"Now Poppy, they seem fine to me-" began the Headmaster.

Pomfrey fastened a stern look upon the old wizard. "Are you the mediwitch, or am I?" she demanded tartly.  "At least Mr. Potter must come with me and be examined. You ought to come too, Severus."

"I need to speak with Severus first," Albus conceded. 

"I can dose myself," Snape added firmly. He detested others fussing over him like a helpless child.

"Mr. Potter, come with me," ordered the mediwitch.

"But . . ." Harry turned pleading eyes upon Albus. The cocoa and treats sounded heavenly and he was starving.

"Sorry, Harry. Maybe later I shall send you some scones and cocoa, if Madam Pomfrey permits it." Dumbledore said regretfully. "Run along now, my boy.  Thank goodness you are all right." He then beckoned Severus up past the gargoyle entrance.

Harry stifled a groan and reluctantly followed the mediwitch. It wasn't fair. Why did Snape get out of the Hospital Wing and not him? He didn't even feel sick anymore thanks to Snape and the Wise One. 

Once they had reached Poppy's domain, she insisted upon giving him a set of pajamas and running several diagnostics upon him, giving him a full workup. Harry counted the threads in the sheets while he waited for Pomfrey to finish. 

Finally she drew herself up and frowned at him.  "Mr. Potter, you recently had a very dangerous case of bronchitis, I am amazed that Professor Snape was able to bring down your fever and mend you the way he did considering the circumstances. However, you still need plenty of bed rest, liquids, and food as well. I want you to remain here for the night, just in case. Tomorrow morning you may go back to Gryffindor Tower."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry acquiesced, lying obediently upon the bed.  For some reason, the bed, though very comfortable, made him wish he was back in the cave, sleeping upon the Wise One. He closed his eyes, thinking he would just rest them for awhile.

He woke up some four hours later to see Ron and Hermione looking down upon him, smiling.  He sat up and smiled at them shyly. "Hey."

"Hi, Harry. How are you feeling?" asked Ron.

"Okay."

"Oh, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "We were so worried! How on earth did you ever wander out into a blizzard like that? Were you sleepwalking or something?"

Up until then, Harry hadn't had time to think up a reasonable explanation as to why he'd gone outside during a snowstorm. But luckily Hermione had come up with one. "Err  . . . yeah, that was it. Sometimes I do that and I don't know why."

Ron whistled. "Pretty wicked, mate."

Hermione frowned at him.  "Wicked? Ron, he could have been killed1 Frozen to death or worse. Luckily Professor Snape saw him leave and followed him."

Ron harrumphed. "I'll bet the only reason the greasy git followed him was to give him detention, right, Harry? How many points did the bat take?"

"None."

Ron goggled. "Huh? Not even ten?"

Harry shook his head. "No detention either. He . . .he saved my life." For some odd reason, saying it aloud made it seem more real.

"That's a first," Ron said.  "But you had to spend all night with him in a cave, right? Or was it a tree?"

"A cave.  It was cold and I was sick, but Snape helped me," Harry said, trying not to reveal too much about his ordeal. He knew Severus and the Wise One did not want him to speak about them. 

"Well, I'm glad you're going to be all right, Harry," Hermione said sincerely. 

"Me too," added Ron loyally. "Now why don't we fill you in on what's been happening since you got lost?"

Ron informed him that there had been another student petrified the day after Harry disappeared, Justin Fitch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff and also Nearly Headless Nick as well.  "Don't ask me how a ghost could be petrified, but he was."

Harry glanced down at his hands and thought, It's happening again. If I'd been here, could I have stopped the basilisk? Something has to be done about it. But what? I need to talk to Snape.

"It's really sad, but here's the good news," said Hermione excitedly. "I went to check on it, and guess what? It's ready!"

"It is? But I thought we still had a few days left to brew," Harry said.

Hermione looked slightly smug.  "We-e-ll, I . . . sort of . . .accelerated the potion a little."

"Accelerated it how?" asked Harry, mystified.

Hermione blushed and looked at her shoes. "You see . . .while you and Professor Snape went missing, I thought it would be best if we could drink it before the term ends and we all have to go home for break. So I . . . went down to the professor's office and found a book on accelerating and slowing down potions. Then I followed the directions and accelerated it and now it's finished."

Harry gaped at her. "Hermione, I'm shocked! Stealing from a professor!" he teased, speaking very softly.

"Harry, I didn't steal anything!" she protested. "I just borrowed the recipe and I put the book back where I found it."

He smirked. "Can't you take a joke? I was only teasing."

