry awoke slowly, grimacing as pain lanced through his body. He cried out as he forced his body to sit up, and blessed the heavy silencing spells he kept around his bed. He stood slowly and carefully, then silently crept towards the bathroom. The door shut soundlessly, which should have been impossible, given how old everything in the castle was. It all tended to creak and groan.

He shed his clothes without even looking, and went to turn on the taps to the bath, mostly the cold, only half turning on the hot water. He did however turn on another tap and a thick, clear gel began to ooze into the tub in thick, fat drops. Harry didn't wait for the tub to finish filling, he just went ahead and slid in, biting back another moan before he finally relaxed into the water. He stayed in the bath, slowly washing his body for about an hour before he finally got out.

He started to get up, only to find that his muscles wouldn't support him properly. He growled in annoyance and then forced himself up. He was out of the tub and grabbing a hold of the sink before his muscles rebelled again. He quickly transfigured a piece of clothing into a chair and sank into it, leaning forward over his knees as his head swam violently. He glanced up into the mirror and it sighed back at him.

"You really should go to Madam Pomfrey. She could help you." The voice was soft, though definitely male. Deep and baritone, a voice that for some reason reminded Harry of Snape, though it held no bite or malice.

"I can't. I've told you that before." Harry answered even more softly, as he leaned down, pulling on a pair of clean boxers and pants. The movement exposed his back and the mirror hissed slightly in sympathy.

"Mr. Potter, you really should go be checked." More severe this time, but still gentle, caring.

Harry looked up slowly, and the reflection in the mirror, the mirror, and Harry all grimaced. The image staring back at Harry was horrible. The entirety of his chest was covered in dark, nearly black bruises, while his sides and back, though it couldn't be seen, were coated with deep, opened wounds. His lip and eyebrow split, and a cut ran from his ear almost to his nose slicing his face open. An old, but not fully closed scar started at his eyebrow and curved down touching the corner of his lips. The dark bruises on his chest and stomach and the cuts on his back were the only things hiding the rest of his scars, and the reflection stared back at him morosely.

He sank back into his chair, the exercise of putting on his pants completely winding him. A door on the opposite side of the bathroom, one that hadn't been there before, opened, and a cloaked figure stepped into the bathroom. There was a pause, and then a sigh. "Potter, what are we going to do with you?" The hood was pushed back, revealing shimmering silver blonde hair and a pale slightly pointed face. The face looked rather annoyed at the moment as he approached the raven haired Gryffindor. Malfoy sighed again and then slipped both arms around him, easily lifting him and carrying him back out the door he had just entered. Harry didn't even try to fight him.

Malfoy dropped him onto a couch, causing Harry to whimper slightly. Malfoy looked at least half way sorry for the abrupt drop. The door that Malfoy had carried him through lead to the Head Boy's bathroom, which in turn opened into the Head Boy's private rooms. Harry groaned and fell over onto his stomach on the couch, stretching out on the cool plush material. The Slytherin smiled at him ruefully as another door opened and a familiar petite red head came in. Her long red hair bounced with each step, and she smiled gently as she knelt next to Harry.

"Silly Gryffindor, always trying to do things on your own." She muttered fondly as she brushed the bangs away from his face.

His own smile was pained. "That would be the Slytherin pride."

Draco snorted at that and knelt next to Ginny, passing her a large jar of a thick glutinous black gel. "Slytherin Pride it may be, but a true Slytherin knows when to ask for help, Potter. You're going to get yourself killed, and then whose going to defeat the big bad boogey man?"

Harry smirked at that. "You of course."

Draco's eyes widened, and he came within an inch of smacking the other boy; a look from Ginny stopped him dead. Ginny stood next to both boys, glaring at them then rolled her eyes in a very Molly Weasley manner, and scooped a large handful of the gel onto her fingers. She bent over Harry's back and began rubbing it slowly and gently into the open cuts and burns. Her gentle touches didn't stop the pain of the contact though, and Harry bit into a pillow, screaming out at each touch. It was heart breaking, but both Ginny and Draco knew it to be necessary.

