Harry woke up with a start. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as if he had just run a long race. For a moment he was lost, his mind was alert but his memories were sluggish and disjointed. Where the hell was he? He had to get up. Uncle Vernon will be so angry if he doesn’t make breakfast in time. Damn. Where’s the alarm clock? Why didn’t it work? Did Dudley tamper it again to get Harry in trouble? Harry opened his eyes but all he saw was pitch black. He needed to turn on the light and get to the bathroom fast. If he got a quick bath before anyone woke up, maybe he would be able to get away with using hot water.
Harry threw his covers away from him and reached out for his glasses. He groped blindly for the night stand but his hand only felt thin air. He frowned worriedly and began to frantically thrash his hand back and forth, trying to find his glasses. Oh God, has Dudley come in here and stolen them again. He would be helpless without them. Harry gulped and kept on looking. That could not be right. If Dudley took the glasses why would he move the night stand. It didn’t make sense. Finally, Harry’s groping fingers found the night stand. That’s odd. It was much lower than Harry remembered it. He felt cold wood beneath his fingers and a few seconds later, they closed around the thin frame of his glasses. Harry’s body sagged with relief. It was alright. He still had a chance. He could still see well enough to run away from Dudley and his fierce little gang. He wouldn’t be a punching ball, at least not today.
Harry sat up on the bed feeling queasy. His feet touched the floor and he hissed. Damn, that was so cold. It felt like he was standing on ice. Why was it so cold? Would it kill Snape to light a fire and warm this place up a bit. Harry blinked once, twice. His memories returned in a sudden flash. Of course! He was no longer with the Dursleys. He was with Snape! He didn’t have to cook, he was safe from Harry hunting, he could get all the hot baths he wanted and to top it all off, he was going to have a delicious breakfast. Harry smiled in the dark, grateful for the first time that Snape had taken him in.
Harry yawned and stretched, his muscles creaking as he extended his arms above his head. His muscles ached and he felt strangely rusty. He really needed a good round of Quidditch and fresh air to get back to perfect health. Who knows, maybe he can even convince Snape to come and have a game with him. A day away from his dank and gloomy dungeons might do him good.
Harry ignored the cold stone floor and hopped down from the bed. Immediately his head began to spin. He felt his knees wobble and give way, making him flop back onto the bed. What the hell? Where did that come from? Harry tried to stand up again, more slowly this time. He didn’t fall down but his legs trembled under him. His aching muscles didn’t want to respond to him. He felt so very tired as if he had run miles and miles until all the energy had been sucked out of him. What the hell was going on? Why was he so weak? Harry’s entire body was trembling. It was so cold. Merlin, he has never felt so cold before. He felt like he was going to faint. What was happening?
“Professor Snape?” He called out but his voice was weak. It was only a hoarse whisper that was quickly unabsorbed into the room, unheard. Harry was panicking. Was he ill? Did he get poisoned? For a split second an unpleasant image of Snape brewing in his creepy lab came to mind, that black liquid slowly crawling over the edges of the cauldron. Harry shook his head. No, Snape wouldn’t have poisoned him. He just wouldn’t. Snape was always the one who helped. In fact, what Harry had to do was find Snape and then everything will be alright. Harry stumbled forwards, one step at a time. The floor was freezing! Harry’s feet felt numb. Where the bloody hell did he leave his slippers? They must be around here somewhere. But how could he find anything in this dark?
It was pitch black. There was no moonlight streaming in from the half open shutters. Harry had never seen such a dense darkness. He couldn’t even see the vague outlines of the shapes around him. This was so odd. He was weak and he couldn’t see a thing and he was getting scared. Where was Snape? Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Light. He needed to find some light. Even though this was a wizard house, there was a light switch on the far wall. If only he could reach it, then he wouldn’t be so vulnerable. On instinct, Harry groped around until his fingers met the topmost drawer on his nightstand. There was a dull click as it opened. Harry searched inside until his fingers closed around the handle of his wand. He quickly pocketed it before making his way to the far wall.
His breathing was becoming more labored. Every breath hurt. Oh God, what was happening to him? He was so scared, so very scared. This was not normal. This was no natural illness. Someone had done something to him. Harry fingers found the light switch. With a relieved sigh, Harry pressed down on it. There was a dull click, then… nothing. Nothing happened.
Everything was still black. Where did the light bulb go? Harry gulped. An unpleasant thought was making its way into his mind. No. No. No. It was nothing that serious. This is just a malfunction. The light’s broken, nothing else. Snape will just flick his wand and fix everything. It was going to be alright. Click. Click. Click. Click. Harry kept flicking the switch back and forth, back and forth. He was desperate. He needed light, he needed to see something, anything.
Quickly, Harry whipped out his wand. He wasn’t supposed to do this but he had no choice. He needed light. Snape might get mad at him but right now, it didn’t matter.
“Lumos.” He whispered. He felt the magic within him tingle as it rushed out of him in a fierce wave. He felt as if his breath was being sucked out of him. It hurt. Magic had never hurt him before. Oh, God. Harry waited but nothing happened. The darkness around him seemed to thicken. Why didn’t the light come on? Did he cast the spell wrong? But that couldn’t be, he had felt the magic stir. The unpleasant thought returned again and this time, it was so much more frightening. No, no. It couldn’t be.
“Lumos! Lumos!” Harry tried to shout but his words came out choked and broken. Nothing was happening. He stabbed his wand into the air fiercely. “Lumos!” No light. The truth dawned on him so suddenly, it hurt. Harry was blind. He had never in his life felt so frightened, not even when Voldemort appeared out of that turban. Memories of the Harry hunting days flooded into his mind.
“Well, well, well. Looks like you’re not so brave now that you can’t see.” Dudley’s voice rose out of his mind. Harry almost felt the stabbing pain as his thick meaty fist connected with his stomach. “You little freak of nature.” Was that Pierce? Or was it Morrigan? They both had a way with words. Professor Snape, where are you? Harry shivered in the dark and with an enormous effort of will, he pushed his bedroom door open. Blind and panicking Harry stumbled his way out of his room and into the endless corridors of the mansion. Snape would find him. He always did. He would save Harry and everything will be alright. He… he… Harry’s mind was swirling, his thoughts hazy and senseless. He felt as if he was being lifted out of his body.
Dimly, Harry became aware of footsteps running towards him. He heard the swish of familiar robes and a deep baritone voice calling out his name. Snape was here. Everything will be fine, Harry thought as he swooned into Snape’s arms, completely unconscious. He didn’t feel anything as a panic stricken Snape lifted him into his arms and ran down the corridors, not stopping until tongues of green fire whisked them away into Saint Mungo’s.
