Chapter 15 - The wisdom of muggles

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It wasn't the first time Severus broke into a muggle-house. It was, however, the first time he broke into a library.

He had thought about it carefully and had come to the conclusion that it would be wise to start his research in the medical section of the main library of London, as it probably was one of the biggest libraries in the UK. If he wouldn't find any information regarding Potter's... condition, he would need to visit one of the university libraries, although he hoped to avoid this, since it was incredibly difficult to find specific books in these facilities. He didn't know how muggles coped. Severus himself had been forced to visit such a library once or twice after he had left Hogwarts and studied potions in more depths, and he had only barely lived through this experience. How could you find any book without using magic, without it even have a magical classification number? And since he hadn't even the slightest clue what he was looking for it would be even worse today.

Although, this wasn't entirely true any more. Potter's outbreak during lunch had provided him with enough information to have at least a starting point in his quest.

A psychiatrist. The medicine had been prescribed by a psychiatrist. Severus could have slapped himself for not realizing this sooner. He had seen the drugs the boy had taken, after all, and he had known that he had already heard of one of it. Haldol, Halolperidol, it was no surprise that Poppy didn't know about it! Even most potions-masters had never worked with it, as it had originally been invented by a mere muggle. Most wizards weren't capable of believing that muggles could achieve anything noteworthy.
Severus, however, being a halfblood and also aware of what results substances mostly used by muggles could have (thanks to his dear father), had experimented with many chemicals only known amongst muggles. And it had proved quite fruitful, hadn't it, he would have never gained his mastery so fast if it hadn't been for a few of the more ingenious potions he had created or enhanced by using ordinary muggle chemicals in addition to magical substances.

There had been a reason why anybody who tried to create medicine, potions, whatever, had been burned as a witch (or sorcerer) only a few centuries ago. But if it hadn't been for the close cooperation of potioneers, shamans and people from all kind of different medical professions (muggles and wizards alike) that had existed until the Statue of Secrecy came into force, many drugs and other means of treatments for the most serious illnesses would have never been found.

After he had tried to turn off the alarm and learned that obviously muggles didn't think someone would break into a library (since no alarm was in place), he opened the door with a quick "Alohomora". To be absolutely sure that he wouldn't be disturbed, he cast a light muggle-repelling charm over the whole building before he started to search for the medical section. Fortunately, there were at least some signs at where to find books about the different subjects, and it took Severus only 5 minutes to find the shelves that contained books about all kind of muggle-illnesses and the corresponding treatments and drugs.

It was a tedious process. He had planned to start with searching for the two drugs he knew the boy had taken and he had already heard of, Halolperidol and Valium, in order to find out what muggles did with them. If this didn't work, he had thought about just scanning all the books about mental health and similar issues, since apparently this was what Ha- Potter what suffering from.

In retrospect, he was glad about the boy's outbreak earlier today, otherwise he would have to search the entire section and not just the few shelves that dealt with mental health. However, his lunch-break had been entirely ruined by the brat's statement that for one the boy's uncle had the cruelty to taunt a child - Potter or not - about being ill and additionally that he had obviously been treated for a mental illness by a muggle doctor! Didn't Petunia know how dangerous it could be for a wizard to take substances that meddled with the brain, with the mental state of a person?
Of course, many potions affected the mental state, too, but these were potions and therefore magical! You couldn't just go and treat a wizard with any muggle-medication there was, it had to be adjusted to the special needs and conditions of wizards! Severus had read about cases where the repeated taking of muggle-drugs by wizards had led to all kind of awful side-effects, and sometimes even death. To be fair, only abuse of substances over a course of many years had led to the wizard's death, but nevertheless, it was far to risky!
And even if Petunia hadn't remembered that Lily had taken potions instead of muggle-medicine after she had started Hogwarts (and that their parents had been relieved to learn that it was quite normal for a witch to react unpredictably to normal medicine), surely Dumbledore had told - or written - her when leaving Harry-, damn it, Potter! - with her family?

