Severus glared down at the clamp attached to the end of a short rod. The rod itself was rooted in a cup attached to his elbow and with the hinge attachment had some limited bending capability, but because of the lack of nerves it was far shorter than his arm had been. One of the mediwitches had told him that he could have it extended at a later date as the magic that tied it into his remaining nerves gave him a sense of ‘feeling’ down it, but for now they’d insisted that there was too great a danger of him knocking things about to use anything but a short rod. The clamp on the end of it was fairly simple, curved pincers that were capable of gripping and lifting. His current therapy involved developing that sense of ‘feeling’ in said pincers—as well as developing the actual muscles that were controlling them—and was not going particularly well. Apparently there was supposed to be some sort of elecktrical contraption that helped with the motions for muggles, but they were using magic in its place. The said it was attached correctly….

He snarled as the stick he’d been trying to lift spun out of the pincers and clattered to the floor as he closed them just a bit too tightly. This should not be this difficult. There were a pile of sticks on his left that were supposed to be stacked off to his right by the time the mediwitch returned with lunch, but at the rate he was going he was likely to be at this until dinner at the very least. Poppy had gone back to Hogwarts after they’d finished working on him the day before yesterday—leaving a school full of children with no medical supervisor was not a particularly wise idea and he’d been unconscious for the most part anyway—but come by yesterday evening and had promised to do the same thing today. Not that he needed her here, of course, but one familiar face out of the random group that seemed to be in and out of his temporary quarters would be…welcome. All too many members of the staff had been curious about the unusual procedure that had been performed and had stopped in to take a look at how he was ‘recovering.’ He had a strong suspicion that there was an Order member lurking somewhere outside his room, keeping out any particularly dubious-looking visitors, but so far whoever it was hadn’t seen fit to stop in and introduce him-or-herself. Just as well, probably, considering the options. The ones free during the day are generally the ones I’d prefer to avoid. He glanced back at the door and then leaned over and picked the stick back up with his good arm and dropped it onto the stack he was slowly building. One more one way or the other won’t make a great deal of difference.

He’d gotten through approximately two-thirds of the pile when the door swung inwards and an entirely-too-cheerful woman carrying a tray came in. Laura…Lauren… something like that. She’d been the one to bring him breakfast this morning as well, and aside from the fact that she was far too happy for his tastes—a trait the majority of the witches and wizards employed here seemed to share—she was tolerable enough.

“It looks like you’re making progress,” she said with a smile, setting the tray on the bedside table. “But why don’t you take a break and have some lunch? I’ve got your potions here….”

Poppy had apparently left them a list of the potions he was still taking—one for rebuilding damaged muscle, one general strengthening, and one mild painkiller—because they’d appeared at the appropriate times in the nondescript little cups indicating hospital supplies. He downed them quickly, one after the other, and then turned his attention to the food. The house-elves’ cooking was much preferable. A mediwizard appeared before he’d finished, nodding politely to Severus before doing a bit of wandwork over his prosthesis. Apparently things were going well—in their opinion, at least—because he put his wand away after only a few moments.

“So how are you feeling?” he asked.

Severus debated answering honestly and then decided that swearing at the staff wouldn’t help him get out of there any sooner. Or make the prosthesis function any better. “Fine.”

“Excellent. I see your exercises are going well, after you’ve finished with the sticks I’d like you to try with some marbles. One of the volunteers will provide them for you.”

He bit back a growl only by great force of will. As annoying as trying to move sticks was, he couldn’t imagine how long it would take him to move a pile of tiny round things with only a pair of pincers. And they called this ‘therapy’…more likely they were just trying to move him from the recovery wing to the wing in which the mental patients were housed.

“I talked to your primary healer, and provided everything remains stable and the connections hold, you should be able to return to Hogwarts in two or three days.”

“Is there anything in particular preventing me from going back now?” Severus asked. There was no reason that he could see that he couldn’t perform these exercises in the privacy of his own rooms rather than here in front of the parade of medi-people.

“Since this is intended to be a permanent attachment rather than something you take off every evening, the first few days are extremely important. If it starts to separate from your arm and you’re at Hogwarts you’ll have to either floo back—which could easily be compound the damage—or apparate and possibly splinch it since you aren’t fully accustomed to it yet.”

If Severus could do side-along apparition and avoid splinching his passengers, he saw no reason why he’d suddenly splinch part of his arm, but the mediwizard obviously wouldn’t be budged. And knowing his sort, if Severus continued to push he’d be stuck here for an extra few days in retaliation. Not that the medical sort ever called it that, but…. And the annoying part was not only would the rest of the staff of St. Mungos back him, so would Poppy and Albus.