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An old chair groaned feebly as someone sat on it. Harry instinctively turned to look but of course he didn’t see anything, only absolute darkness. He felt like he was back in his cupboard again. Even after he was moved to Dudley’s second bedroom, he still ran to the cupboard when Vernon was angry. He sat huddled in a corner, wishing to disappear as his uncle banged on the door, harder and harder. The entire staircase shook and Harry was so scared that the staircase would fall on his head and bury him alive. And Uncle Vernon would scream and yell and rage like a wild uncontrolled beast. “Get out here, boy, you ungrateful filthy freak! You think you can sit there and do nothing all day just like that lazy drunk father of yours. Get out here and work!” But he had, he had worked all morning and all afternoon. He was so damn tired. He needed to rest, just for a second. His arms ached and he couldn’t feel his feet.
“Mr. Potter.” Snape’s deep baritone voice shattered his memory. Harry shook his head angrily and huddled into his thin blanket. Why was this happening? Why couldn’t he get the Dursleys out of his mind? They were like a poison always coming out at the least expected moments. “I have spoken with your healer and he has informed me of the situation.”
“What’s wrong with me, sir?” There was a slight pause. Harry heard Snape take in a single deep breathe. He did that only when he needed to calm himself down. Oh no, something was seriously wrong. Harry gulped and the grip on his blankets tightened. Where was Snape? He must be near. His voice came from somewhere to his left. Harry wished he would come closer, close enough to touch.
“It appears that this is not a natural ailment.” Harry nodded. That much he had expected. There was the sound of soft giggling coming from somewhere in the room. A little girl was here, maybe five or six years old by her voice. Harry frowned in thought. So they were not alone in the room. Maybe he was in some kind of children’s section of the hospital. It’s so frustrating to not see anything!
“Mr. Potter, this might come as a shock to you but the truth is, you have been cursed.” Harry nodded solemnly and continued to stare in the direction of Snape’s voice. There was the squeak of a rubber toy followed by more giggling, a little boy’s this time.
“It appears that this information does not surprise you.”
“No. I figured that part out for myself.” Why did Snape have to sit so far away? Couldn’t he just come a tiny bit closer. Harry opened his mouth to ask him to come sit on the bed but then, he changed his mind. Snape would probably think he was being ridiculous. “Why haven’t they cured me yet, professor?”
“I am afraid that they cannot cure you at the moment.”
“What?” Harry sprang to sit up on the bed. Immediately, his muscles began to ache. His entire body felt so heavy and weak. The ancient chair groaned again and a second later, Harry felt a hand on his chest. Gently but firmly, he was guided to lie back down on his thin, stone-like pillow. Harry grabbed the hand quickly, before it moved away. “What do you mean they can’t cure me? What are saying, sir? I won’t ever get my sight back again? I’ll be blind forever!”
“Calm down, child, that is not what I meant.” Snape’s cold fingers gripped his lightly.
“Well, what did you mean then?” Harry was yelling now. His voice was high pitched and he could hear the panic dripping out of it. People were beginning to whisper around him. He needed to calm down. He was making a scene. Harry expected Snape to snap at him and call him a brat but when he spoke again, his voice was gentle.
“You were affected by a curse which has taken away both your sight and your strength. There are potions that can be taken to return your strength. I am afraid it will take some time but eventually…”
“What about my sight? When can I get it back? Tell me you have a potion for that too!” Harry squeezed the fingers in his grasp tightly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure this was a bad idea. Yelling at Snape and clinging to him like a baby. That is so not good. He needed to calm down but he just couldn’t. He was so scared. What if he could never see again? What if he was blind for the rest of his life? What if he was stuck with the memories of his cupboard and Harry hunting jumping out all the time? Harry began to shiver again. Why was he so damned cold and why the hell wasn’t Snape answering?
“I am afraid that there is a slight complication on that account.” Oh no! No. No. No. “A countercurse must be found to recover your sight.”
“Well, why haven’t they found it yet?” The blankets in the hospital were so thin. Harry was curled up in a tight ball under these stupid itchy blankets but it was still so cold. Harry felt the mattress sink as Snape sat down beside him. Instinctively, Harry scooted closer.
“In order to find the countercurse they must first know which curse was cast on you.”
“But don’t they have spells to detect that?”
“In normal circumstances they do but I am afraid the curse that was cast on you is undetectable. The only way to know for certain which spell was used is to extort the information out of whoever cast it.” Harry took a deep shuddering breathe and tried to look at the bright side. Yes, he was still blind and cursed but there was hope. That was better than nothing. He had to stop panicking and start thinking like a rational creature again. Harry sighed tiredly and loosened his grip on the cold thin fingers but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t, not yet. He needed to feel that Snape was really here, ready to take care of him. He was in an unfamiliar place with no way to see anything around him. All he had was his professor and he was definitely not going to let him go.
“So… so what are we going to do now?”
“You are, at present, not going to do anything. You will stay in bed, rest and consume the potions that will be given to you. The headmaster and I will find out who did this and proceed from there.” Harry frowned angrily. That will not do! Someone blinded him. He was not going to sit here calmly and let them get away with it. He had to do something, he had to find the culprit and get his sight back. He will write to Ron and Hermione and figure out a plan. Hermione will figure out something, some clever spell or illegal potion that would help them catch the criminal. Ron will look confused and snap at Hermione a lot for being bossy know-it-all but despite everything he’ll be willing to help, not matter how dangerous things were going to get.
“Mr. Potter.” Snape must’ve read something in Harry’s face because his voice had suddenly become stern and commanding.
“I want your solemn word that you will leave the adults to deal with this matter.”
“But…”
“No, Mr. Potter! You and your little friends will not, under any circumstances, attempt to catch the culprit on your own.”
“But I need my sight back!”
“And I assure you, you will get it back. The headmaster, the professors including myself, and the members of the order of the phoenix will all be engaged to look for the man who did this. We will find him.”
“But what could it hurt if we help too!”
“Mr. Potter.” Snape was getting angry now, his words were a quiet hiss dripping venom. It was the familiar tone he used in his classroom, especially before giving out a very nasty detention or knocking an absurd amount of points from Gryffindor. “There will be more than two dozen fully trained adult wizards to deal with this situation. Do you really expect a trio of students who have just finished first year to be of any help? You will be more of a hindrance than a help.”
“Hermione is very smart. She can cast any spell she’s read about and she has brilliant ideas.” Snape muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “bloody idiotic Gryffindors” under his breathe. Harry didn’t need to see him to know that he was leveling his death glare directly at him. Still, Snape didn’t take his hand away. At least that was something. He can’t be too angry with Harry.
“I am not denying that Miss Granger is an unusually talented witch. She has a quick mind and she is endowed with more sense than the two of you. Still, she remains but a child just like you, Mr. Potter.”
“We defeated Voldemort last year!”
“By pure luck alone! You cannot simply throw yourself into the arms danger and expect luck to be on your side every time.”
