Title: Clockwise

Rating: M, eventually

Pairing: The main one will definitely be SLASH between someone and Harry. The rest will most likely be het and not very graphic.

Warning(s): Violence, Adult Situations, Sex, Blood, Homosexuality (most likely graphic eventually), heterosexuality (probably not so graphic), Bad Language...More to come.

Summary:Harry Potter is the only one that can save the world. Too bad abuse at the hands of the Dursley's killed him before he ever got that Hogwarts letter. However, nine years later, in the midst of war and destitution, his body is exhumed and they find him... still breathing. Eventual SLASH

"That's what it takes to be a hero, a little gem of innocence inside you that makes you want to believe that there still exists a right and a wrong, that decency will somehow triumph in the end." - Lise Hand

They closed up the hole that led down to the vault, sealing it flawlessly so that no Death Eater could possibly think anything was wrong, then they left the shattered remains of a once grand structure with the nearly simultaneous pops that disaparating caused. Soon they were just outside Hogwarts, on the platform that the train had always let them off on, though the train hadn't been used since the last year Hogwarts was a school. It sat there, mighty and metal and large but...rusted, and lonely in the darkness of the trees just across from the lake.

The four of them (or was it the five?) pulled themselves onto the Threshal-drawn carriage and sat in silence as it began to move toward the entrance of the castle. It was just after sunset, and the sky was still stained with faint traces of the sun, and Ron was trying to look up at it instead of the unconscious boy in the car with them, though he'd never been one to enjoy the aesthetics of star gazing, while Hermione sat there unsure of what to think and trying to snap her brain to attention again. Severus Snape sat beside Kingsley, who held the form of the once lost savior in his arms, limp and unmoving but...not the stillness of a corpse. The stillness of someone in a particularly deep sleep, the faint traces of his breathing in the curve of his throat and the lift of his shoulders.

Kingsley was in charge of holding the body simply because he'd stepped forward to do so, though the only one totally incapable of it was body was light and small for it's age, and...

...and his age, that was another issue entirely. His heart beat was faint but present and, according to the spell Snape had cast to check his vital signs, he was in suspiciously good health, despite the fact that he should have been dead and had been accordingly buried in a vaulted coffin for nine years without light, food, water or any sort of sustenance whatsoever. But even passed that, it seemed that he had ...grown. Not by much, he was still slight as a feather and a bit below average in height, but not really sickly. His features were not that of the ten year old Remus Lupin had found seeping blood and unmoving in that cupboard under the stairs, but sharper, bolder, his nose longer and his jaw firmer, his Adam's apple prominent and his hands delicate, but not unbecoming of a young man aged nineteen years.

Somehow, all alone with nothing, the boy had thrived even there. It was mind boggling, especially that it had been after he'd been pronounced dead by Madam Pomfrey and several other witnesses including Dumbledore and Severus Snape himself. He had been dead, Severus was sure of it, but now...he wasn't, and it made everything different, turned the world on it's head and had each of them dizzy with the information.

"Sort of puts a whole new spin on the Boy-Who-Lived thing, donnit?" Hermione's eyes snapped toward the freckled face that had spoken, and they exchanged the look for a moment, each set of features defending their view before Ron gave in, just looking away and mumbling something about how 'everyone had been thinking it'.

Hermione let out an exasperated breath, looking at Kingsley and the body (the boy?) in his arms and then over to Severus. "We have to tell Nicolas."

"Of course we will, Ms. Granger, do you honestly think that we would keep this a secret? That we could keep this a secret?" Severus hissed under his breath, not even bothering to look at her, and Hermione flushed a bit for stating the obvious. "We will tell him immediately, along with a select few others, perhaps the entire order eventually, though I doubt telling all of the occupants of Hogwarts is an intelligent idea."

"Yes, yes of course not. They couldn't handle it," Hermione shook her head and pulled at her ponytail anxiously, "I'm barely handling it."

"It's not his 'resurrection' that he couldn't handle, Ms. Granger," Severus told her, eyes drifting over to the castle as they pulled up to it, not bothering to elaborate. The carriage came to a stop and Severus was stepping off of it, elegant but harsh still, his steps nearly soundless but firm and precise. He beckoned without much thought, in a low tone and continued walking. "Kingsley."

"Yes," The large black man nodded to Hermione and Ron, and stepped off next, following Severus with long legged steps and the younger two order members scrambled down to follow them quickly.

