The Minister of Magic makes a statement!

Our theories now confirmed as facts!

 

In the short interview that follows, we report the words we managed to exact from Minister Cornelius Fudge since the announcement he made last week. We hope this will answer a few of the questions arising about the epidemic.

"Step aside, Miss! I've already told you that I'm not answering any questions."

"No, sir. The readers have the right to receive information. Various rumors are already spreading…"

"All right- all right, I will answer a few of your questions."

"Is it true, that the outbreak of the epidemic cannot be explained by the import of magical creatures into the country?"

"I'm sure both of us are aware, Ms. Skeeter, that that is simply unfounded gossip. You-Know-Who is the person responsible for the problem, as I've already let Dumbledore know at our meeting last week."

"I see. Could you explain to the readers about the symptoms of this mysterious disease?"

"All I can do is to reiterate the information we were given by the Healers of Saint Mungo: the first symptom is the uncontrollable trembling of the body, followed by terrible hallucinations, which finally end when the diseased collapses with a fever. As far as I know, the infected wizard cannot be recovered from this fever, which after a week causes complete exhaustion of the body."

"If a person contracts the disease, do they inevitably fall victim to it? That is to say, I've heard about cases when the last stage of the disease followed the onset of the first symptoms much later."

"Yes, there are such cases. But we do not have an explanation as to how and why the course of the disease deviates for these people."

"…and Minister, can you say anything about prospects for an antidote?

"I'm sorry, but I'm not in the position to say anything about that. I can only emphasize that if anyone notices signs of these symptoms, they should immediately visit Saint Mungo's."

"Could you tell us anything about the supposed serum You-Know-Who offered? Is it truly effective?"

"I don't have any more information about it than you do, it was but a few days ago that You-Know-Who revealed his terms and motivation to everyone."

"Could you tell us the number of deaths caused by the epidemic as of today?"

"I'm not in position to disclose that information."

"How about the number of people infected by the disease?"

"I cannot answer that either."

"My sources suggest that the highest number of cases were diagnosed at Hogwarts, and many parents have already removed their children from the location. Do you suppose that taking the life of Harry Potter was You-Know-Who's primary goal?"

"I absolutely cannot give information about issues concerning Hogwarts business. I suggest you ask the Headmaster."

"Minister, I have one more question, now that you mention it, is Dumbledore indeed abroad, searching for an antiserum?"

"My apologies, but I must go now…"

Naturally, with this information our dear readers can only guess about the true purpose of Voldemort's attack, however, one thing is certain…we will pursue these questions in our next issue.

Harry crushed the Daily Prophet in anger, and before his friends could prevent it, he tossed it into the flames of Hagrid's fireplace.

"Harry, what was that for?" Protested Hermione, but she didn't succeed in saving the paper from the fire. She turned back indignantly to face the boy. "I was planning on showing it to Hagrid as well!"

"Don' worry, 'Ermione. 'm not interested in them lies anyway." dismissed Hagrid with a shrug, as he poured a cup of tea for Harry. He carefully handed it over to the boy. "Ere, this will do ye good! It 'elps when yer tired."

Harry accepted it with a nod, and took a sip from the tea in an effort to keep himself awake. He didn't sleep well the night before. To tell the truth he didn't get a good night's rest for several months now. Never before did he suspect that his nightmares about Cedric's death would be joined by ones of Sirius. Perhaps this was what one got for suppressing all their grief, as Hermione always said.

"Would anyone else like some tea?" Harry heard Hagrid ask, only to be answered with fervent head shaking by his friends. "A'right. It's almost curfew, so ye have to leave soon anyhow."

Curfew again… Harry was utterly fed up with this 'martial law' system. So many people were sick at Hogwarts anyway, it didn't matter one whit where students spent their time. True, it would have been unfortunate if someone began exhibiting the symptoms without anyone around.

"I 'ear Ron, yer parents want to take ye outta school." continued Hagrid. Ron sighed deeply in response.

"Yes. They want me to go home. Though I think it's pointless," explained Ron. "I'd rather breathe my last in the hospital wing than in Saint Mungo's."

"Ron, how can you say such a thing?" interrupted Hermione. "You shouldn't be joking about this!"

"All right, fine." grinned Ron. "I won't joke about it anymore, I promise."

Meanwhile Harry finished his tea, and put the mug on the table. He leaned back tiredly, as a huge yawn cracked his jaws.

"You look terrible, Harry." commented Hagrid, when he got a chance to take a closer look at the boy. "Are ye sleepin' this bad?" Harry just shook his head dejectedly. "I thought so. Trust me, it'll get better with time."

Harry didn't react, just continued staring ahead silently. His friends observed him helplessly for a while, before saying goodbye to Hagrid, which got him moving as well. The half-giant assured them that he wouldn't be going anywhere the next day, and encouraged them to visit every day if they wished to.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Harry ran ahead of his friends. He didn't need to hear Hermione preach again about the foolishness of grieving this way.

"Harry, wait up!" Hermione called after him, and a moment later she caught up with him. "I know it's really hard for you, but please don't turn away from us."

Meanwhile Ron stayed behind, and Harry was incredibly grateful that his friend didn't try to intervene in their quarrel.

"You have no idea how it is," returned Harry dispassionately, "when the last relative you had dies, and to add to that you are the one to blame for their death… I think you have no clue just how it feels to find yourself in the Department of Mysteries every single night only to watch him fall through the veil again."

Harry stopped to look at Hermione.

"You're right. I don't." said the girl quietly. Then she placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "But look at yourself! You don't share anything with us anymore, and you lock yourself away in your bedroom on weekends. Do you think that will help?"

"No… no it won't." Harry admitted. "I thought it would be easier to pull through after Sirius' death. But it seems, I just can't manage to get over it. Give me a little more time, and I'll be fine. I promise." He even managed a weak smile for his friend. Hermione sighed.

"Of course, Harry. I'm sorry." She said with feeling, as they continued their walk toward the castle. "Hurry up, Ron!"

They took another step, and a terrified call from Ron made them spin around.

"Harry!" Ron looked at them alarmed, then back down at his hand, which was visibly shaking as he held it out in front of his chest. Harry stood frozen for a moment, before rushing to his friend's side, and grabbing his arm.

"Hermione!" He shouted at the girl, whose face was white as sheet. "Come, we got to get him to the infirmary fast!"

Hermione finally moved. She rushed to them and they set off hurriedly toward the main door, each putting an arm around Ron.

"I thought I would have some more time…" said Ron in a trembling voice. Harry could feel as the strength of the tremors shaking his friend's body increased. "Soon I'll start flailing around madly, and hallucinating scary things, like spiders…no spiders, please!"

"Don't worry, everything will be all right, Ron."

"But it's not alright!" his friend shouted in panic. "I will go around the bend in a few minutes, and who knows when I'll wake up! Did this really have to happen to me?"

Harry tightened his already desperate grip on his friend, knowing that he was right. Ron would only wake up when an antidote has been found. Until then he would be lying unconscious and fevered, suffering and… Harry cut off that train of thought. No, he mustn't be thinking about such things.

They reached the hallway, and went on quickly toward the infirmary. Ron pursed his mouth into a thin line, and remained quiet for the rest of the way. Hermione was turning even paler as they walked. They came across a few people in the hallways, but it was so natural to see people hurrying toward the infirmary, that they didn't even take notice.

By the time they reached the hospital wing, Harry could feel that his friend was barely on his feet. He grabbed the door handle with his free hand, and slammed it open with too much force as they hurried, hoping that Madam Pomfrey could give something to help Ron.

"I can hear the voices," mumbled Ron. "I never thought they would be so real… never hallucinated before."

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione called out, paying no attention to the number of patients already in the room.

Harry noticed a free bed on one side.

"Hermione, here!" He nodded indicating the empty bed.

While they carefully lowered Ron to the bed, Madam Pomfrey appeared as well.

"Miss, this is an infirmary full of sick people, you cannot just…" She stopped mid-sentence as soon as she noticed the incoherently mumbling boy. Stepping closer she placed a hand on his forehead. "When did he start exhibiting the symptoms?"

Hermione sat at the edge of the bed with tears in her eyes, holding Ron's hand. Harry was trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps ten minutes ago." He answered quietly.

The mediwitch procured a vial, and she poured its contents down Ron's throat, who was beginning to thrash about on the bed.

"No, Harry…they are here! Run away, or they will attack you, aah!" shouted Ron reaching toward Harry, while Hermione tried to hold him down, but she was losing the fight. Harry swallowed taking a step back. He never imagined it could be this awful.

"Calm down, Ron! Everything is all right, Harry is fine." Hermione's voice was shaking as she tried to get through to Ron.

"Mr. Potter, it would be better if you left now." Madam Pomfrey managed to interject. "It will take a while for the Calming Draught to become effective. Hopefully his temperature won't rise as fast this way."

Harry didn't move; he simply froze as he looked upon his best friend staring back at him with painfully distorted features. It was barely possible to recognize Ron behind the demented grimace.

"Mr. Potter! Get out, now!" Madam Pomfrey's commanding voice finally managed to get him into motion. Harry backed up to the door, and then spinning around he hastily left the infirmary.

oO{~S~}Oo

After leaving Hermione with Ron in the infirmary, Harry spent the rest of the evening hiding out in the owlery, in an attempt to clear his mind of the horrifying images of his delirious friend. He knew in theory that the time would come when his friend would succumb to the disease, but he wasn't prepared for it.

How could one prepare for something so final? Why couldn't he be the first to get it? Why couldn't he just get sick when the first student collapsed right beside him? Voldemort didn't want to leave it to chance. He wanted to see Harry among the first victims, but he didn't succeed, just like at the Ministry last year…

Late at night, after having skipped dinner, he quietly slipped into the boy's bedroom where almost everyone was asleep. Making as little noise as possible, he changed to prepare for the meager sleep he was likely to have that night. Just when he was going to open the curtains around his bed, he heard Neville inquire:

"Where were you, Harry?"

"I went away to think a bit." He whispered in answer, not even turning around. As he climbed into bed, gripping the edge of the curtain in his fist, he managed to ask: "How is Ron doing?"

"Not very well." whispered Neville. "His fever went up, and judging by the things he mumbles, he must be having terrible dreams. Professor Snape prepared some potion, which can slow the progress of the disease by weeks, to avoid… well."

Neville stammered, but he didn't need to complete the sentence, it was clear to Harry what he meant.

"But Neville, I thought high fever was bad on its own." choked out Harry.

"I think the potion lowers the fever as well. But the people don't wake up; they simply remain unconscious. I think I heard it was similar to a coma. Maybe it is a coma, I'm not sure, I don't know enough about it. But Snape and the Healers at Saint Mungo's bring the patients to this state to stabilize them."

"Aha." said Harry silently. He was sick of this whole situation; sick of just waiting that maybe someone will find an antidote. "Sorry Neville, but I would like to go to sleep now."

"Of course, Harry. Good night."

"To you, too."

oO{~S~}Oo

The following morning Harry sat melancholically, pushing the bacon around on his breakfast plate. He didn't even need to feel embarrassed about playing with his food, since there was no one around to witness his activity.

The Great Hall echoed with emptiness, as most children were removed from the school by their parents. It was just a question of time when the remaining few would leave for their homes as well. The walls of the infirmary needed to be altered with a strong expanding charm in order to accommodate the unusually large number of patients.

"Harry!" A voice called directly above his head, prompting him to look up to its owner.

Hermione, with a dozen books in her arms, was looking down at him disapprovingly.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No, I don't think so… oh no!" groaned Harry miserably. "I completely forgot about the detention."

"Then I recommend you hurry. You're already late."

Harry jumped up from his seat, and grabbed the books Hermione handed to him.

"Have you been to the infirmary today?" he asked the girl before leaving.

"Yes, I have." said Hermione sadly. "There is no change, but it looks like he is sleeping peacefully at last."

Harry's heart wrenched at hearing his friend's defeated voice. Putting down his books on a chair, he stepped close to hug the girl tightly.

"Everything will be okay. They will all get better...soon someone will find a good antiserum and everything will be all right." said Harry to console the sobbing girl.

They stood there for a few minutes just holding onto each other, then Hermione let him go, looking up with teary eyes.

"You should really go Harry, because I don't think Professor Snape is in a good mood."

"Of course, detention." grumbled Harry. "And you won't be there to help me out now."

Hermione smiled sadly as he handed Harry's books to him once more.

"See you at lunch."

"Sure." Harry smiled back weakly, and left to serve detention with Neville.

oO{~S~}Oo

"You are late."

Harry didn't answer, just dropped his books on the bench and went to join Neville in his work. His skin prickled as he felt Snape's eyes following his every move, but he didn't care. Snape could take away as many points as he wanted, yet none of it mattered.

"Ten points for your tardiness, Mr. Potter." Added the Professor, before he moved on to occupy himself at his desk. Barely looking up he continued. "I hope you recognize the phase Mr. Longbottom is currently working on."

Harry bit his tongue to stifle the temptation for an angry retort. It wouldn't have achieved anything, besides losing the remaining points Gryffindor still had.

Neville's spoon halted as he glanced at Harry with a worried look.

"I heard you couldn't sleep yesterday night." whispered the boy quietly, but Harry was sure Snape heard it. How could he not? After all, bats do have excellent hearing. "You haven't slept in days, Harry. It's no good. We wouldn't even be here, if you were properly awake last time and hadn't accidentally picked the wrong root."

Harry had to clench his teeth again to hold back his temper. Shouting at Neville in front of Snape would be nearly as bad as exploding at the man himself.

"I know, and I apologize." He whispered back patiently. "I will try to rest more, as soon as this nightmare is over."

"You don't have to be sarcastic, Harry." Sighed Neville as he began stirring the potion counterclockwise. "If you don't tell someone, I swear I will drag you to Madam Pomfrey so she can potion you to sleep."

Harry glanced up at Snape, but the professor was focused on the two potions sitting on his desk. He could have sworn that the man was looking at him just a moment ago. Perhaps he was just too paranoid.

Before he could react to Neville's threat, the silence was interrupted by loud knocking on the door. Then the door swung open, as the visitor entered not even waiting for an answer. It was Seamus, and he seemed to have gone pale when he set an eye upon Harry.

"Mr. Finnigan, if you once more…" but Snape's tirade was interrupted before it could truly begin.

"Harry! I was told to find you wherever you were, and tell you…" breathed Seamus. "that Hermione…"

Icy terror spread through Harry, and the beetle he held in his hand dropped to the floor.

"What happened?" he asked with his voice breaking, since he already suspected the answer.

"Hermione is in the infirmary." Seamus finally blurted out. "She's in pretty bad shape."

Snape, having walked up to Seamus, chose exactly this moment to wrench the door out of the boy's hand, opening it wide.

"Pardon the interruption, but supposedly there is detention going on in this classroom, regardless of what happened elsewhere." bit out Snape. "When Mr. Potter completed his work, he will be allowed to visit the infirmary."

"Ye-yes." Seamus stammered as the professor towered over him. "Sorry for…barging in."

The potions master nodded sharply and literally slammed the door closed behind the boy.

"Don't you care that I would have wanted to go with him?" Harry couldn't resist letting go of his anger.

"I thought, Potter, that you, being intimately familiar with the disease, would realize that it serves no purpose to sit by your friend's bedside for hours on end." Snape replied evenly, and returned to his work.

Harry however didn't do so. He left his workbench with Neville, even as the boy shook his head to try to prevent Harry from getting into more trouble.

"Well, if you thought so…" Harry said snidely, and his hand was already reaching for the door-handle.

"Potter, if you leave this room, that will cost Gryffindor fifty points." He could hear Snape's warning from behind. Harry spun around with his lips pursed into a thin line. He watched Snape complete his measurement with care before placing the material to the side and looking up at him.

"Return to your desk, and finish your assignment."

"No."

Harry felt all the pain he accumulated in the past few days bubble to the surface, and for a moment he knew for certain that Snape would be the one to make him explode. He didn't even regret it.

"Did I hear that well, Potter?" Snape asked unmoving, but momentarily taken aback.

"Yes, you did." Harry responded, turning away again to open the door. "Bye."

He was already outside the classroom when he heard Snape heartlessly pronounce behind him:

"Fifty points from Gryffindor."

"You have no consideration whatsoever for anyone's feelings!" shouted Harry, but as he turned back to the classroom again, he found himself face to face with Snape. He didn't even hear the man walking up behind him.

"Oh really?" drawled Snape sarcastically. "When I make an attempt to prevent you from witnessing a terrible sight, you disregard my guidance and try to rush there to see Ms. Granger in an awful condition."

"You don't give a damn about anything, apart from forcing me to finish this rotten detention!" Harry continued at the same volume. "So let me go, because I'm losing my patience!"

The potions master's face assumed a completely closed off expression at this.

"Listen here, Potter!" Snape raised his voice as well. "I would gladly take another twenty points from Gryffindor for your cheek, but soon there won't remain any to subtract from. Perhaps you desire to serve a few more detentions this week?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, sir, because…" Harry pretended to have difficulty recalling something very obvious. "oh yeah, perhaps by next week school won't be in session, because everybody will get sick soon. You know your damned research is worth nothing! How will you take points when I won't be around anymore? Cause, just so you know, there aren't many Gryffindors remaining to take points from!"

With the escalating anger and desperation emanating from Harry, he also let loose a bout of accidental magic, which was followed by the sounds of crackling glass as every bottle and jar in the room shattered into tiny pieces. Harry panted as if he had run several miles, and Snape had to carefully mask his expression of shock at Harry's outburst.

The boy didn't wait until Snape could react, he turned away slamming the door ruthlessly behind his back.

Normally the trip from the dungeons to the infirmary takes at least ten minutes, but Harry managed to make it in less than half that time, as he hurried to his friend's side.

When the infirmary came into view, he slowed down and opened the door, terrified of what would await him inside. He couldn't see the mediwitch anywhere around, only the multitude of seemingly peacefully sleeping patients. The eerie silence of the room was hard to bear, and his own heartbeat seemed to echo off of the walls as he walked down the narrow path left between the beds.

He anxiously searched the rows on both sides, constantly looking left and right, somehow sure his friends would be in adjacent beds. Seamus found him only a short while ago, so maybe Hermione would still be awake…

Harry nearly reached the end of the hall, when at last he came across Ron, and found Hermione lying on the bed right next to his. Walking warily closer, he tried to take in the sight of the girl, who appeared to have simply fallen asleep. Her hair was carefully arranged on the pillow, and her face looked perfectly serene in spite of the fine sheen of perspiration visible on her forehead.

He was just about to settle down at her side, when a surprised voice called behind his back.

"You should not be here."

Turning around Harry saw Madam Pomfrey carry in a tray of potions and place it on a nearby table.

"But you sent for me, to tell me that Hermione got sick." whispered Harry, looking back at the girl, as if to confirm her presence.

"True," admitted the mediwitch. "but honestly I didn't expect you to come here until later."

"I would like to stay," choked out the boy, with his eyes fixed on his friends' unmoving bodies. A moment later he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder in support. "May I?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. But not for too long." With that she returned to her tray, and lifting it in her hands once more, commented. "There is a chance that you will get sick as well, perhaps it would be best if you spent this period of time with your family, your loved ones."

Harry didn't feel like responding to that, thinking that Madam Pomfrey really couldn't know much about him. Indeed the mediwitch did not pursue her point, and she was gone within a few moments, leaving him alone in the secluded corner of the infirmary. He could feel his knees going weak as realization struck: he was alone and his friends wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Collapsing against the bed Hermione was laid out on, he kneeled whispering to his friend.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to turn away from you and Ron…I simply didn't know how to deal with Sirius being gone."

Harry reached out carefully to smooth a palm against the girl's face.

"Please forgive me," he whimpered as his eyes tingled from unshed tears. Leaning his forehead against his arms he tried to cry, tried to relieve the sorrow overwhelming him, but no relief came. He just lay there with his face pressed against the crisp sheets covering the mattress, and all he could do was to dream of a better future.

oO{~S~}Oo

"I already told you Horatius, that it is not effective."

"Then perhaps you should add more of the pixie claws, and stir it counterclockwise once it reaches the third phase."

"Do you believe I'm fooling around here? I tried all possible derivatives! The potion is simply not working, and that's the end of it. This entire project is a dead end. But I'm wasting my time trying to explain that to you, am I not? After all, you only believe your own potions masters."

Harry, woken by the progressively louder voices, drowsily lifted his head off the mattress. Looking around didn't help much with identifying the source of the noise, since he couldn't see anything. He must have fallen asleep quite a while ago, as it appeared to be nighttime already. He yawned and returned to his earlier position. Judging by how sleepy he felt, Harry concluded that he could not have slept enough, yet. Fully intending to return to his rest, even the ruckus in the background seemed insignificant.

Regardless he listened; after all it is only proper to keep quiet in an infirmary full of sick people, and no one could blame him for overhearing things when they were spoken so loudly.

"Of course I trust your judgment, Severus. But this is simply impossible."

"Not any less possible than this whole nightmare of a situation is."

Harry stayed frozen in place, trying to avoid calling attention to his eavesdropping.

"All right, let us assume you were correct…"

"It is high time you did that."

"…and this serum is truly worthless. In that case we will immediately begin testing the second line of potions with the powdered bicorn horn base. I will talk to you tomorrow night."

"Certainly."

Then all he could hear was the sound of footsteps as one of the people left the room, but they were soon replaced with silence occasionally broken by the whisper of a turned page. Harry couldn't bring himself to care that the person reading in a hidden corner of the infirmary was in all likelihood Snape. As long as he was left to sleep, even if only in this half-sitting position, nothing bothered him.

Minutes passed and no one came to call Harry on being there without permission, so the boy slowly allowed sleep to claim him again.

oO{~S~}Oo

He was still so tired that he couldn't even comprehend what woke him at first. But as he began to fully awaken, Harry felt a hand touching his neck and then moving on to his forehead.

"There is no reason to worry, Minerva. It appears Potter is completely unharmed, he was simply taking his afternoon nap here." Harry's eyes snapped open at hearing the all-too-familiar drawl so near his ears, and he found himself face to face with Snape, just as the professor's mouth pulled itself into its characteristic sneer. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."

"Next time if you would avoid scaring us to death!" Professor McGonnagall snapped out as she stood stiff-lipped behind Snape. "You could at least let someone know when you plan to disappear for a whole day!"

The potions master, who had been crouching next to Harry, stood up and in the same smooth motion straightened his robe.

"Potter makes a habit of disregarding the rules. But really, you should have gotten used to it by now, Minerva."

Harry pressed an awkward hand under his glasses to rub at his eyes, and then rose hesitantly reaching out to grab the edge of the bed for support.

"Sorry, Professor. I was very sleepy, and completely lost track of time" he addressed McGonnagall hoarsely, while attempting to look remorseful. Professor Snape nailed him with a doubtful frown, as if he expected Harry to fall ill any moment just to flaunt the rules and be a nuisance in general.

McGonnagall on the other hand was still fuming like an irritated dragon. Drawing a few more deep breaths she seemed to have managed to calm herself.

"Mr. Potter, it's time that you begin thinking about where you want to be going in a few days."

Harry was taken aback by the sudden shift in topic.

"Why Professor? They aren't going to…they can't…" He came to a halt as he realized that with the number of students sick, it was very probable that he would need to leave Hogwarts along with everyone else.

"They will, Mr. Potter. In a few days Hogwarts will most likely close."

"But the Headmaster, he surely won't allow that!"

Snape stepped forward, pulling his robe around himself with a firm move.

"The Headmaster is currently abroad, and he instructed the deputy headmistress to close the school, once the situation calls for it."

"Professor McGonnagall!" interrupted Harry frantically, not even caring to excuse himself, "I can't go back to the Dursleys!"

"Well, well," continued Snape, "the famous Potter is too good even for his relatives."

Harry paid no attention to the man, in favor of giving a pleading look to the deputy headmistress. Instead of the expected look of consternation, McGonnagall's face reflected sympathy.

"I am aware, Mr. Potter," she sighed. "That is why I'm suggesting that you begin thinking about getting ready to leave for the Headquarters."

Harry felt like screaming into her face that if it was up to him, he would never ever step a foot into that accursed building again. Instead bowing his head, he whispered.

"I wouldn't like to go there either."

"Well, that leaves us with a bit of a problem," contemplated McGonnagall. "If you don't want to return there either, and you cannot in the current situation go to the Burrow, there remains only one option."

Harry looked at the deputy headmistress questioningly, but he sensed from McGonnagall's tone that he would not like the answer.

