"What can we do, Albus?" Poppy queried, she was so agitated she was practically in tears.

Neither of the other wizards blamed her. The awful truth hovered like a shadow in the air and Dumbledore performed his own set of charms before settling back in a chair and looking very grave. "I fear, Poppy, that there is nothing we can do for now. The combination of bodily trauma coupled with some kind of emotional stress has rendered the child temporarily magicless. I hope."

Severus frowned. "You hope? What do you mean, Albus? Is the condition reversible or not?"

Albus sighed. "Severus, such cases are rare, so I have no way of knowing if Harry's magic will replenish itself. It may, or it may not, though I hope and pray for the former. Merlin help us, but we have come too far only to fail now. We need Harry whole, in mind, body, and magic."

"Is there anything we can do to help him?" Poppy asked, her brown eyes filling with tears that she hastily wiped away.

"Regrettably, I don't think so, Poppy. He needs time, time to regain his strength and then perhaps . . .his magic might start to replenish itself." He eyed Severus shrewdly. "You did say, Severus, that you could still detect traces of his magic?"

Snape nodded. "Yes. They were very faint, only bits and pieces, but they were there."

Dumbledore seemed to take heart from that statement. "Good. All is not lost. But we must get Harry well, and that I leave in your capable hands, Poppy. Once he is awake, let me know."

"I shall, Headmaster." Pomfrey agreed. "Will you be the one to break the news to him then?"

"Yes. I only hope it does not wound him further. The poor child has been through too much these past days."

Even Severus agreed with that statement. To his eternal shock, he found himself feeling a little sorry for the Golden Boy. Losing one's magic was a terrible thing for a wizard, a loss that could very well break the child. He was grateful that he was not going to be the one to have to tell the boy his magic was gone. Dumbledore was far more understanding and better able to break the awful news gently. Still, Snape did not envy the older wizard that task at all.

"Albus, I would have told you this sooner, but when I was reading Potter's emotional state, I discovered he was very depressed. I would recommend you get him some kind of counseling immediately."

Albus nodded. "Yes, that is only to be expected, after what they did to him." He eyed Severus thoughtfully, and Snape felt a chill squirm its way down his spine. "Are you up for some sessions, my boy? You out of all of us knows first hand what he has gone through."

Inwardly Severus groaned. Why couldn't the old fool leave him in peace? The last thing he wanted was to nurse the Potter brat through several long and angst-ridden psych sessions. "Albus, I'm not sure that's a good idea," he began. "Potter and I don't have the kind of trust necessary to initiate counseling sessions. He hates me and would probably feel too awkward to discuss what he was feeling with me. Perhaps Poppy or Minerva would be a better choice."

But Albus was shaking his head, that damnable twinkle in his eye. "Minerva is too busy with other duties to have counseling sessions."

"And I could never handle hearing the horrible things they did to him without flying off the handle myself," Poppy put in. "And a counselor needs to be calm and professional, not a basket case, Severus. You can put on your mask, but I could never control my emotions to that degree, and well you know it."

Severus heaved a sigh and scowled at both of his mentors. But he couldn't refute their logic. What they said was true. "Very well. I . . .shall endeavor to counsel Potter, if there is no other alternative. But I insist you tell him about the loss of his magic first, Albus. That way we have all the issues on the table at once, no surprises."

Albus nodded. "I shall, and thank you, Severus. Don't worry, it won't be half as bad as you're thinking." He reached out and patted the younger man on the arm and Severus scowled, angry at being treated like a child. "I think these sessions will prove beneficial to both of you."

Snape merely snorted. Dumbledore was an eternal optimist, Merlin help him! Severus only hoped these sessions did not end in the death of one or both of them. If he hadn't promised Lily long ago, before she married James, that he would look after any children she had if she was unable to do so, he would wash his hands of the child and tell Albus to find another teacher willing to mentor the brat. But a promise was a promise, and Snape prided himself on being a man of his word.

He then excused himself to return to his quarters and get some much needed rest. He would return tomorrow morning and assist Poppy with her newest patient, for Potter would need those salves reapplied and though Pomfrey was perfectly capable of doing so, Severus knew it would be best if he reapplied them instead, it would be less embarrassing to the child. Now where on earth had that thought come from? He wondered, rubbing his eyes. Since when did he care whether the brat was embarrassed or not?