He hadn't been able to ask the headmaster, though, since after he had stormed into the hospital wing and demanded that Poppy showed him the medicine again (just to be sure that he wasn't mistaken), the bell had announced the end of lunch-break and he had to hurry not to be late for his next class. And after classes were over Minerva had informed him that Albus had been called to the ministry - apparently, Fudge had lost his bowler and needed the headmaster's help to find it - and that she didn't know when he would return.

Of course, during all that mess he had lost sight of the very first-year that was the cause of (almost) everything. Not that he worried about the little urchin, but it would have been nice to get more information out of him. Well, although it was quite probable that he wouldn't have gotten anything useful anyway, considering the slightly confused impression the boy made every time you tried to get consistent answers. But then, if the boy had taken this substance - Halolperidol - for Merlin knew how long, it was no surprise that he was confused. Hell, it was a miracle he was able to do anything besides lying in bed, staring into the space and drooling!

Trying to concentrate on the books rather then on the events of the afternoon, Severus turned his attention to a promising book about the treatment of schizophrenia. He hadn't a clue what exactly "Schizophrenia" was, though he thought he might have heard (or more likely read) the expression at some time. And hadn't the letter that was with all the pills mentioned it, too?
He scanned the index. Symptoms, Causes, Treatments... there it was...Insulin coma therapy... electro-convulsing therapy... what was that? It didn't sound nice... Emergency measures... restraining of patients- they didn't tie people up, did they? Medication! There it was! And sure enough, one of the first drugs mentioned in the text was the very one Harry took, Halolperidol! Yes, he had a clue!
Severus was thrilled. He hadn't thought he would find anything during his first night! Deciding that this book was worth a more thorough reading, he sat down on a nearby table.

Half an hour later, all delight about finding something useful had been replaced by a feeling of dread. It couldn't be, could it? The boy couldn't have this... this schizophrenia, could he? He was a child! Could children become psychotic? Could wizards become psychotic? Severus had never heard of such a case, never read about a wizard being psychotic. Yes, he had read about these psychoses before, when he had studied muggle-chemicals, since the substances they were normally treated with were most interesting and useful for many potions. It must have been the time when he read the expression "schizophrenia", too, but of course, he hadn't paid much attention to it, thinking it was some kind of muggle-illness of no real interest for a potioneer.

But if Harry suffered from this- the boy was a wizard, even if he might not be a very powerful one, considering the difficulties he had with simple spells... well, it must mean that wizards could get it, too! However, why had he never heard of it? Why had Poppy, as a healer, never heard of it? He doubted that healers in St. Mungo would know about these kinds of mental illnesses since all they dealt with as far as mental health was concerned were spell damages, brain injuries caused by magic, confusions or worse things due to curses... but not with things like psychoses.

According to the book (and to Severus' very poor knowledge), psychoses and schizophrenia were caused by a disorder of the brain metabolism... an imbalance of chemicals that were necessary for the brain to function properly. Hence the treatment with substances that interfered with the way the human brain worked.
Yes, it made sense... it made sense that muggle tried to deal with mental illnesses by giving the patients substances that altered the way the brain worked. After all, what should they do about it otherwise? Locking the people in for the rest of their life? They didn't have the potions and spells healers could use to calm down a person or heal any malfunctions of the brain!

However, Severus couldn't helped but feel increasingly frightened by what he was reading. This sounded awfully close to mind-control. Had muggles - perhaps inadvertently - found something that worked similar to the Imperius? He thought about the way Harry (he would think about the implications of his head thinking about the brat as "Harry" later) moved, the faraway look in his eyes... hadn't he himself considered, at least for a brief moment, the possibility of the boy being hit by not only one of the Unforgivables but two?

Deciding that for now he should stop worrying in favour of searching for other books - this one might be wrong, after all! - Severus stood up, leaving it on the table. He would made copies of all of the books that might be of interest in order to have a more thorough look at them when he was back in his quarters.
Dimly, he thought that he would probably have to ask the house-elves for yet another book-shelf. He had a strange sense of foreboding that the enigma Harry posed would keep him busy for longer than he had expected. (Well, this wasn't really saying anything since only two days ago he had been set on ignoring the son of James Potter entirely, except for deducting points, of course).