"We're just going to walk right in there, then?" Ron asked, managing to keep up with Kingsley and Snape rather well as he was about as tall as them, while Hermione had to half jog to keep up. "What if someone sees us?"

"You probably didn't notice, Ron, but it's 6:30...Dinner's starting, there won't be anyone in the hall at this time—and the infirmary is only on the third floor. We'll be there in no time." Hermione told him, surprised when she gained a step on him, looking over her shoulder where he'd slowed down. "What's wrong?"

"...We're missing dinner?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Hermione huffed and turned back to the professor and former Auror that were starting up the steps, and she scampered after them.

Ron eventually recovered but there was a pout on his face that was truly unbecoming, and he finally asked, "Why don't you just do a Morbilicorpus on 'im, Kingsley."

"I am not sure how wise it is to use any unneeded incantations on him," Kingsley explained in a clipped tone, his speech always as curt as possible as though unwilling to use unnecessary words. "He is hardly heavy enough to warrant it."

"I suppose that makes sense...not eating for nine years and all." Ron replied with a shake of his head, because it was...impossible, wasn't it? The wizarding word was an amazing place, but he'd never seen anything like this, and by the reactions of the adults neither had they.

They finally arrived at the Hospital Wing, which was nearly empty save one that had a long term injuries from the last battle that had occurred only two weeks before. It had occurred on the Kola Peninsula, on the grounds of Durmstrang, which was now about in the state of Gringotts. The order had arrived there soon enough to make sure the fatality rate was low amongst those that had been staying there as opposed to Hogwarts. Beauxbatons had been decimated a year before, leaving only twenty of the young women that had been in that battle alive, because the Order had been more prepared for this attack. The only person from the Durmstrang battle that was still injured was asleep, an empty food tray beside his bed and the sheets pulled up over broad shoulders.

Kingsley moved to a bed across the room, and Snape pulled the curtain around it in a sharp tugging motion, before turning to watch the African man lay the boy down on the bed.

"Kingsley, gather Nicolas and Madam Pomfrey." Severus ordered quickly, and Kingsley bowed his head, then was turning in a way that was distinctly military-esque, walking from the room.

Snape didn't waste time, spelling the young man's clothes off and replacing them with the hospital uniform so that it would be easier to assess any injuries or abnormalities. The cloth was loose, spelled not to stain, or collect odor of any sort, along with several other mechanisms that were useful when the wearer was not in perfect health...While Harry Potter seemed fine enough, there was the overwhelming dilemma that factored into Severus' suspicion that perhaps not all was well with his body despite how it seemed: namely, that he was still asleep.

Ron pulled up a chair, looking over the boy's form and shaking his head slightly, "You're smart, Hermione, you have any theories on this one?"

"What?" Hermione looked at him, blinking for a moment shuddering slightly and crossing her arms over her chest, in a way that was less defensive and more of a hug around own torso. "I just...I don't know. This is all so— impossible. He was dead, it's not like people just come back to life, even in the wizarding word."

"So basically, you have bugger all."

Hermione just narrowed her eyes and looked back at the boy that Snape was preforming check ups on, the professor's long, thin but altogether strong hands checking for broken bones physically now despite having already cast a bone detection spell. He was taking in the possibility that this boy was immune to some magic, if the fact he'd been hit with the Avada Kedavra curse and was still alive was anything to go by. But even through non-magic examination everything seemed to be in order, down to the boy's reflexes and his blood pressure.

"As inelegantly as Mr. Weasley chose to put it, I'm afraid he has a point," Snape straightened the sleeves of his robes though his movements had all been poised and therefore hadn't made them untidy in the least. It was more out of habit than anything, and it wasn't something he did often, but it was a tic nonetheless. Usually the professor had an excellent poker face but this was just...baffling.

"So you really have no idea, professor?" Hermione looked toward the older man, then back to the sleeping boy.

"You do know he's not a professor anymore, right, Hermione?" Ron mumbled, standing up and bending over the raven haired boy on the hospital cot, Hermione suspecting him might poke him to see if he flinched. He didn't, however, and Snape responded as thought the Weasley had never spoken.

"I've never seen or read about a case like this. People do not come back to life, it's as simple as that." Snape's eyes were narrow, pools of black concentrating on the boy like a puzzle—no, more than a puzzle, a particularly challenging game of chess that needed to be figured out. "And yet he still sleeps."