A small voice in the back of his head whispered Since you saw him lying all broken on that stone floor. Only then did you see the child, Sev, and not James reincarnated.

Snape irritably told the small voice to shut the bloody hell up and headed back down to the dungeons. He would do a quick check on the cauldrons he'd left brewing in the lab, then get some sleep himself. He knew his cover as a spy might well be compromised after his actions this night, but somehow he did not care much right then.

* * * * *

Harry wandered in and out of consciousness all night and well into the next morning. He half woke to a hand running down his back and he froze, shivering involuntarily in dreadful fear. But then he heard a voice whisper, in a tone that sounded oh-so-familiar, "Hush, no one will hurt you. You're safe. Now relax and stop shaking, I'm trying to put some bruise balm on you."

The voice was soft but there was a note of command in it that he didn't dare disobey. So he tried to relax and half-closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was asleep. The hand rubbed the salve on in featherlight touches, and it was so soothing that he very nearly did fall asleep. He whimpered a bit when the hand rubbed the salve on the welts that covered his lower back, bottom, and thighs, but the voice hushed him and it really wasn't all that bad . . .it numbed the pain considerably, dulling the sting with its icy coolness so he could drift away into sweet slumber again.

Severus finished applying the salve in a few minutes and wiped his hands on a cloth and stood up, after replacing the boy's pajamas. He considered waking the boy up and giving him another pain relieving draft, then decided against it. Sleep was better than a potion right now, and he doubted if Poppy would skip a dose once Potter was fully conscious.

Besides, he needed to speak with Albus about his position as a spy. He headed up to the Headmaster's office.

* * * * * *

When Harry finally regained consciousness, he found himself gazing up at the familiar whitewashed walls of Hogwarts infirmary. He knew immediately where he was and he felt a sharp bolt of relief go through him. He was at Hogwarts, he was safe, no Death Eater could get him while he was at school, the wards prevented it. His mind shied away at recalling what had happened after the masked figures had taken him and he quickly focused on another subject, namely that his throat was dry as a desert. He coughed softly, and that brought Poppy rushing over.

"Oh, good, you're awake, Mr. Potter," she exclaimed, her eyes bright with satisfaction. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. And thirsty," he answered.

"Understandable," she summoned a glass of water over with a straw. "Mind you drink it slowly, else it'll just come up again."

Harry nodded and obediently sipped the water. Its refreshing coolness soothed his raw throat better than anything.

While he sipped, Poppy ran another diagnostic charm over him, confirming that he was indeed mending from his ordeal. She ordered another Blood Replenisher though and made him drink it before she asked if he was hungry.

After feeding me that disgusting stuff, now you want me to eat? Harry thought grouchily, but all he said aloud was, "No, ma'am. I'm not really hungry right now."

"Hmm. Severus warned me that would be the case, but I think it'd be best if you tried to eat a little, Mr. Potter. How about some chicken broth and a piece of dry toast?"

Harry blinked, for he hardly expected Pomfrey to start quoting Snape, of all people. He considered, then nodded.

Poppy summoned Dobby and asked him to get a tray for Harry with the breakfast items and some chamomile tea as well, which would settle his stomach.

"Right away, Mistress. Dobby is always grateful to help Harry Potter." The little elf bowed to her and vanished with a sharp pop.

Harry looked up at the medi-witch and said, "Madam Pomfrey? Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, dear. What would you like to know?"

"Umm . . .how did I get here? I mean . . .I was with them . . .the Death Eaters . . .so how did I . . .escape?" It took all of his self-control not to start trembling when he mentioned the Death Eaters.

Poppy flashed him a sympathetic look and answered quietly, "You didn't escape, Harry. You were rescued, dear."

"By who?"

"Professor Snape."

Harry felt as if someone had just backhanded him across the face. Snape? His most hated potions professor had rescued him from the Death Eaters? "He-he did? But how?"

"By being in the right place at the right time, child," answered Poppy briskly. "And that's all I will tell you at this time. If you want the details, you'll have to ask Professor Snape himself, for they are not mine to tell."