Draco and Harry had reached a tentative truce at the beginning of sixth year. Apparently the fact that his father was no longer there to bully him into his life style had brought out the true Draco, and he had even helped to train the Gryffindor, even teaching him some Dark Arts that might be useful against Voldemort. No one else knew about that bit of course. It was during this that the truce had slowly changed, evolving into a friendship that now had the two boys bond as closely as brothers.

At the end of last year it had been announced that due to Ginny's amazing speed and ability of learning almost everything put in front of her, she was promoted to a seventh year. Harry had been the one to slowly coax Ginny and Draco together; the fact they shared the Head Boy and Girl's dorm was a huge helper. Ron had not been at all pleased. Of course, Harry's admission of being gay at the end of last year hadn't helped the situation any.

In fact, the ginger haired boy was still refusing to speak to Harry. It had been Ron's anger that had sent Harry back to Privet drive for the Christmas holidays. Dumbledore had asked if Harry would be okay going home for Christmas, since he didn't want to go to the Weasley's and there really wouldn't be any one around at Hogwarts to keep him out of trouble. Harry had known from the moment Dumbledore asked that he was as good as signing his own death warrant, but he said yes anyways, because he had caused too much trouble already.

It had been none other than Draco Malfoy; accompanied by his mother, and Ginny Weasley who had arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive a week later and literally saved him. The next week had been spent at Malfoy Manor, trying to bring Harry back from death's door.

Albus had not been happy that Harry had been taken from the Dursley's without his knowledge; he had shown up at the Malfoys in a full temper, a rather frightening thing, but had quickly been shut up by the time the two Malfoy's had their own say.

Now it was nearly a week since break, and Harry was still healing, or healing as best he could when he refused proper help that was.

I open my eyes with a groan. The first thing that's registering is the amount of pain surging through my body; the second is that this definitely isn't my room. What the hell? Oh, the spell kicked in. Potter was the one waking up. Waking up in this much pain, why? What had the stupid foolhardy boy been up to now, I wonder?

I look around curiously as the curtains are pushed out of the way; I can't help it. Opposite heads of houses are never allowed into each other's territory unless there is a drastic emergency, and this is the first time I've seen this tower since my own days of school. There are five beds in this dormitory, a thought that makes me cringe. If I even attempted such a thing with my Slytherins the parents would be in an uproar about their precious children not having their space. Not to mention the mass murders of fellow housemates I would have on my hands. Though, these five did appear to be good friends. With the exception of Ronald Weasley anyways, I haven't seen him talk to Harry for quite awhile now. That's bizarre beyond the point of thought, and I wonder what has the hot head so ticked off this time. Is he jealous again?

All the teachers have witnessed the boy growing closer to Neville, Seamus, and Dean, where before they'd only had a casual friendship. The Weasley girl has also seemed to become a constant sidekick now days, where as Granger spends most of her days being lovey with Ron. I wonder if she's trying to soothe ruffled feathers?

I mentally shake myself and go back to taking inventory of the room. Dark red and gold hangings are closed around all the beds, except Potter's of course, and I can hear one or two people snoring softly. Potter's just standing there, between his hangings, breathing deeply, and I find it rather irksome. Can we please move so that I can get this day over with? When he finally does move forward I feel his body pass through a silencing ward. I can tell because of the fiery tingle it leaves on his skin. Now that is decidedly odd. Why would Potter have a silencing spell up that's strong enough to actually be felt?

Potters steps are slow, but even as he winces I can feel him curling his toes into the overly plush thick velvety carpet. I can't help scoffing at the ridiculousness of it. A small voice brushed my thoughts. 'Best enjoy it while you can, Harry. You only have a few more months before...'

Before what? Before the end of the school term? Yes, I suppose that is what he's thinking of.

What are we doing? Oh. He's just bathing. Bathing? It's only four in the morning! I grumble to myself as he discards his clothes and fills the tub with water and something else. I frown. It's a thick clear gel that's oozing its way into the tub. Bubble bath? I highly doubt it. No, it's not of the right consistency for that anyways. I wish I could get a closer look and analyze it. I'll have to come back one night, somehow, and find out for myself or my curious nature will drive me bananas about it.