"Y'know what we usually do when people pass out?" Ron said, sliding his wand out of his sleeve with surprising grace, though in all honesty it was a movement he'd practiced for months on end to get right. He swished his wand twice and said, "Ennervate."

Hermione's eyes widened and Snape's teeth gnawed together in the beginnings of fury, and she started to snatch his wand away, yelling at him "Ron, I can't believe you. Professor Snape specifically said not to use unnecessary spells on him, and go right ahead and-"

"Ghnah!" There was a choking sound, a gasp that sounded like that of a half-drowned man's first revived gulp of air, and it came from the body on the bed. Three pairs of eyes shot toward them, each frozen in their places as they took in the sight of the previously limp body bucking back to life, or at least to the waking world.

Wide, vibrant green eyes shot open as the form sat up in a jerky motion, his eyes looking between them and squinting in panic, shock and terror. "Wh-wh-wha-"

"Your fumbling finally accounted for something, Mr. Weasley. Congratulations." Snape hissed and stepped forward, putting a hand on the Boy-Who-Lived's shoulder, a motion that caused the boy to flinch. Severus noted it, but ignored it for now, pressing him back into the pillow. "Still yourself, Mr. Potter."

"Who—you...No one calls me 'Mr. Potter', 'cept my teachers, what are you...I mean, who are you all? Wh-where am I?" He followed the motion simply because from what his dull-sighted eyes could see of the man's face it was terse and no-nonsense. The boy's heart was racing, and he had to stop himself from saying the first question that came to his mind;

Why aren't I in any pain?

"Rest assured we will not hurt you, Mr. Potter, and as for what I call you I find it only appropriate, as had circumstances turned out differently I would have no doubt been your teacher," Severus thought back over that information, because it was...unnecessary to confuse the boy with such scraps of 'should have, could have, would have', since there were far more important things to sort out. He made a note to refrain from it henceforth.

"Why's he squinting like that?"

"Ron, just hush, for once, would you?"

"I'm just asking."

"It's 'cause I don't have my glasses, that's all, sorry," Harry muttered, rubbing at his eyes, which had an ungodly amount of sleep residue around them, so much so that it was a wonder they hadn't been sealed shut.

"Oh, er, that's...okay, nothing to apologize for, mate," Ron had the decency to look embarrassed, though it was lost on Harry, who couldn't make most nuances like that without his glasses.

"My name," Snape cut in before the redhead could say anything else offensive or misleading, so as to disorient the green-eyed boy further, "Is Severus Snape. This is Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger."

"Ron, actually, no one calls me Ronald."

"Shush already."

"You shush, Hermione."

"Really-"

"And they were both just leaving," Severus snarled at them, in a tone that had Harry's shoulders curling high into a pose that Snape distinctly recognized as defensive.

"Let's go, Ronald, your mouthing is upsetting him," Hermione told him curtly, stepping behind him and pushing the tall boy with all her strength toward the door, and he allowed her to, reluctantly, looking over the shoulder at Harry's half blind, tense form.

"...Yeah, alright, m'going."

They had just reached the door when it was pulled open, Harry wincing at the motion because it was a rather harsh movement and it had caught his eye through the gap in the curtains that the brunette and redhead had left on the way out.

"Oh—ah, Dumbledore, sorry, we were just-"

Hermione started to explain, but the silver bearded man simply mumbled some sort of acceptance of their apology, and walked passed them, straight toward the bed with Harry Potter lying in it. Snape looked up at the name, his face immediately darkening when he caught sight of the older wizard, who stopped at the edge of the bed.

"I asked Kingsley to fetch Madam Pomfrey and Nicolas,," Severus spoke, his voice dropping several degrees, a fact which Harry caught rather easily, and it made him scoot back into the headboard.

"Yes, Severus, but I invited him," Through the door that Hermione and Ron had left through just a moment before came two more people, a woman who appeared to be a decade or two passed middle age, dressed in a conservative dress and a white apron and a caramel skinned man with pale hair. The closer they got the more of the wrinkles Harry could make out of the man, a testimony to his age as well.