After another hour or so, the potion-master had made copies of several other books as well, a few about schizophrenia and psychoses, a few about all kinds of mental illnesses, and, of course, many about the substances Harry took. Or some of them, at least.
It had been disturbing to discover that apparently there were not only a few different drugs but a whole branch of medication for the treatment of these kinds of diseases. After he had had a quick look in one of the books, he had noticed that it didn't seem to be very unusual for a person to take two or more different kinds of these drugs like Harry did.

But it just couldn't be healthy, could it?

During his search, Severus had found references to several other substances he was familiar with from his work with potions. Most of them, though, he had never considered using in a potion that students would take, or any sick person at all! He was quite sure that if someone competent from the ministry (he had actually snorted at this, as it seemed to be something of a paradox) learned about these ingredients, they would be regarded as dark and evil and banned immediately (and therefore be a best-seller in Knockturn Alley).

Deciding that he had enough reading-material for the next few days, Severus shrunk the copies of the books and pocketed them. After removing the muggle-repelling charm, he apparated back to Hogsmeat, and fifteen minutes later he was back in his quarters. Since it was already 3 o'clock in the morning, he dismissed all thoughts about going to bed for at least a few hours, deducing that it would be more useful to spend the time reading some passages of the books in more detail. He was a potion-master, after all, so why not taking advantage of the stock of Pepper-Ups he had?

Poppy Pomfrey had never considered herself to be overly grumpy in the morning, but when an enraged potion-master stormed into her quarters at barely 6 o'clock in the morning, she was seriously tempted to shoot some of the nastier hexes at the ranting bat.

"Severus Snape! What it the meaning of this?!"

"The meaning of this? You ask what THE MEANING OF THIS IS? What do you think, considering the fact that I were forced to go to that bloody muggle library only because you are too incompetent with muggle psychiatry to recognize a case of a serious mental illness if you see one?!"

"Severus! There is no need to be rude! And may I remind you that you have proposed to do the research, as you have already been familiar with at least a few of the issues we're talking about?"

"Hmpf, perhaps St Mungo's should introduce some major changes in the apprenticeship of its healers. We just can't rely on healers that know nothing about muggle-medicine in a society where half the population live at least partially in the muggle-world! And certainly not in this school! Have you never told Albus about the dangers muggle-illnesses can pose for wizarding children?!"

"Repeatedly, Severus. But I gather from your agitation that you have found something useful regarding Mr Potter's condition?"

"Then bloody hell force him to pay for your further training! I won't do half of your job only because the old coot is too stingy to pay for a well-qualified healer at this school!"

"Severus, if you would please focus on the more urgently subject? I'm sure you'll be able to... ehm, convince the headmaster that it would be both in his and the school's best interest to increase the funds for the infirmary!"

"Sure I am! Well, yes, Potter - he's bloody psychotic, the boy!"

"Psychotic? What does that mean? Is this the reason he had taken all these pills?" The medi-witch gestured towards her office where Harry's medicine was still safeguarded.

"Yes. Well, it certainly seems so... perhaps it would be better if we sat down to discuss the whole mess. And perhaps- ah!" Severus interrupted himself when two steaming pots, one filled with coffee, one with tea, appeared on a nearby table. Having house-elves at one's disposal was certainly quite nice. Well, at least if they didn't try to "tidy up" your potion-lab!
The two adults sat down, and after a few moments in which Severus relished the taste of strong, black coffee, he began to tell Poppy what he had accomplished so far.

"... and then, I decided that it would be reasonable to start reading some of these books in more detail. All the pills the boy takes are commonly used by doctors to treat serious mental illnesses! You know," he added after a blank look from Poppy, "like the Longbottoms-"

"WHAT? Do you mean to tell me the boy is in a similar condition as Alice and Frank are?!"

