"My poor boy!" Albus exclaimed upon seeing the limp form lying upon the hearth. He immediately knelt and felt Snape's throat and forehead. There was a pulse, but the man's breathing was shallow and his skin was afire.  Air wheezed in and out of Snape's mouth, Dumbledore winced at the tortuous sound it made, like the last gasp of a dying animal.  His blue eyes were filled with concern and not a little fear. "I should have checked up on him. I know what a stubborn ass he can be about taking care of himself," he muttered, half to himself.  "He always pushes himself to the limit."

"Can you help him?" Harry asked, staring at his teacher in a dazed kind of horror. Could Snape be . . .dying? He certainly looked dreadful, like the way Harry imagined one would look if he were close to death.  He peered at Dumbledore, who for the first time Harry could remember, did not have the familiar sparkle in his eyes. The old wizard looked distraught and his muttered comments made Harry see that the situation was grave, and that the Headmaster cared more for Snape than he would have thought possible.  Why . . . he sounds almost like he . . . cares for the professor . . . the way a father might . . . or at least the way I think a father might care for a son. How odd! He had never pictured Dumbledore as anyone's father before . . . grandfather, maybe . . . or Snape as anyone's son either, though he must have had a father once . . .

Dumbledore waved a hand and Severus was levitated into the air upon a stretcher.  "We shall need to Floo him to the Hospital Wing, Harry. I can treat him better there." The old wizard explained, even as he tossed down the Floo Powder.  "Hang on to the end of the stretcher, there's a good lad."

Harry obeyed, and soon they had all traveled to the Hospital Wing, which looked very dreary and cold, like a house whose occupants have abandoned it, without Madam Pomfrey there.  Dumbledore lit all the lamps and levitated Severus onto a bed. A wave of his wand and the Potion Master's tight-fitting clothing vanished, transformed into a loose white linen nightshirt. 

Suddenly, Severus began to cough violently, trying to expel the phlegm in his lungs, nearly turning purple with the effort. 

"Oh dear, perhaps I ought to sit you up," Albus cried, and put an arm about the professor, easing him to a sitting position.

The coughing fit eased somewhat, though spasms still wracked the other's tall frame until he retched and spat into a basin the Headmaster held.  Dumbledore frowned at the yellowish discharge and muttered, "Worse than I thought. Damn!" But after he had propped up Severus with several pillows to a semi-upright position, he turned to Harry and said, "Harry, I need you to fetch me several potions from the cabinet in Madam Pomfrey's office. Here is the key."

He handed Harry a small silver gilt key. Then he rattled off a list of healing drafts, mostly dealing with fever reducers and chest congestion.  Harry listened intently and then dashed off. He returned a few minutes later with the required potions.

Dumbledore ran a diagnostic upon Snape, discovering that he was also suffering from a migraine and had a bump on the back of the head where he had hit the hearth stones. Albus performed a minor healing charm upon the dark head, which was all the healing magic he knew, and then whispered a soft, "Ennervate."

Snape blinked, and then the light returned to his obsidian eyes. "What . . . where . . . Albus?"

"I'm here, my boy." The Headmaster said soothingly.  He held a vial to Severus' lips. "I need you to drink this."

Snape tried, but started to cough, and almost choked.

Albus looked startled. "Hmm . . .maybe I ought to . . ."

"Why don't you try a straw, sir?" suggested Harry. "Whenever my cousin Dudley was sick, my aunt always made him drink liquids through a straw, she said it was easier for him to swallow."

"Capital idea!" exclaimed Dumbledore, and conjured one with another casual wave.  He stuck the red and gold curlicued plastic straw into the vial of Fever Reducer and then thrust the straw-bedecked vial at Snape. "Here, Severus, now try!"

The gasping and exhausted Snape didn't have the strength to refuse and slowly sipped at the potion until the vial was empty.

Albus then gave him the others Harry had brought, interspersing them with a glass of cold water. 

By the time all the potions had been administered, Severus' eyes were closing. 

"Tired . . ."

"Yes, I know. Sleep now. Sleep." Dumbledore whispered, and gently brushed the hair away from Snape's forehead, tucking the covers about the lean frame.

Harry watched and bit back a smile, for he was sure the professor would have raised hell at the Headmaster's fussing over him.  Dumbledore really does care for him.  I'm glad. At least someone does. Besides me. That thought startled him most of all, but somewhere during those freezing nights in the Wise One's cave, Harry had come to care about Severus Snape. 

"He'll be okay now, won't he?"

"Yes.  Those were all standard remedies I gave him. He should be fine in a day or two," Albus reassured Harry. "Why don't you go and take a nap, Harry? You were recently sick yourself, you need the rest."

Harry obeyed, he was feeling sleepy.  But he woke in the middle of the night, hearing the basilisk rasp its litany of hunger and death and couldn't fall asleep again alone in his room. So he decided to head down to the infirmary to check on Snape again.

