Severus forced himself to breathe evenly as the man took the first dose of the antidote he’d prepared. It wasn’t as strong as he’d have preferred—the man would need to take it for over a week to counteract the effects of the venom. But any stronger and he ran the risk of melting his internal organs, so…. At this point the main question was whether the man would remain alive long enough for the potion to have any effect. Potter shifted nervously from foot to foot beside him and he turned to frown at the boy. “Silent, now.”

Luciano coaxed the potion down the man’s throat—he gagged, but it seemed to be more in reaction to the taste than any adverse effect. Honestly, doesn’t anyone else realize the unfortunate side effects of adding sweetener to potions? “Does he feel any loosening in his chest?” Severus asked the older man, who passed on the question and relayed the reply.

“I…do not think so. His answers are none to clear.”

“It may be too soon to tell for certain. I will brew another batch to ensure that you have enough—make sure he takes two spoonfuls of that size every three hours.”

“When should we see a difference?”

“Morning tomorrow, at the latest. If he has shown no improvement by then, it is most likely too late.” And he was unlikely to find a better potion in the time the man would have left at that point.

“Then we will pray that this has the desired effect. Now, we seem to have enough here to satisfy our immediate needs—perhaps you and the boy would prefer to wash up and eat? I can ask Maria to send some of the extra fish to my hut.”

After last night’s escapades, climbing around in trees after standing over boiling cauldrons most of the day, Severus had to admit that a chance to clean up would be nice. “Very well, thank you. Come along, Harry.”

The boy paused to wave quickly to the injured man’s son, now standing with his cousins, and then followed his teacher down to the river. “Professor? Do you think he’ll be all right?”

It wasn’t a question Severus particularly wanted to consider. He had worked as quickly as possible, but…. “I don’t know. If he’d gotten the antidote immediately I have no doubt he would be fine, but between the hallucinations and the nerve damage that has already set in…” Severus shook his head. “I do not know.” Harry seemed to understand that he was not in the mood to speak and went silent, remaining that way until most of the food that had been waiting for them when they got back to Luciano’s hut was gone.

“Professor?”

Severus paused in laying out the ingredients he would need for the next batch of the antidote. “What, Mr. Potter?”

“What will happen when we get back to Hogwarts? Are you going to tell…?”

“Unless you wish to return to your relatives, the headmaster will need to be informed of your situation.” And if you won’t do it, I will—that is not a situation for any child to be in. “I will go with you to speak to him, if you wish. At that point…I suspect the issue will be simply finding you a compatible foster family. I believe you have stayed with the Weasleys on occasion?”

“A couple times,” Harry agreed. “You think they’d really let me live with them?”

“I daresay you know the family better than I do, but from what I’ve seen I hardly think they would refuse you.”

“I don’t mean the Weasleys—they’ve offered before. I mean the Ministry. Fudge.”

“That may be a more…difficult situation,” Severus admitted. The last thing we need is for that idiot to find out about the abuse—more rumors about the child being unbalanced will do nothing but harm. At least I now have some evidence with which to back up his story, but all the same… “I suspect Albus will be able to come up with a convincing reason for you to stay with them that does not require intimate knowledge of your past. It would mean that your relatives go unpunished—”

“I don’t care about that, just as long as I never have to go back there.”

Not particularly a surprise. “Then I imagine it will not be so difficult to keep the majority of the Ministry from finding out.”

“Good. Can I go see how Joao and his cousin are?”

Severus nodded. “Do not make a nuisance of yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

He made up the potion quickly, noting down the steps in a small book that Luciano had given him so if it was ever necessary to recreate the potion anyone in the village with a steady hand would be able to do it immediately. He was nearly finished when a burning pain erupted in his arm, and with an effort he swung the cauldron away from the fire to stand against the wall. Then he concentrated on blocking the pain as best he could. Not that that had ever worked…. At some point—it could have been five minutes or an hour later when he was finally able to concentrate on the outside world—he found a little girl he didn’t recognize tugging urgently on his robe, chattering at him. “English, please?” he hissed through the pain.

“Come!”

“What?”