"What is that option?"

"You could stay here at Hogwarts with adult supervision," she announced, while Snape looked between them blankly, waiting for the final outcome of the conversation. "I believe Professor Snape is the only person who will be staying here every day, to work on the development of the antiserum. You will be safe with him."

Snape reacted instantaneously, shifting to glare at McGonnagall with his indignation evident in his expression.

"What?" snapped Harry and Snape simultaneously.

"The Headmaster recommended this solution, anticipating Harry's situation." McGonnagall managed to hold back a smile; nonetheless she did seem to be the only one enjoying the situation. "Harry cannot go home, and you, Severus, are here every day to use the labs."

Harry clenched his hands into fists and straightened out challengingly.

"This was approved by the Headmaster?"

"And Albus meant this seriously?" asked Snape at the same time.

"Indeed," nodded the headmistress, giving the potions master a meaningful look, who, after carefully schooling his expression, responded with a silent nod of his own. Harry really wanted to know what persuaded him so easily. "And now, if you will excuse me, I have some paperwork awaiting."

The deputy headmistress turned around to go, and shut the door quietly leaving them alone. Harry felt his heartbeat quicken in terror, like a hunted animal, he had no way of escaping the trap.

As for Snape, he didn't appear to be angry any longer, instead it seemed like he found the situation entertaining.

"Does this…" swallowed Harry nervously, trying valiantly to form an intelligible sentence. "I mean, staying with you, does that mean, well...am I supposed to move to your place now?"

"Right in one, Potter," came the cold response from Snape. Then he began walking toward the infirmary storage room, continuing over his shoulder. "I expect you before dinner, promptly at seven o'clock. Bring all your possessions, and wait outside my door."

Harry could nearly feel smoke coming out of his ears as he fumed.

"I don't even know where you live, sir," he snarled. "And in any case, I'm sure that dinner will still be held in the Great Hall tonight."

The potions master turned back from the door to the storage room.

"The nearest door to the painting depicting the execution of Salazar Slytherin leads to my chambers. And, yes, there will be dinner served in the Great Hall. Suddenly his face took on a decidedly satisfied expression. "But I desire your presence at my dinner table."

With that he turned and slammed the door behind himself. Harry paled and swallowed nervously, as suddenly pictures of his outburst of less than a day ago flooded his mind. He had virtually exploded all the potions Snape used to store in his office, and the professor didn't even mention that. He was probably saving his tirade for dinner today, along with detentions or some other form of punishment to get even for the damage Harry had done to his personal stores.

It was popularly believed at Hogwarts, that the hallway of the dungeons holding the portrait of Slytherin's death, was the scariest one of all. No one ever ventured there, not even the twins. Apparently it wasn't an unfounded myth: Snape lived there after all.

At least now he would get to put his Gryffindor courage to the test.

Turning back to Hermione, he decided that he might as well go to Gryffindor to pack his things. He saw no reason to fight McGonnagall's decision. After all, staying at Hogwarts was far better than returning to the Dursleys, even if it involved Snape.

Taking one last look at his friends, Harry left the infirmary quietly.

oO{~S~}Oo

"You must be kidding! Right, Harry?" Neville exclaimed surprised.

The boy in question was in the process of collecting his dirty socks from the floor around his bed and tossing them into his trunk with disgust. Once all the socks in visible range were gathered in such manner, Harry turned to a chest of drawers by his bed only to pull out a few sweaters and shirts and send them flying by way of his footwear.

"Unfortunately it's for real. I will have to stay with the bat," grumbled Harry, before looking up. "Do you think I like it?"

Neville sighed as he sat back on his bed to watch Harry as he attempted to squeeze in his favorite books on top of the messy bundle of clothes in the trunk.

"Well, I suppose your other options must be very bad, if you decided to stay here with Snape instead."

"My relatives, the Dursleys." Summarized Harry in a short sentence, revulsion written all over his stance.

"Oh…I guess I suspected." Said Neville without meeting the boy's eyes.

In lack of a good response to that Harry returned to his packing, searching the room for anything that he might have missed. Finding nothing else that belonged to him, he shut the lid of the trunk pushing on it to get the latches closed.

"Well, I need to go now," he said despondently. "I hope Snape will allow me to meet you every day. You are staying for a while longer, right?"

"I'm not sure, Harry. Granny may be coming for me soon," came the apologetic response, followed closely by a weak smile. "If you would like, I could come and visit Hagrid with you tomorrow."

"Yes, that would be great."

Thinking of Hagrid only served to remind Harry that the last time he visited him was with Ron and Hermione, and now his friends couldn't come anymore. Glancing at Ron's stripped bed, Harry spelled his trunk to levitate behind him and left the room without looking back.

oO{~S~}Oo

Having spent at least ten minutes searching for the specific painting Snape instructed him to wait by, Harry was still wandering up and down the dungeon hallways with no clue about its location. He found portraits depicting a range of events in Slytherin's life, from the man's wedding to his potions lab, but not one of his death. Truth be told, he didn't search the entirety of the deepest dungeons, yet. It would be just like Snape, to hide his chambers at the end of the darkest hallway.

Harry's intuition proved correct when after a few minutes of walking deeper-and-deeper into the dungeons he came across the ghastly picture. In the proximity of the picture stood an ancient door. Harry canceled the levitation spell and hovered his trunk to the floor. He sat on it, preparing himself for a lengthy wait.

Not much time passed when he heard steps resounding off the walls, and soon he could see the dark silhouette of the potions master approaching at a steady pace. Upon arriving to the door, Snape gave a satisfied smirk.

"I see you managed to find your way here, Potter." He said as he motioned for Harry to stand up. "My apologies for being late; Healer Horatius held me up longer than expected."

Harry stared soundlessly, while the professor took down the wards and opened the door. Snape didn't enter, but gestured to Harry that he should go ahead. The man followed close behind, and Harry could hear as his teacher began resetting the wards. However he didn't pay much attention, as he was focused on taking in the sight of the room before him.

The place appeared unexpectedly cozy, decorated by warm shades of brown. The room, which was probably the living room, had a fireplace on the left, facing it stood a couple of armchairs and a sofa arranged around a table with a stack of notes on it. To his right stood a dining table with chairs surrounding it, the setup dominated by a huge, intricately crafted candleholder standing at the center of the table.

A short hallway opened from the wall facing him, where Harry could see a few doors, one presumably leading to Snape's room.

"I will show you to your room," announced Snape when he finished warding the door.

He walked down the short hallway with Harry in tow, and stopped in front of the second door. The professor opened the door, and indicated that Harry should enter.

The small room resembled the parlor in style: a chest of drawers, a desk and chair, and a bed with a nightstand - all matching colors of brown - were arranged along the walls. The desk stood under a small window that appeared to open right above the ground. Harry registered this with surprise, and realized that Snape's rooms were probably located in the dungeons carved into the rocky cliff under the southern part of the castle.

"I trust you find it adequate." Snape queried snidely, observing Harry closely for any hint of disapproval.

"Of course…" responded the boy quietly. He didn't want to admit to Snape that he never had a proper room of his own before. Even when his relatives gave him one, it was with broken shelves and an uncomfortable bed that had a thin, tattered mattress.

"In that case, leave your trunk here and join me for dinner," commanded the professor, spinning around and disappearing with his cloak billowing behind.

Harry hovered his trunk right next to the bed, and taking another look around the room –his room- he left to follow Snape. Reaching the living room he was surprised to see that the previously empty dining table was now loaded with food.

Harry looked at the selection of dishes, before hesitantly walking over to take his seat facing Snape, where a set of cutlery was laid out for him. He was about to reach for his spoon, when a smooth albeit alien voice interrupted.

"Oh, the famous Harry Potter," the voice came directly from the table, making Harry withdraw his hand from the spoon. Snape served himself some of the delicious looking chicken potpie, not appearing disturbed in the least.

"Potter, this is Trenus," said the potions master indicating the large candle, which still sat in its ornate holder at the center of the dining table.

"Hmm, it's my pleasure…I guess," said Harry awkwardly, reaching for the serving spoon again. Looking down at his plate, he noticed with some annoyance that he wasn't given the choice to serve himself. With his eyes fixed on his meal he muttered irritated: "I think I'm old enough to serve myself, sir."

"Of course, Potter. I merely intended to give your meal a chance to cool while you were in your room," said Snape measuredly, but Harry could have sworn he could detect the snide undertones. "I found it too hot when the house elves sent it down."

That explained how the food appeared so fast, and Harry found himself suddenly thankful to Dobby, convinced that sending his favorite dish on his first evening with Snape was the elf's doing.

"I didn't believe you for a second, Severus," came the voice from the candle again. "I was sure he would never come here. And now!"

"We usually keep quiet while eating," remarked Snape pointedly between two bites. "I would appreciate if you respected that."

And indeed, it was quiet for a while. Harry just began pondering how he despised obnoxious, talking objects, such as the mirror in the boys' bathroom that never let a morning pass without commenting on Harry's deplorable taste in clothing and his "hideous mess of a mane". They destroyed all illusion children might have had about sentient household objects after reading Beauty and the Beast. It really wasn't Harry's fault that the Dursleys' never bought him a decent set of clothes. Of course the brainless mirror disapproved of Harry's favorite jumper as well, which was knitted just for him by Mrs. Weasley. Harry found that beyond annoying, in his book it was an outright insult.

"I have heard some rumors that both your friends are sick," the candle started again, apparently having forgotten Snape's request for silence. "If you go and visit Hagrid tomorrow, you better be careful because you may come next."

Harry couldn't let that go, as he felt his temper rising. "Shut up, you smartarse chunk of wax!" he seethed.

"Disrespectful ape."

"At least I have…"

"I never get cold in winter, unlike you."

"That is enough, Trenus," interrupted Snape, and his hard tones promised nothing good.

"Irritating museum piece," grumbled Harry under his nose, just to have the last word.

"For your information, I'm a several-century-old invaluable object. Anyway, why don't you just go and stay at your uncle's?" Snape appeared to be just about ready to resort to more drastic means of separating the two of them, but at Trenus' question a curious, blank expression replaced his previously displayed anger.

Harry had enough, he felt sure that the candle would shut its non-existing mouth if it were aware how close he had come to causing it some serious harm. Truth be told, the wax-stick appeared to be stunningly well informed for a candle. Unfortunately for it, Harry was in no mood to appreciate that currently.

"Shut up!"

"Why?" Trenus kept going. "I'm simply interested if the gossip is true. Because I believe they must be terrible indeed, if you came he…" but it couldn't complete the sentence, as Harry grabbed up his glass and doused the candle in pumpkin juice putting out its flame with a sizzling noise.

"Are you happy now, brat?" shouted the candle as it tried to light himself without success.

"Definitely," but the grin was wiped off of his face as Snape suddenly stood taking a deep breath. The potions master, placing both hands firmly on the table, leaned forward threateningly.

"Trenus, take yourself and disappear from the table, right now!" he shouted at the candle, extinguishing the flame that just flickered to life on the wick. "Go to the office, and stay there alone until we finish dinner, that way you can't tear at each other with Potter." Then he turned to Harry, who was about to rise from the table. "And you are not going anywhere until you ate everything on your plate."

Frightened, Harry dropped back into his chair. Meanwhile Trenus floated away from the table toward one of the rooms opening from the hallway, and disappeared behind its door that had apparently been left ajar.

"But, I'm not hungry anymore, " protested Harry, as he took a look at the leftovers of his meal.

The potions master, calm again, lowered himself into his chair with dignity, and continued his dinner as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, but you will not be leaving this table until that plate is cleared."

Harry looked down at the remnants of his potpie once more, and he felt that if he tried to eat another bite, he would certainly get sick before swallowing it. And in any case, he hadn't been eating much for dinner in the past few weeks, and he was doing just fine.

"Please, sir, I don't want it," he tried again dejectedly, but it didn't seem to move Snape. "I would like to go to sleep," and with that he tried to leave, but he found himself unable to stand up. Wriggling around on his chair, Harry couldn't move an inch, even though a moment ago he was perfectly capable to stand and pour his juice on that damned talking candle.

"It's not fair!" snapped Harry, as he realized that Snape had been planning on forcing him to eat everything on his plate right from the beginning, when he insisted on serving what now seemed an unreasonably large portion for him. In all the commotion Harry hadn't even noticed the spell that Snape must have uttered to glue him to the chair. The professor carefully wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"I told you just a moment ago, Potter. You may stand once you finished your meal," he repeated snidely, rising from the table. "Well, I'm going to the lab to continue my experiments. When you are done, go straight to bed."

"But…"

The professor disappeared behind a different door, leaving Harry with the leftovers of his dinner. The boy eyed his plate without appetite, realizing that he hadn't even eaten half of it yet.

He could still move his arms, and after all Snape insisted that he cleared his plate… thought Harry as he slipped out his wand and pointed it at the meal.

"Evanesco," he whispered the spell trying to banish the unwanted food, but nothing happened. "Oh shite." Harry swore, and pocketing his wand he grabbed his fork.

With considerable effort he managed to force a few smaller bites down. Realizing that he would never finish at that rate, Harry downed the rest of the meal barely chewing it. He was sure he would get sick any moment, but somehow he managed to swallow the last forkful as well. When he tried to stand up again, he met no resistance. Turning from the table he went to his room swiftly, hoping that Snape wouldn't show up to gloat.

Closing the door quietly he took a few deep breaths to quell his nausea. It worked surprisingly well, and soon he was changed into pajamas and laying under the warm brown duvet pondering how nothing appeared to be green in Snape's rooms.

Harry was so exhausted that he fell asleep within minutes. Consequently he didn't notice as his door opened to allow a floating little flame to enter and settle above his nightstand in quiet watch.

In the morning Harry woke feeling incredibly drained. Standing up he felt so dizzy that he had to sit back down on the bed. His sleep was disturbed by the recurring dreams of Sirius' death, which were recently joined by nightmares of his friends as well. So he spent the night restlessly, haunted by loss, and in spite of the comfortable bed he found himself tossing and turning all night long.

Sighing deeply he attempted to stand up again, succeeding this time. Still slightly wobbly, Harry shuffled toward his trunk to find a set of clean and warm clothes, since the view from the tiny window promised a rainy day.

Dressing slowly, he was about to make his way to the kitchen when he heard voices from the hallway. He sidled closer to the door to try to pick up the whole conversation. Harry knew there would be hell to pay if he got caught, but he couldn't resist eavesdropping on Snape and his annoying talking wax-stick.

"So tell me, when did you stop trusting me?" he heard the candle ask resentfully.

"I did not say that. Regardless, it is hard to believe. Ever since I've known him, Potter always ensured that he was at the center of attention. He's a spoilt brat, everyone's favorite little hero."

"Now I'm sure we are talking about two different people."

"You say that as if you knew the boy."

"I hear things…Have you seriously considered why he would chose to come here instead of going home to his family?"

"Would you enlighten me if I asked?" Snape's voice drawled sounding indifferent.

"No." That candle had guts, Harry thought smiling to himself, no one said no to Snape like that.

"In that case, what point are you trying to make here?" the professor was becoming impatient.

"He will tell you, if he believes he can trust you." Harry smiled appreciatively; maybe the candle wasn't a complete waste of space after all.

"Was there anything else?"

"I'm not sure…to me it seemed the boy hasn't slept in weeks. Which is no wonder, with the nightmares he has." Harry's growing appreciation was immediately nipped in the bud; he fully intended to trample the wax spy. Banging open his door, he walked straight to the kitchen. The conversation ceased immediately, and he wasn't surprised to find his host sitting at the kitchen table with Trenus next to him.

The potions master held a piece of toast in his hand as he turned to Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"I thought you would never get up and deign to join us," he commented snidely.

Harry decided there was nothing to be won by revealing that he overheard their conversation.

"I've been awake for a while," he said coolly, turning to get his jacket. But Snape's voice halted him in his tracks.

"Just where do you think you are going, Potter?

"For my jacket," he returned sullenly. "Then to visit Hagrid. I promised I would visit him every day."

Snape finished chewing before giving Harry a stern look.

"First, you will have breakfast. Then you may visit you friend."

"I think you are not my father, so you can't tell me what to do out of school," spat out Harry and he tried to leave, but found himself unable to move, just like at dinner the day before.

"As I said, first you will eat something," repeated Snape. "Once you are done, perhaps I will allow you to roam the grounds for a while. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir," hissed Harry, and felt the spell holding him lift so suddenly that he was forced to take a step back to keep his balance. He walked to the table and morosely took the place that appeared to be reserved for him. His plate was empty this time, so he reached for a slice of toast and the jam. At least Snape didn't expect him to eat until he got sick today.

"Good morning, little master," greeted Trenus innocently.

Harry's head snapped up angrily, but he managed to contain his impulse to squash the treacherous chunk of spying wax. He was determined to keep quiet in the company of the two shifty, sneaky Slytherins.

"How did you sleep?" queried Snape after Harry polished off half of his toast in two bites.

"Well," ground out Harry, knowing full well that all of them were aware this was a lie. Harry wasn't going to interrupt the charade.

"Hmm," was all the response he got, as the potions master sipped from his coffee. "When we are done with breakfast I will go up to the infirmary to check on the patients. I recommend you go to Hagrid first, and visit your friends later. The healers from St. Mungo's perform their checkups in the morning, and I don't want you to be underfoot."

Harry looked up surprised from spreading jam on his second piece of toast.

"You will let me go?"

Snape responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course. And when you return from your visits, right there," Snape pointed at the coffee table by the fireplace "you will find at least five books on potions, and enough parchment to repeat your last three essays, which were so abominable that they didn't even deserve the Troll I had to give on them."

Harry jumped up suddenly, pushing his glass of pumpkin juice over, which fell with a clang pouring its contents all over the table.

"You are enjoying this!" he snapped. "There isn't a day that passes without you using every opportunity to mock me and deride me for everything I do."

"And I was restraining myself in consideration of your past few days," announced Snape evenly as if to himself, and finished up his coffee.

"Flood alarm…" interrupted the candle. "Would either of you bother to clean the table?"

Harry picked up his napkin and tossed it at Trenus.

"You can lift yourself, just like you did yesterday when you came to spy on me!" he continued furiously, addressing Snape. "What do you mean by the past few days? You think I need special treatment? That I'm going to snap?"

"It wouldn't be surprising," replied Snape, while Trenus moved to the far edge of the table and settled on a dry spot. Harry was speechless at the open insult.

"Well, that's just brilliant! The famous Harry Potter went crazy without his followers. That's what you think, right?" after a strangled laugh Harry pushed in the chair with enough force to make all the utensils rattle on the table. "I'm leaving now. And before I visit Hagrid, I will be sure to research wards to prevent spies from entering my room."

Without waiting for Snape's response he ran to get his coat. On his way out Harry could hear them talking about him.

"That went well."

"Be quiet, Trenus."

Harry looked back over his shoulder at the duo before opening the door, which surprisingly wasn't locked, and he purposefully slammed it closed with a satisfying bang.

oO{~S~}Oo

He hurried away toward Hagrid's hut, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

By the time he reached the gamekeeper's dwelling Harry was completely calm. The October weather with the daily rains softened the ground making it difficult to walk. It took Harry twice the usual time to reach the hut as he slipped and slid in the mud. The thick fog that settled above the ground this morning further complicated his task of finding stable footing, as he could barely see the tip of his nose in the white mist.

Arriving at the door he clumsily propped himself against the doorframe, and after knocking he tried to clean off the larger chunks of mud off his shoes.

Fang barked loudly from within, and in a few moments the door opened revealing Hagrid, who gestured for Harry to enter.

"Hullo Harry," came the melancholic greeting. "Come on in. Fast, or ya'll catch a cold in this godawful weather."

Harry stepped inside to allow Hagrid to close the door behind him. It was much warmer in the hut, and the room smelt of wet dog and caramelized sugar. Harry was about to sit down when Hagrid grabbed his shoulders to turn him around, and the boy found himself in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, 'arry. I thought ya'll come down sick by the morning too," said the half-giant punctuating his sentence by loud sniffs. "I heard 'bout Ron and 'Ermione… But Professor Snape and the healers will soon find the cure. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," replied Harry uncertainly. "Is it okay that I came so early?" he asked with his words muffled by Hagrid's coat. The giant let go of him, and patted is back comfortingly.

"O' course. I just put some water over the fire for tea, and there are some cakes 'ere too," said Hagrid pulling out his tablecloth-size dotted handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

Harry sat down in his favorite, gigantic armchair and waited for Hagrid to pour tea from the whistling kettle. Soon he had a steaming cup of tea and a plateful of rock cakes in front of him.

"Thanks Hagrid," he whispered, taking the cup of tea in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you won't be able to stay for long," said the half-giant. "The Headmaster gave me a special assignment, and I have to start working on it soon."

Harry simply shrugged.

"It's okay…I can't stay for long anyway."

"Ye know, I heard that you are stayin' with Professor Snape," said Hagrid with a grin. "They told us yesterday, at the meeting."

"Brilliant," grumbled Harry. "So I'm the topic at the order meetings, too."

Hagrid looked away, and took a piece of cake from the plate.

"Not always. But in this dangerous situation your protection is very important," Hagrid stopped suddenly. "Well, that is to say…just forget about it 'arry. But keep in mind, Snape is not as bad as he seems in yer classes."

Harry didn't say anything to that, just continued sipping his tea.

oO{~S~}Oo

All things considered, living in the dungeons wasn't all that terrible, apart from the ever-increasing amount of schoolwork that awaited him every afternoon. He hardly ever met Snape outside of mealtimes, but the annoying Trenus stayed with Harry constantly. It even helped with homework on occasion.

Soon it was November, and Harry realized with some surprise that at some point he began to think about the dark dungeons as his home. And Snape…well, Snape was okay. But Harry ascribed it to the fact that the potions master appeared so tired every evening, that in all likelihood he didn't have enough energy left to mock Harry.

Harry visited Hagrid every morning, and usually had breakfast with him. Then he was off to the infirmary to visit his friends. His afternoons were spent with schoolwork, and the evenings with reading by the fireplace.

At the moment he was curled up in one of the armchairs with a book, and he waited for Snape to arrive so they could have dinner. Harry noted with some consternation that he was beginning to miss his teacher's snide comments. In fact it was disturbing that Snape hadn't snarled at him lately.

He hadn't even seen the potions master today; apart from glimpsing him in his lab this afternoon, but then the professor closed the door. And it was past seven, so Snape was supposed to have returned for dinner.

A loud crash interrupted Harry's thoughts.

He almost dropped his book, as the crash was followed by a series of smaller crunching noises. Even Trenus jumped aside at the sudden noise.

"What was that?" breathed Harry, with his adrenalin levels soaring.

"I think it came from the lab," stated Trenus as he floated further down the table to make space for Harry's book.

"I will go and check," said Harry determined, and placing his book on the table he moved to stand.

"I think you should stay here."

But Harry wasn't listening to Trenus any longer and he hurried down the small hallway to the door, which he suspected opened to the lab. Cracking the door open to peek in, he caught sight of a shocking view. All of Snape's cauldrons were tipped to the floor, and he watched as the professor swept the remaining bottles to the ground with one motion. Then the potions master just stood there surrounded by shards of glass and mixed potions ingredients with his back toward the door. He grabbed the back of a chair with both hands, leaning against it heavily. Then taking a few deep breaths the man appeared to calm himself.

"What do you want, Potter?" he asked in a deep, cool voice.

Harry swallowed nervously as he shrunk down hoping to become invisible.

"I just…I got scared when I heard…something breaking," he stammered. "Professor…did something happen?"

Snape stood quietly for a while, then without turning he spoke.

"The epidemic took its first casualties."

Suddenly Harry couldn't breathe; he backed up to the wall and leaned against it.

"Who died?" he asked quietly, afraid of the answer. Snape turned around to face Harry.

"You don't know them. Three adults who were among the first infected in Diagon Alley," he said leaning against the table.

"Oh no…but that means that after a while, all of them…" groaned Harry not finishing his sentence.

The potions master stood observing him, and then walked up to Harry and took hold of his shoulders.

"Listen to me, Potter! Those people simply had a weaker immune system, therefore their bodies reacted differently to the temporary serum, than it was supposed to!" he said with emphasis, then added quietly: "Your friends reacted well to it, they will be all right."

Harry looked up sadly.

"You don't have to say that," he said. "I'm not a little kid anymore, you don't have to hide the truth from me." Then looking closer at his teacher's face he realized something else. "You are not telling me something."