Harry nodded, but knew he would never have the guts to ask the man. But he was curious as to how Snape had found out he was in trouble. The man had risked his life to free Harry from the grip of his tormentors, and the boy would be forever grateful to him, even if he did act like a snarky bastard most of the time. Perhaps there was more to the man than met the eye?

"I'll need to thank him," he found himself saying.

"Yes, that would be a good idea, Harry," agreed Poppy. Then she added, "I know that Professor Snape may come across as a bit hard and grumpy at times, but he truly does care for his students-all his students."

Harry looked skeptical at that statement, and Poppy caught it and added, "Yes, even Gryffindors, for all he pretends to despise them, Harry. After all, he saved your life not just by rescuing you, but assisting me healing you."

Harry felt his mind spin. Snape had helped heal him too? Maybe this was another dream and he just hadn't woken up yet. "I never knew Snape could heal."

"Professor Snape, Harry," Poppy corrected softly. "It's disrespectful for you to refer to him by his last name, especially since you owe him a great debt."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And yes, Severus certainly knows his Healing Charms. It's a requirement in his field. He was here just this morning, as a matter of fact, reapplying some healing salve to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry went red and longed to sink into the floor. Then it hadn't been a dream, the hand stroking his back and the voice soothing him. Snape . . . Snape had done that for him? Had the world ended? He recalled other memories, of the flight from the Death Eaters and the same silky voice urging him to drink a potion.

That had been Snape as well, although Harry could have sworn it had been his father. Yeah, right. Get a grip, Harry. You were out of your head with pain, otherwise you'd have never mistook Snape, the greasy git, for your dad. It was almost laughable, and Harry would never mention that fact to a soul. Snape would probably strangle him if he ever knew his most despised student, bloody Harry Potter, had mistook him for James in his delirium.

And yet, the voice he remembered from his childhood so very long ago and Snape's had sounded so alike.

He shook his head. He'd been delirious, it was easy to mix up people when you were trying not to scream from the pain and pass out. He'd wanted his father to come for him, and it was only natural that when his rescuer had arrived, he'd thought his wish had come true. He stifled a giggle, for Severus Snape surely would die if he knew anyone regarded him as a savior or a hero of any sort. Much less a father figure.

By then Dobby had returned with the tray and Harry began to eat slowly, sipping spoonfuls of broth and eating toast. To his relief, his stomach didn't reject the food and he managed to finish most of the food and the tea before Dumbledore came in to share some more startling and unwelcome news with him.

* * * * * *

"I-I have no magic anymore?" Harry repeated, feeling as if the bottom had suddenly dropped out of the earth. This had to be a dream, a nightmare, and soon he would wake up and everything would be back to normal.

But Dumbledore was eyeing him with those piercing blue eyes, eyes that were filled with compassion and sadness and a harsh bitter truth that Harry had to acknowledge. "My dear boy, your magic is, shall we say, temporarily out of commission."

Harry gulped sharply, feeling sick. Then all at once he was angry, bitterly angry. "Don't try and sugar coat the truth, sir!" he spat. "If my magic is . . .gone, does that mean I'm no longer a wizard?"

Dumbledore paled. "No, no of course not, Harry. You were born a wizard and you will remain one," he hastened to reassure the boy, who looked like death warmed over. Perhaps he should have waited to inform the boy about his loss of magic.

"Oh yeah?" the boy sneered, his mouth twisting in a grimace that rivaled his most feared Potions Master. "How can I be a wizard without magic?" He stared down at his hands, bitterness and anger and despair welling up inside of him. Magic was his gift, his birthright, the thing that made him Harry Potter. Without magic he was . . .nothing. Just a boy. Magic had been his salvation and his destruction, but without it he was . . . empty.

Magic is . . .was my life, he thought frantically, trying desperately to stem the tide of grief and despair rising within him. It was the only thing I could rely on and now . . .now it's gone and what am I? Nothing. Nothing at all. God, why couldn't I have died? Why?

"Damn you, Snape!" he cried suddenly, tears slipping down his face in spite of himself. No, no, no. I will not cry. I won't. But tears fell nevertheless. "You should have let them kill me, Goddamn you to hell!"

"Harry, child, no . . ." began Dumbledore, reaching out to touch the distraught boy on the shoulder.