“But…”
“No, Mr. Potter! You have been guarded and protected by the best witches and wizards alive but this criminal still manages to hex you. Whoever did this must be a very powerful wizard indeed. Powerful and dangerous. It is quite probable that the Dark Lord himself is behind this attack. You must not get involved. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Potter?” Harry did not answer. He sighed and looked stubbornly away. He couldn’t just do nothing. He couldn’t sit here idly and wait while the adults did all the work. What if they failed? Then he will never get his sight back. He can’t take that chance. He just can’t. His sight was way too important.
“Answer me, Mr. Potter! Do I make myself clear?” Harry started toying with Snape’s fingers. Surprisingly, his professor let him. The long fingers bent and stretched as he wished. They were so cold. Why were they always so cold? It was enough to make Harry think the man was a vampire after all. The fingers and the hand were incredibly thin. Harry felt no flesh, only fragile bones. They felt so delicate, like slender twigs. The slightest touch could snap them in two. Harry gulped and enclosed Snape’s fingers with both his hands. He rubbed them delicately, trying to get some warmth into that frozen skin. He heard Snape sigh and shift on the bed slightly.
“Child, why can’t you simply sit back and accept the help of those who want to protect you?” Someone started wailing. A little boy by the sound of it. A woman, probably his mother started to soothe him, telling him it will alright over and over again. Normally, Harry would feel a pang of bitter jealousy whenever he came across a caring family. He asked himself why he couldn’t have that. He thought about his dead parents and about how unfair it all was. Why did he deserve to be alone? But oddly, today, he didn’t feel that moment of anger and bitterness. Snape sitting beside him, trying to knock some sense into his stubborn mind was enough for him. Someone cared. That’s what mattered.
“I want to trust you guys to help me but…” Harry bit his lip worriedly. Maybe he shouldn’t be so open, what if Snape mocks him.
“Go on.” Harry’s pillow had slipped away when he sat up. He felt it being readjusted under his head. Snape’s free hand grazed his cheek as he retrieved it.
“I’m so used to doing everything on my own. Adults have never bothered to help and it’s kind of hard to start trusting them now.”
“I assume you speak of the Dursleys.” The wailing has stopped. Now the child was only sobbing silently. Harry wondered vaguely what was wrong with him. There were other sounds everywhere. This room was a busy place. There was the tap tap of feet constantly passing through the room. There was the crying and muttering of children and the high pitched voices of the nurses trying to be cheerful. Harry could hear the exhaustion in their voices, their quiet sighs after a long busy day at work.
“Yeah, the Dursleys, but others too. Dudley used me as a punching bag but the teacher just looked away. I don’t know why. Maybe they were scared of my aunt and uncle, maybe they taught I deserved it but anyway, they never helped.” Snape didn’t say anything. If not for the fingers in his grip, Harry wouldn’t even notice he was there. Was he even listening? As if in response Harry felt a soft hand gently brush away the hair on his forehead. It was only an instant. One moment his cold hand was there, the next it was gone. But it was enough, it was more than enough. Harry continued.
“The neighbors all took one look at me with my ragged cloths and my black eye and assumed I was the bad one. Sometimes, when I’ve been running errands all day, I get tired and I pause for a moment, leaning on a lamp post to recover my breathe and the neighbors just shoo me away, as if I’m nothing but a wild animal ready to bite anyone who comes near.” Harry sighed deeply and rolled his head to the side to where Snape was sitting. He wished he could see the man’s expression. Was it as blank and impassive as marble? Or maybe his eyes glistened with sympathy like Harry had seen a few times before. He wished he could see Snape’s figure, stiff as a pillar, watching his every move. “So you see, I’ve always taken care of myself. Old habits die hard.”
“That is no life for a child.” Snape’s voice was hard and Harry was surprised to see the anger behind it. “You should never have been placed there.”
“Life’s always hard, I guess.” Harry shrugged, trying to brush it off. He was a bit embarrassed. He shouldn’t have said all that. It’s a pity that his mouth didn’t want to listen to reason sometimes.
“Be that as it may. I am now your guardian and although I am not the best candidate for the job, I can assure you that you will not have to worry when you are with me. I may not be the easiest person to talk to but one thing is certain, I will provide for you and protect you.” Harry smiled. How many times had be dreamed of hearing those words when he was locked up in his cupboard? And now, out of all people, Snape was saying them. Maybe Dumbledore wasn’t so wrong after all.
“And if you do not trust me, remember that there are others. Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, the Weasleys. They all wish to protect you.”
“I guess you’re right.” There was a smell of mildly burnt roast chicken and the clink of knifes and plates clashing together. It must be time for lunch already. Funny, Harry didn’t think it was so late. The Healer’s diagnostic spells must’ve taken longer than he thought.
“Let us make an agreement. You will let the adults find the culprit and in exchange, I will give you detailed progress reports on every aspect of the investigation. What do you say?” Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing. Look at that. Snape is being reasonable. Ron would have a heart attack if he found out.
“Okay then. It’s a deal.” They shook hands heartily. It will all be alright. Harry could trust Snape. At that moment, a nurse trotted over to them and asked Harry how he was doing. Judging by the smell, she was carrying a plate of food with her. There was a soft buzzing sound and Harry felt his bed move. His upper body was lifted up so that he was nearly in a sitting position. There was a soft clang as the metal tray was placed on a table next to him. The nurse scooped up a bit of mashed potatoes and made to feed it to Harry but Snape stopped her.
“I shall take it from here.” There was a moment of silence. Harry listened attentively, willing the nurse to leave. He wanted to be alone with his guardian again. After some arguing the nurse muttered a reluctant “alright” and trotted away.
“Now, in order to begin the search for the culprit, I must first ask you some questions.” A spoon touched his lips softly. Harry opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed the rather drab and half burnt mashed potatoes. It tasted awful but it didn’t matter. It felt so nice to be taken care of. He even forgot to be embarrassed about being fed like a baby. He couldn’t remember a time when someone has looked after him like this.
“Did you ever encounter anyone suspicious in the last few months?” Harry shook his head slightly. He opened his mouth and took another bite.
“Months? But nothing was wrong with my sight until a few days ago.”
“It could have been a curse designed to activate after a certain amount of time.” The spoon scraped against the plate.
“But that means anyone could’ve done it at any time!”
“I am afraid so but four month is as long as most curses can remain dormant within the human body. So let us retrace your steps, shall we?” Snape dabbed at the edge of Harry’s lips with a handkerchief. Harry stopped himself from grinning like a madman. Who would have thought it, Snape made an excellent nurse! What’s next, maybe Snape can also knit and bake cookies? Who knows? Life is full of surprises.
“Now, during the school year you have been at Hogwarts. The school has the heaviest protections against intruders so no one could have entered the castle without the Headmaster’s express permission.”
“It could’ve been Quirell. You know, before I vaporized him.”
“Attempting to boast, are we?” Harry could picture Snape’s lips quirked up in a faint smirk.