Snape let go of his shoulders and arranged his robes tighter as he straightened up.

"True," he admitted, and then he took a deep breath as if in preparation to announce something terrible. "I was recently notified that Longbottom and Finnigan were taken ill as well."

"Oh no…" breathed Harry and he could feel his knees going weak as dizziness overtook him at hearing Snape's statement. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?"

The potions master grabbed is upper arm to steady the boy.

"Perhaps because I wanted to protect you from the news."

"Very touching," grumbled Harry as he tried to free his arm from Snape's grip, but the professor wouldn't let go. "Let me go! I'm fine."

"I doubt that," said Snape and he began to lead Harry toward the boy's room. "After the past few weeks I'm honestly surprised you are holding up at all. And now, whether you like it or not I will put you to bed."

Harry stopped protesting: Snape was stronger than him anyway, and he didn't feel up for a fight at the moment. The professor led him to his bed, and covered him after he lay down.

"You don't have to treat me like I'm a little kid," Harry turned toward the wall in protestation, as Snape sat down on the edge of his bed. The whole situation was so embarrassing and so unlike Snape that Harry was momentarily shocked into silence.

"I'm treating you as if you experienced a series of terrible events in a very short time period," said the professor coolly as he took out his wand. Harry continued staring at the wall miserably, holding his blanket in a death grip.

"Why not me?" he whispered. "I should be sick already…but no, I always have to survive and watch as everyone I care about dies…"

"Harry!" snapped Snape loudly, which made the boy turn back surprised. "Stop this self-condemnation at once! You cannot possibly be responsible for everything bad that happens to your friends. Believing that is incredibly egotistic." Then he pointed his wand toward the door and called out: "Accio Dreamless Sleep potion!"

"No. I'm not willing to drink that," protested the boy. The potions master simply raised an eyebrow and caught the potion bottle flying into the room.

"Really?" he asked threateningly. "Then I will cast Petrificus on you, and pour it down your throat. Your choice."

"I don't want either!" said Harry turning back toward the wall again. "I can sleep just fine, if you would only leave me alone!"

"You need some restful sleep. I've stood by for the last few weeks, and waited for you to come and ask for help with your dreams. But no, why would you," argued Snape. "It's high time you had a proper night's sleep."

"You know, it doesn't become you to act as if you cared," mocked Harry sharply, hoping to distract the professor.

"Even so, you are living with me and I'm responsible for your well-being. Therefore you are going to follow my advice!" retorted Snape holding out the bottle. "Drink it!"

"No."

Harry didn't have too many disturbing dreams lately, and he fully intended to remain alert in case something happened, in case he needed to wake up during the night.

"All right then," continued Snape unfazed, and with a wave of his wand Harry found himself sitting up. The professor pushed the bottle into his hands, and giving him a stern look he commanded. "Drink up! All of it."

Harry took the bottle unwillingly, and after two gulps he could feel his head getting heavy.

"All of it. To the last drop," came the stern order, and Harry managed to stay awake long enough to swallow a few more times. A moment later he could feel through a haze that the professor took the bottle from his hand, and after gently lowering him back into bed he tucked the blanket around Harry's shoulders.

Before Harry passed out completely, he thought he heard Snape whisper.

"Trenus, please spend the night watching over him. If anything happens, I will be in the lab."

oO{~S~}Oo

Waking well-rested seemed a novel experience to Harry. He could barely recall the last time he slept through the night uninterrupted. Surveying the room drowsily with half-open eyes he glimpsed Trenus right next to his bed on the nightstand.

"Good morning, young master," greeted the candle.

"Good morning…" came the dazed response. Harry did feel rested, but at the same time he was also incredibly sleepy. "What time is it?"

"If I'm not mistaken, it's just a few minutes past noon."

Harry suddenly jumped out of bed.

"What, noon already?" Taking account of his clothing he realized that he was still wearing his outfit from the day before. "I need to wash up fast, I can't go down to Hagrid like this." He wasn't concerned so much about his looks; rather about Hagrid getting worried if he saw him looking so disheveled.

"Hey, calm down!" Trenus tried to interrupt, before the boy worked himself into a panic. "Severus already let Hagrid know that you weren't going for a visit today."

That got Harry to stop halfway to the shower with his towel in hand.

"What?" he exclaimed shocked. "I don't believe it! Snape wants to keep me from all my friends? Lock me up with nothing but homework for company?"

Trenus stopped on his way to the door, and moved to float right in front of the boy.

"No, not at all. He simply arranged for you to get some rest," he lifted to eye-level and continued earnestly. "Don't you see? Severus is concerned about your well-being, with everything that's happened."

This appeared to incense the boy even further.

"My well-being? But I'm completely healthy, unlike most people around!" he snapped. The candle floated threateningly close to his face.

"Of course you are," said Trenus in an overtly patronizing tone, before turning serious. "Not sleeping and nightmares every night is not exactly a sign of coping. So stop searching for evil intent, and appreciate a good night's rest for what it was!"

"Just leave me alone!" replied Harry somewhat deflated, and shutting the bathroom door firmly he left the exasperating Trenus hanging in mid-air.

After showering he returned to his room to find the candle still where he left it.

"Don't you have anything to do?"

"As a candle, what do you think?" retorted Trenus unmoved. "Severus says, that once you are up, you are to meet him in the lab. He will be there waiting for you."

Harry, muttering something unintelligible under his nose, picked up a thicker sweater and walked over to the lab.

He found Snape standing by his workbench like the day before, though the ruins surrounding him have been cleaned up. The potions master held up two vials, intently observing them by the torchlight.

"Good morning," he greeted, lifting up his eyes to look at the boy.

"Not anymore, thanks to you," grumbled Harry, and walked over to sit on one of the chairs lined up along the wall. The desk was covered with a seemingly disordered pile of encyclopedias and unrolled scrolls of parchment. Snape returned his attention to the vials, and tipped them simultaneously into a cauldron, stepping back to avoid the fumes.

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Harry lifted heavy lidded eyes.

"No," he mumbled. "Just terribly sleepy."

A self-satisfied smirk settled on the potions master's face.

"That may be a side-effect of a slight overdose of the Dreamless Sleep potion," he announced haughtily. Then covering the cauldron he walked closer to the boy and stopped in front of him. Leaning back against the edge of the desk he observed Harry intently. "Would you care to elaborate a bit more?"

The boy glared at him accusingly.

"What kind of questions are these?" he snapped. "I'm perfectly fine! My hands aren't shaking, I have no fever, and I'm not hallucinating either. No trace of the symptoms. I'm not sick at all!"

Snape raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You forgot to mention your nightmares."

"Because it's nobody's business that I keep dreaming about…" Harry shut his mouth before accidentally slipping up. He absently noted that the drowsiness wasn't helping his self-control any.

"No, they are not my business. But the fact that you are suffering from them is. Do you agree?" the professor continued unrelenting. "I admit I may have misjudged you. You aren't the attention-seeking brat I thought you were. But there are situations in which one should accept the help offered."

Harry stared at Snape in stunned silence.

"It's fine. I've always been like this," he said defensively, casting his eyes at the floor, unable to face the man in front of him. "It's just that people don't notice."

"Perhaps," acknowledged Snape letting go of the table. He nodded for Harry to stand. "Come, I need to examine you closer."

Harry stood hesitating for a moment, and then taking a step he stopped in front of the potions master.

"You mean, to find out why I'm not sick?" he asked curiously, but Snape just nodded. He cupped the boy's face turning his head toward the light as he observed him with narrowed eyes.

"You are not even pale," he stated with some surprise. Then holding Harry's eyelids open he incanted a Lumos and proceeded to point his wand at the boy's eyes. "I don't see any sign of the infection."

"But I was there when the first student at Hogwarts got sick," Harry responded quietly.

"I know," the professor continued by carefully palpating the lymph nodes on the boy's neck, and Harry began to suspect that the potions master was not unfamiliar with the job of a healer. "Hold out your hands."

He obediently extended them, but there weren't even the faintest tremors to be seen.

"Sir, what does this mean?" asked Harry after a short while, because his hands were getting tired. "Why am I not sick?"

"I'm not sure. Let me test one more thing," said Snape stepping up to the other workbench. "Come here."

Harry complied taking a few steps, but stopped when he saw the needle in the potions master's hand.

"I will need a few drops of your blood," informed the man raising his eyebrows in question. "It won't hurt."

The boy looked at him accusingly closing the distance between them.

"I know, just startled me is all…I'm not particularly fond of needles. Oi!" he cried out when Snape pricked his skin and applied pressure to collect a few drops of blood in a glass vial. "It won't hurt…yeah, right."

"You have pulled through far worse things than this, uncomplaining I might add," sighed the professor. "Did you not?"

"I have the annoying feeling that this wasn't the last time I will hear that from you," yawned Harry as he watched Snape carefully add a drop of the blood to a bubbling cauldron. Then the professor turned away to place the vial onto the neighboring desk. Harry stepped up to the cauldron curiously to get a better view of the potion. The viscous liquid appeared unchanged at first, then it began to froth and bubble violently.

"Sir, is it supposed to do that?"

"Potter, watch out!" exclaimed Snape and he grabbed Harry by the arm forcing him to duck, as he pulled him along to the distant wall shielding the boy with his body.

They arrived just in time. The potion exploded with a deafening boom spraying all the way to the ceiling, and Harry could feel the hot pressure on his eardrums as the gases from the concoction filled up the room.

A moment later Snape let go of him and they both turned around to survey the room. The potions master drew in a sharp breath as he took in the extent of the damage.

"Professor…sir why did it do that?" choked out Harry, terrified. It didn't take much to realize that his blood caused the explosion.

The potions master walked closer to examine the cauldron, levitating it up for a better view he replied evenly:

"Something in your blood reacted with the potion…whatever it was."

Harry swallowed nervously in response.

oO{~S~}Oo

Days passed, and Snape still didn't have an explanation for what happened in the lab, at least not one he was willing to share. The professor did warn Harry not to take any detours when returning from his daily visits to Hagrid, saying it was dangerous for him to be wandering around alone.

Every time Harry brought up the question of his mysterious immunity to the disease, the potions master religiously avoided answering. Harry found it terribly suspicious that the events in the lab coincided with the professor's sudden insistence that he should not spend any time alone. He quickly deduced that someone was out for his blood, in this case literally.

This was the main reason for his unusual obedience to Snape. In fact he was walking back from Hagrid's hut with his wand drawn, ready to cast a Protego if necessary. Having used the moving staircases to descend to the dungeons, Harry was making his way toward his room when he heard a strange noise…like someone flushing the toilet. Except it was becoming louder, soon resembling the sound of a waterfall.

Harry stood alarmed, looking toward the end of the hallway where the sound appeared to be coming from. A moment later he could see the source of the rumble. It was definitely not a flooding toilet: the water gushing in at the end of the hallway was at least a foot deep and rapidly rising.

This was enough to get Harry into motion, and he took off toward the other end of the corridor. Looking back he could see more and more water streaming in, and he wondered where it could be coming from. Certainly not the plumbing, it was simply too much for that. The lake was a possibility, and he fleetingly considered the depth of the Hogwarts dungeons.

A moment later he realized that he was running in the wrong direction, the passage would only get him deeper underground. He knew that Snape wouldn't be in his chambers; the professor told him that they would be transporting the patients from the infirmary to St. Mungo's today, before the school closed completely.

He was about to turn around ready to wade through the water, when the realization came: that all of Snape's work to heal Harry's friends would be lost…

"It's bloody freezing…" muttered Harry, his teeth chattering, as he set out toward Snape's room again. He would save at least the professor's notes.

By the time he reached the potions master's chambers the water level was up to his waist. Shaking from the cold he wrestled the main door open. Inside almost everything was underwater.

"Tre…Trenus!" yelled Harry suddenly remembering the wacky candle.

Without waiting for an answer he trudged to the lab to find anything that he could still save. Grabbing a trunk from the storeroom he levitated it on top of the workbench and began collecting every parchment and lexicon in sight. Tossing them into the trunk he shut the lid and waterproofed it just in time, as the water flooded the desk. He stuffed away his wand to free both his hands, and grabbed anything else that seemed important as he made his way out.

"I'm so glad to see you, young master!" said Trenus floating in front of the door. Harry looked up with his hands full.

"Have you gone completely bonkers?" he yelled gasping for air as the freezing-cold water shook his whole body. "Why are you still here, can't you see…that any moment…this whole place will be flooded?"

"I was waiting for someone to get me. I thought Severus would be here soon."

"Well, you thought wrong," with that he dropped the things from his left hand and grabbed the candle unceremoniously. "We have to leave, now!"

Turning swiftly, he was brought to a halt by a cool voice.

"Drop everything you are holding, Potter. Then lift your hands, so I can see them both!"

Harry let go of the books and slowly turned to face the invader. Lucius Malfoy stood in the main door with his wand pointed directly at Harry's heart. The man was soaking wet, but his victorious smile revealed that he didn't feel inconvenienced by the flood.

"Put down that candle as well," he spat.

Harry was about to comply when the bookshelf in the living room came crashing down, unbalanced by the currents. He took advantage of Malfoy's momentary distraction by flipping Trenus and swinging it with full force at Malfoy's head. Lucius went down with a cry, collapsing into the water.

"Sorry Trenus."

"I think I have a concussion," groaned the candle.

"I said sorry," replied Harry as he went to check on Lucius. The man appeared to be unconscious, and after a moment of hesitation Harry propped him up against the wall to prevent him from drowning. Then he got out his wand to summon the trunk from the lab. Levitating it out through the door he followed it slowly.

"Stupefy!" Harry heard the spell from behind, and he tried to jump but the deep water aborted his movements, and he ended up executing an inelegant fall. Fortunately this was enough, since the spell missed him hitting a cabinet.

"Harry, watch out!" warned Trenus, but it was too late. The cabinet tipped forward and landed on the boy's leg with a loud splash, effectively forcing him to stay in a sitting position.

He tried to free his legs, but the ancient piece of furniture proved to be much too heavy. The water covered Harry up to his chin, and he watched helplessly as Malfoy sent Trenus flying with a spell. The candle hit the wall with a loud thwack, dropping into the water.

Malfoy slowly walked up to Harry, flashing a predator's smile at him as he pulled out a dagger from his robes.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Potter…after all you are not as lucky as you are rumored to be. The Dark Lord sent me for your blood, and he doesn't insist on personally taking your life anymore. I was granted the honor of doing away with you whichever way I prefer," explained Lucius smirking. Bending closer to Harry he grabbed his arm and cut it deeply with the dagger along the veins. Harry cried out as the blade bit into his skin.

"Just scream, no one can hear you. We made sure that everyone would be occupied with evacuating the castle. Oh, well. Dumbledore can't always be where he is needed, and since all the students are away…and your friends won't be coming to save you either."

Harry listened shivering as his blood dripped into the cold water.

"You bastard…you won't get away with this," choked out the boy, his voice hoarse. "What do the students have to do with this anyway?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Dumbledore is not powerful enough to protect the school alone," Malfoy continued his speech while he held up Harry's arm to collect some of the blood into a vial. The boy bit down on his tongue to hold back a scream as Lucius pressed around the wound to elicit faster blood-flow. "The wards around the school rely on the children within, the more children, the stronger the protection. Did Dumbledore forget to mention that he steals the magic of his students?"

Meanwhile the water level continued rising slowly, and Harry had to lift his chin to breathe through his mouth. He was beginning to lose feeling in his legs, whether it was due to the freezing water or the cabinet crushing them was impossible to tell.

"That's it. It was my pleasure Mr. Potter," mocked Lucius, and capping the vial he pocketed it. Then he looked around them innocently. "Oh, damn, there is nobody to pull you out from there. How regrettable. And now, if you will excuse me."

With that, he walked off leaving Harry trapped.

"Tre…Trenus…" he called out for the candle weakly, but no answer came, and he wasn't sure where the candle fell.

The water was rising alarmingly, and he could barely hold himself straight.

A few moments later the water covered his mouth. He tried to stretch desperately, panicking as his nostrils got immersed as well.

Holding back his breath Harry could only hope that drowning wasn't very painful. He was running out of air quickly, and he hoped that someone would pull him out soon. But no one came and out of breath he began to gulp water frantically… then everything went black.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Harry! Harry, breathe for God's sake!" shouted a voice compelling him to abandon the darkness. He gasped for air as someone turned him onto his side. He coughed persistently spitting out the water coming from his lungs.

Finally Harry was able to open his eyes, and he recognized the figure kneeling at his side.

"Prof…pro…essor," he was shaking uncontrollably from the cold, and it took an overwhelming effort to move his tongue. "Malfoy…'s here…he was here."

"I know Harry," said Snape soothingly and he wrapped Harry into a frayed, but thankfully warm, blanket. "It's all right. We will go somewhere safe."

Harry recognized the Hogwarts hallway, and he could feel water under his back. They couldn't be far from the dungeons.

"He cut…my arm…," His words were barely understandable through the chatter of his teeth. "blood, he…took blood…from me." He felt very tired and yawning deeply he closed his eyes. He could get a bit of sleep, and after that he would recount everything to Snape. "'m very sleepy."

Snape had been occupied with Harry's wound, but noticing the boy drift off he grabbed his shoulders to shake him.

"Harry, listen to me! You need to stay awake."

" 'm sorry, professor…awf'lly sleepy," he mumbled.

"Harry, open your eyes!" ordered Snape firmly, but Harry allowed sleep to claim him; to take him away from the cold.

Harry came to awareness lying on his side, his head propped up on warm pillows. He didn't open his eyes immediately, cherishing the comfort. There were numerous blankets wrapped around him snugly covering him up to his neck, and he was sure he wouldn't be able to move even if he tried. It felt good not to be cold. Actually, it was a little too warm under the many blankets, but not uncomfortably so, aside from the fact that the heat made him drowsy.

When he finally opened his eyes, he immediately recognized his surroundings: old, yellowed walls, dilapidated furniture: he was in one of the living rooms at Grimmauld place.

Like so many times when he woke up these past few weeks, he found the flickering flame of a candle hovering near him.

"Trenus, you made it," croaked Harry and realizing that he could barely talk, he continued whispering. "I'm so sorry I used you to knock out Malfoy. I really am."

"It's all right," replied the candle. "The most important thing is that you survived, that Severus got there in time. Rest some more, little master."

Harry closed his eyes again, thinking that was a great idea. He still felt incredibly drained. The cut on his arm didn't hurt, and he assumed it had been healed, but wanted to check it regardless. Trying to wriggle it free, Harry realized that he couldn't get it out without unwrapping all the blankets. He gave up, thinking it was for the best. It was so nice listening to the crackling fire all bundled up and cozy.

He almost managed to drift off to sleep again, but a door slamming woke him and he could hear raised voices from another room.

"Don't try to tell me that you didn't even suspect there would be an attack! You know damn well that I've been tending to patients and working on the epidemic. Are your other sources absolutely useless?"

"Severus…"

"Forget it Alastor. Once Albus returns we will need to discuss this again. For now, everyone is safe, and Potter survived as well. Someone should let Lupin know that we are here."

"Yes…later."

Finally, it was quiet again. Harry really wanted to go back to sleep. Then he heard someone open his door slowly and come in.

"Trenus, has he woken yet?" Snape's voice asked.

"I'm awake," Harry beat Trenus to the answer, opening his eyes. "but I almost fell asleep again."

The professor was at the table, mixing something in a goblet. At hearing Harry's voice he turned around surprised. Taking the steaming cup he walked over to sit at the boy's side.

"You were unconscious when I brought you here, so I had to conjure the Hypothermia Potion directly into your stomach. But now you can drink," the potions master explained, suddenly switching to lecturing mode. "Potter…what did you think you were doing going back there, when everything was flooded?"

"I didn't want all your research to go to waste," came the hoarse reply, and Harry continued suddenly worried. "Did you find the trunk? Did it leak? I'm not very good at waterproofing charms."

Snape sighed before responding.

"Yes, I found it undamaged," he said incredulously. "You keep surprising me, Harry. You risked your life to save my results?"

Harry didn't know how to interpret the strange look Snape was giving him, but hearing the professor call him by his first name was surprise enough on its own.

"Well, yes. And to fetch Trenus."

The potions master just shook his head in consternation, before he took the cup and held it out for the boy to drink. "You should try to drink at least half of it. It will help your throat."

"Sure it's not poison?" joked Harry, but seeing Snape's grave expression his grin disappeared instantaneously.

He obediently sipped the warm liquid that tasted just like tea. It reminded him of the blend Hagrid brewed at their last visit. Focusing on the cup also gave him an excuse to avoid looking at his professor's face. He found seeing concern there a great deal more unsettling than the usual scorn. When he drank half the tea Snape removed the cup from his hands.

"While your saint Gryffindor soul was trying to save the salvageable, you managed to acquire a handsome little cold," explained the potions master snidely. "I trust you can handle staying put for a while."

Harry leaned back against the pillows in lieu of a reply.

"Did you take everyone to Saint Mungo's?" he asked remembering why Snape wasn't there yesterday in the first place, and that his friends were among the patients as well.

After the potions master set aside the cup, he appeared to give his full attention to Harry.

"Yes, we successfully transported everyone to the hospital," he replied frankly, which served to further the boy's unease. "And Hogwarts is being…well, let us say dried as we speak."

"Goo…" Harry tried to say, but his words were drowned out by coughs shaking his body.

"Perhaps it would be best if you drank the whole cup," Snape recommended holding out the drink for him. Instead of taking it, Harry leaned back closing his eyes tiredly.

"I can't drink anymore. I would rather sleep now," he whispered squirming around a bit in order to wake up his legs, which seemed to have gone to sleep without him. After a few tries he managed to find a comfortable position.

"I was about to suggest that you do so," he heard Snape's voice, and felt the weight of another blanket being pulled around him. "You suffered hypothermia and we need to stabilize your body temperature. The warming potion helped to avoid the immediate danger, and the brew you just drank should assist further. I called healer Hippocrates, and he will arrive soon to examine you."

Harry smiled opening his eyes a little.

"Oh yes, the Boy-who-lived-again," he managed to say before another coughing fit.

"Would you rather it be the Boy-who-died-of-a-bloody-cold? Because if you don't rest enough that will be high on your list of options," said Snape coolly. "I will check on you later, Potter."

"I preferred Harry," mumbled the boy. "It's okay though, I'm used to Potter."

"Go to sleep, Harry," the professor said not unkindly before softly closing the door.

Harry fell asleep with a small smile.

oO{~S~}Oo

When Harry woke again he felt really warm. Opening his eyes curiously he looked around to check whether Snape was in the room. Instead of the professor he found a messy-haired, middle-aged man sitting on the chair that was pulled up near his bed. The man smiled at him.

"Ah, finally you are awake!" he said enthusiastically proceeding to help Harry sit up.

"Could you help me get out of these blankets?" groaned Harry as he attempted to climb out of bed with little success.

"Of course."

With that the man pealed off most of the blankets leaving only the last one in place, but he pushed Harry back on the bed gently.

"This doesn't mean you are allowed to get up. In fact, I want you to stay in bed for now."

"Who are you?"

The man laughed quietly extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Hippocrates Smethwyck," he introduced himself shaking Harry's hand. Leaning back in the chair he crossed his arms across his chest. Harry pushed up his pillow against the headboard so he could sit.

"I remember, you were Mr. Weasley's attending healer," finally he recalled where he heard the peculiar name before.

"Indeed," nodded the man, and leaning forward he patted Harry's hand in a friendly gesture. "And from now on I'm your attending healer as well."

"But I'm not even…"

"Remember, you are still sick, simply in a different way," said Hippocrates finally rising from the chair. "You had hypothermia and you nearly drowned. Lucky that Severus got there in time, without his immediate aid we would very likely not be talking now. Hypothermia is nothing to be trifled with," he waited for Harry to nod in acknowledgement before continuing. "I will be staying here at Headquarters, and with your help Severus and I can hopefully find a cure for the epidemic. I will leave you to rest. Just came by to ensure that you were on the road to recovery, now I must return to Saint Mungo's."

"But I'm not tired anymore. Why won't you let me get up?" Being ordered to remain in bed reminded Harry of being forced to stay in the infirmary with the fussing Madam Pomfrey. "I told you I was fine," he protested.

"Oh yes, Severus warned me about your temper. You need rest Harry."

With that he hurriedly left the room. Harry lay back turning on his side to sulk, at least while he could hear the healer's footsteps.