“Come! Harry….” She trailed off, babbling again in Portuguese.

Severus stood, somewhat unsteadily, as pain flared again. At least it had died down, slightly…apparently the Dark Lord’s urgency had subsided somewhat. Or the nerves in his arm had been permanently damaged. Either way will serve, I suppose, at this point. “Where is he? Show me.” They found the boy curled against one of the huts. “Harry? Harry, can you hear me?”

“I…I’m okay, Professor. I just…wasn’t ready for it. Are you oka—?” he broke off with an earsplitting scream, clutching at his forehead.

Severus only just avoided mimicking the howl, dropping to his knees with his free hand clamped around his forearm. He could hear the rest of the children as a dull hum in the background, but he couldn’t spare the concentration to listen to their words. So my arm has not gone numb after all…brilliant. The Dark Lord was angry—very angry—and he only hoped that it wasn’t all directed at him. If it was, it would not be a pleasant reunion. And probably not a short one either…the Dark Lord was not known for showing mercy to the followers he felt failed him. While he wasn’t likely to execute his only Potions’ master offhand…well, the creature had been known to react impulsively.

A light touch on his back had him whirling, and Luciano backed off, hands raised. “Are you injured?”

He checked to be sure that his sleeve still covered his forearm. Even in the jungle, he’d been unwilling to leave the skin hiding his Dark Mark exposed. “I…I’m fine. My arm was…injured, years ago. And Harry has headaches.” He hissed in pain as the Dark Lord sent another call. “When the child came to get me, I simply moved too quickly and wrenched my arm.” Sparing a hope that the village girl who’d fetched him didn’t speak enough English to understand his words and contradict them—and that Luciano didn’t think to ask—he glanced down at the boy. “Harry?”

The figure uncurled slightly. “I think it’s done, now.” He pushed himself to his feet, one hand still covering his scar. His face paled a bit more as he noted the crowd that had gathered around them. “I…I think I’d like to lie down now, if that’s all right?”

Luciano nodded firmly. “I think that would be a very wise idea. You’ve had a very stressful few days.” He turned and said something to the children who’d been gathered around them, and they scattered obligingly. “Come, I will get him something to make him sleep, and look at your arm as well.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Severus began when he saw the panic in the child’s eyes. He wouldn’t want to sleep now, would he? Certainly no more than he wanted this man to look at his arm—granted the Mark should remain hidden to the rest of the world, but to his eyes….

“Nonsense, after all you have done for us it is the least that I can do.”

They entered the hut, and Severus waved Harry into the cot quickly, enforcing the order with a glare when it seemed that the boy was going to balk. “In that case, our thanks. I believe he will sleep fine without your potion, but perhaps if you could leave some in case he wakes up….”

“Of course, of course.” He set a mug of something on the table beside the bed. “And your arm?”

“It’s nothing, really…an old Quidditch injury.” Severus forced himself to roll up his sleeve as though it was nothing. “Not even a bruise…I’m afraid my bones just get sore sometimes.”

“You are a young man—far too young for aches and pains,” Luciano protested. “However, I do have some salve here that I use when my own joints mutiny…it may help somewhat.”

Severus highly doubted that it would do anything of the sort—he’d been trying for years to find some way to numb the effects of the Dark Lord’s summons and failing each and every time. But he thanked the man politely anyway, and mentioned that he would join the boy for a short nap. It served his purpose—the man left, pleading a need to be with the injured hunter’s family.

Harry rolled over to face him as soon as the door swung shut. “Are you okay, Professor?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Potter. What was that about, do you know?”

“He’s mad.”

“That much I gathered,” Severus returned dryly.

“I’m not sure exactly…” the boy hedged, not raising his eyes from the bedspread.

“Mr. Potter, I will not have you lying to me.”

“He’s mad at you. Not—not all at you, but…mostly. Someone tried to do something with the unicorn blood, and I guess it didn’t work quite right, and…he seems to think if you were there you could have made it work.”