But Harry drew away as if Dumbledore were poison, and shrieked. "Go away! Leave me ALONE! Just GET OUT!" He rolled away from the headmaster, burying his face in the pillow, his breath coming in panting sobs. One small fist struck the mattress weakly, in impotent fury. "Why didn't you let me die, Snape?" he raged, sobbing hoarsely. "Anything's better than this! What kind of a wizard am I now?"

Dumbledore stared down at the child and in his gaze was pity and sorrow, but he made no move to touch Harry again. Instead he rose to his feet and said quietly, "Don't despair, child. The darkest hour is just before dawn. Perhaps . . .one day, your magic will return to you."

"And perhaps pigs will fly," came the soft mocking voice. "Leave me alone, sir! Just leave me the bloody hell alone!"

Dumbledore left then and took Poppy with him, saying it was best if Harry was allowed to come to grips with this terrible knowledge in peace.

Harry cursed them all, loudly, for several minutes, but then the despair overwhelmed the anger and he buried his face in the pillow and sobbed hysterically. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was a wizard no more.

He cried for hours, heartrending sobs that tore Poppy apart listening to them, until she finally couldn't stand it and called Severus to help her give the boy a Calming and Sleeping Draft. She had tried to give him the potions herself, but he had snarled at her like a possessed thing and thrown the potions across the room before turning away and crying into the pillow again, which was a sodden lump of wet cloth and feathers.

Severus came immediately at Poppy's frantic call, stepping from the fireplace into the infirmary with silent grace. Harry's crying had diminished somewhat, but it was still audible.

"Albus told him, I assume?" Poppy nodded. "How long has he been like this?"

"Hours, I think. Ever since he learned . . .Severus, I fear he may do himself harm unless we sedate him."

"Has he tried anything?"

"No, all he's done is cry and throw potions at me," the medi-witch admitted. "But he can't go on like this, Sev, he's too weak to sustain this level of emotional histrionics."

"Hmm. Yes, you're right." Severus sighed. "Come, let me see what I can do."

He walked silent-footed as a cat over to the bed where Harry was curled up, weeping, and said very calmly and softly, "Mr. Potter, stop blubbering and look at me. You're going to make yourself sick, now stop this."

"Go away," came the defiant whisper. "Go the hell away and let me Goddamn die, the way you should've in the first place."

"And how will that help?" Severus asked, still in that calm even tone. "Dying won't bring back your magic, only living will do that. Of course, you could always give up, Potter, surrender like the coward you are."

That made the boy sit up and spin around, as Severus had intended.

"I'm not a coward, you bloody greasy bastard!" he glared at Severus from green eyes rimmed with red, blazing with a terrible anger and even greater despair. "What the hell do you care, anyway, Snape?"

"I care, Harry, because I don't want to see you waste your life, the life your mother died to protect," Severus said bluntly. He hated the way he was speaking to the child, but he knew that gentleness would not serve yet. No, not yet. "She died so you could live, will you make that sacrifice be in vain, boy? Yes? Selfish spoiled brat."

"Severus!" Poppy cried, aghast.

Snape ignored her, though he knew he'd pay for those words later.

"SHUT UP!" Harry shouted.

"No," Severus hissed, leaning close to the child, glaring at him fiercely. "Your mother did not give her life, nor did I risk my own, so you could turn around and die like a dog in the gutter, boy! Yes, your magic is gone, but that is no reason to wish yourself dead, child! While you live there remains a chance, dead you have nothing, Potter. To die means you are a coward, but to live takes courage. Where is that famous Gryffindor bravery now, Potter? Show me it, or did the Death Eaters beat it out of you?"

"No!" the boy cried, and suddenly he sprang at Snape, or tried to, his arms swinging wildly.

Severus caught him easily, lifting the child up and holding him against his chest, ignoring Harry's flailing fists, pounding weakly against him. "Good. Be angry, Potter, hate me even, but don't give up. Otherwise they'll win and you don't want that, do you, child?"

"Let go of me, damn you!" Harry gasped, struggling with what little strength he possessed against the arms that held him tight.

But Severus was immovable, he might as well have been a set of manacles. He held Harry firmly, not allowing him leverage, and the boy was too exhausted from crying and his previous ordeal to fight him for long. Eventually he sagged in a boneless heap against the Potion Master's black robes, gasping and crying.