"I don't believe he needs to be here, Nicolas," Severus' voice was more slippery than a statement, as though he wanted to implant the idea itself into the darker skinned man's mind. His dark, cool eyes were still directed toward the bearded man with glasses, while from what Harry could tell, the subject of Severus Snape's glare was still looking at him. Had he been able to see more clearly, he would have seen the look on his face was that of pure awe, with a sprinkle of several other emotions in his blue eyes, such as sorrow and relief.

"I do, Severus, and he is. Let's focus on the task at hand here, shall we?" The man called Nicolas handled his words with tact, the way a juggler would while tossing knives.

Severus forced his eyes away from Dumbledore, turning back to Harry, "Yes...Yes, of course."

"First and foremost, young man," The silver beard moved when he spoke, Harry noted, "What is your name?"

"No, first and foremost, get this poor boy a glass of water. All of you are so careless," Madam Pomfrey bustled through the three men over to the cabinet and pulled out a glass and a pitcher of water, setting it on the bedside table that also supported a candle. The glow of it against skin that hadn't been touched by the sun in almost a decade was enchanting, all drastic shadows and smooth lines, and it made Severus remember just who they were dealing with.

This was a man in appearance, perhaps a small one, without much muscle on his bones, who's hands were soft as though he were pampered, though the actual reason was that (if they were correct) Harry Potter hadn't actually done anything with them all this time. Poppy poured the glass halfway, then held it out for the young raven-haired man, who reached for it and —missed.

"I—I'm sorry, that was..." Harry swallowed thickly, straightening up slightly against the headboard, and now that he could see the blurry outline of his hand he managed to grasp the glass the second time. He took a sip of the water, nearly ice cold , feeling odd, and that wasn't only because he wasn't in pain but because...he didn't make it a point of being clumsy.

Sure, that had always been the excuse at school when they'd seen the bruises, but all in all he'd never been the type to trip over air or misjudge the depth between his arm and a cup, with or without his glasses. He felt like he'd...grown, his body was out of proportion and it was a sensation that he'd never felt before, and he had felt many, all the way from paper cuts to belt lashings in various degrees, broken bones and dislocated shoulders and knees and this wasn't normal, whatever it was.

Harry pulled the glass away from his mouth, looking first at the woman who had given him the drink, thanking her now that the coolness had soothed his throat and then directing his eyes toward the one dressed in what seemed to be a purple gown. "I...I'm Harry James Potter."

There was a silence, even from Severus, who had already seen the lightning bolt scar that told him as much, but to hear it from the wizard himself, it was nearly deafening.

"And you're..." Harry trailed off, not sure if he'd heard the name correctly.

"Dumbledore...Albus Dumbledore," The older man spoke, stepping around the side of the bed, until Harry's vision allowed him a glimpse of light blue eyes. The name was strange, but Harry didn't say anything, and there was a smile in Dumbledore's voice when he spoke. "A funny name, I know, my boy."

"Ah-? No, I wasn't going to say that!" Harry replied quickly, feeling his ears burn in embarrassment, ducking his head because he had been thinking that, but smart alec remarks, even questionable ones, never ended in a pat on the head and a laugh.

"Of course not," Dumbledore said in a tone that said he was holding back a chuckle. Harry fell silent then, though there was a flurry of questions running through his head, but he was hesitant to bombard them on the adults. Two adults at home that were family and who had known him all his life were bad enough when he slipped up, but there were four of them here. Severus took lead, stepping forward and giving Harry a better look at his facial features and expressions, noting a larger than average, strong nose and eyes that were either very dark brown or black, but as for expressions there wasn't much to go on.

"This is Poppy Pomfrey, you may call her Madam Pomfrey. She's a healer and a ...Medic," Severus introduced as simply as possible, then he motioned in a light, but not flippant, fashion toward the other aged man in the room. "This is Nicolas Flamel."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"You can call me Nicolas, Harry," Though the man did not smile on the surface, there was a depth of kindness in the tones of his voice that put Harry at ease. "If I were to make everyone younger than me call me by my last name or 'sir', then the world would be a very impersonal place for me."

"Oh," Harry commented, looking between them again and mumbling, "Er, well, you don't seem that old, sir...Nicolas."

Again, Harry got the impression that he had said something particularly amusing, but the stern man with dark hair, with the voice like velvet, was the first to cut off the air of hilarity. "We have many things to discuss with you, Mr. Potter, and we will start off at the beginning and work our way up to now, so that it will be easier for you to understand."