"Severus warned ma about your temper," he echoed mockingly in a sing-song voice, sitting up again. "I'm bloody not going to lie in bed when people's lives depend on me."

"I think this may be a good time to start listening to your elders," interjected Trenus, who has been a quiet observer while there was someone else to prevent Harry from doing anything stupid.

"Besides, I'm not willing to sit here uselessly, when they are working in this house," continued Harry standing up carefully. "Where is Snape?"

"Severus?" returned the candle astonished. "Well, where would you guess he was? In the lab working."

Harry walked over to his trunk to grab his favorite sweater then snapped the lid closed. Pulling on the garment he set off toward the door.

"Are you coming?"

"Why would I? So Severus can tell me off for not being able to keep you in bed?" asked Trenus miffed by Harry's blatant disregard for his advice. "No, I'm staying here, alone so I can finally sleep. And before you ask, yes, candles sleep as well!"

"Glad to hear that," retorted Harry closing the door behind him.

He didn't see anyone outside, and the house seemed unnaturally quiet. Walking down the stairs toward the basement he tried to recall which room housed the potions lab. As he painfully summoned up memories of cleaning the place a year ago, he remembered that the last door on the hallway led to a room with cauldrons and jars of potions ingredients.

He stopped for a moment trying to formulate his answer to Snape's inevitable question of why he failed to stay in bed as the healer ordered. Finally deciding that he would improvise Harry knocked on the door and walked in to the room, not waiting for an answer.

Snape stood by the table leaning over a tray of vials as he dipped a root into the one closest to him. He looked up at hearing the door open.

Harry walked up bravely to the other side of the table, undeterred by Snape's raised eyebrows.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked reproachfully as he dipped another piece of root in the next vial.

"No, I'm completely fine," replied the boy resolutely, and looking around the table he continued. "Can I help with something?"

Snape gave him a measuring look leaving his work for the moment.

"Being intimately familiar with your potions grades, I highly doubt that you can be of use here," he said snidely, then pausing he continued seriously. "Did you meet Hippocrates?"

"Yes. He was sitting by the bed when I woke up."

Harry avoided touching anything on the table, but he took a closer look at the bulky encyclopedias piled up at one corner of it.

"I assume he returned to the hospital afterwards without letting me know," grumbled Snape, then he looked over Harry again. "You seriously desire to help?"

Harry sighed resignedly. "You have told me enough times that I'm useless and stupid," he said with some fire, then pointed at the books. "But I could do research reading those. Hermione always does that, and it's damn useful and not dangerous at all."

The potions master walked around to the books.

"All right," he agreed finally picking up the whole stack. "But you must sit there in the armchair."

Harry looked back surprised. He didn't notice that while one side of the room was organized as a lab with selves full of ingredients and cauldrons, the other half resembled a reading corner of a library. In addition to the bookshelves and the reading desk, there were also two worn armchairs by a small fireplace.

Snape brought the books over there, placing them on the desk after rearranging the scattered parchments on it.

"Is something the matter?" he addressed the boy when he still didn't move from the worktable.

Harry just shook his head in response and followed Snape to the other side of the room sitting down in the armchair closer to the fire. The professor handed him a scroll of parchment and the top two books.

"You could start by marking the pages where any of the plants listed on this parchment is mentioned," he instructed placing a small paper box next to the armchair. "You will find bookmarks in here. You can write on them, but do not write in the books."

"I need to look for these in all of those books?" asked Harry incredulously indicating the list on the pasrchment. Snape's only response was a small smirk, nearly resembling a smile.

"You insisted on helping…"

It was true, and Harry had to smile at himself at this new expression of his saving-people-thing, as Hermione always called it.

Snape returned wordlessly to his work, and Harry didn't ask anything after that. He picked up the first volume and began his work with resolve.

A whole hour passed as they worked silently. Harry noticed Snape looking at him occasionally, as if the professor wanted to ask something, but he never did.

In spite of Harry's determination to complete the task, after an hour of reading in the comfort of the armchair his eyelids began to droop, and soon he fell asleep as his book slipped to the floor.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Wake up, you sleepyhead!"

Harry murmured something in response and proceeded to curl up even more, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Harry, wake up," then nudging continued. After a few more minutes of it he realized that the voice he was hearing sounded very familiar. Opening his eyes and looking up blearily he was greeted by a kind smile.

"Remus!" Harry exclaimed in surprise, and tossing off his covers he flew into the man's arms.

"At last! I thought you would never wake up," laughed Lupin hugging the boy. Harry let go of him to sit back in the armchair, dizzy from standing so suddenly. "Take it slowly Harry, you need to rest more."

"No, I just…"

"Yes, you do," interrupted Lupin firmly, pulling the blanket back around the boy. Harry didn't remember having a blanket when he started to read. He looked around for Snape suspiciously, and found him standing at the other end of the room by the lab table.

Lupin reached out to take a steaming mug from the desk. "I remember how annoyed you used to get when Madam Pomfrey kept you in the infirmary overnight. But recovery takes time, and you need to be patient."

Harry took the offered mug holding it with both hands. Taking a sip he looked into the cup surprised.

"I thought I would drop by and make some hot cocoa for you," explained Remus smiling.

Meanwhile Snape, levitating with him the trays of potions he had been working on, walked out of the room closing the door quietly.

At the implication that Remus would be leaving soon Harry's last ounce of happiness disappeared.

"Do you have to leave?"

"Yes," confirmed Lupin. "I must return to my work tonight. But I had to come and see you after all that's happened. According to Severus you were very unwell," he said looking at the boy closely. "Don't worry, I will try to come and visit as often as possible."

"I thought you could stay here at headquarters," said Harry quietly and he looked around the room to make sure Snape hasn't returned. "I don't want to stay here, alone with Snape."

Lupin crouched down next to the armchair to be at Harry's eye level.

"Severus is a good man, but he holds onto some old grudges. He never knew you closely and only saw your father in you, and well…James and Severus were not on good terms," Lupin tried to explain. "In the little time I spent here I noticed that his opinion of you has changed. Spending more time with him, you will realize that he is also different than the unfair professor the students know him to be."

"Yes…maybe," acknowledged Harry unwillingly.

"Well then, don't be so upset about me leaving. Severus can take care of you, as he has already proven."

"Don't remind me," grumbled Harry under his breath.

Lupin ruffled his hair smiling.

"Be good and don't exasperate your professor, he is very busy."

"Of course…take care, Remus!"

The man smiled at him once more, then walked out of the room leaving him alone. Harry finished the remaining hot chocolate and continued his work not looking up when Snape returned with several trays full of clean vials.

oO{~S~}Oo

As the days came and went the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place slowly settled into a routine.

Harry usually had breakfast alone, did literature search in the morning, took lunch alone as well, spent the afternoon continuing his research, and had dinner in the company of Snape. Healer Smethwyck came and went several times during the day, as his work required. On the other hand, Snape didn't seem to leave the lab at all, except when he took dinner with Harry.

Harry's dislike for his professor was slowly overlaid with admiration as he watched the two men labor endlessly to find a cure.

However, he found it odd that the professor diverted every question about the flood at Hogwarts. The man wasn't willing to reveal the reason for his reticence either.

All in all he found the company of the two men agreeable, and their work seemed to be productive. Harry hadn't heard of further fatal cases, not until one day he decided to go down to the kitchen in the afternoon for a little snack.

He reached the turn in the staircase when he heard the noises of a muffled conversation. He was about to clear his throat in order to call attention to his presence, but he decided to abort the action.

"It's here Severus, take a look," Harry heard Hippocrates say.

"I would rather not," responded Snape in a disconcerting voice.

Harry crouched down carefully to peek through between the posts of the railing. Snape appeared to be poring over some foreign journal, intently ignoring the scroll of parchment that Hippocrates was holding out toward him.

"I recommend you read the list," said the healer quietly.

Snape didn't bother to look up from the journal.

"It's enough if you tell me the number, I will look through the details later," he said coolly. Looking at the parchment Harry was suddenly gripped by a strange, cold dread.

"There are Hogwarts students on it," continued Smethwyck.

The potions master seemed to freeze for a moment. Finally, accompanied by a deep sigh, he accepted the parchment.

The room was eerily quiet, and Harry could hear nothing but the loud thrumming of his heart. He didn't dare believe his suspicion: the list couldn't be what he thought it was, not with someone from Hogwarts on it…

Pressing his face closer to the railing he tried to read the truth from Snape's expression.

The potions master appeared to glance over the list very swiftly, until his gaze settled at the bottom of the scroll.

When at last he lifted his eyes to Hippocrates, his face was already schooled into an expressionless mask.

"Is this confirmed?" he asked, his voice even, as he returned the scroll to the healer.

Hippocrates nodded regretfully as he rolled up the parchment and tied it.

Though Snape's face was unreadable, Harry could tell that the man was shaken. He was sure something terrible must have happened to unsettle even the stone-faced professor.

Standing up on shaky legs he forced himself to go down the stairs. It took considerable effort, because his legs weren't acting particularly cooperative.

When the bottom stair creaked under his step, both men looked up at him immediately. He saw Snape's face turning, if possible, even paler, which was a disturbing occurrence in and of its own.

Harry stopped right in front of Snape, who somehow managed to regain his color. He wondered whether Occlumency could enable one to accomplish such a thing.

The potions master closed his journal and addressed the healer, suddenly all business.

"I will certainly let you know about the conclusion, Hippocrates."

For a fraction of a moment Hippocrates stared at him not understanding, then as realization dawned he grabbed his outer robes from the hanger.

"Of course," he donned the cloak, stuffing the documents into a hidden pocket. He nodded toward Harry and abruptly walked out of the room.

"Potter, you haven't had dinner yet, have you?" asked Snape, standing up to leisurely walk toward the kitchen. But Harry was unable to move, unable to pretend that he heard nothing.

"I know, Sir, that something happened…something bad," he called after the professor quietly, which brought the man to a halt. Snape turned around slowly, looking pained as he took a deep breath before he spoke.

"I thought that you haven't witnessed the earlier exchange," ha said carefully. "How much did you hear, Harry?"

"You are calling me Harry again," commented the boy as his heart began to race with fear. "You only do that, when you are seriously worried."

Snape's face closed off completely, but his eyes were an oddly shimmering black. He walked back to Harry but didn't speak.

"Tell me, Sir! What happened?" pleaded Harry fretfully.

"I admit that I believed delaying the news will make it less painful," he said compassionately. "But I realize I can't keep such momentous information from you. Do you know whose names stood on that parchment?"

"I guess…those that died."

Snape nodded once but didn't say anything, as if he was waiting for Harry to be ready; waiting for some sort of permission to continue.

"Who was it?" said the boy so quietly that he couldn't be sure Snape would even hear it. But after a moment's hesitation the potions master reached out a hand to grab Harry's shoulder.

"Seamus Finnigan," he pronounced quietly.

"Wha…" asked Harry hoarsely as the world spun around him. Snape grabbed both his shoulders to keep him steady, as Harry tried to calm down and breathe. "No professor, that can't be! He couldn't have died."

Harry avoided collapsing solely due to Snape's strong grip on his shoulders, while he fought his impulse to cry. He didn't need to add to his misery by breaking down in front of the professor. The man already had plenty of reasons to mock him, and Harry wasn't about to provide further cause for scorn if he could prevent it.

"Take a few deep breaths and calm down," enunciated Snape slowly, but didn't let him go.

"I'm…" his voice was so hoarse that he needed to start over in order to complete his sentence. "I'm fine, just…I just need to be alone."

Snape nodded tersely in response and finally released him. Harry started off toward the stairs with unsure steps, when his teacher called after him.

"Harry, wait."

He stopped to turn desolate eyes back to the potions master.

"I will be in the lab, if you need anything," said the man reservedly. "I shall check on you later. It's not a good idea to stay alone at times like these, only to suppress your grief."

"I don't need your company," said Harry, his voice rough with barely contained emotion.

"Harry, you…" began the potions master only to be interrupted.

"And I don't want you to send your spy after me!"

Snape nodded in acceptance, but his dark gaze followed the boy's steps throughout their ascent up the stairs.

Harry's legs felt like they were filled with lead, and it seemed to take him forever to reach the room he had been staying in since the flood. Opening the door he was about to lay down on the bed, when he noticed the candle on the nightstand.

Stepping up to it, he poked the wax with a finger.

"Trenus, hey! Wake up."

"What? Is the house on fire?" returned the candle not understanding the need for urgency.

"No, it's not," assured Harry grabbing him by the candleholder. "I just want to be alone, if that's not a problem."

"Let me go, now! I can move around fine without you pushing me, in case you haven't noticed."

Harry released his grip, which made the candle tip back with the loss of momentum, but it stayed in the air at the boy's eye level.

"I did notice," retorted Harry pointing at the door. "And now, if you would excuse me!"

As soon as the candle floated out, Harry pushed the door closed and locked it just to be on the safe side. He could hear Trenus complaining outside, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Rolling the covers aside, he laid face down on the bed.

He pulled the pillow over his head trying to calm down without success. Images of a dead Seamus came unbidden to torment him. One of his best friends, and he would never laugh with Harry again, never tell jokes in the common room…

Harry tried to cry, but no tears would come; only an unbearable feeling of loss accompanying the sense of certainty that nothing would ever be the same again.

He clutched the corners of his pillowcase till his knuckles turned white, gasping for air as his chest constricted in pain.

Forcing himself to breathe evenly, perhaps an hour passed before he finally managed to fall asleep.

oO{~S~}Oo

His first thought when he woke was that the wards of the house must have fallen, and the roof of the ancient building was finally collapsing on top of them. Alas, no. Merely someone was knocking on his door non-stop, hard enough to break it down.

"Potter, I'm warning you, if you don't open the door at once I will come in by force and drag you down bodily to dinner!"

That answered the question of the intruder's identity. Massaging the bridge of his nose Harry climbed out of bed feeling lightheaded. He made it to the door and opened it just in time to see Snape draw his wand.

"Finally!" he grumbled, appearing to inspect Harry closely. "How are you feeling?"

Harry looked up disdainfully at his teacher.

"Let's just stay with 'Potter' and mocking! This concern-business doesn't become you," he lashed out defensively. "I preferred when you didn't ask about my well-being and didn't pretend to care!"

"Stop this, Harry!" interrupted Snape appearing very angry all of a sudden. "However unbelievable it may seem to you, I won't allow the Boy-Who-Lived to wallow in misery and die of starvation."

"Well, that's much better," commented Harry, but Snape grabbed both his shoulders as he did in the kitchen not so long ago. The professor turned him around and, against all of the boy's protests, he directed Harry smoothly toward the kitchen.

"Won't you at least ask if I'm hungry?" complained Harry whining as he turned to look up at Snape over his shoulder.

"I thought it was apparent that I wasn't interested in listening to your foolish objections tonight."

Harry tried to wriggle out of the man's grip, but it was too strong, and fighting only made his arms ache. Nevertheless, he kept trying to shake off the hands, until they reached the kitchen, where Snape let go of him after pushing him down onto one of the chairs.

Dinner was already served, and there was cutlery laid out for two on the table. The food smelt enticing, and Harry realized that in the absence of anyone else, Snape himself must have prepared it. With this bizarre thought in mind he watched as the professor took the seat opposite him. Trenus sat at the far end of the table wordlessly. Harry was grateful for its silence, and knowing the candle, he was certain that it was under strict orders not to comment or make fun of him.

Snape took the initiative to serve them: taking Harry's bowl he scooped what looked like a light broth into it. He placed the dish in front of the boy and accompanied it with a threatening look. Harry understood the implications, and once the man served himself, he tentatively took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted better than he expected.

They ate quietly and Trenus maintained his silence as well. The second dish was a roast with potatoes and carrots. Harry found it quite good, and though he didn't feel hungry at all, he was able to stomach some of the meal. After all, he was aware that Snape had no qualms about forcing him to eat by physical means if he deemed it necessary.

Strategically Harry served himself only a few potatoes and steamed carrot pieces along the slice of roast, to ensure that he could eat everything on his plate. Snape didn't seem to object.

Once he chewed and swallowed the last mouthful, Harry wiped his mouth with the napkin standing slowly to confirm that he was not glued to the chair this time.

Snape sipped his coffee, but as Harry stood he looked up with raised eyebrows.

"Are you going to lock yourself up in your room brooding again?"

"I don't think it's any of your business," replied Harry.

"Come back and sit," instructed Snape, and as Harry tried to leave he felt an invisible force pushing him back to the chair.

"You bastard!" Harry cried out in frustration as the stress of the evening overwhelmed him. "Why can't you just leave me alone and find something better to do?"

Snape poured another cup of coffee for himself.

"I could deduct at least hundred points for your behavior," he announced coldly. "However, I will forgive you this once, seeing as your frail nerves must have induced you to forget the manners you must use to appropriately address your elders."

"Are you implying that I've gone mad?" snapped Harry at the insult. The professor just smirked coldly in response, and Harry wanted to pour the remaining soup on his head, or at least throw a few potatoes at him.

"I believe we both know the answer to that question."

The words were dripping sarcasm, and Harry felt like he was back in potions class. As the charm was holding him fixed to the chair, he had to wait for Snape to drink another cup of coffee –his usual evening dose.

Trenus appeared to be sleeping as he stood there without having said a word throughout dinner.

"And now, you will accompany me to the lab," announced the potions master after neatly wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I won't let you sit around in your room moping alone."

Harry listened quietly trying to reign in his temper, as he seethed inwardly at the man's audacity to order him around on a whim. Snape cleaned away the dishes with a wave of his wand, and stopped in front of him.

"What do you want, sir?" asked the boy angrily, having to tilt his head back to look at the man's face. "You know I'm an idiot at potions! And you're right; I can't concentrate on anything right now. But if you just want me to blow myself up, sure, I can come."

Harry completely forgot about the magic holding him to his chair, and standing up in the heat of the argument he noted with some surprise that it was no longer active.

"Well, it's time then that you practiced," clarified Snape bitterly. "Had you taken the effort to ask me respectfully, I would have allowed you to continue reading in the corner. But I see that you must take all my attempts of help the wrong way."

Harry raised himself up slightly on his toes, but even that way he stood shorter than the man's chin.

"Yeah, of course," he said impertinently. "you wanting to help me. You just keep me here to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

Oddly Snape simply shrugged in response.

"If you wish to believe so…"

Harry wanted to throw a few more accusations at his teacher's head, but the man got hold of his arm and quietly led him toward the lab. He let go when they reached the door, and opening it he gestured for the boy to enter.

Harry gave one last murderous look before entering and walking to the armchair closer to the fireplace. The blanket was still there along his encyclopedias and parchments. With a painful sigh he picked up the blanket and sat, while Snape walked up to his workbench wordlessly and began to prepare ingredients.

Harry hadn't believed it possible to describe so many different phases of madness. Immersing himself in his readings he tried to focus on the words, but from every face depicted in the illustrations Seamus appeared to be looking back at him.

He shook his head attempting to rid it from the images, but it wasn't easy to copy the ingredients listed next to the pictures and keeping his eyes from drifting back to them in morbid fascination and self-torture. Curled up in his armchair, he bent over the ancient volume again.

It wasn't long before, plick, plick…plick… a low sound, much alike that of summer rain on the roof, broke the silence.

Harry's tears fell on the old pages of the encyclopedia, and he watched with his throat painfully constricted, as the lines got mussed and the parchment crinkled soaking up the water. He was frozen, trying to keep quiet, yet unable to wipe away the tears with his shaking hands.

Then he felt someone remove the quill from his hand, before it could drip ink into the wet mess. It wasn't necessary to look up, he already knew who must be the person standing beside him.

"Are you okay?" asked Snape softly.

And Harry couldn't pretend to be strong anymore, not in face of the open concern obvious in the man's voice. He shook his head silently in response.

"Let me take this," the professor continued in the same calm voice, taking the parchment from Harry's hand and snapping the book shut. Once they were set aside, the man crouched down next to the armchair just like Lupin did some time ago. "Why didn't you say something? I could have given you a Calming or a Sleeping Draught," he said, but there was no accusation in his voice.

"It's all right. I'll be fine," Harry said hoarsely, and he tried to stand up avoiding looking at the man's face. The professor reached out a hand to gently push the boy back into the armchair.

"No, you will not be fine locking yourself up in your room. I'm not allowing you to close up... or to grieve alone," he said quietly with resolve. The intensity of the man's voice prompted Harry to finally look up. Snape met his eyes quirking an eyebrow.

"Will I need to resort to physical force, as I threatened in the morning?"

"No…but…"

At the inarticulateresponse the potions master's eyebrows shot up even further, if at all possible.

"But?"

Harry squirmed under the man's penetrating gaze, and finally decided to continue observing the floor. It seemed altogether easier than facing the professor.

"You seem to care now…and you didn't use to," he bit out finally.

"I seem?" teased Snape lightly, then he did something unexpected: reaching out he placed a palm under Harry's chin tipping his head back, effectively forcing the boy to look him in the eye. There was no trace of humor in his expression. "I think we both know that one must often present a mask to the world, act the way others expect him to. Don't try to be strong and detached, because grief will suffocate you. It will change you irrevocably."

"You can't understand…"

Snape looked at the boy sharply, but didn't let go of him.

"Can't I? I think you know close to nothing about me, thus you can have no idea of the people I've grieved for."

"Sorry," whispered Harry suddenly feeling even worse. Fully expecting Snape's return to nastiness after his thoughtless accusation, he immediately lowered his eyes again when the man removed his palm from cupping Harry's chin.

Fresh tears followed and he couldn't hide away from the professor. But no snide comments came, and the man didn't leave him on his own either. Rather, he pulled the boy gently forward, and when Harry looked up at him, the man simply said: "Come here."

And though Harry didn't understand what he meant immediately, the potions master put an arm around him and pulled the boy against his chest. Harry wanted to protest, but his mind betrayed him. Absurdly he felt that the man's robe offered a safe hiding place for breaking down. So he allowed the hug and buried his face into the soft, dark material. Feeling the man's heartbeat under his cheek, he finally realized that he didn't need to be ashamed of his grief.

He knew that the hug was supposed to make him feel better, that he ought to stop crying. But suddenly all the pain that he had accumulated over the past months came to the surface, and all he could do was to cry even harder, lest the sorrow would suffocate him.

Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and now Seamus, too. He was lonely all his life, and now more alone than ever.

Snape was patting his back gently, rhythmically, as if consoling a little child after a bad dream. He couldn't think of the man as his hated potions master anymore…the person he got to know in the past few weeks seemed to be so different from the stern figure that swept down hallways with his cloak billowing behind him. It was terribly embarrassing to be comforted like this, but at this moment he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Shhh, it will be all right," said Snape soothingly, in a voice that Harry has never heard from him before. He tried to hide his face from the man completely, before he asked:

"You mean everything else?" he asked, with his throat sore from crying. Then he broke into sobs again. "I've already lost everyone important to me."

He took a few calming breaths and squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow of tears, when two strong hands grasped his shoulders, and he found himself facing his teacher.

"Harry, I understand that you feel very lonely right now," said Snape firmly. "but it won't be like this forever! Your friends will be cured when we find the antiserum and this nightmare will be over."

Harry wiped his face inelegantly rubbing his eyes in the process, but when he looked at his teacher it was with tear-filled eyes again.

"But Seamus will never…" his voice broke and he couldn't continue. Snape withdrew a white handkerchief from his robe, and he handed it over to Harry. The boy took it turning sideways in the armchair, and covering himself with the blanket.

Snape walked over to one of the potions cabinets, and after brief consideration, selected a vial. Returning to Harry, he uncorked the potion and crouching down next to the armchair, he held it out to the boy. Harry pretended not to notice.

"It would make you feel better, if you drank it."

"I don't need a potion," refused Harry obstinately, with his gaze fixed on the table. "And you should go back to work, I don't want to hold you up. But I would like to…" it took incredible effort to pronounce those few words. "I'd like to stay here."

By the end of the sentence his voice was so quiet, that he wasn't sure Snape would hear him.

"You may, of course," the man agreed. "On one condition: you must drink this."

Harry sighed in acquiescence, then turned around to Snape and took the phial. Grimacing he sniffed at the contents, attempting to identify the brew.

"I didn't poison it, Potter," commented the potions master snidely. Before Harry could ask what it was, Snape continued with a mild frown. "If you paid a little more attention in class, you could easily recognize a mild Calming Draught."

Calming Draught…scary to chemically or magically alter his feelings. But as he caught sight of his trembling hand, he agreed that in this case it might be necessary to accept the potion.