///////////

Severus stepped out of the floo into Albus office and clamped his teeth down on the groan that threatened to escape. Not all the staff was there—Umbridge, thank Merlin, seemed to be absent, as were both Sybil and Bathsheba—but the rest of the staff seemed to be in attendance. Alastor was even here, though he was picking over a food tray rather than paying any attention to Severus’ arrival. Bloody hell, someone did get the idea to have a get-well party. Or a welcome back party. Some kind of bloody buggering party that I’m obviously required to attend. And from the twinkle in Albus’ eye, he had more than a sneaking suspicion just who the culprit had been. Why he’d agreed to floo back in the evening rather than waiting until the middle of the day when most of these people would be teaching classes…. Because I didn’t want to stay there even one more night, of course. I should have known Poppy was looking so pleased with herself for a reason.

“Welcome home, Severus,” Minerva said with a smile. “Care for a drink?”

“I think I’d best have several.” It was certainly obvious that they weren’t going to let him leave at any point in the near future.

“Well, here’s the first, then.” Devon pressed a glass of what appeared to be firewhisky into his hand, only to have it snatched away by Poppy.

“Not while he’s still on pain medication. Butterbeer or juice only.”

Bloody hell…. Rhiannon passed over a glass of pumpkin juice and tried not to sigh as he took a sip. And then nearly choked as the alcohol burned down his throat. She spiked my juice?! He shook his head and shot her a grateful glance while Poppy was speaking to Minerva.

The conversation, at least, was more interesting than he’d expected. Apparently over the weekend some enterprising student had let a couple Nifflers into the room Umbridge had claimed as an office causing great commotion yesterday morning. The things had torn the place to shreds and then had nearly taken off several of her fingers this morning when she’d walked in with all her rings on—apparently even simple repelling spells were beyond her repertoire—before escaping into the corridors and raising a minor amount of hell before Hagrid was finally summoned to lure them away. And today Peeves had spent the entire afternoon following her around spitting water all over her. The Bloody Baron had been conspicuously absent, and Merlin knew no one else had any consistent ability to control the poltergeist. It hadn’t really accomplished much, beyond annoying the High Inquisitor, but at this point that was a useful accomplishment in and of itself.

By his third glass of whisky-laced-pumpkinjuice—well, pumpkinjuice-laced-whiskey judging by the concentrations that he could taste—he had relaxed enough to allow them to see his new prosthesis. A couple looked away with varying expressions of unease, but most of them seemed interested. Although he did refuse to demonstrate any of the ridiculous exercises from the hospital…he might have to continue them for some time before he’d have full control over the clamp, but that didn’t mean that he had to make an idiot of himself in front of his colleagues as part of the experience.

The party wound down more quickly than he had expected, but then most of those attending did have classes to teach the next morning. His dungeons were just as he had left them, and it was something of a relief that for the first time in almost a week he was going to be sleeping in his own bed.

It was even more of a relief that he was able to sleep through the entire night without being awakened by some well-meaning staff member checking to see if he was all right. By the third night he’d started pointing out that he’d be better if they’d just let him rest, but no one had taken the hint. Breakfast was over by the time that he awakened, but the house elves delivered a plate without comment and he turned his attention back to the ridiculous exercises that the primary mediwitch had insisted that he continue until he could perform them flawlessly. He was better with the sticks, but the marbles still slipped out of his grasp two tries out of three.

“Severus?”

“Come in.”

Minerva stepped through the door with a smile. “Good to see you up and about. You’re…playing marbles?”

“For the sake of all involved, don’t ask.” He banished them with a flick of his wand. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“What, I can’t visit a sick friend?” He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled. “Well, perhaps it’s unlikely in the middle of the day. I need a volunteer for a NEWT class. My sixth years will be starting human transfiguration next week, and I could use a subject for a few demonstrations. Normally I’d use myself and do only partial transformations, but it’s difficult to talk, do a transfiguration, detransfigure, and then continue with the lecture. It always breaks the rhythm.”

“Might I suggest one of your students?”

“As you well know, we aren’t allowed to transfigure students. As tempting as it is on occasion. I give you my word that I will not turn you into anything fluffy or cute.”

“Why don’t you use Umbridge? She’d make a lovely toad, the resemblance is more than half there already.”