"Well, their son isn't much brighter, if you ask me..."

"Severus Snape! I won't have you insulting the poor Neville! And what do you mean, Harry being like Frank and Alice? He seems to be aware of what's going on, and he shouts quite a lot, if what Minerva tells is true. Surely-"

"No, but similar! There is a whole branch of muggle-diseases that are similar to the one's treated on the closed ward at St Mungo's. Imagine, like being hit by a Pertristis-hex* and it not being released for month or even years! Or a botched Imperius where neither you nor the caster can really control what you're doing. Or think of the effects it has when someone is exposed to too many cheering-charms!"

During Severus explanation, Poppy had noticeably paled. She might not know much about muggle-diseases, but she had seen her fair share of witches and wizards that had suffered under one of the conditions the potion-master had mentioned. It was a very complicated field for healers to work with, and only very few ever achieved mastery in mind-healing. Proficiency in Legilimency and Occlumency where essential, as was a certain knowledge about the Dark Arts, as most spells that could do significant damage to a person's mind where at least grey in nature. And while the cheering-charm, for instance, certainly wasn't dark, the overuse of it could not only lead to morbid cheerfulness but also to aggressiveness, over-estimation of one's own abilities and, as a result, to behaviour that could endanger both yourself and other people's health.
All in all, not many people where willing to become mind-healers, and even fewer passed the mandatory examination by the ministry. After all, it wouldn't do to pass responsibility for unstable people or people who might even be victims of death-eaters or similar dark forces to wizards with ulterior motives.

"You mean... muggles have invented means to meddle with a person's mind, too?" Poppy asked, feeling increasingly sick.

"No, or well, yes, but it's complicated... they have invented substances that affect a person's mind. You know, similar to some potions. The ones Harry obviously took while staying with his relatives are some of these drugs. But-"

"YOU MEAN THEY HAVE PURPOSFULLY HARMED THE BOY BY GIVING HIM THIS STUFF?"

"NO! Will you just listen to me, witch! I don't think they wanted to harm the boy but to help him." A raised eyebrow was enough to make Poppy swallow the question she had been about to ask. "There are certain illnesses - mental illnesses - that are quite common amongst muggles. I don't think they have discovered any real causes of them... there are many different theories, like the person's sub-consciousness affecting the way the person thinks and feels and acts, or traumatic events that might have a long-term effect on people's feelings, or, and that seems to be the case with Harry, that the way the person's brain works could be disturbed... a disorder in a person's brain metabolism. Like I said, they don't really know why these things occur. But it doesn't matter, they either treat these things by a doctor talking to the patient every week for an hour or so, or by prescribing medicine. Sometimes even both, I think..."

"So they have treated the boy by giving him stuff that meddles with his mind?! But... he is just a child! It can't be healthy for a child to take such drugs! I mean, nobody would dose a child with Veritaserum or similar invasive potions, at least not repeatedly! And apparently, it doesn't work anyway, does it? I mean, if it did, they would stop giving the child these potions- eh, medicine, once he's better, wouldn't they?"

"I don't know for sure, but it seems that certain illnesses can't be cured. Only the symptoms can be suppressed. You know, like Lycantrophy... you can't do very much about it, only ensure that the person neither harms other nor himself... I don't know whether this is the case with Har- the boy. I need more information. The books can only tell so much if we don't know what exactly is wrong with him. Or what the muggles thought was wrong with him. Maybe it was only excessive accidental magic that led to Petunia taking him to a doctor... although she should know that accidental magic is completely normal. But then, it can be frightening for a muggle... well, I think we need to find out why exactly Harry was treated by a doctor. There must be files, I think... and perhaps it would be prudent to speak with Petunia... yeah. Eh, can I have another look at the paper that was with the medicine?"

"Sure," and the medi-witch summoned the strange letter Harry had brought her just two days ago. She passed it to the tired-looking potion-master who read it and frowned.