“Why I learned from the best, sir! I’m just imitating a certain potion masters I know.” Snape huffed lightly and stuffed his mouth with a large mass of potatoes. Harry groaned indignantly as he chewed, his mouth stretched comically. He could hear the man chuckle mischievously. Oh, when he swallowed this bite, Snape was going to get it! But Snape moved on with his explanations before he could get in a word.
“No, Quirell is not the culprit. I monitored him throughout the school year, keeping a record of all the places he visited and the spells he has cast. I checked the spells but none of them can induce blindness.” Harry nodded. That makes sense.
“Okay then, what about the students?”
“Too inexperienced. None of the students at Hogwarts are powerful enough to cast such a spell. Not even the seventh years. Of course, the professors are always a possibility but all the staff members at Hogwarts have been approved by the Headmaster. It is unlikely that they are involved.”
“Then I guess it can’t be anyone at Hogwarts.”
“The Headmaster sometimes receives visitors. It could be one of them. I shall discuss that with him as soon as possible. Now, tell me, which other places have you been to.”
“Well, I went to the Burrow and…”
“Did anyone other than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ever enter the house?”
“Of course! It’s the Burrow. There are always lots and lots of cousins and aunts and uncles who pop up everywhere.”
“Alright then, I shall need a list of all the visitor from the Weasleys. Now continue.”
“I also went to Diagon Alley.”
“That is problematic. Anyone could have hexed you in that open location. I will need a copy of your memories.” Harry nodded. He was feeling a lot more hopeful now. Snape had a very firm and decisive way of handling everything. It made him seem in complete control of the situation. Snape had taken his hand away when he started to feed Harry but now, Harry wanted it again. Blindly, he groped around for the hand, feeling over the blanket and the small table where the food was sitting. He felt something squashy give way under his fingertips. Urgh. His hand had found the mashed potatoes.
“Why, Mr. Potter, I was not aware that you had developed such a fondness for half burned meals.” Harry felt his fingers being wiped away by a paper towel. He grinned sheepishly and grabbed the hand that was cleaning him. Snape huffed and made a brief resistance, wriggling his fingers, trying to find freedom.
“Mr. Potter, I need my hand back.”
“I need it too.” Harry whined and held on tighter.
“And how do you suppose I cut your chicken with only one hand, Mr. Potter?”
“You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out.” Harry chuckled, beginning to toy with Snape’s fingers again. It will be alright. As long as Snape was here, everything will be alright. Lunch passed way too quickly for Harry. The meal tasted awful but Harry didn’t remember ever being this satisfied. He forgot to be afraid and the Dursleys were nothing but vague impressions as he lay there with his guardian beside him. Snape continued to plan his investigation and Harry just listened feeling more and more hopeful every second. If there was anyone who could cure him that was Snape, he was sure of it. As long as his professor was by his side, he was completely and undeniably safe.
The morning drifted away and the mid afternoon sun shone bright outside the hospital window. Harry, blind and huddled inside his blankets, couldn’t see anything but he could hear someone beside him prattling on and on about what a beautiful day it was. Bright, sunny and warm, a rare day for this part of England.
“I have to leave now, Mr. Potter.” Harry’s grip on his fingers tightened painfully. The panic that Snape’s soothing words had banished was starting to return. He was blind and vulnerable. Anyone could hurt him. Snape can’t leave. Harry needed him. He bit his lip and tried to think of a way to get Snape to stay, at least a little bit longer.
“But… you still need to get my memories of Diagon Alley.” Harry stated urgently. He didn’t want to stay here, alone with all these unfamiliar noises and painful memories. He didn’t want to let go of Snape’s cold fingers.
“I shall retrieve them at a later date. I cannot extract your memories until you recover some of your strength. I assume that will take a few days, at least.”
“But you can stay and ask me more questions.” Harry stammered. “I… I still might know something important.”
“Mr. Potter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is anything the matter?”
“Nothing!” Harry exclaimed loudly but he had a feeling he hadn’t been too convincing. His voice was filled with desperation. There was a moment of silence. Snape said nothing, he only waited. Harry could picture in his mind that single eyebrow of his arched upwards in a silent question.
“I’m just a little…” Scared was the word that came to mind but that sounded way too pathetic. He was the son of a proud and brave member of the Order of the Phoenix. He needed to be brave and strong, not clinging to his guardian like a scared puppy. Still, no matter how much his mind rebuked him, he didn’t want Snape to leave. “Don’t go, professor. Sit here. Stay with me for a few more minutes.”
“I am afraid that is out of the question, child.” Although Snape’s words were harsh, his tone was soft and soothing. “I have to inform the headmaster of what has happened. I stayed here much longer than I should have. We have to start looking for the person who cast the curse immediately.” Harry sighed dejectedly. Snape was right. He had to leave. Probably, after he walks out that door, Harry will not see him for days or months, not until the man who did this is caught. Harry should be grateful. He should be glad that Snape was going to investigate but the truth is he wasn’t. He wanted the man beside him in his moment of darkness.
“I shall not leave you utterly friendless. I have contacted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and they are already here. They are talking with your healer at the moment.” Harry felt a bit better at that but still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted his guardian. Harry frowned in thought. When has this happened? Harry has always preferred the Weasleys to anyone else in the world. He considered them family. When did Snape, the ex-death eater and arch enemy of his father become more important to him than the Weasleys?
“I trust that will be sufficient.” There was a swish of heavy cloth as Snape put on his traveling cloak.
“But it won’t be the same, sir. I want you to stay.” Harry whispered quietly. Harry felt a gentle hand rest on his head and softly, as if he was a fragile sparrow easily hurt, Snape carded his hand through Harry’s messy hair.
“Surely the Weasleys will know how to comfort you better than me.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, professor. You make a very nice nurse. Are you sure you don’t have a bit of Hufflepuff in you?”
“If you weren’t blind I would make you clean out frog entrails for the rest of the summer for that ridiculous comment. Hufflepuff, indeed!” Snape growled but his fingers continued to steadily comb through Harry’s hair. Harry smiled softy and leaned into the touch.
“Don’t leave, professor.” He whispered.
“I am afraid I must but I will return as soon as I can. I will report to the Headmaster and return immediately. I will be back before nightfall.” Harry frowned. Snape was right. He had to go. Why was Harry being so clingy and pathetic? Outside, he could hear the loud, shrill voice of Mrs. Weasley yelling at some poor healer. By the sound of it, Mr. Weasley was attempting to calm his wife down. He was failing, badly.
“Will you come back?”
“Of course, child.”
“When, sir? In a few hours? In a few days? When will you be back?”
“I cannot be certain of the time but rest assured, I will come back before the end of the day.” Harry bit his lip worriedly. He didn’t like this but what choice did he have? He gave Snape’s hand one last squeeze.
“You promise to come back today, professor?”
“Yes, child, I promise.” With a tired sigh, Harry released his hold on Snape’s fingers. Gently, they retreated. Harry bit his lip and forced himself not to snatch them back immediately. Snape had promised. He would come. There was a familiar swish of bellowing robes, a dull squeak as the door to the children’s ward opened and shut and then, just like that, Snape was gone.