“If I could get her in my classroom today I assure you that I would. However, she’s currently harassing Hagrid again.”

“Not Sybil?”

“Not since her little breakdown in the Great Hall a few days ago, although Sybil is still nominally ‘on probation.’ So?”

He sighed. “Why not?” It wasn’t as though his reputation hadn’t already taken quite a beating since the school year began, and she wouldn’t do anything to undermine him any more. “Although—mind you there will be no lions, either.”

She smirked. “Now would I do that to you?”

“Consider whether you actually want that question answered.”

Her smirk morphed into a smile. “The class meets after lunch today, I’ll lecture on theory for the first half and then I’ll need you when I start combining theory and practical applications. Now if you’ll excuse me I’d best get to the classroom before my fifth years if I expect to find it in one piece.”

He summoned the marbles again and continued to work through lunch before heading up to the transfiguration classrooms. There was some whispering among the students, but the sleeve of his robe covered the clamp and with an all-encompassing glower he took a seat at the back of the class.

“Professor Snape,” Minerva began, drawing the students’ attention back to her, “has graciously agreed to help me with a practical demonstration later today. As you should all know from your homework last week, human transfiguration is one of the most difficult subjects that you will learn during your time at Hogwarts. It requires both concentration and the ability to manipulate living….”

Severus paid more attention to the lesson than he indicated; he hadn’t taken NEWT level transfiguration, and while he had read up on the theory behind all of what she was explaining, he’d done very little practical work.

“Now, for the practical. I’ve mentioned that you can do both partial and full transfigurations. Professor Snape, if you wouldn’t mind?”

He joined her at the front of the classroom.

“Now, some transfigurations are very useful. For example, last year Mr. Krum did a partial shark transformation to complete the second task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Can anyone suggest to me what incantation he might have used?”

There were three halfhearted suggestions, and she gave them a fierce glare.

“Did none of you pay attention to what you were writing in your essays? I expected better. Now, the appropriate way to perform that transformation….”

It was a strange feeling, Severus decided, as his eyes and mouth shifted up towards the top of his head and his mouth enlarged abruptly. Unfortunately he became short of breath after only a few seconds—gills on land tending to do that to a person—and he was relieved that she released him quickly.

“Some of you may remember that last year a professor turned a student into a ferret while on the grounds. While that is still against Hogwarts’ policies and was absolutely unacceptable as a form of reprimand, it was also an excellent demonstration of a full-body transfiguration. Now, I don’t believe Professor Snape would make a particularly good ferret, however….”

Severus collapsed to the floor as his legs suddenly melted together and his arms became joined to his body. This was much different than the shark transformation…much more detailed…and when he felt himself finish changing he sat up and tried to figure out what he was. Several of the students in the front row pushed their chairs back, eyes wide, and though his own vision was strangely dull a glance down revealed coils below him. A snake. Well, she did agree that it wouldn’t be a lion. He considered for a moment before slithering a bit forward, pleased to see that two of the students actually got out of their seats and moved to the back of the class.

A moment and a light tap with a wand later, and he was himself again. Although one of the students—Chang—didn’t return to her desk.

“Now, can anyone tell me why I’ve begun this demonstration by turning Professor Snape into various animals rather than say, a table? After all, if we can make a hedgehog into a pincushion, why couldn’t we make a professor a podium?”

“You could,” one of the students offered, “but it’s dangerous. If we make a mistake with an animal we can banish it, but….”

“Yes, banishing a professor would most certainly not be acceptable. But why specifically is it dangerous?”

The class ended before she could do an actual animate-to-inanimate demonstration with him involved, and he suspected that he’d be called upon to volunteer again at some point in the future. Although…a rumor that he could transform into a giant snake wouldn’t be a bad one to have about the castle.

“Professor, I forgot my—Professor?”

Severus turned to find Harry standing in the door staring at him.

“Mr. Potter? Was there something that you wanted?” Minerva asked after a moment of silence.

“Oh, I, uh, forgot my book. I think it fell out of my pack…did you find one on the floor?”

“I believe I did,” she said after a moment, passing over a fifth-year text from her desk. “Kindly take more care with your belongings in the future.”

“Yes, Professor.” He gave Severus one more odd look, and then he disappeared out the door.