"They aren't very forthcoming with information, these muggles, aren't they? Well, at least we have the name of the doctor... and the hospital- I wonder whether the child was actually hospitalized? And what are these numbers supposed to mean?!" Severus grumbled on and on until Poppy interrupted him.

"So what are we going to do? Can we just keep giving Mr Potter these forged pills? Or do he really need the real ones? And isn't there a potion you could brew him instead of all these pills? It doesn't feel right to give a child several different drugs each day... you can never know how they might react with potions if the boy should ever come down with the flu or something..."

"I don't know... I think I'll speak to him after classes and try to get more information. Then we might need to visit the muggle-doctor the boy was treated by - I won't do this bit alone, no, can't see any reason why I should be the only one that has to do all the irritating business only because Albus hasn't bothered to check on the boy before - or instructed the teacher that accompanied him on his trip to Diagon Alley to ask for all these things - I mean, it is obvious that something is wrong with the boy! What moron was responsible for Potter getting his stuff for school?!"

"Eh, I think Albus said something about having sent Hagrid because-"

"HAGRID?! Oh no wonder we didn't get any information about the brat's condition! Hagrid, honestly! What was the old coot thinking?!"

"Well I suppose he thought Hagrid would be sufficient since Harry's family already knew about magic... but Albus told us already, didn't he?"

"Do you think I have nothing better to do then to remember everything the old coot says about his precious boy-who-lived?" Severus huffed. Now that he thought about it, he was quite sure that Albus had indeed told them whom he had sent when they had met the other day. Damned! The Potter-brat was already occupying his thoughts far more than he had ever considered possible. Where, for Merlin's sake, would that lead to?

"Hm, well, Hagrid has adored the boy since that Halloween, I think he was thrilled..."

"Of course he was." Severus needed all his self-restraint to prevent himself from marching into the headmaster's office - or more likely bedroom - and demand answers. Either Albus had finally gone nuts or he played a very, very game.

Or, the potion-master thought when he was on his way back to his quarters (after Poppy had promised him her full support in whatever Severus would decide to do next. A rather open-ended promise, he thought wrily. No, Poppy wasn't a Slytherin by any means.), it might very well be Albus' typical self-delusion that prevented him from seeing that it wasn't wise to send the Grounds-keeper to retrieve the boy-who-lived, or that Lily's sister might not have been the ideal guardian for any wizard. Sometimes he wondered whether Dumbledore had ever been hit by a hex that forced him believe the best of everyone. It would certainly explain why he trusted an Ex-Death Eater with finding out what was wrong with his precious weapon.

Harry couldn't sleep. He had tossed and turned under his bed all night, unable to rest. He didn't know what was wrong. Normally, he fell asleep as soon as he lied down, the medication making him quite drowsy. It wasn't as bad as it had been when he had started taking it - or each time Dr Green decided that he needed to take more - but he couldn't remember the last time he had been unable to sleep at all. When the sky began to shift from black to a deep blue, the first traces of read visible on the horizon, he decided that he might as well get up early and visit Hedwig in the owlery. If he would find the way, that was.

On the last two days, his owl had visited him during breakfast, even so she hadn't brought him any letters (not that Harry had expected any).
The first morning, Harry had hid under the table as soon as some kind of rushing noise could be heard and a cloud of flying things entered the Great Hall. Fortunately, he discovered after Hedwig had arrived, most of his class-mates had been busy searching for their respective owls, urgently waiting for forgotten books, stuffed animals or pants, and only Hermione had glanced at him curiously. But just then, Hedwig had landed next to his plate, missing the butter by half an inch or so, and Harry had emerged from his place of refuge, beaming.