When he arrived he found the professor tossing and turning and groaning in his sleep, his cough was worse, and he was glassy eyed with fever.

Dumbledore was snoozing in a cot nearby, his snores rattling the windows.

"Sir!" Harry shook the old wizard sharply. "Wake up! Professor Snape is worse! Sir!"

Dumbledore stirred. "Eh? Harry? What . . . what's the matter?"

Harry repeated himself and Albus shot up.  "Goodness! Obviously, this must be a worse virus than I thought." He began re-administering the potions again, hoping that it would be enough this time. 

What Dumbledore did not know was that Snape had contracted an infection from Harry and his previous cold had exacerbated the symptoms beyond what normal potions could treat.  He had been dosing himself with them since his return to Hogwarts to no effect, which was how he had ended up passed out on the floor. So Dumbledore's remedies were like spitting on a bonfire.

But the Headmaster did not know and Harry did not realize the potions weren't having the intended effect until a day later, when Snape's fever rose higher and higher and began to break down his carefully constructed inner walls.  In his delirium he became lost in the past, and secrets spilled like bitter poison from his lips . . . secrets of his past that no one was ever meant to know.

Severus felt as if he were on fire, the air he sucked into his lungs burned and he choked and gasped. Pain wracked him, shivering through him in waves, until he barely knew where he was anymore.  He drifted . . .and suddenly he was seven years old again . . .facing the wrath of his father for accidentally setting the couch on fire. . .

"Please, Dad . . . I didn't mean to, it just happened . . . I wasn't playing with matches, honest! Please don't hurt me, I'll never do it again . . . Promise!"

He sobbed as Tobias' belt walloped his thighs and backside, creating a fire ten times worse than the brief flicker of one his magic had conjured and which Tobias had put out with a finger.

Hearing the proud professor beg like a small child, flinching and jerking, horrified Harry so much that he nearly puked.  He exchanged horrified glances with Dumbledore, who was looking at Snape in disbelief.

"Oh, Severus! I never knew! Never! Forgive me . . .I should have guessed . . ."

"He never told you?" Harry whispered.

"No.  He never even hinted at it." Dumbledore looked stricken.

"He told me . . . that he understood when he found out about the Dursleys. But I never thought . . . he had it worse than I ever did.  At least Aunt Petunia never beat me that way . . . well once she swung a frying pan at my head, but it missed . . ."

Now Dumbledore was looking at Harry with the same startled horror.  "You too, Harry?"

Harry squirmed but managed to meet his Headmaster's eyes squarely. "Yeah, but I didn't have it that bad. . . they just locked me in a cupboard and made me skip meals a lot . . .and I had to do chores . . .But that doesn't matter now, sir. We need to do something to bring that fever down."

"I'm trying, Harry.  But nothing I've done seems to work," Dumbledore said, despair in his tone. "Perhaps I need to contact St. Mungos . . ."

A Healer was summoned and tried stronger potions, but Snape remained unresponsive. His fever fluctuated and at a loss, the Healer declared there was nothing more he could do.  "I'm sorry, Albus, but he's too far gone, the virus has attacked his magical core. All we can do now is . . . make him comfortable."

Harry remained frozen, denial sweeping through him like a cold arctic wind.  "No!" he cried. "You're wrong! There has to be something you can do . . .something!"

"I'm sorry, young man, but I've done all I can.  Sometimes not even magic can heal the sick."

"I don't believe you!" Harry shouted, his throat hoarse from holding back sobs. "When I was nearly dead from frostbite he saved me! I nearly died from bronchitis myself but he never gave up." He whirled on Dumbledore. "Sir, you can't give up! You just can't!"

Dumbledore's face twisted in sorrow. "Oh, Harry . . ."

Seeing the defeat in the other's eyes should have broken Harry, but it did not.  Instead it made him even more determined to save his potions professor. He thrust his hand into his pocket, feeling for his wand, and his hand encountered the golden scale instead.

The Wise One's parting gift.

The Wise One!

The ancient serpent would know how to heal Snape, she had helped Severus heal Harry. 

Without saying anything further, Harry turned and ran out of the infirmary.

"Poor boy!" Albus shook his head. "He has grown quite fond of Severus . . ."

He dismissed the Healer, saying there was no longer a need for him to stay.  Then he took up a silent grief-filled vigil beside Snape's bedside. 

Meanwhile, Harry pulled on a scarf and Ron's gloves and wrapped himself in his extra cloak before running out of the door and across the grounds into the forest. He clutched the snake scale in his hand, and whispered in Parseltongue, "Show me the way to the cave! Show me!"

He began walking in what he thought was the right direction, the snow was packed down in spots and as the scale grew warmer, Harry felt a drawing sensation humming through him. 

He knew he was on the right path.