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Severus lingered outside the headmaster’s office. His eyes were focused sharply on the large wooden doors waiting in front of him. They were decorated with bright yellow moons and stars and the brass knocker was in the shape of a mouse grinning like a ridiculous clown straight at him. The mouse was charmed to twitch its tail and wave cheerfully at the visitors while making a little squeaking sound that immediately got on his nerves. He leveled a death glare at the insipid mouse but it only grinned wider. Severus resisted the urge to hex it into a million tiny pieces. He had a duty to perform. Severus squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and grasped the door knocker. The cold of the metal under his fingertips was comforting and he needed all the comfort he could get. This was not going to be easy. Severus sharply rapped on the door twice keeping his emotions completely under control.
There was a moment of complete silence broken only by the occasional squeaks of that infernal mouse. Severus thoughts strayed back to his injured ward. He had left Harry in the competent hands of the healers at Saint Mungo’s with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fuzzing over him like distraught parents. The poor child had looked so scared and miserable. In fact, Severus had never seen the boy look so frightened. He was always so daring and brave, the very model of a typical Gryffindor. Severus was shocked to see him behave like that, clinging to his hand as if his life depended on it. But the truth was, Severus knew exactly what it felt like. He too had been cursed when he was about Harry’s age. He had lain in the hospital wing, blind, helpless and jumping at every sound, afraid that it was someone coming to attack him. Severus knew how frightening it was to be vulnerable.
He should have said something comforting and soothing to ease the child’s fears. He should have told him that he understood and that everything was going to be alright. He should have hugged him like he had seen Mr. Weasley do. Instead, he had sat there like a lump saying nothing useful, only a few stiff and logical comments that were surely ineffectual. The child had suddenly become blind and he had not given him the least bit of comfort. What was the matter with him? Severus mentally shook his head at his own incompetence.
Still, the child seemed to enjoy his company. Severus couldn’t see why. He was stiff, apathetic, cold and heartless. Why the child would prefer him to the Weasleys was beyond him. Perhaps it is because Severus seemed dangerous and powerful. He looked capable and sure of himself. Maybe Harry just felt safer with him. Poor child! He has been through so much in his young life and now, he is blind too. It wasn’t fair. Severus shook his head internally and vowed to do anything to find the culprit and return the boy’s sight. Of course, that will not be easy. He had been confident in front of the boy in order to reassure him but the truth was, finding the culprit was a lot harder than he made it seem. Anyone could’ve cast a hex on him while he was walking along Diagon Alley.
And yet… There was something odd about this. Blindness. Why would anyone deliberately cause blindness? If they wanted Harry dead wouldn’t they have cast a more lethal hex. Why blindness? This hex looked more like a punishment or maybe an act of revenge. Severus shivered. The need for revenge. It’s a strange feeling, one that Severus understood only too well. How many people out there wanted to hurt Harry, the son of the infamous James Potter? Too many to count. And the worst part was, Severus couldn’t blame them. How many times in the past had Severus wanted to hurt those Gryffindors, how many times has he wanted to repay blood for blood, pain for pain, loss for loss. Severus gulped and shook the thoughts away firmly. No. He had thought of it before, he had even dreamed of it but he would never have done it. He wouldn’t hurt an innocent child for the sins of the father. He wouldn’t. Not even he was that evil. Severus banished the depressing thought firmly and focused on the task ahead.
“Come in.” The cheerful voice of Albus Dumbledore called through the door. Severus gulped, took a moment to compose his expression into a perfect blank and sliding open the double doors, he entered gracefully.
The headmaster was sitting on his desk, scribbling hastily on a piece of parchment. His half-moon spectacles were sitting so close to the edge of his nose, they were in danger of falling off. He was wearing his ridiculously bright orange robes, the ones that always made Severus’s eyes ache. He glared. Clothes should never be that bright.
“One moment, Severus. I just need to finish this little letter to the Ministry.” Dumbledore stated cheerfully keeping his eyes on the parchment.
“Certainly, headmaster.” Severus waited quietly taking a moment to compose his thoughts. This was going to be a painfully hard meeting. A fire crackled merrily on the hearth and the stunningly beautiful phoenix was perched next to it, serenely absorbing its heat. Its beak made a clicking sound as it cleaned its bright orange features. For a moment, it stopped its tedious task and turned its head to face Severus. Its eyes, a coal black with flames dancing within them, observed him closely, as if trying to look into his very soul. After a moment, the magical bird gave a satisfied nod, unfolded its large wing and started preening the feathers underneath.
After what felt like too short a time, the headmaster signed the letter with a flourish, put the ridiculously extravagant peacock feather quill on his desk and looked up at Severus. There was a bright dashing smile on his face and Severus felt the sudden urge to stride out of the room and lock himself up in the safety of his solitary dungeons.
“I have come to report as instructed, headmaster.” Severus stated stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back. The headmaster chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Oh Severus, always so formal.” Severus didn’t feel the need to respond. “Come along then, let’s have a cup of tea and a pleasant chat before any official business. Who knows, maybe I can even get you to lighten up.” The headmaster smiled like a child given a large chocolate ice cream. The expression made him look innocent and sweet but it didn’t fool Severus one bit. He knew how dangerous Dumbledore can become. He had seen and felt the headmaster’s power.
The large wooden chair scraped along the floor as Dumbledore stood up. He was tall, the tallest person Severus had ever met. Next to this great man, Severus always felt dwarfed and unimportant.
“My dear boy, you look grim.” This was the perfect opportunity to tell him and get the worst over with but his tongue refused to obey him. Severus stayed silent as Dumbledore walked towards him. An ancient looking hand was placed on his shoulder and bright blue eyes twinkled at him from behind half-moon spectacles.
“I have had an eventful week.” Severus responded, trying not to be affected by the gentle touch or the concerned smile. With Dumbledore, kindness was always followed by rebuke. It was best to be on his guard, to not let the old man’s words affect him. Hah! Severus thought bitterly. It is more than a decade too late for that.
“Perhaps a good cup of tea will lift your spirits.” A hand was placed on his back and he was guided gently through a small inconspicuous looking door hiding in a corner. It was half hidden by a tapestry depicting an enchanted forest and it looked worn out and disfigured, the wood cracked in places and the paint peeling off in others. How many times had Severus stood here and walked through that very same door? He had lost count.
They both entered into a small unassuming room containing nothing but two plush armchairs in the middle with a rickety table in between. A few shelves with well read books and discolored keepsakes lined the walls. This place looked homely and cozy, like something that could fit perfectly well at the Burrow. It is meant to soothe and calm students and yet Severus was never calm here. The cushions were too soft, the sunlight that streamed in from the large windows was painfully bright and the wallpaper lined with smiling teddy bears was positively revolting. Severus much preferred his gloomy apartments in the cold dank dungeons.