Severus knew better than to try skipping dinner, not after having missed both breakfast and lunch in the Great Hall—Poppy would be after him two minutes after the meal was done. There were a few whispers at his appearance, but since it was doubtful that the majority of the students even knew that he’d been gone, not very many. He kept an eye on those few that had…Harry’s friends, obviously, a few of the more observant Ravenclaws, and several of the older Slytherins. Draco was once again shooting him sharp glances when he thought Severus wasn’t looking, and he was starting to seriously debate catching the boy alone and finding out what exactly was going on there. Given time, he could get around that Occlumency shield…there was no way to do it quickly without Draco noticing, but given time there were other methods.

He was still considering the matter when he returned to his quarters after the meal. There were limited ways to go about it…Crabbe and Goyle, the younger, followed Draco everywhere, and Severus wasn’t willing to put himself somewhere where there was a serious chance of an ambush. A chime at the door distracted him and he checked his wand and called for the visitor to enter.

“Professor?” Harry asked as he entered.

“I didn’t expect to see you today,” Severus observed. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Are you still…here?” Harry asked.

“Clearly. Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I got your note about having Occlumency lessons with the headmaster, and then you weren’t at meals, and….”

It took Severus a moment to follow his train of thought. “You thought I had left Hogwarts? Why in Merlin’s name would I do something so ridiculous?”

“I don’t know.” But the boy wouldn’t meet his eyes, and….

He snorted and pushed up the sleeve of his robe to reveal the clamp. “I assure you, Harry, your temper tantrums are hardly going to drive me away from the school. Although I wouldn’t object to knowing just what had you so upset.”

Harry shrugged, eyes getting suddenly harder. “I talked to Sirius through the floo the other day, and he kept hinting at things, but no one will tell me straight out what’s going happening.”

Severus directed a mental curse at the mutt. There wasn’t enough going on that he had to go off and encourage the boy to worry about things that he shouldn’t be messing about with for years yet. The mutt wasn’t even in the country all that often anymore, and he was still causing trouble. “Did it ever occur to you that perhaps whatever he is chattering about is nothing to concern yourself over and that you should concentrate on your schooling?”

“There is something that concerns me going on—that’s why Dumbledore wanted you to give me Occlumency lessons, why I’m forced to stay at my relatives all summer even though all my friends get to spend their time at Grimmauld Place, why—”

“You’re getting Occlumency lessons to keep the Dark Lord from accessing your mind,” Severus interrupted, “and you were at the Dursleys for the blood wards although you won’t be going back there again.”

“And Quirrel, and the basilisk, and the Dementors, and the tournament last year?” He broke off with a fierce shake of his head. “That’s a bloody lot of things that just ‘happened’ to happen to me, Professor. It’s my life, I have a right to know what’s going on and not get shoved around like I’m on some chessboard. I’m fifteen, not five.”

Fifteen was still a child, and Severus dearly wanted to know just what that mutt had said to set off this little tirade. Surely he wouldn’t have said anything about the prophecy over the floo, even he wasn’t that moronic, but…. “I would suggest that you talk to Dumbledore about this, then.”

“I’d love to, if he’d ever speak to me. He’s always ‘just leaving’ or ‘can’t be bothered now’ or something like that. Even during the Occlumency lesson I had with him, when I tried to bring it up he suddenly remembered something else that he had to be doing.”

“He is a busy man.” Harry gave him a disgusted look, and he had to admit that the excuse was fairly lame. “Whether you like it or not, you aren’t yet of age to join the Order, and until you are you aren’t going to be privy to most of its doings.”

“And how many more times before then is someone going to try and kill me for reasons I’m not even allowed to know about? I’m half-tempted to just let Voldemort into my mind—at least then I’d know what he’s doing.”

Severus was on his feet before he realized it, wand clenched in his hand. “Mr. Potter, if you even consider such an imbecilic course of action I will personally have you locked in the deepest dungeon I can find until Longbottom achieves a NEWT in potions, is that clear?!”

Green eyes flashed dangerously.

“Now, I will pass on your request to the headmaster myself, but you may simply have to accept that there are some things you won’t be allowed to involve yourself in until you’re of age. No matter how your Godfather seems to feel about the matter.” The bloody moron.

Harry didn’t look the least bit mollified, but at least he nodded grudgingly.

“Then I suggest that you get back to your dormitory and finish whatever homework you have due tomorrow. We’ll start Occlumency lessons again here in two days, the usual time.” Severus took his seat again as the boy stood.

“Yes, Professor.” He was at the door before he turned back suddenly. “Just out of curiosity, how close am I going to be to ‘of age’ when someone decides to raise the age that wizards are allowed to join the Order?”