"Now we can get into the Slytherin common room and see if Malfoy's really the Heir of Slytherin," said Ron eagerly.

Given all he had learned about Salazar and the basilisk from both Severus and the Wise One, Harry started to wonder if they were right in thinking Malfoy really was the Heir of Slytherin. But he didn't want to say anything and dash their hopes, not after risking so much to brew the Polyjuice Potion.  "That's great, Ron! But . . . I'm stuck here in the Hospital Wing for . . .a few days, till Madame Pomfrey thinks I'm out of danger."

"Aww, Merlin!" Ron kicked the bed post. "Now what?"

"You'll have to go ahead and do it without me. You and Hermione."

Ron looked dismayed.  "It doesn't seem right."

Harry sighed. "Just do it, okay? We need to be sure it's Malfoy."

"Who else could it be?"

"That's what we're going to find out." Hermione said eagerly. "I hope. We'll do it tonight."

Harry smiled. "Tell me how it goes."

"We will," Hermione promised.

Just then Madam Pomfrey bustled in and shooed the two Gryffindors out of the room, leaving Harry to either sleep or be bored to death.  As he lay there in bed, he wondered how Snape was faring with Dumbledore.

SSSHPHPHP

After the obligatory cup of tea and scones, which tasted better than normal, perhaps because he was hungrier than usual, Severus was ready to get down to business. He had never liked wasting time on pleasantries when he had something important to say, and this time was no exception.  "Albus, there is something we need to discuss, and it concerns Potter."

Albus' eyes lit with that damnable twinkle and he said, "Of course, Severus.  What new complaint do you wish to make about him?"

Snape ignored the gibe.  "I have recently learned some things about Potter that are of grave importance. First, he is a Parselmouth and the Sorting Hat originally wished him to be placed in my House."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "A Parselmouth? But we haven't had a Parselmouth since Tom Riddle, I believe."

Severus nodded abruptly. He had never informed the Headmaster of his own ability, nor of the fact that he too was related to Salazar Slytherin. Had Dumbledore wished, he could have found the latter out, the Prince family tree was a matter of public record, but Dumbledore had never bothered to look and Snape saw no reason to enlighten him and draw more unwarranted suspicion down upon his head. Snape knew he was already damned for betraying the Potters unwittingly. No need to add anything to his already tattered reputation.

"That was why he ran out into the snow.  He thought he was going mad. He heard the voice of the basilisk."

"The basilisk spoke to him?" Dumbledore looked alarmed. "But that would mean . . ."

"No, Albus," Snape cut him off abruptly.  "He is not the Heir of Slytherin just because he is a Parselmouth. Or because he heard the basilisk mumbling to itself about killing and eating people."

"The basilisk said that?"

"According to Potter," replied the Potions Master, then he began to cough violently.

"My boy, you sound as if you ought to be in bed," Dumbledore said worriedly.

"Later," Severus waved off his concern.  "From what Potter told me, the basilisk is moving about the castle somehow, for he has heard it in different places."

Albus frowned, perplexed.  "That is a problem. Someone has released the basilisk from the chamber, Severus. Only I have no idea who could have done it, only that whoever has done so must be a Parselmouth, for the legend says only a Parselmouth can release the monster beneath the castle.  It must be stopped, Severus, before it kills someone."

"I know.  Perhaps . . ." he had been about to suggest that a solution might be found soon, while trying not to reveal his ace in the hole, when he began gasping for breath and coughing once again. His chest felt as if iron bands were squeezing him and spots began to dance before his eyes. This fit lasted longer than the previous one and when Severus finally regained his composure, the Headmaster was looking very alarmed.

"Severus, I insist you go and lie down. You are exhausted and seem very ill. That cough sounds very nasty." Albus urged, Snape was even paler than normal, and reddish spots highlighted his sallow cheekbones.

"I shall, but first let me tell you the rest," began Severus, his words rasping in his throat.  "In the cave, Potter talked in his sleep, and revealed some very disturbing facts about his life with the Dursleys."

"We can discuss this later-"

Severus slammed a hand down upon the desk.  "No! It must be now, Albus! He cannot go back there, not ever again. They have starved and neglected him, treated him like a burden to be forgotten, an unworthy freak. He ran into the snow in nothing but a pair of pajamas and shoes because he had nothing else to wear in the winter, Albus. No coat, no boots, not even a pair of gloves!"

"I don't understand, Severus. They have plenty of money, I send them a stipend monthly to cover all of that and they are well-to-do, so why . . .?"