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. He couldn’t rouse himself to come up with any more creative curses at the moment. Whatever the Dark Lord had wanted done with the unicorn blood had no doubt been a delicate procedure—it wasn’t precisely an everyday ingredient. While the younger Malfoy, in a few years, might be capable of mixing such potions, there was no one besides himself currently in the beast’s circles that should even be allowed to touch the stuff. Well, no one he knew about, and that thought made him pause. If Voldemort is recruiting and I haven’t been informed…well, that didn’t bode well for his future as a spy. He shook his head, dispelling those thoughts. The Dark Lord is paranoid; he always has been. All I can do is work with what I have.

“Professor?”

“What, Mr. Potter?”

“I…nothing. Am I really supposed to sleep now?”

“As I don’t wish to be subjected to shrieking any more than I suspect you wish to experience whatever the Dark Lord is currently up to, I would suggest that you not.” Severus gave his arm one last rub and then knelt to complete the potion that he’d left sitting against the wall when the summoning had occurred. Fortunately the intervening time didn’t seem to have affected the solution…. He set it back near the fire to heat in the last ingredients, and then rose and turned to look at the child. Harry was lying on his back on one of the cots, studying the ceiling with mindless intensity. “As we are expected to remain indoors for at least a short while, I suggest that we make another attempt at Occlumency lessons.” The wary glance the teenager shot him was something of an improvement over the hostility Severus expected, although it wasn’t precisely encouraging. At least he hasn’t refused outright.

“If I…when I get this right, stuff like what happened earlier will stop, right? It won’t hurt anymore when he gets mad?”

“I can’t promise that…I’ve never seen the type of mental connection that you seem to share with him before. I would, however, say that the effects of such a bond will be greatly reduced.”

“Anything’s better than nothing, I guess,” Harry muttered, and Severus suspected that he wasn’t supposed to hear that. Green eyes met his for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Guess it’s not like you don’t already know what’s in there. And you’re not going to hurt me again, right?”

“Not as before, I give my word.” He couldn’t promise that there wouldn’t be some discomfort—the boy did need to learn to block invasions—but…well, he rarely repeated the same mistake twice. “Settle yourself.”

Harry removed his wand from his pocket and set it on the side table with a quick grin. Considering what he’d managed the previous night without it Severus didn’t feel particularly reassured, somehow, but…well, at least the child made the effort. “I’m ready, Professor.”

“Then clear your mind. One. Two. Three. Legilimens.”

Once again he found himself in the attic at Hogwarts. A careful push, and he went slightly deeper into the attics, and another still failed to yield any personal information. But the Dark Lord would be doing more than simply nudging…Severus put some force behind his next push and found himself in a kitchen somewhere.

A heavy woman who bore a disturbing resemblance to Harry’s uncle sat at the table with his aunt, uncle and cousin, clearly finishing a meal. Judging by the just-washed dishes piled on the counter in front of him, Harry hadn’t had a chance to sir down and eat.

“…Your sister was a bad egg,” the heavy woman was saying. “They turn up in the best families. And then she ran off with a wastrel and here’s the result right in front of us.”

And I thought his aunt had an annoying voice. There was conversation going on in the background, but he was having trouble making out what was being said—he could feel the anger coursing through the boy and the ringing in his ears couldn’t herald anything good. Apparently the woman was still talking—about Harry’s father now, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who—”

“He was not!” Severus was a bit startled to hear the words erupt from the body he currently inhabited—after all, as far as the elder Potter was concerned he rather agreed with her. But the boy was shaking with anger, and he knew firsthand how Harry tended to react to comments against his parents….

“More brandy! You boy, go to bed, go on…” The look on his uncle’s face as he added more alcohol to the woman’s glass didn’t bode well for the boy, but Harry was still too furious to notice.

“No, Vernon,” the woman hiccupped, clearly drunk. “Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash—drunk, I expect—”

“They didn't die in a car crash!”