When he had discovered (after his first night) that his owl apparently hadn't slept in the dorm with him, he had been rather worried, and had already made plans for searching his now-beloved pet instead of going to classes. Surely friends where more important than lessons? But then, right before he could ask Ron whether he would join him (the red-head seemed to be far more knowledgeable about all the freaky things, the castle and well, everything) in an organized search, the birds had flown into the hall.
Later, Ron had told him that, unlike rats or toads or cats, owls weren't permitted to sleep in the dormitories or common rooms but had a special tower that allowed them to come and go as they pleased. He had even shown Harry the way to the owlery - it seemed to be one of the most important places to know, especially for homesickness-ridden first-years - but he wasn't sure he had remembered every bend and staircase. It wasn't far from Gryffindor-tower, though, so there was a chance he might succeed in finding it.

About half an hour later, however, a small black-haired and bespectacled boy could be found sitting on the ground of a deserted and rather cold corridor, shivering.

He had not the slightest clue where he was, nor whether the owlery was anywhere nearby. All he knew was that it had been a very bad idea to leave the dorm this early in the morning without putting on an extra cloak or at least a jumper. Harry felt as if he had searched the entire castle, though he suspected this wasn't the case. Otherwise, he would have encountered at least some places he already knew, like the Great Hall or a classroom or only the one corridor with this funny statue, wouldn't he? Briefly, he wondered whether he was anywhere near one of the other houses or at least a teacher's room - how was he supposed to find his way to breakfast or classes otherwise? - but he hadn't much hope. This part of the castle didn't really look as if it was inhabited at all.

"Hedwig?" Harry called, trying to remain calm. Panic wouldn't help him now. Of course, there wasn't a reply. Perhaps if he called louder?

"HEDWIG?" - Still nothing. He felt so tired. He didn't know what was the matter with him - hadn't he be unable to sleep almost the entire night? He just wanted to lie down and sleep, he didn't have the energy to continue his search. But he needed to find his way back anyway, he couldn't stay in this dark corridor forever.
The boy got up, holding on the wall. It was good that the walls of the castle were made of stone and therefore very rough, ideal for anyone who had difficulties standing on his own. He didn't understand why he felt this dizzy! It wasn't normal! Sometimes, he really, really hated the pills he had to take. Why couldn't he just be like other people?!
But then, if he was normal, he had never come to Hogwarts. And even so he certainly didn't view the castle in a very favourable light just now, it was much nicer than Privet Drive and the hospital.

"HEEEEEEDWIIIIIG" He tried it again. Perhaps, if his owl wouldn't hear him - and even if she did, she couldn't really do anything about Harry being lost, could she? - another student or teacher or even Mr Filch would come to his rescue.
He staggered forward. Another bend and another, a corridor that looked even darker then the one before, and there was a staircase. After a brief consideration, he decided against climbing up to the next floor, as it seemed much too tiring. Again and again, he called for his owl.

Then, faintly at first, there was a hooting. It got louder and louder, but Harry didn't dare to hope. But suddenly, there was a white, shadowy figure, rushing through the corridor with an alarming speed.

"HEDWIG!"

The owl managed to slow down her mad flight just before she dashed into her master's face, landed gracefully (well, at least as gracefully as you can expect an owl to be that had just broken the record in flying-as-fast-as-possible-through-a-castle-with-f ar-to-many-bends-in-order-to-rescue-your-master) on his left shoulder and gave a satisfied hoot.

"Hedwig! You found me!" Harry stated, amazed. His owl was so clever! Carefully, he stroked her soft feathers, immensely relieved that he wasn't alone any more.

"Uhm, I think it was kind of stupid searching for the owlery all by myself," - the look Hedwig gave him seemed to confirm this - "well, I wanted to visit you... you have visited me yesterday and the day before, and I thought it was only fair if today I would visit you... I couldn't sleep, you know, and well...uhm, I don't suppose you know the way back to the Gryffindor-tower? Or the Great Hall? Hm, perhaps we- wha-?" Harry was taken aback when Hedwig's claws dug a little bit deeper into his shoulders - had he somehow offended the owl? But then she took off, hovered in front of him and looked at him as if to say "I'm a certified post-owl and I certainly know my way around!"

Five minutes later, a happy Harry entered Gryffindor-tower, a very proud Hedwig sitting on his shoulder.