"Why do they treat their nephew like a stray dog to catch the kick in the ribs?" Severus rasped angrily.  "Why do people like that do anything? They are petty, narrowminded, selfish people, who care only about themselves and their wants.  As Minerva once said, they are the worst kind of Muggles.  How is it that you never knew what went on over there, Albus? Why did you never check and see that your precious savior was being treated well?"

"I did ask Mrs. Figg to keep an eye on him.  She never mentioned anything about neglect or abuse to me." Albus protested faintly.

"Did she ever set foot inside the house to see? Perhaps listen at the keyhole? No? Then she would not have been able to gather the right information.  I will say it again, Albus.  He must not return to Privet Drive. He is not safe there. Physically or emotionally."

Dumbledore looked him straight in the eye. "Severus, I have no choice. He must go back."

"Why? So you can make a martyr out of him?" asked the other savagely.

"A martyr? Oh, Severus! Blood wards will protect him best from Voldemort and his allies. Petunia is Lily's sister."

"Sister or not, Petunia Dursley is a selfish, intolerant, calculating bitch.  She cares for herself and her son and her husband. Potter is an afterthought. The blood wards might protect him from curses and Death Eaters, but who will protect him from her?"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he went into a spate of sneezing and coughing that once again robbed him of his breath.

When he stopped, Albus had his arm about Snape's shoulders and was swatting his back. "Easy there, Severus. Why don't we continue this discussion later, when you are feeling well?"

Severus, who felt like death warmed over, could not manage to muster up any energy to insist that Albus should listen to him and perhaps go to see for himself that Harry was telling the truth and he needed to be removed from the Dursley residence before he turned jaded and hard like Severus had.  "They put him in a cupboard, Albus! A cupboard!" He managed to get out before a wave of dizziness swamped him. 

"Yes, yes, I understand," soothed the Headmaster.  "Go to bed, Severus. You need rest and potions. Are you sure you do not want Poppy to see you?"

Severus shook his head stubbornly.  "No. I can take care of myself."

"Always independent," chuckled the Headmaster. "Will you be well enough to teach classes tomorrow?"

"I don't know. It depends," was all Snape could answer. He allowed Albus to Floo him down to his quarters, where he gulped down a Pepperup potion and a Decongestive Reliever and a mild Fever Reducer.  He was furious at how his body had suddenly betrayed him for he had left a great deal unsaid between Albus and himself.  If that were not enough, he wasn't even certain the Headmaster believed him. What a bloody mess! He thought, quickly removing his clothing and pulling on a pair of pants and a soft green shirt with snake scale imprints

Afterwards he fell upon his bed and knew nothing more.

SSHPSSHPSS

Ron and Hermione returned from their infiltration of the Slytherin common room. There was nothing interesting to discover, Draco himself told who he thought was Goyle and Millicent Blustrode that he didn't know who was the person behind the attacks.  Harry was frustrated.  It seemed they had gone through all that trouble for nothing.  He would have probably learned more by asking the basilisk directly.

If only he could find it. Or the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. But he hadn't heard the voice since coming to the Hospital Wing. 

"Well, at least we tried," Hermione said comfortingly.

"Right," Harry sighed.

"How long will you be stuck in here?" asked Ron.

"A few more days, I think." Harry made a face. "Till Christmas probably."

"That really sucks," Ron groaned. "We'll be leaving for break soon. Will you be staying over here for the holidays again?"

"Yes." Harry answered.  "I like it that way."

"Your aunt and uncle don't mind that you spend Christmas at school?" Hermione queried.

"Not really. They're not one for the holidays," Harry replied. It was not quite a lie. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon celebrated Christmas with Dudley, but Harry had always been ignored and treated like he didn't exist.  He saw no reason to go back to that when he could be here, and at least enjoy a real Christmas dinner and a few gifts given by his friends. 

"Oh. Well, term ends tomorrow and we can see how we did on our finals over break," Hermione said excitedly.

"I'd rather not," Ron said glumly. "I think I failed potions."

"Because you don't study," Hermione interjected. "How can you pass anything if you don't study?"

Harry let the good-natured quarreling over marks wash over him, his mind was already searching for a way to try and lure out the basilisk so he could speak to it, or at least discover the way into the Chamber.  But he too was weary and he soon fell asleep while his friends bickered.

The next morning, Ron and Hermione discovered that the last potions class was cancelled for the term, and no explanation was given, just a note upon the door to that effect.  All the Gryffindors celebrated and cheered. Even some of the Slytherins looked relieved.    After lunch, all the students leaving packed, and then went to catch the Express at Hogsmeade.  Hermione and Ron bid goodbye to Harry and wished him a Happy Christmas, promising to send him gifts soon.