The woman’s face turned red. “They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives! You are an insolent, ungrateful little—”

Severus was more than a little disturbed to hear the opinion he’d often spouted of the Potter boy coming out of this infuriating woman’s mouth and was rather glad that she stopped speaking abruptly. And then he realized she’d stopped because her body started to expand…the swelling charm generally used by children as a practical joke on their friends had been particularly neatly applied to the woman’s entire body. In fact, she was actually beginning to rise slowly. And float away. He felt a surge of amusement from the boy, and then momentary panic, and then he was flying from the room towards the cupboard under the stairs. A trunk was hastily removed, and then the boy ran upstairs to release Hedwig next, grabbing something else—a pillowcase?—before returning downstairs. But his uncle was standing there…Severus couldn’t help a quick surge of pride when the boy grabbed his wand and faced the man down. Beaten, maybe, but certainly not broken. And then he was out the door and into the darkness.

“They won’t let you back now!” the man screamed after him.

As if a child would be kept from Hogwarts for accidental magic. Idiot muggle. A sharp shove at Severus’ mind brought him back to the present, and he concentrated on retaining his hold in the boy’s mind. Come on, Harry, just push a little harder.

The boy had ended up on a deserted playground while he was distracted and was now sitting under a streetlamp. It was…rather creepy, actually. And then he heard something and squinted into the darkness. The sight of the big Grim emerging from the bushes startled Severus enough that Harry’s next push neatly evicted him from the child’s mind.

For once the child looked pleased as Severus returned to the present. “Well, how was that?”

“Not completely unacceptable, I suppose,” he acknowledged. “However, rather slow—you’ll need to be able to work faster than that to have any chance against the Dark Lord.”

Harry ducked his head slightly. “I wasn’t really trying before that first push when we were leaving the house—I wanted to see her blow up again. She’s a real—” he cut himself off before he could give his opinion of he woman, but Severus had little doubt what would have come out of his mouth.

“Well, I suggest that you relive your more pleasant memories on your own time,” Severus returned sharply, still a bit disturbed by the woman’s words. “I expect your full concentration to be on Occlumency when we have these lessons. Am I understood?”

“I…yes, sir.”

The boy looked properly chastened, and he didn’t push the issue farther. “Clear your mind. One. Two. Three. Legilimens.”

Some time later—it was difficult to tell precisely how long—Severus was tossed out of a memory involving an impossibly hot day spent weeding a garden to find Luciano surveying them with a frown on his face. He mentally cursed himself for letting his guard down, doing his best to smooth his expression before turning to face the older man. “May I be of service, sir?”

“No, no, I was merely wondering if you had rested. Pedro seems to be responding to your medicine…he was more lucid after I gave him the last dose.”

Severus’ mind immediately switched into analysis mode. “Excellent. Were you able to ascertain whether the muscles in his chest were relaxing? Or perhaps he is regaining feeling in his extremities?”

“He did say that it was easier to breathe,” Luciano agreed. “But he was unconscious again before I could question him further.”

“Please inform me before you administer the next dose, I’d like a chance to observe his reactions myself.”

“Of course. Perhaps the two of you would care to join my family and myself for the meal? We won’t have many more opportunities. You’ve made more than enough potion to ensure that Pedro can be properly treated, and I noticed you’ve made enough notes to recreate it…there’s no reason for you not to leave for London tomorrow.”

With a nod of agreement, Severus glanced over at the boy. “Are you well enough to eat? The headaches sometimes leave him with an upset stomach,” he explained.

“Yes, sir.”

“Come, then.”

Harry retrieved his wand and trailed Severus and Luciano as they walked toward one of the other huts. The meal was…rather reserved, Severus noted, compared to the one of the previous night. Of course, there were no young children here, and the older man seemed distracted. It’s been a long few days for all of us. The boy, at least, was behaving himself quite adequately, maintaining polite conversation with an older woman seated next to him. After they finished, he went to oversee the application of the next dose of potion—the man did seem rather more aware. Not aware enough to answer direct questions, unfortunately, although Severus was able to draw a few conclusions from his mutterings and a basic physical examination. “I believe he will recover very nearly completely,” he assured the man’s family through Luciano. “He reacted when I applied pressure to his fingertips and feet…he may have lost some dexterity, but there appears to be no permanent paralysis.”

His wife babbled something he had no trouble interpreting as thanks, and he waved it off. The three children looked equally relieved, and he excused himself before the family could become more demonstrative. Even happily crying children are not my forte.