"All right," he agreed, drinking the potion up in one big gulp. The constricting sensation in his throat and his chest immediately began to ease, though the sorrow remained. Handing the vial back to Snape, he turned on his side pulling up the blanket all the way to his chin.

"Are you comfortable here?" inquired the professor as he stood slowly.

"Well, this is a first," grinned Harry weakly, following it up with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. Then at Snape's questioning glance he explained drowsily: "You've never asked me such a question before, sir. But, yes, it's comfortable. Only, if I fall asleep, by the time I wake up you shouldn't go back to being like before…to being mean."

Snape remained by the armchair, observing Harry closely, his expression carefully guarded.

"Perhaps you should prepare better for potions classes in the future."

Came the snide reply, but Harry didn't fully listen anymore. He yawned again closing his eyes. He was already halfway in the realm of dreams, when he felt the heat of a fresh fire from the fireplace. A few moments later someone also spread an additional blanket on top of his first one, carefully tucking it in around him.

Snape must have thought that he was asleep, because he moved around even quieter than usual. Harry heard him walk over to the lab bench, and occasionally he could perceive the clinking of a stirring rod against the side of a cauldron.

Harry noted that the professor was actually quite nice when he wasn't preoccupied with disparaging someone. Memories of the last few hours drifted through his mind: Snape comforting him and responding to his concerns, his comment about being forced to wear a mask. The terrible images from the book, with Seamus' face floating to the surface accompanied by painful sorrow. But the sadness was immediately dampened by the potion, and wakefulness slowly gave way to sleep. His last thought was that Snape must have given him a calming draught infused with s sleeping potion…

oO{~S~}Oo

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep, but judging from the conversation he heard, the visitor must have arrived quite a while ago. Unfortunately the potions lab offered no view to the outside, but Harry guessed that he must have woken in the middle of the night.

"Of course, I will definitely inform you of any developments, as I've done so far. Are you staying in London now?"

"Yes. Sadly I feel my time was wasted with the research abroad."

"Not entirely, we can now be certain of the effects of a few more ingredients at least."

"Hmm…" was the only response Harry heard, before a tired silence settled on the room. A creak of a chair followed.

"I think it's time I got some sleep." Snape's voice continued, rough presumably from lack of sleep.

"I must agree. How long has it been since you slept, Severus?"

"I've stopped keeping track…only counting the number of potions tested now."

Footsteps could be heard, and the opening of a door.

"How is he?"

"Tell me Albus, how would you be in his place? You should not have left him alone for the whole summer with his grief. He blames himself."

An impatient sigh.

"We've been over this many times…I better leave now. Take care of him."

"I always did. Good night."

"Good night, Severus."

In spite of his words, Snape continued working for a while. Harry could hear the rummaging, chopping, stirring, and the occasional incantation whispered aloud.

He tried to accept the fact that Dumbledore had returned with empty hands, and the greatest wizard of the century was unable to save his own students. Dozens of healers and potions masters were working on finding a cure, but even in the possession of Harry's blood they haven't succeeded in identifying the cause of the disease. Professor Snape hadn't slept in days, and though he promised Harry that things would be all right, the boy could see doubt in the man's eyes.

The way Harry understood it, someone needed to find out what Voldemort had done in the first place. And who better for the job, than the boy-who-had-a-bloody-connection-set-up-to-the-snakemonster's-mind.

And so, while the professor continued working quietly, believing that Harry was asleep, a plan began to form in the boy's mind.

oO{~S~}Oo

He could find out all they needed in order to cure his friends, if only he managed to break into Voldemort's mind to view his memories. Regrets of not paying closer attention during Snape's Remedial Potions classes flooded him for a moment. But he couldn't afford to think about Sirius, or the other tragedies of his fifth year, now.

In any case, he could not have attempted Legilimency from such a distance, unless he was an expert of Voldemort's caliber at the mind arts. Harry remembered that after his fifth year Hermione tried to tell him about various sorts of mind-linking techniques. After Harry's experience she spent a few days in the library, turning to her beloved books to try to make sense of what happened. And even though Harry didn't want to hear her conclusions, he felt obliged to listen after dragging her to the Department of Mysteries that fateful night.

Not that he paid close attention to her impromptu lecture, but he did recall her mentioning a particular potion. He remembered only because he was shocked to realize that the potion would have enabled him to access the mind of any person who has shared a personal thought with him. Of course according to Hermione's books this was done by sharing a memory in a Pensieve. So with this potion he could read the minds of Professor Snape and the Headmaster, having entered their pensieved memories.

And while he had not seen one of Voldemort's personal memories in a Pensieve, the evil monster has certainly shared his thoughts with Harry through their link. He never would have believed that the dreams, which led him to cause Sirius' death, would help him out in the future.

"This could work." Harry murmured to himself. All he had left to do was to get hold of a vial of that potion, drink it and find out directly from Voldemort what disease was killing his friends.

He could hear the soft clinking noises that he now associated with the Professor stirring a cauldron. Waiting patiently he went through his plan a few more times before he heard the door creak. Snape had obviously left the room, and from the sound of his footsteps Harry thought that the man must have gone down to the kitchen…perhaps to get another cup of coffee.

He opened his eyes slightly and looking around the room carefully he concluded that Professor Snape was indeed absent. Harry hesitated briefly, afraid that the Professor would return any moment. But, true to his Gryffindor bravery, he soon decided that if he was to do something, it had to be now.

Standing quietly he took a few stealthy steps to the potions cabinet. He opened the door, and began to look through the rows and rows of neatly labeled vials. Most were labeled with the Professor's elegant cursive, and he immediately realized that the potions were in alphabetical order on each shelf. It didn't take long to find the vial he wanted, it was on the bottom shelf filed under the correct letter.

Harry was sure that the Professor would never talk to him after this, but if he could save everyone, it was worth it. Even losing the Professor's fragile trust.

Picking up the vial with two fingers, he turned it around observing it from all sides. There was no description attached, not explanation on how to use it, or whether he would fall asleep during the procedure.

"What was he thinking: a procedure? He was about to break into Voldemort's mind for his memories! Perhaps he should think about it as an attack or assault, rather than a procedure." He thought to himself.

Sighing deeply Harry broke the wax stamp on the vial. Once he drank it, he could return to the armchair, and after a nap he would have all the information they needed. Nothing to be scared of, upon waking he would immediately inform Snape about everything.

Telling himself that he would be fine when the Professor resumed hating him, Harry lifted the vial to his mouth. The stench of the potion had him gagging.

"Okay, on three." Harry mouthed, even as he was about to empty his stomach thanks to the smell of the brew. "One…two…three."

After a deep breath he downed the entire vialful of liquid. He faintly noted that its taste was worse than its odor, but after a few deep breaths he was feeling much better. As he took a few steps toward his warm armchair Harry tried to focus on the memories Voldemort had sent him during his fifth year. A few moments passed before new images of horrendous memories started to flick in and out of his mind's grasp.

Walking slowly Harry almost managed to reach the armchair, but his legs gave in and he found himself lying on the ground. The empty vial fell from his grasp, but instead of breaking it rolled away, only to stop under the workbench.

He attempted to pull himself up, but at the same time it felt like he was being transported somewhere with a portkey. Except, this portkey was faulty, and it kept swinging him back and forth between different places.

In the end the potion won. It knocked him out, and he fell back to the floor with his limbs numb. While his body stayed, his mind got transported through space and time to land exactly where he wanted it to: in Voldemort's mind. The monster's memories took him to what looked like a decrepit potions lab, complete with an audience composed of at least a dozen Death Eaters, all wearing black garments and white masks.

They were dangerous, but he was the most dangerous person here. He could smell the pungent odor of their fear, and he remembered punishing each and every one of them before. Punishing them until they cried out in pain, writhing on the floor and pleading for his forgiveness and mercy. Oh yes, he remembered crushing the life out of the ones whom he believed to be traitors. They deserved it; their life belonged to him.

There he stood in front his followers, with a phial in his hands. A phial, whose contents had pushed the wizarding world into the current nightmare.

The potion's effects washed over Harry so swiftly that he wasn't sure he could retain the amount of information he received. But he soon realized that the brew empowered the user to see only, and not to hear the contents of the memories.

He remembered seeing all the dark hooded figures expressing their delight, when upon tossing the phial to the floor of the laboratory it exploded in heavy fumes. He saw admiration on the face of his Death Eaters, a few of whom applauded with pleasure. Then everyone became attentive as they all came up to receive a vial with the potion.

Once all of them had left the building, he walked up to the shelf that held the components of the potion. Having surveyed them with a sense of satisfaction, he destroyed everything without exception, thus eliminating all traces of his work, even those substances which were not used at all.

And then…

Harry woke coughing and angry, disappointed at the inadequacy of the information he obtained. He barely made to get up off the floor, when Snape walked back into the lab. The Professor followed his movements with curiosity, as Harry tiredly moved back to the comfort of his armchair.

His whole body was shaking, and to hide it from the perceptive eyes of the potions master, Harry immediately pulled the blankets over his torso, stuffing his arms under the cover as well.

"I fell down. It must have been a bad dream." He even managed a weak smile as he stammered out his excuse. "Maybe I shouldn't have slept here."

The potions master merely raised an eyebrow in response.

"Perhaps it is time that you slept in your bed." Was his only comment, but he continued observing the boy intently.

"True." murmured Harry, and wrapping himself up in the blanket he tried to make his escape before the professor noticed something.

He almost made it to the door when Snape called after him.

"I will be down here all night if you need me."

If you need me… how strange it was to hear any adult say that. Particularly Snape.

"I will keep it in mind." whispered Harry without looking back.

He pulled the door closed behind him, and slowly made his way toward his room, dragging the blanket along. He felt more and more tired as he got closer to his room. By the time he reached the door, he had to lean against the doorframe to stop from falling.

Somehow he managed to remain standing, and after closing the door he fell down on his bed unconscious.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Ah, my Lucius. That's wonderful. I knew I could trust you to obtain even such a rare ingredient. And how fortunate that Saint Mungo's should keep a stock." Harry commended the blond man enthusiastically, accepting the little wooden chest extended toward him.

Lucius bowed deeply after handing over the box.

"Can I be of service with anything else, my Lord?" he inquired reservedly, but Harry could sense the concealed curiosity that tinged the man's even voice. The prying, however censured, annoyed him and his fingers itched to punish the impudent servant. He needed to remind himself that he already had entertainment, and after all Lucius had just delivered what the others failed to.

"No, that is all. Now leave." He snapped the order that immediately removed the man from his presence. As soon as the death eater left the room, he walked through the back door swiftly, caressing the box in his hand.

The door led to a potions laboratory, and Harry in Voldemort's body walked straight to the sizeable cauldron occupying the center of the room. He barely spared a glance for the black-robed figure crumpled to the floor near the workbench. Regardless, a strong impulse to cast Avada on the shaking heap surged up in his mind. How dare the man fail him? How dare he deny Lord Voldemort?

But as his fingers trailed over the lock on the box, the lid snapped open revealing what he had been waiting for. The man on the floor chose this moment to release a wheezing breath, but Harry merely snorted in response, focused now on the potion in front of him. Carefully flicking his wand he added three small pinches worth of the powder from the box, satisfied as he watched the liquid swirl to an angry crimson.

"Must I remind you of your deadlines once more?" he demanded turning from the cauldron and leveling his wand at the figure still hunched on the floor.

Harry vaguely noted that the man struggling for every breath in front of him is the same black robed potions master who had promised to be around, should Harry have need of him. Yet in the dream Harry watches with delight as the figure groans.

"No…it will be done…tomorrow." Snape choked out, as wracking coughs seized his body.

"I hoped so." Harry answered raising Voldemort's wand. "But to remind you of your duties, Crucio."

He watched with delight as the potions master writhed on the floor, his back arching back in pain, and his teeth clenched against a flood of screams.

oO{~S~}Oo

Harry bolted from his bed drenched in cold sweat. It took him a few moments to get his bearings, and several minutes passed, by the time he realized that he was still at Grimmauld place in complete safety.

He remembered the vague outlines of horrific dreams, in which he saw hundreds of people tortured and killed through Voldemort's eyes. Feeling sick, he recalled that he had personally executed several of them. Well, at least Voldemort did.

And Snape…he had the irrational urge to check on the man. Even though he knew that the memories were just that, past tortures, nothing to be concerned about now. The last time he saw the potions master, the man was healthy, if a bit over-tired. There was no need to dash into trouble just to reassure himself. The professor would immediately realize that Harry had misbehaved and stole one of his potions, and then he would surely loose the man's trust. Forever.

No, he needed to calm down and wash up first. Looking himself up and down Harry realized that he was still wearing his clothes from the day before. Wracking his brain trying to remember what exactly happened after he took the potion, he walked over to his trunk with the intention to dig out some fresh clothes. Leaning forward he soon realized that the potion's effects were not limited to inducing nasty visions. His knees nearly buckled as a wave of nausea hit him, and slowly straightening he tried to fight off the sensation, even as the room continued to reel around him.

He was grateful for the absence of Trenus, who would surely report his condition to the potions master, tattletale candle as he was. Slowly making it to the bathroom, he turned on the shower setting the temperature to cool.

Allowing the water to sooth away some tension, he stood there as images from Voldemort's memories kept assaulting him. He felt dirty, soiled by sharing the monster's thoughts and feelings. Harry stood under the cold water until he started shivering, then wrapping a towel around his waist he went to arrange the bed linen to look like he had slept peacefully.

Dressing quickly Harry stepped out to the hallway. There were an unexpected number of people walking around in the normally deserted mansion. Harry didn't recognize any of them, so he directed his steps toward the kitchen, hoping to find Snape there. Surprisingly along with the professor, Mrs. Weasley also sat at the table. Both adults appeared careworn, and Harry's morning nightmares were immediately forgotten in favor of real fears.

"Did something happen?" he croaked, startling both of the adults.

Mrs. Weasley jumped up immediately, engulfing Harry in one of her stereotypical hugs.

"Oh Harry! I'm so glad to see you!" She held him out at arms length to get a better look, and then continued with a sad smile. "No, nothing happened…their condition is unchanged."

Harry released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

"I was afraid…that…" his voice broke, and he focused his eyes to the floor.

"No. Don't worry." Assured Molly, squeezing both of his shoulders. "Their life is not in danger. They are merely…sleeping." Molly glanced back at Snape before continuing. "But I must leave now. Take care, Harry."

He could only nod in response, as Mrs. Weasley bustled out, briefly looking back from the door.

"I visit them every day. Don't worry, everything that can be done is being done for them."

Harry looked up only to watch her retreating back, then walked to the dining table to take a seat.

He reached for the breadbasket to get a slice of toast and scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate, all the while observing Snape from beneath his brow. The professor was poring over the Prophet, having poured himself a fresh cup of his usual morning tea. Seeing that clearly, the man was not suffering the effects of Voldemort's Cruciatus, Harry scoffed at himself for worrying. In fact, with newspaper in hand the professor appeared to be an entirely different person from the death eater that had crawled at his feet in the memories.

Harry knew the man as a spiteful, bullying teacher who abused his authority at every turn, and made Harry suffer since his very first potions class. Yet the person sitting in front of him looked neither like the death-eater-turned-spy, nor the bitter professor with sadistic tendencies. He appeared tired, worn thin by nights of experimenting and the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. His expressionless face revealed nothing, but his eyes shone with determination, underlined by dark smudges, the echoes of countless sleepless nights.

Harry didn't notice that his staring claimed the man's attention, distracting him from his newspaper.

"Mr. Potter, you look rather worse for wear." He said critically. "Did you not sleep?"

Harry broke off a piece of the toast he had been holding and sent one last guarded look at the professor. Feeling embarrassed for being caught staring, and afraid that the man may employ Legilimency and discover his night's activities, Harry was immediately on the defensive.

"Why does it matter? It's none of your business anyway." He said evenly as he stuffed his mouth with toast, pretending to be ravenous.

Snape raised his brows, and returned his focus to the paper.

"No. You are right of course." He said noncommittally. "I have only been looking out for your well-being since you set foot in Hogwarts. Naturally, I wouldn't care if your Gryffindor behavior pushed you into danger." Pausing for effect he pierced the boy with a pointed glare. "Again."

Memories of Snape disobeying and infuriating him flooded Harry's mind. Voldemort's thoughts surfaced, accompanied with the anger and irritation he felt at the dark-clad man in front of him. Harry breathed deeply, attempting to superimpose this morning's worry over the alien thoughts. He nearly succeeded, when memories of Snape taunting Sirius in this very kitchen slipped to the forefront. Slamming his fork down, Harry glared at the man calmly reading on the other side of the table.

"I don't know how many times you feel you must point out my idiocy." He questioned. "Yes, I know, if I had learnt Occlumency I would not have listened to Voldemort, and then Sirius would still be alive."

Snape lowered his paper to look at the heavily breathing boy, who cast down his eyes and began observing the tabletop with seemingly acute interest.

"Certainly." Came the professor's measured response, as the man leaned slightly forward, all the while leveling his intense gaze at the red-faced boy. "And had I taken my promise to get to know you before judging your character, we would not be here either. But when your temper tantrum's so effectively call forth the memory of your sainted father, I have a hard time returning your insults with civility, you understand."

Harry sat there for a moment agape, trying to process what he heard.

"A promise?" he finally managed to ask, still not comprehending. Snape had not only implied that he had been trying to act civil toward Harry, but also came very close to openly admitting his responsibility in Sirius' death.

"Indeed, Potter," he returned scathingly. "I'm sitting here with you because of the manipulations of an old man. Ever since Black died, I have kept a close eye on you, as the Headmaster was reluctant to do so." The professor paused feigning like he was faced with a difficult puzzle. "His decision may have had something to do with the complete destruction of his office furniture at your able hands…"

The last sentence had Harry blushing so fiercely that he decided to take a closer look at his breakfast scramble. His nausea returned full force as soon as he lifted the fork and a whiff of the smell reached his nostrils. Ignoring his food in favor of a cup of tea, he reluctantly recalled that even though the school year had started miserably for him, it had not been Snape's fault this time.

In fact, the professor let slip several of his misdeeds in potions class. And while he did assign many detentions, none of them were with Filtch. Seeing it in a different light, Harry realized that they allowed the potions master to keep a closer eye on him. His grimace at the thought seemed to prompt Snape into further admissions.

"As hard as it is for me to believe, you are not nearly comparable to your father," he continued quietly, clearing his throat. "Albus is usually right, and I do see it now. He was correct when pointing out our resemblance in face of my protestations against teaching you last year. I'm not blind enough to deny that I have unfairly judged you as an arrogant, spoilt child."

Harry felt acutely uncomfortable hearing the professor's words. Yet, he found it hard to believe that the man, who had spent five years torturing and humiliating him in school, had done it due to a misunderstanding. Deciding to voice his doubts, he raised his eyes to the professor's face.

"Why should I believe that you have been watching out for me?" he asked, surprised that his words came out with such vehemence. "Each time you saw me in the hallway, and every time I dared to take a breath in potions class you did nothing but belittled me and humiliated me in front of my friends!"

Snape leaned back and crossed his arms before delivering his answer.

"As I've said, memories of you father are all too easy to call forth. You resemble him greatly, at least in appearance…and some memories are hard to forget." The professor said obligingly. "There are many things in my past, which I prefer not to talk about. Among them are several ignominies I have suffered at your father's hands. In addition to the ones you already are aware of." He added at Harry's questioning look.

Harry was about to inquire of the nature of these events, but taking a closer look at the man's face he realized that it must have cost tremendous effort for the professor to share this much.

He returned to his barely-touched breakfast with a sigh, as the mention of his father's past behavior added to the guilt he already felt. Harry slowly managed to swallow one bite of the scramble, but he felt too queasy to attempt another forkful.

Trenus decided to join them at his moment, and Harry used his entrance as a cover to push his plate aside. With no distraction, his mind immediately wandered back to the tortures he dreamt of.

"Potter!" he heard Snape call out, as the man snapped his fingers an inch from his face. "Did you hear me?"

Harry refocused his eyes with some effort.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I didn't." he admitted quietly.

"Potter," the man repeated. "I asked whether you felt up to assisting me in the lab, assuming you have nothing better to do… I need to prepare several ingredients for the next round of testing."

"Of course." Came the instantaneous reply as the boy immediately jumped up from the table. He gulped down the last of his tea, while Snape stood and cleared away the leftovers with a swish of his wand.

"I just arrived, and both of you have to leave less then a minute after?" whined Trenus from the corner of the table.

"Yes, and make sure you don't follow us, the lab is no place for an irritating candle." Cut in Harry, before Snape could reply. "You would probably annoy me into exploding this entire place."

"For once I agree with Potter." Harry heard Snape announce, while he already took off toward the lab. "Stay here, and find some other way to entertain yourself."

"But…"

That’s all Harry heard, as Snape arrived and after the door closed, the charms on it have been activated.

"I assume when you’ll be hungry, you’ll tell me." sighed Snape when he reached the table to start the work.

Harry went to the other part of the table and took the ingredients, which have been carefully sorted on the tray.

"Yes, I’ll tell you." he growled.

Snape gave him another tray.

"You should check these as well." he told then looked at the hearth. "Did you finish collecting all the data?"

Harry decided, as his stomach was still queasy, he’ll start the checking with the roots and not with disgusting floating things.

"Yes, I finished them all."

Snape went to the small table silently, and would have returned in a minute if not for a soft tinkling voice.

Harry first wondered why did Snape bend over, but then he realised – he was in big trouble. Snape took up the small vial he found, studied it for a minute, and then went back to the table, standing before it.

Of course, it was easy for Snape to find out. Harry, seeing the look of the potions master, wanted to flee, but knew, it would not be a solution. He gulped and turned to the professor.

"I can explain it." he said weakly.

Snape’s brows almost rose to the sky, after hearing this.

"I’m really curious" he exclaimed, and Harry took a step back, cowed. "Do you have any idea, what are the consequences of drinking such a potion? "

"What are the consequences…?" asked Harry, clearly alarmed.

The potions master rolled his eyes.

"Oh, Merlin. And I was wracking my brain, what kind of symptoms you show from this morning." he told angrily, and then checked the boy more thoroughly. "I don’t remember how much was in that vial. Was it full and you did drink it all?"

Harry’s mouth was parched and he could not utter a word.

"Yes" he finally admitted.

"What did you gain from using it?" he asked, still angrily. "I always forget that you are an idiot Gryffindor." he continued after a pause. "By the way, how long did you plan to keep it secret? Or did you think I am an idiot, who would accept that you gained the information using occlumency, despite that I know the effects of the potion quite well?"

"No, but…"

"None of it, Potter!" Snape roared. "If you would have paid attention at the beginning of the year, when I taught this potion, you would know that it is not a game! Never mind, that it might probably be outdated, but what about the psychic traumas – how much do you want to burden yourself with?"

Harry just realised, that the shouting happened because Snape was definitely worries about him.

"I don’t have any trauma, I can handle, what I saw." he faltered softly.

"Oh of course, as the disgusting and harsh torture Voldemort inflicts equals to an evening chat?" snapped Snape then went closer his robes billowing. "I think, Potter, that you need full supervision, to curb your saving people instincts!"

This was too much for Harry. He clenched his fists and looked up at his professor.

"I don’t have saving people instincts, I just don’t want that…" he had to restart the sentence, so as not to start bawling like a five year old, "I don’t want that everyone would die because of me!"

Snape just shook his head.

"The fact that you for some reason are not ill, does not mean that you are responsible for it!" he proclaimed, and took Harry by the shoulders. "Listen, Potter. There is something for which you are unique, but you are not responsible for what is happening! Sooner or later I will find out, why you are so important in this vicious circle, and will find the serum."

Harry’s green gaze was extremely sad.

"But it may be too late."

"It might be" said Snape seriously. "So we should not waste the time any more.

oO{~S~}Oo

The potion was purged from Harry’s system in the following days, after torturing him with nightmares, and he finally could sleep. Of course it happened in the lab on the table, when Snape left him for half an hour by himself.

When he awoke, he was a bit surprised finding himself in his own bed, and not still at the table. Snape appeared and told him to relax a bit more, and he’s needed to work only next day.

The days passed quietly, with experiments from morning till evening, and some blood loss, as he had to provide some each time. After some explosions, with much cursing, Snape stated that not only Harry’s blood contained the solution, but something else as well.