He ran faster through the snowy woods, the scale burning like a beacon in his hand, guiding him unerringly onward.  He was not afraid of the bloodspawn returning, or thinking of anything save getting Snape the help he needed. He can't die! I won't let him! I won't! he repeated over and over as he ran.  The litany sustained him through the bitter cold and gave him strength when he faltered in the drifts.

He didn't know how long it took, but finally he saw the cave and he threw himself at the entrance with a sharp cry, hissing loudly in Parseltongue, "Wise One! I need you!"

**Harry? What is wrong, littling?** the Wise One lifted her wedge-shaped head from her coiled body and slithered forward, her green eyes glowing in alarm. 

Harry suddenly found himself hugging the golden serpent, his eyes leaking tears. "Please, it's Professor Snape, he's very sick . . .they say he's dying . . .can you save him?"

**Dying? Of what? What are his symptoms?**

Harry told the Wise One what had happened and also what the Healer had said.  Somehow he managed to do so without breaking down. 

The Wise One listened intently then spoke, **There is only one thing that may save him now, if what the Healer said was correct.  You must make a potion using my venom and some raw wild honey from my native land.**

"Me, brew a healing potion? But I'm no good at . . ." he trailed off, realizing that it was Snape's last hope.  "Okay. Tell me what to do."

**First, take a deep breath. Again. Now, focus your mind on the task at hand. Only that. To brew you must be calm and collected. Weep afterwards, if you must.**

Harry wiped his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he was calmer and focused he said, "I'm ready. Show me."

**First . . .you shall need a large container, reach up on the shelf in the back of the cave there . . .** She followed Harry to the back of the cave, near the spring, where Severus had left the cauldron he'd conjured, plus the stirrer and the empty vials. 

**Now then, reach up and bend back my left fang, don't be afraid, it doesn't hurt me.  Place the bowl beneath it . . .very good . . .**

Harry saw a golden colored liquid flow into the bowl. It filled it halfway. Then he did the same to the other fang.  Now the bowl was full.

He found the honey, sealed with beeswax in a small jar.  "Now what?"

The Wise One instructed him on the correct way to brew the potion, and Harry followed her directions to the letter.  He was surprised at how easy it was. First the water, then the snake milk, then the honey, then a pinch of rue and some crushed willowbark, now alternate, and then stir five times clockwise and three time counterclockwise, than again vigorously clockwise for a minute. 

The mixture turned a pale milky color with golden flecks.

The Wise One peered at it.

**Well done, Harry! Now you must let it simmer for ten minutes, then you can decant it.**

"You mean . . .I did it right?"

**Indeed! You are a true Healer, like many a Parselmouth before you.** the snake hissed in approval.

Harry almost wept in relief. 

He spent the next ten minutes wearing a hole in the cave floor, while the Wise One watched serenely.

Finally, the potion was ready to decant, and Harry poured the precious elixir into two vials and tucked them in his pocket.  "Thank you, Wise One! Thank you so much!"

When he would have run out of the castle, the Wise One called him.  **Wait! I shall take you there. Every second counts!**

Once more Harry rode the golden serpent through the forest, marveling at how fast the snake could travel.

But unlike the first time, she did not pause at the edge of the forest. Instead she continued, right up the stairs and inside the castle, since the door had been left ajar by Harry when he had run from the castle. 

Harry was amazed that she fit down the corridor, but somehow she managed to shrink herself a bit so she could slither along. He directed her to the Hospital Wing, and she shot down the corridor.

Just as they reached the Hospital Wing, the Wise One stiffened and hissed.  **Harry, beware! I smell my cousin Icefyre nearby!**

But Harry was past caring about the invisible basilisk. All he cared about was getting the elixir into Snape. He slid off the serpent and rushed into the infirmary.

The Healer was gone. Snape was still in the bed, his face flushed with fever, still alive.

Dumbledore was snoozing with his head in his hands beside the bed.

At the foot loomed a gigantic green scaled serpent, swaying over the ill Potions Master, mouth agape.

Harry froze.

The basilisk!

Before it could move, Harry had drawn his wand, and hissed in Parseltongue, "Leave him alone! You can't have him!"

The basilisk started to turn about, letting out a sharp hiss of surprise.

Quicker than thought, the Wise One interposed her body inbetween Harry and the basilisk, shielding him from Icefyre's gaze.  **S-s-saa, cousin! Once again we meet! Do you remember me?**

The basilisk turned and met the ruffed serpent's gaze.  He stared at her for long moments, struggling to clear the mists of madness from his brain.  Finally he hissed, **Wise One? After all this time, you have returned!**

The ruffed serpent inclined her head slightly. **I have. What do you here, cousin?**

**My heir . . .my heir is dying . . .Can you not heal him, cousin? S-Salazar is dying!** moaned the basilisk, and from his great crimson eye fell a single tear.