Harry's eyes changed direction, peering up at the man that had told him, for whatever reason, he could have been his teacher, having the urge to tell him 'I'm not stupid', but thought better of it. He just shifted, still absolutely transfixed by the fact that he didn't have any bruises for the first time in his life, and took another sip of his water, the world coming into more focus now that he'd gotten used to the lighting. Why were they only using candles, anyway? And how was the water ice cold when she'd only just taken it out of a cupboard? Not to mention the fact that last he remembered, he'd been bleeding out in the cupboard after Dudley's eleventh birthday party at the zoo, with several broken bones and the worst lashing he'd ever recieved...if he was healed, that meant time had passed. From what he knew of broken bones, at least two months, and even then, he wouldn't be feeling this...good. His heart seized slightly, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt good.

"Can you wait until then, Poppy, to do your checkup?" Nicolas asked, his bamboo cane tapping against the floor as he moved over to the empty chair.

"Yes, I suppose so. I'll...go get the potions I need ready. He'll need glasses too, the poor dear. " She sighed a bit, looking at the boy with her eyes downcast and tender, before turning and hurrying into her office, Harry just catching the sound of a sniffle before she went into her office.

Harry met Nicolas's eyes, for some reason that one word hitting him more than anything else that any of them had said. God, maybe he was still dreaming...Yeah, that would answer everything. It was a vivid dream, of course, but how else could he explain the fact he'd gone from lying half dead in the cupboard to here, in this place with kind voices and people that seemed to be concerned for his well-being. That, of course, and—

"Potions? What –what does she mean?"

A slow smile formed on Nicolas' lips, "I'll explain everything, Harry. Albus, Severus, why don't you sit down? This will take a while."

"I'd rather stand," Was the curt response from the man standing to Harry's right, while Dumbledore quietly took a seat on the edge of Harry's bed. There was an air of protectiveness in his stance, the way he didn't clasp his hands or appear to lock his knees, even standing for the one dressed in black was poised, his posture like that of a guard. For whatever reason, Harry didn't take him as a threat. He couldn't take any of them as a threat...another point toward the possibility of this being a story out of the imagination of a young boy in pain.

Harry didn't really mind too much, because the bed was too long for him anyway, and —his legs...they were...longer, too, now that he thought about it. He hadn't noticed that before, but it made sense as it coincided with the fact that his arms had felt longer. But it wasn't just that he felt bigger, he really was, and he looked down at his hands in a fashion that seemed to be subdued but was really just to look at his hands. They were longer too, he could see the lines on the back more easily, and the broken fingers that he'd had on his right hand had healed correctly, something he remembered fretting about because he was never allowed to go to a doctor, and it...was a dream. It had to be, that was that, and what came out of Nicolas' mouth next just cinched it.

"Now I must ask, Harry," Dark brown eyes gazed at him, that ghost of a smile gone, but the warmth in him still present. "Do you believe in magic?"

A/N: Whoa. Oo I got 23 reviews and over 70 alerts for a first chapter. I came home and checked and grinned all goofy. :) I'm flabbergasted and ecstatic. I enjoy your input, all of it, and I'm glad you are so interested in the story. Severus/Harry seems to be the pairing supported by reviewers, and that's probably for the best, though I do plan to have Draco and his father both as prominent characters in this story. Because I like them and their awesome hair.

I responded to all the reviews that I could (only excluding the anonymous ones and those that have their private messaging disabled). I like having a rapport with my readers, though I can't commit to it every single time for now that should be the usual. Many more questions to be answered of course, but at least you know that Harry does indeed look about twenty years old.

A more serious note on the portrayal of Ron, a couple of you didn't agree with it. Perhaps it's just because it was the first chapter that you're worried (do tell me what you think now that the second is here), but I do indeed believe he has several obnoxious attributes. Mostly though, I believe he uses humor as compensation. I also tried to portray the fact he does have some depth, and I believe after a few chapters those fears will be settled. If you still disagree with my characterization of him (or anyone else) after that...I'm sorry, but I'll have to disagree with you. I don't put OOC warnings up there, because I do my very best to make sure the characters are depicted with their personality and the circumstances I've given them in mind. If I make them do or say something, it's for a reason, and you're free to disagree with it, because every person interprets characters in their own fashion. Either way, if you stick with me I will do my best to have you enjoy the ride.

Thank you so much for the reviews, I adored each one,

Evenue