When Harry did not help with the potions, he was sitting before the hearth with parchment and quill, trying to remember, what kind of potions or phases he saw when the virus was created. In the end both of them spent even the meals there.

Of course Harry just pretended eating. He secretly learnt the charm from Snape, how to banish all kinds of food and drink. He could not swallow a bite, he was so dispirited. Of course Snape tried to comfort him in his own way, but it did not help.

When it finally seemed, that they had a breakthrough with the blood, something happened.

Something happened that changed everything.

First he did not realise it, just when he tried to sprinkle some crashed teeth from a vial to a potion.

"Jesus" he mumbled, as he put the two clinking vials on the table. He held out his hands before him, and his heart rate accelerated as he saw his hands trembling.

Snape went out for something important into the storage room. Harry was so frightened, that he could not utter a word, even to call for help.

He just looked at his trembling hands and waited for the inevitable.

So that was it. Though they were already on track with Snape, maybe with his dreams they could have reached it, but now… As he thought back, yesterday evening and today as well he overturned the jug with the pumpkin juice. Maybe then he was already ill?

Suddenly strange voices interrupted him in his contemplation, voices that seemed very real.

"Harry, come with us" said someone in Ron’s voice, when he turned in that direction.

"You won’t be alone any more, you don’t need Snape" continued the image of Hermione.

They could not be real! Harry was trembling fully now, he had to catch the table not to fall over.

"No… you are not real" he mumbled perplexed, as his two friends came closer.

"Well, you could call us as your conscience, too" mused Ron.

Harry’s legs gave in and he started to feel dizzy. He still clung to the table, then managed to overturn the whole tray full of vials, and collapsed on the floor.

He put his hands on his ears so as not to hear the demanding voices of his friends, which became more and more loud, while repeating like a mantra: "This is not real, this is not real."

Somewhere near bordering madness he felt, that someone caught his face in their hands. The voice was also familiar.

"Harry! Listen to me, to my voice! Harry!"

"I can’t! They are too loud" Harry stated, and closed his eyes even more.

There was something cool at his lips, which felt good on his warming face. He just swallowed the liquid, as best as he could. His muscles became lax, and the voices seemed to become low.

"Harry, are you awake? Harry, do you listen to me?" asked the loudest voice.

Harry hardly could stay awake; he did not want to fight but just wanted to feel the calming, careless silence…

"Ye… s…" he faltered hoarsely.

He felt, that someone raised him from the cold stone, while he realised in a half-trance, that there’s no way back. He also became ill.

He whimpered as the pain in his arms became stronger, as someone carried him… but it did not count, as he finally lost consciousness.

The calming numbness and the pain in his arm made him realize that he was not in heaven yet, though he found the assumption that he might be there quite cheerful. It was a bit painful to move, so he only managed a small movement on the pillow, with a quiet groan.

"Harry?" asked a stunned voice right by him, and someone kindly stroked his face. "Are you awake?"

Harry slowly opened his eyes to find a very pale face looming over him.

"Rem… us…" he murmured.

Lupin’s pale face brightened and he tightened his hold on Harry’s hand.

"Stay put," he said quietly. When Harry tried to speak, he put his finger to the boy’s lips. "Don’t speak, save your strength. You had a very bad night, try to rest."

Harry nodded once and turned a bit to his side. Lupin helped him to tuck in the covers. Harry started to remember some unpleasant things: he had cried out in his dreams for each Order member when he’d realized there was no escape. Possibly that was why he didn’t have much of a voice. He closed his eyes again and tried to forget the shocking memories as he heard someone else enter the room.

"Remus, did you call…?" asked Tonks.

"No, but it’s good that you’re here," answered Lupin while stroking the boy’s head. "Harry just regained consciousness. We have to inform Severus."

There was a moment of silence.

"Stop joking," the witch grumbled, "he couldn’t have woken up."

Harry opened again his eyes tiredly and tried to focus on the pink blob across the room.

"I’m... awake," he croaked.

"Oh! Okay, I believe you," Tonks murmured. " Severus is at Saint Mungo’s, I think… I’ll go and floo call him. I’m sure he’ll be here soon."

"I’m sure as well," Lupin added. Harry saw the pink blob leaving, and decided to give in to his tiredness.

Remus started stroking his hair again. Harry knew it must be strange for Remus to see him awake as this was thought to be impossible. Harry had a dozen questions, but he was overcome by drowsiness and fell back asleep before he could ask any of them.

oO{~S~}Oo

When he awoke next, it was much darker, perhaps already evening, as the twinkling candlelight implied. He was lying on his side and seemed to be alone. Then he saw his usual spy on the nightstand and smiled sadly.

"Good evening, young master," said Trenus kindly. "It’s good to see you awake."

Someone walked to the bed and sat on it, beside him. Harry managed to turn onto his back, which was not easy due to his throbbing arm, and saw the usual black robe.

"How are you?" asked Snape anxiously.

Harry swallowed to make the bitter taste in his mouth disappear. "Atrocious…" Harry murmured. "What happened?"

Snape reached to the side, grabbed a rag, and wetted it.

“Besides scaring everyone, you mean?” Snape asked derisively while cautiously sponging Harry’s face. “When I went into the storage room for another tray, I heard something crash in the lab. By the time I arrived, you were already on the floor, among shattered potions bottles, and in great pain. I managed to make you drink a potion just in time, which put you into a coma, before … before something worse happened.”

Harry caught the unsaid words. It was plain that he would not have been able to regain consciousness had Snape not intervened when he had.

"But… I’m here."

"Indeed," agreed Snape, wetting the rag again. "I thought Nymphadora was joking about your condition when she fetched me. A bit later, when I arrived, I saw that you were sleeping quite peacefully, though you should have been in a coma."

Snape put the rag on the boy’s forehead.

"Something tells me I … won’t be playing quidditch for a while," Harry said as he touched his aching arm with his good hand.

"Yes," Snape agreed, still not leaving the bedside. "When you collapsed, you overturned everything that was on the table. A piece of glass cut your arm, but you were otherwise unharmed. The glass was from a quite dangerous potion, though, so your arm will be sore for awhile. In the evening, if you are not able to sleep, I will give you something for it."

Harry was fed up with being ill. "When can I get up?" he asked

Snape raised his brow. "You have a fever and aches. What do you think, Potter?" he sniped angrily.

"I feel much better," Harry interjected.

"No." The potions master got up from the bedside, but did not leave; he just crossed his arms. "There will always be someone with you, to check on you," he stated.

Harry took the rag in one hand and sat up clumsily. "I do not need a keeper!"

Snape stooped a bit and continued derisively. "That is not the reason, Potter. But you are the only one who has awoken from this. Several hundred witches and wizards remain in a coma," he informed the boy. Then his face darkened. "Someone has to be here in case… your condition worsens. To help you."

Harry forgot his nightmares for a moment. He froze when he realized that his friends were still in the hospital, in a coma. Snape must have sensed it because he tried to distract Harry.

"I’m going downstairs to get something to eat. I’ll bring you up something as well. You need to regain your strength," he stated with finality. "Stay put and rest."

Before Harry could argue, Snape left the room. Harry lay back tiredly, putting the rag into the basin of water.

"Is there a problem, young master?" Trenus asked.

Harry had totally forgotten that the candle was even there.

"No, nothing," he said quietly, but then he blurted out: "Trenus… is Professor Snape always like this? I mean… first it seems like he likes me, then he starts to mock me like…" Harry swallowed. It was difficult to utter the words. "Like he still hates me."

The room was silent for awhile.

"You know, young master, my master is an enigmatic man," said the candle, "but I can assure you that he likes you a lot."

Harry chuckled softly, but the jostling made his arm hurt, so he stopped.

" Snape liking me a lot… sounds quite morbid."

"No. It is not," Trenus stated. "You have not known him as long as I. He has suffered a lot these past years, and it finally seems that there is someone he cares for. And that someone is you. Both of you are full of pain and lonely… and this is a situation where you need each other. You need support, which as far as I know you did not receive until now, as you did not have parents, and my master… he never had a family either, though he would have liked one. Now here’s an opportunity for both of you not to be lonely anymore."

Harry clumsily straightened the blanket and closed his eyes. The candle was right again, as always. That was very annoying. It never occurred to Harry that there could be a man who could care about him like a real father. There was Remus… but Remus could not fill the role because he was a werewolf, and he was hardly around anyway.

"You know what, Trenus," Harry murmured, "I think I’ll sleep a bit."

"Good, young master. I’ll stay to guard you."

Perhaps now he could sleep and have some good dreams, where a mean potions master would not play an important role, but a totally different man … one who cared for him and wouldn’t let him come to harm.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Professor?" asked Harry drowsily when he awoke and felt that he was not alone.

"No, it’s Remus," came the answer. Remus clasped his hand, while Harry opened his eyes and looked up at the smiling man.

"Don’t ask how I am," Harry stated promptly when Lupin was about to say something, "’cause I’m really well."

Remus released Harry’s hand and sat back in the chair.

"Fine, I won’t ask," he said with a smile.

As Harry considered him more closely, he saw how pale and worn out the man looked, even though they were past the full moon.

"I brought something for you to eat."

Remus motioned toward the nightstand where Harry could see, even without his glasses, how full the tray was with food. Harry slowly sat up, and Lupin handed him his glasses.

Harry adjusted the blanket and Remus put the tray in his lap. As Harry looked at the food, his appetite vanished.

"You have to eat it even if it looks strange," Lupin said, smiling, as he sat back. "That is a direct order from Severus. You have to eat to get your strength back."

Harry picked up a piece of lettuce. It was only one of the many disgusting green things on the tray. "I’m not a goat," he grouched, then became a bit happier when he found some toast beneath the vegetables.

Lupin laughed, but Harry was not amused.

"I see you find this funny," Harry snapped.

Lupin sat forward a bit and propped his hands on his knees.

"No, not at all," he said apologetically. His voice changed as he continued: "You just don’t know how glad I am that you are awake." Then his voice became very quiet. "I didn’t think you’d wake up… until we had the serum."

Harry’s eyes fell. "I’m sorry."

"No problem," Lupin said kindly as he took something from the nightstand. "This is for you. I thought I’d bring something delicious to counteract this… dinner."

Harry took the steaming mug with relish. "Thanks, Remus," he gushed as he recognized the hot cocoa.

"I see you are quite well now," Lupin stated, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Some hours ago you had a fever. Severus also told us that you looked very ill. He made you drink some tea and gave you some potion. I think it really helped."

"I’m definitely hungry now," said Harry, mouth still full. Consuming the last of the toast, he added, "and I don't feel sick at all."

When he finished eating, leaving some vegetables on the tray, he looked at the man with a questioning glance. "Where is professor Snape?" he finally blurted. One half of him wanted Snape here, the other half of him was glad to have only the company of Lupin.

Lupin took the tray from him and put it on the nightstand. "I don’t really know. He’s been commuting between St. Mungo’s and the lab here," he said finally. "I think they’ve realized that there is a connection between you and the disease."

Remus raised his hand to stall Harry from interrupting. "No, I don’t know anything, before you even ask. Severus only disclosed that he and Hippocrates are closer to the solution. He said he’ll visit you when he returns later this evening."

"Fine," Harry mumbled, and straightened the pillows behind his back. But he did not want to lay back down. Even more, he did not want to spend any more time in bed. "Please tell me I can get up, Remus!" He looked at the man beseechingly, but Lupin wore a resolute expression.

"You can’t get up," he said strictly. "Even if you look healthy, you are not yet." Lupin stood up and covered him, while Harry looked on angrily.

"Do you have any idea how much time I spent in the infirmary during my Hogwarts years?" Harry asked angrily.

"Well then, I think you’ll manage a few more days. I have to go now; I have some things to arrange," Lupin declared as he took the tray. "Please, Harry, get some rest." Remus gave him another warm smile then left the room.

As Harry watched him go, he realized that Trenus was not in the room. Harry waited while Lupin’s steps faded, then got up to find his clothes.

He didn’t have to search long. He found his trunk in the nearest corner. He took his warmest sweater and trousers, then donned his ragged sneakers. He opened the door silently and peeped out; no one was in sight.

He couldn’t have been left alone. Snape said there would always be someone with him. It was quite late though; maybe everyone was already asleep.

He snuck into the corridor, then to the staircase, and then started down the stairs.

"What are you doing?!?" cried a familiar voice.

Harry nonchalantly passed the floating candle as he proceeded down the stairs. "I’m going down to the dining room, what do you think?" asked Harry insolently.

In the meantime, Trenus had caught him up and was floating just in front of him.

"You cannot just get up!" he exclaimed. "It’s not allowed. You are still sick!"

"Shhh!" Harry whispered, putting his finger to his lips. "Be quiet! You’ll wake up the whole house!"

"At least then someone will take you back to bed," countered the candle.

Harry sighed resignedly. "Trenus… calm down. If you come with me to the kitchen, you can guard me there, can’t you?" he asked. "I won’t do anything wrong, just get the books from the lab and try to make myself useful while Snape is out."

Trenus seemed to be thinking this over; at least he’d ceased shouting. "Fine" he agreed. "But you cannot stay long, as you have to get some sleep."

Trenus floated to the kitchen and stopped at the end of the table. Harry went to the lab quietly and brought the tomes back to the kitchen in one hand. He had to return once more as he also needed parchment.

He sat down and opened the book he’d previously perused to continue his work where he’d left off. But the marker was somewhere else now. One page was marked with a large piece of parchment that was covered in ink.

"I remind you, young master, that if I see that you don’t feel well or are sleepy, I’ll call for help," Trenus said, then continued to himself, "when my master arrives, that’s it… I didn’t want to spend my last years in a crappy museum, but Severus will surely arrange for it now…"

Harry looked at him angrily. "Trenus! Please grumble less. I’m trying to read here." It was an exaggeration, of course. The parchment was illegible. Someone knew their Latin, obviously, to be able to write two pages of it fluently. As Harry was about to set the parchment aside, he noticed some notes which he could actually read. He raised it closer to his eyes to interpret the fussy script:

Something, due to which not everyone became ill …

Something that caused the virus to not fully affect them.

Maybe a compound… or some small ingredient.

The only connection which all have… the magical power …

The only explanation for who became ill when.

Harry frowned at the parchment for awhile longer as he thought over what he’d read. He did not understand what was written. Both Hermione and Ron were strong wizards. True, children tended to become ill sooner, but there were some adults as well …

He put the script back in the book and turned to a page where there were no notes and began reading.

Maybe an hour had elapsed when he heard someone struggling with the lock, probably in an effort to enter as quietly as possible. Then there was silence for awhile. When Harry finally looked up from the book, he found Snape, covered in a bit of snow, with a thunderous expression on his face.

"Which part of ‘stay in bed’ was not comprehensible to you?” Snape asked angrily while brushing snow off his coat. Pulling it off,  he placed it over the back of a chair.

Harry glared back. "I told Trenus that if there were any problems that he should call for help, so don’t be …"

"Potter!" Snape thundered and Harry dropped the book, loosing his place in the process. "When will you finally comprehend that even if you’re fine, you need to rest?"

"I think I spent enough time in bed," Harry said while trying to find his place in the book.

Trenus chose that moment to interrupt. "I did everything I could, master, but the boy was adamant," he apologized.

One look from Snape shut him up.

"Christmas is coming and there are a lot of nice vendors. I met a very kind collector of antiquities," Snape growled.

A moment later, Trenus seemed to have gulped, though Harry could have sworn that was not something a candle could do. Snape, in the meantime, sat down in front of him. He clasped his hands together and looked at Harry searchingly.

"I’m fine, really!" Harry repeated. Trenus stayed quiet.

"You say that now, but you could be wrong," Snape declared. "How often have you said you were fine when that was not the case? Hmm? Quite often, I think."

Harry threw down his quill impatiently. "What makes you think that?" he asked indignantly. "That never happened!"

"That’s what you say."

"Leave it," Harry mumbled and rubbed his eyes tiredly under his glasses. "I think I really should go to sleep now… I’m quite tired from deciphering all of these technical terms and everything."

The potions master went to the stove to pour some tea for himself. He returned but did not sit down.

"You will get up, collect your things, and go up to bed, now," he stated grimly, and then drank some tea. He picked his coat up from the chair and went to hang in on the coat rack while Harry angrily packed up the books on the table.

"I knew when you came," he said loudly, "that the first thing you’d do was start firing off commands at me." Suddenly he froze, his heart jumping in fright.

Snape returned with his mug. "What’s the problem, Potter?"

Harry looked with frightened eyes at his teacher, who realized in a minute why Harry was so afraid. He quickly went to the boy and crouched down before him to check his trembling hands.

"Sir, this does not mean that I’ll become sick again, does it?" asked Harry in a quavering voice, while Snape took both of the boy’s shaking hands in his.

"How long have they been trembling?"

Harry gulped and felt his whole body start to tremble, just like last time.

"I don’t know," he faltered. "I was just writing, and there was no problem... Oh my god, the hallucinations will start soon."

Snape released Harry’s hands and took him firmly by the shoulders. "Harry, calm down."

"That’s easy for you to say!" Harry exclaimed, panic setting in.

Snape touched the boy’s forehead and was shocked. "When I arrived you seemed totally healthy, and now you are very pale and running a fever," he said, deep in thought. "I don’t understand it. Lupin said you had a healthy appetite and you felt well."

Harry put his trembling hands in his lap, while his professor took a vial from his robe.

"I don’t want it!" Harry argued. "I won’t drink it again! It will go away… I had no problem just before and as you said, I was hungry and all…"

"It will be necessary if things escalate," Snape told him coldly, while pulling Harry’s lower eyelid down to check him thoroughly. "At the moment, you are only showing the initial symptoms, nothing more serious… but the fever is alarming."

"Alarming?" asked Harry frightened. "It is also alarming that I am ill in a totally different way than the others!"

Snape didn’t seem to hear him.

"When you awoke, you felt awful. But later, when I arrived, you’d slept," he mused. Harry waited with his lips pressed tight. "And you were well at dinner, but not now."

"Remus told me," said Harry finally, trying to suppress the quiver in his voice, "that you made me drink something, while I was half asleep."

The potions master was still contemplating him. "Yes, that’s true … What did Lupin give you for dinner?" Snape asked suddenly.

Harry remembered all of the disgusting provisions, but said only: "The vegetables you wanted me to eat and … cocoa."

"Cocoa," Snape repeated, like this was the first time he’d ever heard of the drink. "And tell me, what did you eat before you became ill?"

Oops. "Uhh… you won’t kill me if I tell you the truth?" asked Harry quietly.

"It depends. So?"

"I learned the charm from you and I… banished everything you brought me to eat and drink," he finally blurted.

Snape, in the meantime, cast a drying charm on his thick coat and put it on Harry, who gladly pulled it around himself.

"Professor, what does it mean?"

"It means… Potter," drawled Snape, looking him in the eyes, "that you were able to avoid becoming ill because you ate or drank something that acted as a preventative. Once you started skipping meals, you fell prey to the disease."

Harry puckered his brows in thought.

"I ate something different for dinner every night, either pasta or potatoes …"

"Merlin!" Snape cursed. "It all adds up! There is something, which together with someone’s magical power, defines how ill they will become..."

 "I always ate something different," said Harry slowly, "but I always drank the same … oh no."

Harry looked at Snape, feeling like a lamp had been switched on in his head. They both looked at the mug on the table.

"The tea,” Snape breathed. “I received it from Hagrid some months ago and brought it here so that the Order members could drink it."

Harry gathered his coat more tightly around himself to stop the shivering, but it was no use.

"A quirk of fate  that the solution was before us the whole time and we did not realise it," Snape mumbled, then he stood up. He went back to the stove and poured another cup of tea for Harry. When he returned, he gave it to the boy.

"I don’t think I have to prod you now to drink it," Snape mocked as he crouched before Harry.

Harry took the mug in both hands, but still it might have spilled if Snape hadn’t helped him steady it. He drank as much as possible. Stopping when the mug was half-full, he looked questioningly at the professor. "The tea is the solution?" he asked. "If everyone drinks it, they’ll recover?"

Snape sighed resignedly. "No, Potter," he said, going into lecture mode. "It does not work like that. The tea is the solution, but not directly. It contains something that helped you to heal today." He stood up suddenly. "But now it is important that you return to your room and rest while I consult Hippocrates."

Harry stood up to demonstrate his strength, but immediately grabbed the edge of the table so as not to fall down.

"I received this tea from Hagrid, like you!" he said, determined. "So we have to go to him as soon as possible, and ask where…" Snape started to spin, together with the room, and the table suddenly seemed unable to support him.

"Would the sky fall down if you stayed put for once?" asked Snape reproachfully, and took Harry’s arm so that he would not fall.

Harry saw strange stars that were followed by bright circles. Snape helped him out of the kitchen and assisted him up to his room. Snape cautiously put the boy on the bed and covered him with a blanket. Harry blinked up at the black figure when Snape removed his glasses. "What will you do now?" Harry asked.

"First, I’ll ascertain that you will stay put. Then I’ll inform Hippocrates about the developments, and tomorrow we’ll visit Hagrid, and Albus as well." Snape summoned the mug from the kitchen non-verbally. "It would be good if you drank the rest."

"I don’t think… I could manage it," Harry mumbled as his eyes slid shut. He had a feeling that he heard the voices, like the first time.

Snape persisted. He sat on the bed, helped the boy into a sitting position with one hand, and held the mug with the other. "You have to, Harry."

Harry could have sworn that if Snape had called him Potter, he would not have drunk it… but this was different. Harry took the mug in his trembling hands and slowly drank the rest. By the time he finished, he felt nauseous from the taste.

Snape took the mug and helped him to lie back.

"You don’t have to wait until I fall asleep," said Harry in a trembling voice. "I’m okay… go and do what you need to do."

A sigh then the billowing of robes. "Fine, I’m going."

This sounded much more reserved, as if Snape had reverted back to his usual demeanor; unlike before when it seemed as if he cared about Harry. But the warm feeling had disappeared as the potions master closed the door. Harry did not even check to see if Trenus was there, but decided to sleep so that when he awoke next, he would feel better.

oO{~S~}Oo

Harry awoke quite well-rested, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in bed. At first, he thought he was alone in the room, but then he glimpsed Snape, bending over a dozen parchments, several vials before him. Snape did not look when he greeted Harry with a terse "good morning."

Harry looked at the window, where the sun was shining strongly, despite being winter. He picked his glasses up from the nightstand.

"Merlin," he groaned. "How long did I sleep?" The sun was high in the sky; presumably it was already around noon.

"I don’t know… maybe fourteen or sixteen hours," answered Snape as he recapped the inkwell. "My hand must have slipped when I added the sleeping draught to your mug."

Harry looked daggers at Snape  while the man packed up.

The potions master got up tiredly from the chair and went to check Harry more closely. "But I see that it has benefited you," he announced with a mocking smile.

"Next time, a warning would be nice," Harry grumbled and got up to look for his clothes. He found everything in the wardrobe as his trunk was empty. "At least tell me what happened while I was asleep. Is everyone okay now…?"

"Potter," started Snape in his usual teaching style, "the night was only long enough to try to identify the ingredient, which might stop the virus. And you might not believe it, but we also need to rest sometime."

Harry found a pair of warm socks after digging through the bottom drawer. He went back to the bed, sat, and donned them. "And now?" he asked, after finishing.

"We’ll visit Hagrid," Snape told him, totally surprising Harry.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Can’t we just use the floo?" fretted Harry while winding the warm scarf around his neck. As soon as Snape closed the door, the house disappeared. "I’ve never apparated, and I don’t think it’s good to try it while I’m so tired…"

"You won’t have any problems apparating with me, regardless of your exhaustion," he drawled and beckoned. Harry stood there, not moving. The potions master sighed. "I swear I’ve had breakfast. I’m not even sure you would be enough food for one meal."

Harry stood still for a few seconds longer and then went to the man.

"You are still ill," continued Snape. "Only the particular ingredient in the tea prevents you from feeling the full effects of the illness."

"I know it sounds unbelievable but even the ignorant Potter realised this," Harry groused as Snape came closer and put an arm around him. Harry would have jumped away but he knew it would be improper. And even though it sounded incredible he did not want to insult Snape. He did not want to shatter the fragile truce that had developed between them.

"Oh how surprising," Snape smirked. "Close your eyes and hold on firmly. The first assisted apparition is not pleasant, but after some practice it should be bearable."

Harry grimaced and closed his eyes. At first, he felt as though he were spinning in a washing machine and then his stomach felt as though it was being pulled through a slim pipe. When they landed, he felt slightly dizzy and nauseous; it hadn’t been so bad after all.