The castle emptied and soon the halls were silent save for Peeves' occasional cackling and groaning and the ghosts chuckling to each other.  This term, Harry was the only Gryffindor student remaining at the school for break.  There were two Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, but no Slytherins.  Harry was about ready to chew his fingers and toes off before Poppy finally released him from the Hospital Wing two nights later.

He raced up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower and got into some normal clothing instead of those awful hospital pajamas he'd been living in for the past three days. Then he went downstairs and revisted all the old haunts where he had first heard the basilisk.  But there was no raspy voice coming from the walls.

Frustrated, Harry decided to visit the dungeons, reasoning that might be where the Chamber was located.  He walked past Snape's office and classroom, the Slytherin portrait hole, and trailed his hand along the wall. He began muttering in Parseltongue, trying to see if that might summon the basilisk to him, or perhaps unlock the entrance to the chamber, when he heard a small but distinct click.

What was that? he hissed in Parseltongue to himself.  He went back a few feet along the wall, where a tapestry hung of two trees in a hedged park with a dark-haired boy and a red-haired girl sitting upon swings. Harry had never seen that particular one before, and wondered how he could have missed such a cheery design, it seemed out of place among the stark dungeon walls and the glowering portraits that lined the wall further down. 

He studied the picture for a moment, wondering why the two children looked somewhat familiar.  Then he carefully pushed aside the tapestry and found a tall arched doorway.  The door was standing slightly ajar, and Harry grew excited. He carefully pushed the door to, expecting to see a long dark passageway leading down to the bowels of the earth and the lair of the basilisk.

Instead the door opened onto a small sitting room furnished with black and green furniture and thick rugs.  A small fire was crackling in the fireplace and there upon the hearth was sprawled the prone figure of Professor Snape.

Harry gasped.  Then he ran to the professor's side.  "Sir? Professor, are you all right? Sir, can you hear me?" He shook Snape's shoulder hard.

But Severus remained still, his eyes closed, face flushed a deep red with fever, obviously unconscious and gravely ill. 

Harry just stared down at the man he used to think of as invincible, a man so strong and hard that nothing could ever defeat him, who had rescued him from a blizzard without flinching.  Surely this was a mistake? He was dreaming.  He was hallucinating.  Snape could not be here, lying like this. 

He started getting sick in the cave, before we left.  And now he's become worse.

Harry's mind raced.  He had to get help, but Poppy Pomfrey had left for Christmas holidays like all the other teachers save for Snape and . . .Dumbledore.

Harry put his fingers to Snape's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there and he breathed a sigh of relief.  How long had Snape been lying here like this? It was impossible to know.  Frightened and scared, Harry forced himself to his feet and went over to the fireplace.  He scanned the mantel, looking for a jar of Floo Powder. Ron had explained that most wizards and witches kept a jar nearby so they could visit back and forth with each other and right now Harry needed to find Dumbledore's office.

He finally spied a medium sized jar labeled neatly upon the left side and grabbed it. He then recalled Mrs. Weasley's instructions about using the Floo and tossed a handful into the fire. The flames changed into an electric green with a whoosh.

Harry carefully spoke the words, "Dumbledore's office."

Then he stepped into the fire and the flames whisked him away to the Headmaster's office.  He tumbled out of the large fireplace in front of Dumbledore's desk, landing in an ungraceful heap on the hearth, covered with ashes and soot.

A startled Albus looked up from the pile of reports he was addressing. "Harry! How nice of you to drop in, my boy! Anything I can do for you?"

Harry coughed and sputtered for a few seconds before managing to say, "It's Snape, sir! He's . . . passed out on the floor of his . . . err . . . room and he needs help . . . He's very sick! You have to help him!" He gulped hard to keep from totally flying to pieces, tears shimmering unnoticed in his green eyes.

Dumbledore was on his feet, sending his parchments flying all over the floor. The look in his eyes was one of unfeigned alarm. "Come, Harry. There's not a moment to lose." He tossed down a handful of Floo Powder and called out, "Professor Snape's quarters!" before stepping through, Harry clinging to his sleeve. Inwardly, the old wizard scolded himself for not keeping a better eye on the stubborn younger wizard, who had a tendency to ignore his own health at times.  He prayed it was not too late to save the brilliant wizard, who had at last begun to feel compassion for the boy who had been his best friend's son.