Memories of the first time he walked into this room sifted into his mind. He had been thirteen and a complete wreck back then. He hadn’t done anything wrong but that didn’t stop him from staring at the floor fearfully, waiting for a punishment. He was a Slytherin and a Slytherin was always guilty. At least that is what the other houses, including the great Albus Dumbledore always assumed. Severus was pleasantly surprised to discover that the headmaster only wanted to compliment him on his excellent grades, the best any students of his age has ever gotten. Years have passed since then and Severus has lost count of the number of times he’s had tea with the headmaster in this very room. During his years of teaching, a weekly tea has become a tradition between them, a tradition that Severus loved and dreaded in equal measure.
“Come sit down, Severus. Tell me all about your week. How is your brewing coming along?” Severus gingerly sat down on a canary yellow armchair. The cushions sank down gracelessly, trapping him in that infernal chair. There was a mild pop and a steaming cup of tea appeared before him. He glared at it fiercely. He hated tea! The headmaster chuckled at his expression. Severus directly his glare at the ridiculously dressed old man. Dumbledore only chuckled louder and patted Severus on the knee affectionately.
“What’s the matter, my boy? Is the tea not to your taste?”
“You know that I hate tea, headmaster! It tastes like dirty water.” Severus crossed his arms across his chest, lifted his chin haughtily at the Headmaster and tried his best “you’re being ridiculous” glare, the one he often used on his hapless Gryffindors. It didn’t work. Dumbledore’s eyes only twinkled brighter.
“It’s good for you, my boy. Tea is calming. You need more calm in your life as well as a bit more healthy sunshine and fresh air.”
“Absolutely not! My dungeons are more than sufficient for me.” Dumbledore shook his head with a slightly exasperated smile.
“One of these days, Severus, I’ll take you to a nice beach and get you all tanned up.”
“Headmaster, every summer you invite me to go to the beach with you and Professor McGonagall and every year I refuse. I would think that even someone as stubborn as you would’ve gotten the hint by now.” Dumbledore chuckled and waved his hand over the desk. There was a pop and a plate of cakes appeared. There were more than a dozen, all hideously decorated with sprinkles and different colored icing.
“Now, now, my boy. I don’t see why you are so obstinate about this. You spend every Christmas vacation with us at our Manor house. Don’t you always end up enjoying yourself?”
“Perhaps.” Severus picked up a dark colored cake hiding in the middle of the plate. He flicked his wand at it, getting rid of all the hideous pink and orange sprinkles. Then, tentatively, he took a bite. Dark chocolate cream. Not bad.
“Then why do you always refuse to spend the summer with us, Severus? Who knows, you might end up liking it.”
“It is not the company I object to, although being surrounded by Gryffindors for too long simply cannot be healthy. It is the venue. I have never liked nor will I ever tolerate getting fried on a beach.”
“Ah, Severus. Always so melodramatic.” Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled good naturedly. Severus’s lips twitched mildly. When Dumbledore was like this, Severus almost forgot to be on his guard. He wished it could always be like this between them. Light, mild and pleasant. But things were about to change. The moment he tells the Headmaster how he had failed to protect the Boy-Who-Lived, how he had let the child be cursed and blinded, Dumbledore will look at him, his eyes filled with disappointment, his voice stern and sharp.
Severus took a deep breathe. He was being an oversentimental idiot. There is no point sitting here, procrastinating like a school boy dreading his punishment. He had to tell the Headmaster what happened, receive any rebukes or punishments he saw fit to give and return swiftly back to the child waiting for him in the hospital. He had wasted enough time already. Severus opened his mouth to speak but Dumbledore cut him off.
“You know, you didn’t really answer my question about your potions.” Dumbledore’s expression had turned serious and he was looking at Severus pointedly, a vague hint of suspicion lurking behind them. “Is there any reason you didn’t answer, my boy?” Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes to the ceiling like a sulky teenager.
“Of course not, headmaster. I just got sidetracked. Your threat of overloading me with sunshine drove everything else out of my mind.”
“Of course, my dear boy, but now you can tell me. What did you brew?” And there it was again. The suspicion.
“A potion that will destroy all of humanity.” Severus’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at his mentor.
“Severus!” It is amazing how much venom could be poured into that one word. No matter who said it, when his name was pronounced sternly, it always sounded like the sibilant hiss of a snake, moments before an attack. Dumbledore’s voice was concerned but stern, like a father who suspects his son of misbehaving. Severus gulped. It is best not to test him anymore. When Dumbledore used that tone, things could get dangerous.
“Healing potions for the hospital wing. That is what I was brewing in my spare time. You yourself ordered me to brew them.” Severus stated coldly, making sure his back was as stiff as a rod. “Are you turning senile, Professor, that you cannot remember such a simple order?”
Pain. Hot burning stabs of pain. Severus yelled and clutched his head in his hand, caught by complete surprise. It felt like needles were poking into his mind. He felt Dumbledore’s raw magic break into his mind, trying to rip away his thoughts, his memories, his feelings. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Severus moaned as memories were rudely snatched away from his brain cells. Him in his school robes, trembling with anger as Potter hexed him. Lucius laughing as he scored a goal for Slytherin. Draco, newborn, wriggling in his arms, a chubby perfect baby. Dolohov in his prison cell with… No! No! No! Not that one. Dumbledore cannot see that one. Quickly. His shields. He needed his Occlumency shields! Severus gritted his teeth against the pain and with a supreme effort, he guided Dumbledore’s magic away from that dangerous memory.
Calm. He must remain calm and in control. Severus straightened his back and took a deep steadying breath. Breathe in. Breath out. Calm, control, indifference. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ignore the pain, it is only a mild distraction. Severus has endured much worse, it is only the surprise that threw him off balance. The pain was nothing. It will not affect him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly, subtly, Severus extracted some memories from his mind, the dangerous ones, the personal ones, the ones that would show his weaknesses, giving the headmaster weapons. And most importantly, the ones about James Potter and Normengard. Dumbledore can never see these. It would be the end of Severus if he ever found out. Slowly, without letting Dumbledore know what he is doing, Severus erected an impenetrable vault of iron in the center of his mind. He placed the memories into it and bolted it shut.
“What other potions have you brewed this summer, my boy?” The headmaster’s voice seemed to come from so far away. It felt like his ears were blocked with cotton plugs.
“A few extra sleeping draughts.” The headmaster’s presence in his mind was sharp, loud and demanding. It felt like someone was hitting his head with a hammer. Severus gritted his teeth, the most powerful invasions were always the most painful but it did not matter. Pain had no effect on him. His mind was a forest of memories, thousands of different paths led to thousands of different thoughts and impressions. Carefully, Severus guided the intruder into safer paths, far away from the vault containing all his precious memories.