Snape did not let him go but went straight to the gates of Hogwarts, pulling Harry along by the arm. The empty courtyard without the students was quite a fright. The only living being to be seen was the squid swimming in the lake.

As they walked through the desolate park, snow began to fall, reminding them of the coming Christmas. They reached Hagrid’s hut which looked gaunt in comparison to the exuberant pumpkin patch. They stopped at the door and Snape knocked on it. Fang started to bark and soon the door was opened.

Hagrid appeared in his frayed sweater and looked surprised. "Professor Snape, Harry," he finally said. "Welcome!"

Harry started to go in but Snape held him back.

"I’m sorry, Hagrid, but we are here on an important matter," Snape apologised. "We need to ask you something and I very much hope that you can give us the answer."

Hagrid pushed Fang back inside the hut and propped himself against the door frame. "Of course, professor. I’d be happy to help! What kind of ingredients do you need, I’ll bring them…"

"No, it’s not that," Snape interrupted. Harry tried to pull his arm free without success. "I’m just curious, which ingredients did you use to make the tea you gave me?"

Hagrid blinked incomprehensibly, clearly wondering how tea could be so important in the midst of everything else. "Oh, well… I used several of the herbs I have here in my hut."

Snape mused thoughtfully for a moment. "I know which herbs you have," he said finally. "I’d like to know what else you put in the tea, besides the herbs. I assume that you used other ingredients than those we were aware of… but that were in your tea nonetheless, which I brought to Order headquarters as many members do not like coffee."

"Uh," the half-giant mused and stroked his beard. "I think I know what else I put in it. One of the centaurs told me that it would make the tea more effective."

Harry could not stay quiet any longer. "Hagrid, where do we find this strange plant or whatever?"

Snape quelled all other words from Harry with a dangerous look.

"As a matter of fact," ruminated the half-giant as he motioned behind the hut with his large hand, "if you follow that path, after awhile you’ll come to a small clearing. There are these small, strange flowers in a beautiful cerulean colour. I was surprised to find them blossoming in this cold weather…"

"Thanks, Hagrid," Snape said. "Come to headquarters this evening, there will be a meeting. Albus should be there as well."

"Hm, of course," Hagrid assented. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Both of them looked wearily at the half-giant who just shrugged.

"Bye, Hagrid," Harry said. "Next time I’ll stay longer!"

Snape nodded and they started down the path Hagrid had showed them. Harry heard Hagrid as he tried to hush Fang without success. Snape and Harry advanced on the path in silence for a couple of minutes.

"Professor," started Harry quietly, "when we find the plant, how long will it take to finalise the serum?"

The potions master furrowed his brows and seemed to contemplate the question.

"I don’t know," he said finally. "We’ll start today, so it might be ready by tomorrow. Do not forget that it has to be tested on someone."

Harry stopped, and Snape had to as well.

"I’m here, you can test it on me!"

He received the typical Snape-scowl. "Potter, you are not a guinea pig," he stated, and when Harry opened his mouth to argue, Snape continued, "No. I won’t allow it."

Harry just sighed and let himself be led into the clearing. This whole thing was so strange, he thought. Wasn’t that the whole point? To test the serum on him?

By the time they arrived, the whole forest was blanketed in white and the wind had started to blow. Harry tightened the scarf around his neck as the cold breeze blew snow in his face.

"I think we are here," Harry said. "It started to snow just at the right time… so we won’t be able to find anything."

"We just have to look harder," Snape started but then stopped when he saw something not far from them. He walked with slow, measured steps toward a rock. Harry followed and saw the man crouching, then plucking something and studying it. Then Snape stood up and turned to Harry, the petals which Hagrid had talked about in his hand.

The wind flourished the small blue petals which seemed very bright in contrast to the pale, white ground.

Harry took them from Snape cautiously, so as not to harm them. He looked at them in admiration. "They’re beautiful," he finally said.

Snape raised his brows appreciatively. "They are both beautiful and brilliant."

"Yes," Harry agreed and looked up at Snape with a sad smile. "Everything will go back to normal now, won’t it? My friends will recover and you’ll be… surly again."

The potions master caught Harry’s hand, trapping the flower petal as well. "I don’t think that’s quite true," he informed Harry. "Nothing will be the same. I won’t terrorise you in Potions class anymore. What do you think, Harry? I got to know the real you. I put aside the hate I felt. When I think about it, I realise how alone you are."

"That is not entirely true," Harry interjected quietly.

Snape’s long black cloak flapped as he came closer. "Yes, it is. You did not have parents to rely on. There was no adult whom cared for you," he continued unfailingly. Then he smiled and untrapped the flower in the boy’s hand. "Would you like to name it?"

Harry smiled as well.

"May I?"

Snape nodded and Harry laughed. "I don’t think I can give it an appropriate name. I’m afraid, like my potions, it would also be inadequate…"

"Try," Snape insisted, letting go of Harry’s hand. "After all, you showed me the solution. You have to be acknowledged so you should name this small flower at least."

Harry twirled the flower while the wind flourished its blue petals. The petals looked so specific … and then suddenly a name occurred to him. "They look like… teardrops," he said quietly. "I mean the petals… Can we call it, for example, teardrop petals?"

The potions master smiled. "Quite an apt name. Of course we can. Let’s collect some more as one will not be enough to prepare the serum."

Harry looked again at the small flower and then they started to search for it on the snow-covered ground. It took almost an hour to collect the necessary amount. By the time they had finished, it was snowing heavily and becoming colder.

Harry looked into the distance. Along with the cold weather, something else arrived as well… a new era with some measure of hope and joy.

oO{~S~}Oo

They arrived at Grimmauld Place in the evening. By then, Harry felt he needed another mug of tea. He’d almost collapsed coming through the door when they’d finally arrived. He propped himself against the wall, exhausted, and inhaled deeply.

Snape finished the sealing charms on the door and took off his cloak. He did not look so frightening any more.

"You don’t feel well?" he asked, standing before Harry, who shook his head. "Come, I’ll prepare some more tea."

Harry followed his teacher into the kitchen. Snape put down the bunch of flowers and started to prepare the tea. Harry collapsed into the nearest chair and took off his coat and scarf. He put his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands but that was not comfortable enough, so he put his head on his arms. He was already half asleep when Snape floo-call St. Mungo’s; that was the last thing Harry heard before he fell asleep."

He awoke to someone shaking him discreetly. Harry looked up sleepily.

"Wake up, Harry," Hippocrates said quietly. He gave Harry a steaming mug which Harry took muzzily. "Drink all of it, it’ll help."

"Thanks." Harry drank the hot tea in small gulps while the man sat and observed his every move. "How is the serum coming along?" asked Harry as it was quite maddening that the man was just sitting there smiling at him.

"Quite good," he answered readily as he leaned forward. "Severus is working on it at the moment. He hurried off as soon as I arrived. He told me to make you drink the tea and then to escort you upstairs."

Harry put down the empty mug and looked at the healer wearily. "All I do is drink tea and sleep," he grumbled.

Hippocrates laughed quietly and got up to help Harry to his feet. "I warn you, Harry, you’re complaining to the worst possible person."

Harry accepted the helping hand and the man hoisted him up cautiously. Harry was standing a bit uncertainly. He sadly stated that he was trembling again and felt very tired. "Well, at least you understand how bad it is to be ill" Harry stated as they left the kitchen. "Couldn’t we go to the lab instead? I’d like to be there when Professor Snape succeeds."

"Harry, you should be in bed."

Harry looked at the man beseechingly. "Please," he begged. "I swear I’ll sit down and be a good boy."

"Fine," Hippocrates capitulated and they headed towards the lab. "But you have to bear the consequences when Severus sees you."

Suddenly a dozen detentions occurred to him as he imagined Snape roaring at him for being such an idiot. "I don’t think there will be a problem, I feel well."

The man muttered in a low, glum voice before opening the door: "Yes, but you don’t want to see when Severus… is not exactly himself."

Harry wanted to ask what the man meant but the door opened and the healer ushered him inside.

Snape stood behind a desk before a big cauldron. He looked up curiously as they came in and continued to stir while frowning. "I see, Potter, you can’t stay still."

Hippocrates escorted Harry to the armchair and gave him a blanket which the boy gladly accepted. Then Hippocrates went to Snape. "Oh, Harry will be still, don’t worry. Let’s discuss how it’s going."

"We’ll know in a couple of hours," Snape stated and ladled the potion to show Hippocrates. "As you can see, it’s not making it easy for us to retrieve what we need."

Harry took the pillow from the other armchair, put it under his head, and closed his eyes. He felt content to let the adults work while he stayed put in a place where he could sleep in peace. It felt wrong to be upstairs alone… where Snape was not with him. Though it sounded unbelievable, he felt better when his teacher was near. He felt safe. He could not say the same about the headmaster.

Remembering the headmaster, he thought that the Order meeting should be taking place about now. Then his thoughts scattered and he remembered his friends who would be waking up soon. He yawned and fell asleep.

Maybe the nice healer had also tricked him and poured some sleeping draught into his tea.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Wake up, dear."

Harry snapped up at the strange voice and looked into a familiar smiling face.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked while sitting up.

There were a lot of people in the lab and he heard a dozen familiar voices from hallway: Order members, a lot of people who had not been around lately.

It seemed he had missed something. Something? Everything … He hadn’t seen Mrs. Weasley for a long time; he had thought that she’d been ill as well. Now here they all were, smiling …

How strange that this was what he had wished for all along and now that he had it, it no longer suited him. It was better being alone with Snape and the discursive candle.

"Are you coming to St. Mungo’s with this?" asked Molly.

"Uh, yes …" Harry’s heart rate sped up when he realised why they were going there. "Now?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled while folding the blanket. "Of course, dear. But first drink this," she said, handing him a small vial.

Harry took the potion which was a spectacular blue colour. He looked up and saw Snape watching him from the table.

"This is the…?"

"Yes, it is. That’s why we are going to the hospital. The meeting concluded and we brought the serum there," said Mrs. Weasley beaming.

Harry uncorked the small vial and drank it in one go. The potion was absolutely without taste and had no aftertaste. Snape came over and stopped beside him to take the empty vial then headed across the room.

"Come on, Harry, let’s go," Mrs. Weasley entreated.

"Of course …" Harry mumbled and for some reason he was both happy and sad that they were leaving. He slowly got to his feet while she gave him his coat. Snape didn’t say a word, just watched him from afar as he dressed.

"We’ll go via floo. Arthur is waiting for us," Mrs. Weasley said hastily and beckoned him.

Snape’s look was different. He seemed to be keeping his distance so that Harry could not ask him any questions. And Harry had a lot of questions… starting with why, in contrast to some adults who were in St Mungo’s, Snape himself were not so ill.

He wanted Snape to say something at least, to tell him that they would meet again later… but no. Snape just stood there wordlessly as Hippocrates gabbled to him about fame and engaged him in a deep conversation.

Mrs. Weasley did not seem to notice or care that he would have preferred to stay a little longer; she shepherded him to the door in an effort to leave the lab as soon as possible.

Harry furtively looked back, but Snape ignored him. And that hurt a lot. It hurt that he wouldn’t see Snape anymore, just maybe in class after the term started. It hurt that Snape wouldn’t tease him any more … and it hurt that Snape wouldn’t comfort and care for him in the future.

Snape told him that he did not hate him and that he cared for him while he felt ill … but he wouldn’t be ill any more. He wouldn’t need Snape to find the serum so Snape wouldn’t be with him.

For the first time, Harry felt a twinge of disappointment that he was cured. He could only be half-heartedly glad that his friends would be awake soon.

Because if they woke up, he’d lose someone again.

They stood in silence for a while, locked in an embrace, when he heard her whisper: "Oh, Harry… we thought that …"

Harry left the embrace and took Hermione by the shoulders. "Relax, I’m fine," he insisted and smiled. "Really."

The girl smiled tentatively. "Sorry, but no one knew where you were."

Mrs. Weasley stepped up to the next bed and Hermione followed her. Harry stopped halfway when he saw Ron sitting on the bed, smiling and healthy.

"You won’t even say hello?" asked his friend and Harry stepped closer.

"Of course I will," he said and hugged Ron for a minute then sat on the bedside. "Everything is all right?"

Ron took a chocolate frog and unwrapped it. "Yep and I’m supposed to leave today," he enthused. "Mum, I’d really like to eat your food, the catering here can’t make up for yours."

Mrs. Weasley packed the remaining presents in her bag. "Don’t worry, I’ll cook something fine tonight." Then she looked at Harry. "Harry, dear, now that no one will be spending Christmas at Hogwarts, will you join us?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he finally said, and mused about what Christmas would be like at the Weasley’s. "You know I don’t want to go back to my aunt and uncle’s."

She went to him and patted him on the head. "You are always welcome with us," she said kindly. "Severus will bring your trunk from Hogwarts, and then…" she continued more sombrely, "after the funeral, you can come with us."

Their mood saddened as they remembered all those who had died, among them Seamus Finnigan. Harry gulped and tried to speak in a steady voice. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks."

"Not at all, dear."

In an effort to raise the somber mood, Ron made a special report about the interesting food they received in the hospital. He and Hermione asked what had happened since they last saw Harry, but Harry was not feeling very talkative.

He told them that he was foisted on Snape and that they had stayed at Headquarters. He did not mention the strange friendship that had developed with his teacher, nor about his near-drowning when Hogwarts was flooded. Luckily, his friends did not interrogate him and lunch was spent in a good mood as if they did not have a funeral to attend afterwards.

Mrs. Weasley was about to take the lunch trays away when two people entered the ward: Mr. Weasley and Hippocrates.

Harry was surprised to see the healer in Muggle clothes on top of which he donned a white healer’s cloak.

Hippocrates approached them, smiling, and stopped near Harry. "I see you feel quite well," he remarked.

The door closed after Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stopped at the other end of the bed to check on their son.

"Hippocrates, you said they can leave this afternoon?" asked Mr. Weasley.

The man nodded. "Of course. We don’t have a reason to keep them for observation, not like Harry, who reacted totally differently, and not only due to his blood …" Hippocrates shut up and paled visibly as Harry looked at him.

Harry, noticing the look Hipprocrates shared with Mr. Weasley, jumped up so suddenly that his chair almost toppled over. "I’m really fed up with this!" he cried as he looked at the healer accusingly. "What doe you mean ‘not only my blood’ …?"

Hippocrates stepped over to him kindly, reaching out to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder, but Harry stepped away angrily.

"Don’t," Harry hissed. "You could at least me tell why you are being so secretive!"

"Harry, calm down…"

Harry decided just once to not hold it all in. "No, I won’t calm down!" he said loudly and he didn’t care how his friends looked at him. "I want to know what is going on and why no one will tell me anything!"

Now Mr. Weasley also came closer and Harry had the feeling of being trapped. He started to retreat.

"Harry, we did not tell you a lot of things, but only because it would have been a big shock…" started Mr. Weasley but Harry interrupted him.

"Why would it be a shock, I know about it! And of course… it’s not as if I wouldn’t have my share of problems anyway!" Harry shouted. He did not care that he was yelling at an adult. "Potter needs to be spared, I know! Potter is the one who is attacked or almost kidnapped each year! Really, is it not the same whether you tell me or not?! Will I break and become a nervous wreck?!"

Hippocrates’ face became stern. "No, Harry, we don’t think that," he said calmly. "Trust us, we have a valid reason. The knowledge would surely upset you. You are under a great deal of pressure already. We do not want to add to it."

Harry took a deep breath and swept his hair from his eyes but did not calm down. "Oh, never mind! You always misconstrue the things I say so you can avoid explaining anything to me!" he countered and went to the door, avoiding them.

The healer followed and stopped him in his tracks. "Harry, I’m just worried about you like everyone else. Try to stay strong. The afternoon will be more difficult if you don’t calm down."

Harry sidestepped the man and opened the door; the handle almost stayed in his hand. He turned to the healer. "As I said, I would be calm if you wouldn’t keep things from me."

"I can give you a potion…"

"I don’t need your potions!" Harry shouted. "Just leave me alone!"

He turned to run out the door but a big black blob made him stop for a moment. He saw the surprised, almost anxious face of the potions master but looked away and ran around him, almost colliding with Mrs. Weasley.

He heard Snape’s voice behind him. "Molly, don’t! Let him go. He needs to be alone right now."

oO{~S~}Oo

Harry was sitting in a quiet part of the hospital where there were no patients. The whole room seemed to be fashioned as an isle of repose: a small fountain, a lot of trees, and rock gardens. It was the perfect place for patients to have a nice time if they were confined to the hospital for long periods.

He found the most secluded bench and hoisted up his legs, watching the fountain as the water flowed from a stone which looked like a flower to other similar stones. It was a nice fountain, one he could have watched for hours as the flowers did not stay in one place, but moved from place to place, their petals becoming smaller and larger in turns.

He’d sat there for at least 3 hours. After leaving the others, he’d found this place quite quickly. He knew that he should not have shouted at the adults but he could not help himself. It was better then losing control over his power and breaking everything. They had not come after him, had not sought him. It was better this way as he did not want to talk to anyone. Though loneliness was never pleasant, he needed it now to gather strength for the funeral.

He looked up at a small clock and saw that it was almost three o’clock. He sighed and set off on the stone path toward the door where he had entered. It would all be over soon, he thought, and he’d find a way to handle it without breaking down.

oO{~S~}Oo

When he went out the door he was surprised by how many people were in the hallway, all dressed in black. In a few moments, Mrs. Weasley appeared next to him and spoke.

"We were going to start looking for you," she told him quietly as she gave him his long black coat. "Here you are, dear, put it on and we’ll leave by portkey."

Harry took the coat, and dressed himself, including his warm scarf. "Why are there so many people?"

"A lot of people died recently. There will also be a public commemoration," Mrs. Weasley answered. "Come, the others are waiting."

Hermione and Ron were near the wall, not far from them. When he went to them, they did not question him. Hermione only asked if he was well.

Then they went together to the assigned room where the portkeys were placed neatly in a row on the ground. They held onto a ragged handbag which took them to the Wizarding cemetery in London after a stomach churning experience.

On their way to the chapel, Harry was a bit amazed by some of the statues on the gravestones which bowed before them. And despite the fact that they were well into winter, the graveyard made him feel like, despite the snow, it was still spring and blooming.  Of course it was just a charm, but a very believable one at that.

Harry hardly noticed that they’d arrived before the small building when an old wizard started speaking. Harry barely listened to the speech. Sometimes he nicked some sentences but he was elsewhere in spirit. Finally the crowd dispersed and everyone started off in different directions.

Mr. Weasley told them quietly that Seamus’ funeral was quite close. He told them that at 6 o’clock in the evening, the bells were to toll in reverence for all of the deceased. Then he left to take part in someone else’s funeral as all of the funerals were being held at the same time.

After a short stroll, the trio arrived at an open space near a stream. There were a lot of white chairs waiting for the participants. Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat down in the last row. Harry was astounded by how many people were in attendance.

He thought it would be cold but the chairs were charmed to radiate warmth.

When everyone was seated in silence, Dumbledore arrived, looking exceptional in a blue robe and matching cloak. He stopped before the creek where Seamus’ casket was levitated. Harry heard Hermione start to sniffle. He hugged her and gave her a handkerchief.

Dumbledore began to speak but Harry could not pay attention. He remembered the DA meetings and other events that they had experienced together. He looked away from the casket and watched as two wizards drew different rings, shaping the statue that would be placed on Seamus’s grave.

When the two wizards finished, Dumbledore completed his monologue and everyone stood. Harry and his friends did the same, and the chairs disappeared. They paid their last tribute to Seamus, standing there mutely for several minutes.

Mr. Weasley arrived and stepped up to Hermione, hugging her consolingly, and then Ron joined them as they watched the coffin being lowered.

Harry stepped back to Mrs. Weasley who was consoling Ginny. He had not been the best of friends with Seamus but the thought that he would never see him again was terribly sad, echoing the mood of loss that hung over the whole cemetery.

Harry felt more angry than achy; he could have prevented this. He clenched his fists in his pockets and resolved to finish off the bloody killer who had caused so many good people to die. He squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that he almost saw starts. He felt hot tears on his face releasing the pain that consumed his whole body.

Then he felt someone hug him and he snuggled up for comfort, like a child to its mother, and cried the tears he had held back over the last days and weeks. Seamus’ funeral has been the last straw of his self-control. He heard Dumbledore say some more words but it was only background noise to him.

He didn’t want to hear anything any more, didn’t want to take part in anymore funerals of his friends which could happen at any time. He clenched his eyes shut and let Mrs. Weasley stroke his back comfortingly, hugging him while his tears flowed freely.

After an endless amount of time, the noise level rose as the participants started to leave, but he could not move. He did not want to. He was afraid that if he left, nothing would be the same ever again. His tears did not abate and the ache did not ease. He had thought that when the funeral was over that everything would be all right again. He was so distraught that he hardly heard as someone spoke.

"I’ll take him with me, Molly," the low, familiar voice said.

Harry gave a start when he identified the voice. He’d thought that…

"Are you sure, Severus?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"He needs rest and an explanation which, as you well know, was not given to him," stated a cold voice near his ear.

"How true. Like you did not already impart your opinion in the ward when lecturing us," Mrs. Weasley groused. "Did you have to roar at Hippocrates?"

"I don’t want to argue with you as well, Molly." Harry felt so numb that he could not move, and the overwhelming pain prevented him from objecting. "And now we must go, before everyone comes up for a chat."

"But Severus…"

"No, Molly. He could not endure it if some strangers, or even the Finnigans, came to talk with him right now." Harry gulped and felt even more despair at the mention of Seamus’ parents. What must Seamus’ parents feel…? "You know where to find us if you need to reach us."

Harry felt his strength leaving him. His legs could not hold him up any longer. He barely remembered what happened afterwards. The anxious voices of Mrs. Weasley and his friends, some calming words murmured to him, then the stomach churning experience of someone apparating him and taking him far away from everyone…

…where the commemorating tolling of the evening was just a faint memory.

oO{~S~}Oo

He hardly felt the inconvenient squeeze of apparition, though he was sure they had apparated away… He did not argue; he just let Snape take him where he wanted.

After the cold air, he felt warmer… they must have arrived at Snape’s.

Someone laid him in a warm and cosy bed… at least the sudden warmth seemed to suggest it. Then he felt something cold at his mouth and heard some barely recognisable voices.

"Drink this, you’ll be better."

He opened his mouth and drank the cool liquid, which helped to ease the constriction in his throat. Then, finally, he slept, no longer caring about the pain.

oO{~S~}Oo

It was strange to wake up not remembering what he dreamt of, nor how he had gotten where he was. Suppressing a yawn, he sat up in bed. He was stunned by the view. Just before him was a window, but not an ordinary one. Silver curtains fluttered along the window frame which was golden and looked extremely good. The whole room was resplendent in silver and green.

Harry smiled to himself. It was clear to him that the habitants were Slytherins. He was just about to get up when the door opened and a large figure appeared. Harry’s first thought was that Snape had aged several years, but… something was off. His teacher could not have aged so much, especially as this man had short hair. The man before him wore the same black robes as Snape, but looked much taller and stronger than his professor.

And, while his professor was a most formidable wizard, this man smiled while Harry stared at him. He came over to the bed and sat down on it. Harry rubbed his eyes then looked at the man in wonder.

"Severus said you weren’t in good shape when you arrived," the man said in a deep, foreboding voice. Without the smile, it would have been frightening.

Harry blinked at the man. "I don’t remember anything," Harry murmured as he fidgeted with the covers.

"Well at least I know that the potion helped." The man laughed quietly and extended his hand to Harry. "I did not introduce myself yet. My name is Cainus Marcus Snape." Seeing Harry’s incomprehension, he added: "I’m Severus’ father."

"Oh,” Harry muttered, unsure of what else to say. This man didn’t seem to be the same person he had seen in the pensieve. "But the man I knew … I mean heard about, did not really … care about the professor." Realizing that he’d spoken his thoughts allowed, Harry blushed.

The man clasped his hands and did not seem angry. "I heard that you happened to look into Severus’ memories," he explained and Harry’s blush evolved to full reddening. "You don’t have to explain, it was not entirely your fault,” the man continued. “And to answer your question, that was not me. Severus was with foster-parents at that time and they… did not treat him well. There had been a big misunderstanding in our family and I did not get custody of Severus. But that is a very sad story I do not wish to dwell on it now."