Then and only then did Severus's hold gentle, and he cradled the child against his shoulder and rubbed his back. The soft touch caused Harry to cry even harder.

Severus allowed the child to cry for a few minutes, releasing most of the tension he'd built up, then he sat the child up on his knee and said quietly, "All right, now that's enough, Potter. Drink." He held the vial of Calming and Sleeping Draft to the boy's lips.

Harry tried to turn away, but Severus took his chin in one hand and said firmly. "Drink it, or else I'll hold your nose and pour it down your throat."

Harry obeyed, for he had no doubt that the stern wizard would do just what he said. Snape always kept his word. He gulped the potion down, sniffling sharply. Almost immediately he felt it take effect and he slumped in his professor's arms, his eyes closing in spite of himself.

Severus held him close and Harry snuggled deeper into the velvet fabric of Snape's robes uncaring that he was falling asleep in the lap of a man who hated him. At least he thought Snape hated him. But then why had he helped him? Why? It made no sense. But then nothing had, not since he'd been captured and hurt, not since Dumbledore had told him he was nothing more than a Muggle now.

"Yes, sleep, child," murmured the Potions Master, and his hand came up in an automatic gesture and he ran his fingers through the youngster's messy black hair.

Harry surrendered to the potion and the sleep it brought, and once more he was a little boy and he heard his father telling him to just close his eyes and go to sleep. "That's my good boy, Harry. Just go to bed, little one."

"Kay, Daddy," he mumbled and obeyed.

Severus Snape stared down at the sleeping child in his arms. Had he imagined it, or had Potter just called him daddy? He shook his head. He must have heard wrong, he'd been under a lot of stress lately.

He waited a few minutes to make sure the potion had taken effect, then he transferred the boy back to the bed. He was sleeping deeply, the pain on his face smoothed over. Severus waved his wand over the comatose Harry, noting that he had weakened himself considerably with his little temper tantrum.

Severus summoned a Strengthening Potion and spelled it directly into the boy's stomach, then cast another charm to relieve the boy of an uncomfortably full bladder, so he would not have an accident.

Afterwards he pulled the covers over the child and allowed him to sleep, for sleep was the physician of pain. When he stepped back from Harry's bedside, he discovered Poppy at his elbow.

"You got him to take the potion then?"

He nodded. "Yes. If he wakes and shows signs of having another fit like the last one, call me. You know it's not good for him to get so worked up in his condition."

The medi-witch sniffed. "Of course I do, Sev. Though for a moment there, I wasn't sure if you did, the way you were snapping at him."

He arched an eyebrow. "I was provoking him deliberately, Poppy, to focus his anger on something tangible rather than allowing it to fester. Even I'm not that much of a bastard, you know," he added softly.

Poppy blushed. "I know, and I'm sorry, Sev. I of all people should trust my instincts. You'd never harm a student, especially not one who has already been hurt the way Harry has." She cast a glance back at the bed. "Poor thing, I really think Albus could have told him some other time, when he was stronger, instead of blurting it out in the middle of breakfast like that. He's lucky the child didn't vomit all over him, after hearing that."

"Hmm, yes." Severus frowned. Given the fact that it was Harry, he too wondered at the old wizard's insensitivity. Normally the old man coddled the boy, allowing him free reign to break rules and not suffer the consequences, just as he'd done his golden father, James. "Perhaps he felt that the sooner he told him, the sooner Potter could adjust to the situation. Still, even I would have waited a day or so, rather than risk him suffering a relapse. Well, what's done is done. I'll be in my lab, brewing some antidote, Poppy. If you need me, you know where to find me." He turned to go.

"Indeed. And thank you, Severus," she said quietly. "From both me and Mr. Potter. If he hadn't been so upset, I think he would have thanked you for rescuing him."

Severus shrugged. "Like I need the brat's gratitude," he snorted, though a part of him was pleased that at least Potter had the manners to acknowledge he owed the greasy bat of the dungeons his life, and for once a Gryffindor was in the debt of a Slytherin. Then he strode over to the fireplace and Flooed back to his lab, his black robe billowing majestically.