He slips into the bath and I allow my thoughts to wonder else where, ignoring the shiver that I can feel cause of the tepid water. He lays in the water, soaking and washing for a long time and I scowl. An hour later he finally decides its time to get out, and I almost cheer. God, if he keeps going this slow this day is never going to end. He tries to stand and fails, falling back into the water, and I hear him whimper. Oh but this is going to be good when I'm back in my own body. It'll be such fun to tease him about being too weak to stand. He takes a deep breath, stealing himself, and them hauls himself to his feet. He makes it to the sinks this time, and quickly transfigures something into a chair.

The mirror speaks to him and I blanch. Why the bloody hell does that thing sound like /I? It's not even snarling or hissing insults, but it sounds, God forbid, caring. I think I just lost any desire to eat today. I have to talk to Albus about this later, after my stomach has returned of course.

Potter responds with something, and I look up as he stands. I stare in horror at the image before me. Bruises, absolutely horrid and dark bruises cover every inch of the chest and stomach that I can see. Even his face is covered and there's a purpling scar that starts at the edge of his eyebrow and curves down sharply to his lip. Good God, what had this boy been through? He sinks back into the chair, his face pale and his breathing harsh. I wonder if he will pass out.

A door to the side opens, and I frown. That door hadn't been there when we entered. A tall figure, wearing a Slytherin green cloak steps through, and Potter looks up at them without saying a word. There's a sigh of what though, annoyance maybe?

"Potter, what are we going to do with you?" The hood is pushed back revealing my star pupil, Draco Malfoy. My mind sort of freezes at that moment and I can't think of anything except that somehow, someway Dumbledore had to know about this! I realize we're being carried into another room and I recognize the Slytherin Head Boys bathroom instantly, and I know the other door we're going through leads into Draco's private rooms.

He drops us, Potter, onto a couch, causing Potter to bite back a soft cry of pain. Draco looks absolutely sorry for causing the boy pain. Another door creaks open, and I recognize the youngest Weasley as she approaches. My brain returns enough to acknowledge that she's talking.

"Silly Gryffindor, always trying to do things on your own." She mutters fondly as she brushes the bangs away from Potter's face.

I can feel the muscles in Potter's face pull, and I wonder if he's smiling. "That would be the Slytherin pride." What the Hell? How would Potter know anything about Slytherin Pride?

Draco snorts at that and kneels next to the Weasley girl, passing her a large jar of a thick glutinous black gel. Hey! I know what that is! It's a restorative cream, which heals almost all wounds, though its extremely slow and painful without the proper treatment. Come to think of it, that jar looks like one from my personal supplies. "Slytherin Pride it may be, but a true Slytherin knows when to ask for help, Potter. You're going to get yourself killed, and then whose going to defeat the big bad boogey man?"

"You of course." I'm not sure, but it feels like Potter is smirking. Smirking? Bloody hell.

That thought is erased as I feel Potter jerk almost violently when Weasley begins coating his back in the thick salve. Potter bites down on a pillow, and I think if it wasn't there he would have bitten himself to muffle the screams of pain. Draco comes back into view, as he takes one of Potter's hands and talks calmly and quietly to him, trying to soothe him as the salve finally begins to take effect, and his back becomes numb. There's a deep sigh from Potters mouth, and he slowly rolls over, panting from holding back most of his screams.

"This would be over so much faster if you would just go to Pomfrey, Harry."

He shakes his head. "She would ask questions. The salve your mother got from Professor Snape is enough." That explains why the jar looks like mine.

Ginny moves to set at the other side of Draco, and I notice her hand slipping into his and she sort of snuggles up against his side. I shudder. Now I remember why I stay out of my students' personal lives. Potter's eyes close and I feel myself slipping back into my own head for a few moments while he rests.

I accio my pensieve and remove the memories of everything I've just seen and felt to look at more closely later.