Harry nodded and decided to get up and have a look around.

"You should not get up yet," the man said, glaring at bit at him. "You are still very pale. I know from Severus that if you state you are well, it means at least two more days until it’ll be true."

"But…"

The man raised his brows the same way as Snape. "That was a distinct order."

Harry gulped and slipped back under the covers. He really did not feel too well but not so bad as to stay in bed the whole day either.

"Where am I, by the way?" Harry finally asked while the man poured him something that looked like pumpkin juice from the jug on the nightstand.

"In the Snape villa. I would not call it a manor. We moved here after the war started." He poked to the window, from where Harry could hear the sounds of a Christmas bazaar. "We were forced to take this decision due to Voldemort and his followers; they will not look for us here. We have only five guestrooms instead of twenty and our potions labs are not big… but the mood is quite nice, isn’t it?"

Harry smiled and lay back down on his side. "Yes it is. I have never been to a wizarding Christmas bazaar," he said sheepishly and yawned.

"It would be good if you would drink some more," said Cainus and held the mug out to him. Harry sat up a bit and drank. "A bit of Strengthening Potion. Not the one you know, but a bit different."

Harry leaned back in the bed and looked at him suspiciously. "How is it different?"

"Considering how seriously ill you have been," Cainus explained, "you are still quite weak. I don’t know why Mrs. Weasley thought that you should be with them. It’s a miracle I was able to restrain Severus from harming Hippocrates at St Mungo’s."

Harry remembered when he ran out the door and banged into Snape. The men had apparently had quite an argument about him afterwards.

"Well I have a lot of things to arrange," Cainus clapped his hands once, "and you have to rest more. Try to sleep a bit."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. Before Snape’s father left, he heard the man stoke the fire in the hearth. Harry was finally lulled to sleep by the crackling flames even in this peculiar place.

oO{~S~}Oo

Harry woke to someone shaking him gently. He opened his eyes crankily and saw Snape in his black robes.

"You should eat something," Snape said quietly.

Harry rolled over and huddled deeper under his covers. "I don’t want to get up," he mumbled and went back to sleep.

oO{~S~}Oo

 

"Look at this sleepy-head," one of the voices said. "How many drops did you put in it?"

"Just enough."

"I said a Strengthening Potion, not a Sleeping Draught," said the first voice coldly—Snape’s voice, Harry realized

"I wonder who has more degrees in this room," the other voice snarkily replied.

"I don’t want to hear it."

"I was, after all, the main healer at St Mungo’s…" started Cainus but his son interrupted.

"Enough already!" Snape said. "I’ve heard it a thousand times."

"Be quieter, please," Harry implored moodily. "I’m not awake yet." He opened his eyes just to see their expressions. The elder Snape stood not far from him while his professor was positioned at the end of the bed. Cainus folded his arms with satisfaction.

"You see? I did not overdose him."

Snape did not answer, opting to approach the boy instead. "How are you, Harry?" he asked.

Not Potter, but Harry, Harry mused. It was so distinct when he cared… "Hm… fine," answered Harry.

"Alright. Then you’ll have dinner with us?" asked Cainus. "There might be some newts-eyes for dessert."

Harry looked disgusted as the man hurried away.

Snape nodded at Harry to get going and smiled when opening the door for him. "I see you met my father," Snape mocked.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Yes. You two are hard to mistake for one another," he said solemnly. "Both of you have an interesting disposition."

That statement wiped the mocking smile from Snape’s face.

Harry stepped into the hallway satisfied and was not surprised to see silver and green dominating here as well. There were portraits of different wizards on the walls, some with names on silver plates. Some of the portraits looked at him with clear disdain, others just nodded to him.

 After a few steps they arrived in a spacious room. From all of the delicious smells, it seemed to be the dining room, and when they reached the food-laden table, it became obvious.

It was, of course, a good question as to who was all sitting at the table. Snape lead him promptly to two empty places near each other. Harry sat down and looked around, quickly realising that some of the people he saw were from the Order.

Harry did not think much more about it as Snape spooned out some soup for him and he began to eat. When he finished the vegetable soup, he wanted to spoon out some potatoes for himself but Snape took the ladle. Harry pulled back his plate sullenly as he got a big portion of meat as well.

The others were talking during the dinner but Harry did not pay much attention to them. He could barely finish the food Snape had put on his plate. Then he noticed the tapestry behind Cainus. It looked very similar to the one at the House of Black. He was so curious that he quietly stood up from the table and went to study it more closely.

It looked a bit different than the one he saw in Grimmauld Place, maybe because every member of it was a man. There were Malfoys and Blacks among the Snapes. But when he looked closer, he saw that the Malfoys were mainly present in the beginning. Perhaps because the Snapes were really on the light side while the Malfoys were always followers of Voldemort.

"Does it look familiar?" asked Snape from right next to him.

Harry squinted at the man. Of course his professor often visited Grimmauld place; surely he had seen the tapestry there.

"Yes, it does. It’s strange that there are hardly any women in the family," Harry commented.

"Oh yes," Snape murmured. "There’s a curse on us in a sense …"

The potions master quieted as more people arrived and the voice of the headmaster could be heard distinctly. Harry turned and saw Dumbledore shaking hands with Cainus. It was strange that if they knew each other, how come he himself had just seen the man for the first time today?

As though Snape read his mind he commented: "Cainus and Albus are very good friends."

Harry just hemmed. He found the place overcrowded but did not want to leave without a word. He watched them for a while but when Snape joined them as well he decided it was time to go. He had just started to leave the room when the headmaster accosted him.

"Ah, Harry! I’m very glad to see you! How are you?"

Harry smiled wryly. "Fine, thanks sir." He wanted to shout at the old man that he was not at all well but stayed quiet.

"I’m sorry we could not meet in the past weeks," the headmaster apologised, "but... "

"Oh, leave it! We both know that you only need me to fulfil the prophecy and finish off Voldemort!" he shouted angrily. The whole room became quiet.

"Harry…"

"No, I don’t care what you say!" Harry interrupted angrily and pointed to Snape. "Even my teacher who hated and despised me took care of me, but you…!"

"Potter, don’t be disrespectful to the headmaster!" Snape snapped at him.

Harry looked daggers at both of them.

"If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be alone now," he bit out and then turned around and left the adults. He hurried down the hallway and escaped to the room where he had woken up. He sat cross-legged on the rug before the hearth and stared sadly at the flames. He did not think to search for Snape and demand to be taken somewhere else.

It was pleasant to sit before the fire and listen to the sounds of the Christmas bazaar despite the fact that he’d never been to one before and never bought presents at one. He’d have to order his friends’ presents by owl-post again this year. After all, who knew when he’d be able to go out shopping without Voldemort attacking…

He realised that someone had sat down beside him, also cross-legged, to watch the flames. Harry stayed quiet waiting for his professor to say something.

"Do you want to talk?" asked Snape after a while.

Harry just shook his head.

"Nevermind," announced the potions master, "we’ll still talk."

Harry looked at Snape questioningly and a bit angrily. "Then why did you ask?"

Snape just shrugged. "I wanted to get your attention."

The man stayed quiet and together they watched the flames. After ten minutes Snape said:
"Lily Evans was a good friend of mine, unlike her husband. You were not even planned when I promised her that I’d look after her child if anything happened to her." He sighed and continued: "But I didn’t do it. Can you imagine, Harry, how sorry I am for thinking that you resembled James? And also for thinking that you had been spoiled at your aunts’?” Snape shook his head and mumbled. “Instead, I had a fierce desire to vent my anger on you."

Silence.

Harry sighed, stirring the ashes before the fire. "I believe you, professor," he mumbled, still reeling from Snape’s frankness. "I believe you now… after these past few weeks."

Again came the silence, but now for a longer period.

"Well, I can’t promise to be kinder during classes or to not deduct points when you explode your cauldron," Snape added, "but I’d like to know you better, to fend for you… which I have not done until now. Maybe if I had had an unbreakable vow with your mother I would have tried sooner to look past James, to consider only you. But it was not easy, especially as you showed a different image to the world."

The last sentence sounded mocking.

"I’m sorry, professor… but I never told anyone…" Harry suddenly shut up and looked questioningly at Snape. "How do you know how they treated me?"

Snape looked at the fire again and seemed to struggle for words. "You don’t remember it, but when you were very ill from the virus, you had a very hard night," he explained. "You had nightmares the whole night which seemed very real. Every bad thing that happened at your aunts’ house resurfaced… Finally Lupin arrived and could explain."

Harry almost heard the unspoken words. He never would have thought that Snape could be shocked or rattled. Especially that he himself could be the cause of it. "What did he explain?" Harry asked though he suspected he knew the answer.

"The circumstances you were raised in," Snape sighed. "I spoke a lot with Lupin before, but not about you. I know that not a lot of things have changed, but I would be… happier... if you never set foot in your aunts’ house again."

Harry froze totally and blushed a bit, looking stunned at his teacher.

"I’m serious," the potions master said. "You needed great courage to come down to the dungeons to me instead of going home."

"Yes," Harry mumbled and dropped his gaze. "Your know-it-all candle."

"Indeed."

Harry was still watching the rug. "You… want me to stay here with you, during the holidays?" he asked, just to clarify.

"What do you think, Potter?" Snape angrily retorted but then calmed down. "Yes, I insist. Not just because of the reasons I mentioned, but because you would also be safe in the future and you don’t have anyone else. Even if you were disrespectful towards the headmaster you were right. Albus never considered you as he should have. Of course that does not mean that you should not apologise."

"Fine," Harry mumbled and then looked up sadly. "What will happen to me now? After all this?"

Snape raised his brow in question. "I don’t understand."

"Where will I live, sir. If I… accept what you are offering."

"Where do you think, Potter? In a cupboard?" Snape mocked. "Here with us, of course. You’ll have an ordinary room, clothes, and an excellent table where you can make up for your abysmal knowledge of potions."

This did not sound bad. In fact, it sounded very good. He preferred staying here with Snape and his father than at Hogwarts with the headmaster. "That sounds good," he finally said.

"Of course. That is what a child needs. Not wearing rags and being starved the whole day." Snape subsided into silence. "What’s wrong?"

Harry did not realise that his face was wet with tears. He never would have thought that he’d be so moved by the words and consideration of a man whom he had hated not long ago. "Nothing’s wrong," he whispered. "Just… I have never been this… I don’t know… happy. Long ago, I really hated you, but now… it’s so different."

Harry felt Snape hug him briefly and did not resist.

"Well then, I’m happy to welcome you home, Harry," said Snape quietly and conjured a blanket to cover them both. They listened for a while to the Christmas carols that filtered in through the windows. "If you want, we could go shopping. You must be curious as to what a Christmas bazaar looks like."

"Yes… but I’d like to sit here for awhile longer."

"Fine."

Harry didn’t want to move, he was afraid that this moment would dwindle into nothingness and disappear forever.

But…

But Snape said he’d be welcome. As well for the holidays…  And now he wanted to take Harry shopping. The whole thing had a familial feeling to it. Maybe this was what it was like to have a family.

Harry rubbed his face with one hand and bundled himself up in the blanket with the other. Then he put his head on Snape’s shoulder.

They sat there for awhile listening to the crackling hearth and for the first time Harry felt that he belonged to someone, someone who cared for him and gave him something the headmaster never could …

… a family.

oO{~S~}Oo

One year later

Harry did not open his eyes yet.

He was afraid.

He was afraid to see something that he would not like. But…

The smell was so familiar… this could not be heaven. Heaven could not smell like the infirmary. Harry tried to recollect what the last thing he remembered was, but he couldn’t manage. It seemed like the last days… or weeks... had been obliterated from his memory. As he tried harder, it came back to him slowly.

The battle of Hogwarts and Voldemort… the duel…

He tried to move but he was too tired. Finally he tried to wiggle his fingers and he managed it, but someone was holding them tightly, as well as his hand. He slowly opened his eyes and tried to recognise the view: light, and just before him, a big black blob. He did not need his glasses; the muggle contact lenses proved to be more than adequate.

He blinked and when he ascertained that he really was seeing his father, he collected his strength and sat up so suddenly that he almost collapsed against the man.

"Dad," he murmured clinging to the black robes, "dad… you’re alive…"

"Yes, I’m alive," came the lightly mocking answer. "It is not so easy to kill me off."

Harry felt awful but he did not want to release Snape. He was afraid if he let go, he would return to the nightmare from which he had not been able to rouse himself for days. The nightmare in which Voldemort did everything in his power to make the world a miserable place.

"I thought…" Harry mumbled. He clenched his eyes shut in order to forget the memory where his father collapsed after the killing curse, just like Sirius.

"There’s nothing wrong," Snape said calmly.

Harry wanted to say something else as he leaned back to see his father’s face, but he was too weak from losing so much of his magical strength.

The potions master laid him down gently on the pillows.

Harry gulped and asked in a small voice: "What happened? How long have I… been here?"

Snape folded his arms and stared at him with a ‘you have to ask?’ look.

"Yes, I know I was stupid… you don’t have to scold me," Harry said, trying to prevent the inevitable.

"You were stupid?" asked Snape and leaned forward a bit threateningly. "You know, I sometimes have to question if you are normal, Harry. No one wanted you to throw yourself in front of us, precluding even the possibility of us helping you!"

Harry tried to come back with a retort while fighting nausea: "I couldn’t do anything else!" he exploded. "You were… you were lying there, and I thought… I was very angry! I did not want anything to happen to you…"

"Really," Snape snarled, "it was a brilliant idea to conjure a shield around us so that the meteors Voldemort let loose all slammed near you."

Harry turned on his left side and huddled away from Snape. "I’m sorry… I just…"

"I know. You wanted it to end," Snape sighed. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Not really," he mumbled tiredly.

"Well, you have been unconscious for three days, ever since the confrontation with Voldemort," the potions master told him. "Actually, we do not know what happened. The only thing we know for sure is that when you thought I had died… you became so angry that you let loose a tremendous amount of energy. Everything was destroyed around you… only we were left unharmed because we were under your shield. When…" here his voice became quieter, "Voldemort died, everything was burned… when you lost consciousness the shield collapsed and we were able to leave. I found you among the ruins… I thought for a moment that you had not survived."

One year ago, Harry had not understood what his role in the process was meant to be. He was surprised that his magical power was the solution. His power was the reason he had not been as ill as the others. His power, which exceeded almost anyone else’s, had saved him from a lot of problems during the years. It was strange that his power almost matched that of Snape’s and the headmaster’s.

Harry looked at Snape over his shoulder a bit guiltily. "But I’m here now… and Voldemort is dead. I knew I would succeed… But you… what happened?"

Snape smiled wanly. "Oh, you can do a lot of things with your mighty power."

"I don’t understand…"

"Your power saved me, Harry."

Harry looked gobsmacked. "I don’t understand…" he repeated perplexedly. " I saw him hit you with something like the killing curse…"

"Yes, indeed," Snape nodded with a dark look, "but you directed your formidable powers to me and succeeded in saving me… But let’s talk about something else." Snape looked at Harry and put his hand on the boy’s forehead to check for fever. "Tell me instead how you feel."

Harry yawned and rolled onto his back. Closing his eyes, he mumbled, "I don’t feel bad… just very tired… and sleepy." Then he looked up with one eye. "Why am I not in St Mungo’s?"

Snape smiled grimly. "Our dear Minister will think twice after the events of two days ago before he risks coming here, or even asking after you."

"Ah," Harry concluded, "you and your influence… or your father’s."

Harry knew that the Snape family still had a large influence in Wizarding circles, just like the Malfoys. The Minister had obviously tried to use him before the elections, saying that he supported Harry or something like that. But this did not really interest Harry. Only one thing was important: it was finally over.

"When can we go home?" Harry asked hopefully.

Snape raised a brow. "First, you’ll sleep. Then I’ll let your friends in for a visit. Maybe afterwards."

Harry yawned again and tightened the covers around himself. "Hm, sounds good… Will you stay?"

"Of course," came the immediate answer. "It is still early. I come in thrice a day to check on you, like now. The winter holidays are starting soon so I don’t have many lessons."

"Indeed…" mumbled Harry really sleepily. "We can go shopping again… and maybe I’ll find someone for Trenus…"

He felt Snape get up and cover him. "You are exhausted. Don’t you want to sleep?" he scoffed. "It seems you are delirious."

"Well now that you say so…" Harry smiled and, in an instant, fell sound asleep… and dreamed about a world where the weight of war did not rest on his shoulders.

oO{~S~}Oo

"Nooo, I don’t want to go there," Harry protested. "Didn’t I get enough books already?"

Snape did not let him go but continued steadily to his goal. "Oh no, that’s for sure. As many Quidditch books as you bought," he groused, "you should now counter them with something meaningful."

Harry looked with apprehension on the new bookshop which had opened a week after Voldemort’s demise. He tried to get out of buying more books, but without success.

"Please dad," he coaxed, "I’ll get so many books from granddad… do I really need anymore? I like books just fine… but I don’t want even more auror books… I don’t have even my NEWTs…"

"Oh, did my father disclose what he will be buying you for Christmas?" asked Snape surprised.

"No, but…"

"Don’t worry," Snape cut in, "I know a lot of space expanding charms…"

"Harry!" someone cried keenly, and before Harry could recognise the voice, its owner was already hugging him.

Harry returned the hug and they would have stayed that way for longer if someone had not coughed down on them.

"Miss Granger, I appreciate your enthusiasm for Harry, but maybe you should not show it here… and not in this way."

Hermione blushed and let go of Harry awkwardly. "Sorry, professor," she mumbled and then smiled at the boy. "I’m glad that you feel well. I’m sorry that I had to leave yesterday but my parents took their holidays early… Oh, and Harry! Mrs. Weasley invited everyone to Headquarters for dinner."

Harry looked at Snape questioningly who sighed after a glare.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Snape snarled.

"Oh," Hermione blushed again. "I’m sorry… professor."

The potions master’s glare could have killed Hermione. "I hope, Miss Granger, you’ve finished apologising, otherwise, school or no school, I’ll deduct points from Gryffindor."

Hermione smiled at Harry. "Bye, we’ll meet tomorrow," she said to Harry. "Good bye, sir," was directed at Snape.

Harry looked after her for a while as she left then turned to his father sullenly. "Did you have to frighten her away?" he asked reproachfully.

"I don’t think it would be easy to frighten Miss Granger away from you. It can easily be seen that she likes you a lot," Snape grinned.

"Hey!" Harry reddened in embarrassment as Snape turned with him.

"Come, I think we have to postpone those books."

Harry looked at the new bookshop and saw a horde of reporters hustling the shop clerk.

"Sounds good to me," he enthused as they turned to the next street.

It was full of different vendors offering their goods: Harry saw magic carpets, sweets expending animalistic voices, and a dozen different objects that offered themselves self-sufficiently. He could not resist buying a lot of sweets for his friends to the annoyance of his father. Of course it was not real anger just a sullen remark that he spent too much on them.

When the sun started to go down, the pines which served as a fence appeared in lavish colours. Harry thought that he could sit for hours, drinking hot chocolate on a bench, when Snape seemed to read his thoughts: he suddenly stopped and bought two mugs of hot chocolate then gestured for Harry to sit on a nearby empty bench.

After a time they realised why the bench had been empty despite the crowd in the small place. The goods of the nearby vendors made a lot of noise. Harry looked questioningly at Snape who just shrugged.

"We can go elsewhere if you wish," he suggested, holding the hot mug.

"Oh, no," Harry said right away and sipped from his mug. "It’s fine here."

Snape sighed and they sat in silence for awhile. When Harry could not curb his curiosity anymore, he got up and went to the vendors to see where the noises were coming from.

His jaw almost dropped. A lot of old objects were gathered in front of an old man: jewellery boxes, inkwells, cups, and candles.

The vendor smiled at him. "Oh, is that you, Mr. Potter?" he asked in surprise and greeted him with a profound nod.

Harry could hardly hear the old man over the cacophony of voices, so he just smiled and nodded. Snape was right behind him as he was concerned about what would happen if Harry were recognised.

The vendor seemed to be well informed as he nodded towards Snape as well. "Good evening, Severus!"

"Good evening to you as well, Paul," said Snape warmly and looked over the goods. "I think you could spare us a headache if you would cast some silencing charms on these."

The man just shrugged and took the Morning Prophet from a jewellery box which looked hungry.

"Would you like something?" Paul asked, looking at Harry instead of Snape.

Harry puckered his brows in thought as he looked at the dozens of objects.

"I’d like…"

"No," Snape interrupted coldly.

Harry stepped closer to a couple of quivering spoons, some of which literally crawled away.

"Don’t take us, we are not useful," one of them mumbled.

"But I’d like to…" he started again but Snape interrupted at once.

"No."

Harry growled angrily while searching one-handed for his money. He groped for some time before realising that Snape was smiling mockingly.

"This can’t be!" Harry exploded. "You took my money?"

The potions master just shrugged. "Meee?" he asked innocently. "You left it on the table when we departed."

"Of course!" Harry looked at the vendor sadly. There were three candles similar to Trenus… and Harry wanted him to have a partner so that Trenus would not be alone. Harry stepped a bit closer to the candles hoping to get around Snape who watched his approach. The objects were talking:

"Ah, you know the witch who sells in the alley next to us…"

"The one who is rolling with the neighbour in the evenings?" asked the next one.

"If you observed better, that’s the other neighbour…"

"Stop this gossiping," interjected a third voice which sounded quite feminine.

Harry turned to his father determined.

"If you won’t give me money, I swear I’ll buy in on credit," he said and Snape raised his brow.

"Sometimes your Slytherin traits show quite clearly," Snape mocked. "You can’t be serious about wanting something like that."

"I’m not something like that, I’m an accomplished candle, and not a scrappy…" she shut up suddenly as Snape glared at her. Snape turned to Harry with a question in his eyes.

"Oh dad, don’t be like that!" said Harry. "You know how alone Trenus is. Please."

"Severus," interjected the vendor, "if you really have a similar charmed object it would indeed be practical." The glare did not work on Paul. "Harry, if you want to take it now and bring money for it tomorrow..."

"Oh, alright," Snape surrendered and started to search his inner pockets. "I hope it does not cost much."

Harry watched with a look of awe as the old man took a scrap of paper and packed the candle. "I think this will be the best present for Trenus," Harry said, grinning in satisfaction.

"My house will soon be full of little jumping candles," Snape moaned and Harry was struck dumb.

"I won’t explain the biology of it," his father groaned. "Let’s just say that candles have powers of their own."

Harry took the package from the vendor cheerfully.

"Happy Christmas!" Paul smiled.

"We wish you the same." Snape took the change and both of them returned to the bench, which was already snowed in a bit, as well as their packages.

"I hope you know there will be consequences," Snape stated as they picked up the parcels.

"I’m not afraid of your threats," Harry laughed.

Harry took the candle in both hands as they headed home. Snape’s house was not far from the bazaar.

"I’m not afraid either," piped in a feminine voice from the parcel. "You don’t seem frightening."

Snape bent down close during his stride. "We’ll see, miss," he said in a grim, frightening voice.

Harry felt her flinch.

"Luciana cannot be frightened…"

There was a sudden silence and Harry looked up stunned at the end of Snape’s wand.

"What was that for?" asked Harry annoyed.

"There will finally be silence."

"Why, where are we going? Aren’t we going home?"

"Oh, we are," Snape laughed and put an arm around him. "Yes, we are going home."

Harry smiled as well. When he got home, he’d release Luciana from the hex and send the sweets to his friends. "Give me those sweets," Harry said. "I don’t want you to toss them away into the first bin."

"I won’t," Snape said, then released the parcels from one hand. In the next moment, Harry realised that a snowball was coming his way and he couldn’t avoid it. "Because I’ll eat them all!"

Harry put down the charmed candle and crouched to gather some snow. "Do you know what the others would say in Gryffindor tower if I told them I had a snowball fight with the strict potions professor who was hardly himself…"

Thwack!

"Fine… You’re in for it now!" Harry exclaimed and targeted Snape.

But the potions master evaded the snowball and leaned forward, hands on hips. "You missed me," he mocked.

"You just wait, dad!"

And a fierce snowball fight erupted between father and son in front of their house. No wizard passed by; only their laughs filled the quiet street.

After a short time, the bigger black blob became whiter and the smaller one laughed at him from a safe distance while it started to snow again. Then both disappeared into the house with their parcels as the snowfall intensified.

Only the twinkling light of the lamp stayed on, lighting up the small place wanly.

oO{~The end~}Oo