“Professor?”

“Yes?” He shut the door of the hut behind him and moved to sit on the cot next to the teenager’s.

“Are we really going home tomorrow?”

“So it appears,” he acknowledged.

“I…” the boy trailed off, looking away.

“What is it, Harry?”

“What’s going to happen when we get back?”

Severus sighed. I wish I knew. “Obviously you’ll need to continue the Occlumency lessons…but you do realize we will need to devise some pretense for doing so, correct?” He could hardly afford to show any softening of his attitude towards the brat in classes, never mind the favoritism special lessons would imply. And I still need some excuse to give the Dark Lord for not killing him in the first place.

“I know. It’s just…do you have to be so…nasty? Like before?”

He sighed again. “You know I do.”

“Yes, sir.”

The resignation in the child’s voice made him feel considerably older than his thirty-odd years. “I suppose as long as I’ve managed to build up this…tolerance, however, there is no reason not to exercise it in private.”

He caught a flash of green as eyes turned towards his, and then… “Maybe if you have to give me a lot of detentions we could do lessons then?”

“That would be acceptable, I believe. Mind you, if you do anything to truly earn one of those detentions…,” he trailed off and left the threat unspecified. The smirk the child shot him at that was decidedly unsatisfying…more along the lines of unnerving, really. He’s supposed to be intimidated! “I expect the content of these lessons will remain, private, however, is that clear?” Severus continued in a stern tone.

“I…yes, sir, I understand, but I’m going to have to tell Hermione and Ron something. Otherwise they’ll probably try and help me…”

And the last thing I need is the rest of the Golden Trio roaming my dungeons, Severus acknowledged. “I will keep all three of you after class when we return—you may inform them then that you are receiving particular tutoring then. But you cannot discuss the matter in your common rooms or anywhere else, is that understood?”

“He’d kill you, wouldn’t he?” Harry asked. “If someone overheard and gossiped and he found out what was happening?”

That showed a level of understanding he hadn’t expected, and he inclined his head. “At the very least.” Do not press the matter further, child.

“I understand. I’ll make sure we never talk about it.”

“All right, then. Go to sleep, I expect we’ll be in for a long day of questioning when we get back to London.”

“What are we going to tell them?”

“Precisely what happened. If you’ve forgotten, I caught you and the other two being disobedient brats out after curfew and ordered them back to their rooms so I could deal with you privately. We were interrupted by a surge of dark magic, but instead of doing as you were told and returning to your room you followed me when I went to investigate and encountered the damn portgate. I believe you can chronicle our last few days in the jungle acceptably?”

“Yes, sir. Am I still in trouble when we get back to Horwarts?”

“For your disobedience? I suppose the last few days have been punishment enough—although I see no reason not to let…say, a month of detentions stand. That should give us plenty of time to bring your Occlumency to an acceptable level.”

“But Professor—”

“Two nights a week for the next month, Mr. Potter.”

“But—” he broke off his complaint with a quick glance. “Just two nights a week?”

“I’d thank you to remember that I do have better things to do than spend the majority of my free time in your company, Mr. Potter. And I assumed you would want time for Quidditch and whatever else you and your little friends amuse yourselves with.”

“Two nights is good, Professor,” Harry said, trying to hide a smile and failing.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Severus didn’t fall asleep immediately, although he did hear the boy’s breathing even out fairly quickly. He wasn’t as worried about the boy maintaining the charade of mutual dislike as he might have been before his trips into the child’s memories—he’d managed to hide abuse for years, hiding the fact that he could tolerate his teacher would be easy enough. But that did nothing to alleviate his major concern. Perhaps I can use the existence of the Order as the reason I didn’t kill the brat…. Except that he could quite easily have dispatched the child and claimed that it had been the work of some denizen of the jungle…. Could I claim my wand was damaged? He’d hate to have to break it, but better to lose the wand than his life. Unfortunately, the boy could hardly stand against me in a physical battle…and I doubt anyone would believe that he held his wand on me the entire time. The Dark Lord would punish him—punish him severely—for his failure regardless, of that he was certain, but…he didn’t want the sentence to be permanent.