“Now, Severus, I hope these potions are for your use only and not for your… friends.” The Headmaster’s words were mild enough but his expression was stern as he looked at Severus through his half moon spectacles, his invading magic pulsing stronger. The headmaster has once caught him smuggling sleeping potions to Eva Parkinson, a convicted death eater who lived alone, deep in the bowels of Azkaban. When he found out, Dumbledore had been furious. Severus shivered internally, that was a memory that was best forgotten.
“Yes, Headmaster.” In truth, Severus had planned to give some of the potions to Lucius and Narcissa but now was not the time for honesty. Severus shook the thought away harshly.
“You better not be lying to me, Severus.”
“Of course not, Headmaster. After all, it’s entirely your fault I am currently in need of so many sleeping draughts. It is you who dumped Potter on my doorstep, was it not?” Severus sneered pointedly. He didn’t know why but he wasn’t ready to tell Dumbledore about his change of heart. He had locked the good memories of Harry in the vault along with so many others.
“Do you have problems sleeping again, Severus?”
“Yes, Headmaster.” Severus was getting a bad headache. The headmaster continued to pound at his defenses, probing through his mind faster and faster. Severus gritted his teeth and held on tight. He needed to stay calm. He needed to be in control. One deep breath after another. He can do this. He is a master Occlumence, able to withstand the attacks of both the dark lord and the light.
“I am sorry, my boy. That must be very trying for you.” Dumbledore ripped open a memory of Severus in his lab. He saw Severus holding a glass vial on the rim of a cauldron and wait for the black liquid within to climb into the glass. It is the potion he brewed yesterday with Potter. Thankfully, he had managed to cut the boy out of that memory.
“And what else have you brewed?”
“The Morteris Potion.” Ah! Damn it, Dumbledore, get out! Severus was gritting his teeth so hard, his jaws were aching. Why did everybody feel the need to poke into his mind? First the Dark Lord subjected him to hours of this torture and now that he finally got a break, Dumbledore had to jump in. Just fantastic! Did no one understand the concept of privacy anymore? Calm. He had to be calm. Anger is a weakness. He must not feel. He is emotionless, a solid unshakeable pillar of stone. He feels no pain, no anger, no grief.
“Ah, of course, the Morteris Potion, better known as fake death. It is useful with your dealings with the Dark Lord and his death eaters. Anything else?”
“No, professor. That is all. Now, if you don’t mind too much, get out of my head!” Severus hissed angrily, leveling his death glare at the wizened old man sitting calmly in front of him. Still, the intruder remained, probing, searching and pounding into his head. Severus just sat there and endured it like he always did devoting all his energies to stop the vault from being discovered.
It felt like an eternity before the headmaster finally left his mind. Severus sighed with relief and let his head fall back onto the cushions. That was close. Too close. At least with the Dark Lord, Severus was always on his guard, the shields continually in place so that he was never caught by surprise. Dumbledore was different, no matter how much he tried to keep the shields in place, he always let his guard down when the kind grandfather made a reappearance. Oh, sometimes Severus just had to shake his head at his own stupidity. He rubbed his temples angrily. How he hated that stupid Legilimency spell! Whoever invented it should be burnt alive.
A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between them as they both waited for the other to speak. Severus was stubbornly refusing to look at the headmaster. Instead, he picked up his tea cup, just so he would have something to do. He glared at the purplish liquid within before taking a small sip. Urgh. Disgusting. It tasted as bad as he remembered. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t the usual tea either. It was one of Dumbledore’s infernal herbal concoctions. Camomile and dried fruits and all manner of ridiculous things mixed together to make an even more ridiculous mix.
Severus watched the steam rising from the cup in lazy waves.
The windows were wide open and blinding sunlight lit every corner of the room. Severus’s eyes were beginning to ache. Great, his headache wasn’t enough, now his eyes had to hurt too. Simply marvelous! He took a deep breath and prepared to tell the headmaster of Mr. Potter’s condition. Procrastinating will be of no use to anyone. Besides, the child was waiting for him. He had to finish here as soon as possible, gulp down a pain potion and return to Harry’s side.
Still, he hesitated. He hadn’t said anything and the Headmaster was already mad at him. What will happen when his mentor found out the truth? Severus stapled his fingers on his lap and tried to remain calm. He was not a schoolboy wanting his teacher’s approval. He was a grown man, he could handle a few rebukes well enough. Severus gulped and opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, Severus felt a warm thin hand on his shoulder. The gentle touch was familiar and again, it brought so many memories forward. Memories laced with comfort as well as pain.
“I’m so sorry for that, my boy, but it was necessary. There were reports of potions being smuggled into Azkaban again and I just had to see if you had anything to do with it.” Dumbledore sighed, his eyes shining bright with concern. Severus fought to keep his mask in place and his emotions hidden. It is better to maintain his silence.
“You do know that I don’t like to do this to you, don’t you?” The headmaster’s tone was gentle. Severus hated it when he was like that. At least when he was being stern and commanding, Severus could keep his distance. He didn’t have to care. But this, this was different. Severus put the cup back on the table and sneered coldly at the man looking at him with such a warm smile. Why did Dumbledore have to smile and be nice one moment, just long enough to make Severus care and then, the next moment turn harsh and impossible to please?
“It is of no import. Now, moving onto different matters…”
“I am only trying to look out for you, my boy.” Dumbledore patted his back just like he used to do when Severus was thirteen and scared stiff. “I care about you and don’t want to see you going down the dark road again.” Severus nodded, taking another sip of his revolting tea. He didn’t trust himself to speak. All his energy was bent on keeping his mask rigidly in place.
“We both know that you have a dark heart, Severus. After all, when you have so many good people all around you, you keep turning back to your death eater friends.” The cup in his hand trembled lightly. A drop of tea slipped over the top and ran along the sides. Severus took a deep breathe. He had to remain steady, keep his occlumency shields in place. Who knows when he will attack again. It was dangerous to show the headmaster just how much the truth of his words affected him. To his intense embarrassment, his mentor noticed the trembling cup. The look of pity in those familiar eyes unsettled him. Severus looked away.
“You make so many mistakes, Severus, and I have to keep steering you back to the right path.” Gently, the headmaster reached out, took the cup from Severus’s trembling fingers and placed it back on the table. “Don’t get me wrong. I will always be there for you, my boy, but sometimes it gets exhausting.”
“I apologize, Headmaster.” Severus meant to be formal and distant but somehow his voice broke in the middle. His mentor will be so angry with him when he finds out what Severus had done, how he had failed to protect the Boy-Who-Lived.
“That is alright, Severus. Taking care of you is very hard but I will always be here for you no matter what. I have high hopes for you, my boy. With an effort, I think we’ll be able to lessen that dark side of yours, at least a little.” Severus snorted and stabled his hands on his lap again. Stiff, rigid and impassive, that is how he must appear.
“That is highly doubtful.”