He didn’t wait around for an answer, and Severus activated the floo as soon as his door was shut. The sooner this was handled, the better for all concerned. “Albus?”

“Severus? Is something wrong?”

“Aside from the fact that your Golden Boy is apparently seriously considering deliberately linking with the Dark Lord in order to find out, and I quote, ‘something,’ everything is perfectly fine.”

“What?” Albus head appeared immediately.

“He isn’t as dense as he acts, and apparently the mutt has been hinting at things.” Severus shrugged. “You can’t deny the fact that you’ve treated him considerably differently than the rest of the students here, down to dictating where he spends his summers, and he’s starting to question just why. I believe I’ve nipped that particularly lunatic idea about using the Dark Lord in the bud, but I think you’d be better off explaining at least some of the situation to him before he goes hunting on his own.” And gets himself into more trouble than he has already.

“He’s too young—”

“He was too young at eleven when he defeated a shade of the Dark Lord, too young at twelve when he did it again and took on a giant basilisk as well, too young a thirteen when his connection acted as a bloody beacon for the Dementors, and too young last year at fourteen during that damn tournament. Are you seeing a pattern here? He’s already doing things he’s far too young for; why not increase his knowledge a bit so he’s not fighting completely blind?” Not that Severus encouraged any of what Harry had done—if the brat would just obey, do as he was told, half of what had happened to him could easily have been avoided—but with that bloody hero-complex he seemed to have Severus wasn’t overly optimistic about their chances of keeping him out of trouble in the future. Maybe if he had some idea of what could happen he’d be a little more cautious.

“Severus….”

“If you refuse to tell him anything, soon enough he’s going to go looking for himself. And if we’re very lucky, maybe whatever has kept him alive these past few years will save him again.”

Albus sighed. “I will…consider it.”

The floo connection was closed from the other side, and Severus collapsed back onto the couch with a sigh. He was getting too old to deal with this sort of nonsense.

///////////

“Have you seen the swamp?”

Severus turned at the question and found a handful of Slytherin and Ravenclaw first years coming down the corridor together. He recognized the speaker easily enough—the boy Harry had tried to trample in the library at the beginning of the year. And sure enough his cousin was in the group as well.

“No, they won’t let students down that corridor anymore,” one of the other Slytherin first-years said with a heavy sigh.

“Well, I saw it,” Micah said with a grin. “It was brilliant; a real swamp, right there in the corridor outside her office. And the Toad was just standing there in front of it flicking her wand around and making these little squeaking noises like that was going to make it go away.”

“Do you think one of the other professors will help her?” his cousin—Lily—asked.

“No way! Didn’t you hear the way Professor McGonagall was talking to her when she was observing transfiguration the other day?” one of the other Ravenclaws cut in. “Especially when she started talking about probation?”

Umbridge had actually threatened to put Minerva on probation? He would have loved to have been a fly on that wall. He took a step to the side, moving into an alcove to let the group of students pass. And, coincidentally, to allow himself to listen in on their conversation a bit longer.

“I bet Filch would help her, if he could,” Micah said. “He was marching up and down the Great Hall yesterday morning muttering about how he wanted to string us all up by our heels.”

Lily made a face. “I don’t like him. He’s mean.”

“Nobody likes him; I don’t know why they keep him around.”

“Umbridge likes him.” A Slytherin girl—Emily something—snickered. “Maybe they’ll run off together somewhere and we won’t have to deal with either of them anymore.”

“Yeah, in your dreams.”

The group continued down the corridor past Severus’ position arguing about what the girl might or might not dream about, and he stepped out and considered for a moment. Lunch could wait, this he had to see. Her office was up on the third floor, and sure enough as soon as he got to the top of the staircase he found a sign warning all students against attempting to enter. He pushed past the wards without a second thought and found a swamp stretching a good two thirds of the way down the corridor. It was nicely done—mud, plants, he was fairly certain that he could make out even a few insects. He was half-tempted to transfigure a few rocks into small crocodiles, just for the sake of authenticity, and he’d have bet anything that the Weasley twins were behind this little stunt. Though he very much doubted that anyone at Hogwarts would be willing to take that bet.

“A lovely job, wasn’t it,” Filius said, coming up behind him. “Such a shame to take it down.”

“It was certainly creative. I take it Umbridge called for you when she wasn’t able to remove it herself?”

“When I last saw her she was on her way to the infirmary…something about being unable to breathe. Albus asked me to look into it.” He studied a bit longer and then shook his head. “Such a shame.”