“A Gryffindor can always hope.” The headmaster’s eyes twinkled as he sat back in his chair and observed Severus with a fond smile. “You are like a son to me, Severus. I am not willing to give up on you.” Oh Merlin, Severus hated this. He hated how he always ended up disappointing his mentor. No matter what he did, he was never good enough. How could he tell the headmaster what he had done? How could Severus tell Dumbledore that he had failed the one task that was expected of him? The headmaster treated him so well, preferring him to any other staff member or student. Severus knew that Dumbledore was distant with everyone. He never spent so much time with them, never invited them to his home and never told them about his past. It was only Severus that was allowed into his life. And what did he do in return? He consorted with death eaters, he spoke to snakes behind his back, he lashed out at his ward. Oh yes, he made such a fabulous son!
“Be that as it may, headmaster, I am here to discuss other matters.” Severus looked at a spot right above the headmaster’s shoulder. “Mr. Potter is currently…”
“Oh yes, how is dear Harry doing?” Fabulously fantastically, headmaster. Severus thought sarcastically. He is only lying in Saint Mungo with no sight and a weakened body after being cursed by dark magic. Nothing major.
“How are his lessons progressing?” Dumbledore continued obliviously
“His lessons are the least of his worries at the moment, Professor Dumbledore.” The headmaster looked at him with a light frown.
“This isn’t about his living arrangements again, is it? I thought I told you that he is living with you and no amount of arguing will change my mind.”
“Yes, you have been sufficiently clear on that account.” Although after what happened today, you’ll probably reconsider. Severus added silently. Somehow, the thought only made him feel much worse.
“No, headmaster, this matter is much more serious. Mr. Potter is currently ill.”
“What do you mean by that? Is he in danger?” The headmaster leaned forwards in his chair and watched Severus intently. The twinkle in his eye had vanished.
“Yes.” Severus still couldn’t look the man in the eye. He hated how vulnerable he was, how scared he was of the old man’s rejection. He was a Slytherin for crying out loud! He did not care. “Mr. Potter has lost his sight. He is currently at Saint Mango’s in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”
“What?” The headmaster’s mouth dropped open. “He has lost his sight? You mean… you mean he’s blind?”
“I’m afraid so, headmaster.” What else could it mean? That he has left his sight somewhere and cannot find it again?
“But… But how can that happen?” It was odd, hearing the most powerful wizard in the world stutter. It was so hard to rattle Dumbledore but it seems like Severus has managed to do just that. Fantastic!
“The details are rather obscure but we do know that someone cursed him.”
“Harry was cursed? Who has done this?”
“I am afraid I cannot answer that. He was cursed by a spell that was designed to activate after a given period of time. Anyone could have cursed him and the worst part is, it is impossible to cure Mr. Potter without first determining what spell was cast.” The headmaster’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He stared at Severus pointedly, at a complete loss for words. He opened his mouth and closed it twice, like a fish who has forgotten he cannot breathe air. Severus frowned at his mentor worriedly. He has never seen the man this lost before. Dumbledore just sat there and stared at him, doing nothing, saying nothing.
“This… this…” Dumbledore stuttered foolishly. Finally, he was making some sounds. Well, Severus supposed it was a minor improvement. “This is not possible. I cannot believe this. This can’t have happened.” Dumbledore was shaking his head repeatedly. His pointed hat fell onto the floor but he didn’t even notice. He just passed a hand over his face and gave a long tired sigh.
“I’ve never, in a thousand years, expected this. Then again, I’m turned into a naïve old man.” Dumbledore collected himself with another dejected sigh. He nodded to himself once, as if making a difficult decision before picking up his hat and adjusting it on his head. He then adjusted his glasses and looked at Severus above the rim, finally giving him his undivided attention.
“This is truly awful news, Severus.” The headmaster stated solemnly, his eyes dull and hopeless. To say that Severus was shocked was an understatement. He has never seen the headmaster this dejected. Where did his optimism go? Why didn’t he say that he could handle everything? He was the great Albus Dumbledore. He always had a solution for everything! Surely worse things than this have happened. Why did he look so hopelessly miserable now? Severus had expected the man to be disappointed and angry with him but this misery was uncharacteristic.
“And yet, the situation is not without hope. If you call the Order of the Phoenix to help, surely we will catch the culprit and restore the boy’s sight.” Severus reminded him calmly. Dumbledore just continued to observe him closely. One of his aged hands was resting lifelessly over the armrest of his chair. Blue veins protruded out of his skin, like dirty rivers sullying the landscape. He looked so old and fragile, so different from his usual easy and confident, although a little eccentric, self. Severus wished there was something he could do to help.
“I am afraid that is not possible.” Dumbledore replied cryptically. Severus frowned. What did that mean? Yes, the order was busy but surely, to restore sight to the Boy-Who-Lived should be first priority.
“May I ask why not, headmaster?” Dumbledore ignored his words.
“Severus, you have to clear up some points for me.” Dumbledore focused his piercing blue eyes on Severus. There was anger there, fierce and bitter anger. Severus gulped. Now here it comes. The anger, the blame. This was more familiar territory but it stung anyway. “Tell me how come you didn’t notice that Harry was cursed before? Did he not show any symptoms of what was lying dormant in his body.” Severus looked away. His hands shaking, he took another gulp of tea. He swallowed too much. The liquid burned him as it travelled down his throat.
“Two night before, I noticed that Mr. Potter had trouble reading words directly in front of him. He stated that he always had poor eyesight but I was suspicious. I didn’t believe it was that bad when he was attending school.” He fought hard to keep his voice firm and impassive.
“And didn’t you think to have him checked?”
“I meant to arrange an appointment with a sight healer the following day but circumstances drove the incident out of my mind.”
“So you forgot?” Severus didn’t respond. He simply took another sip of tea and waited. “Are you saying that you forgot to take the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the child I entrusted to you, to a healer when he was ill?” More silence. Severus placed the cup back onto the table. His fingers were trembling too much to hold it still. This time, no gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. No soft fingers extricated the cup from his weakened ones.
“Tell me how do you propose we handle this situation.” Dumbledore stated coldly. Severus looked up in surprise at those words.
“What?”
“Tell me how you were going to solve this mess.” Well, that was odd. Severus had expected Dumbledore to be more severe with him. He thought the man was going to spend hours telling him exactly what a bitter disappointment he was, how he could never do anything right. That was mercifully brief.
“I suggest we view Mr. Potter’s memories of the past few months and locate any suspicious people who have been around him. We can also collect a list of the people he has met and investigate into their lives.” Dumbledore nodded solemnly. His blue eyes were still fixed on Severus intently. There was something unsettling and hostile about that gaze.
“You seem to have given this a lot of thought, Severus.”
“Indeed, I have. I have been with the child for a few hours and in that time, I have thought of the course of action that seems most suitable.”
“I see.” Silence. Dumbledore just sat there, looking sad and grave and never, not once, taking his eyes off Severus. His gaze was intense and penetrating and it seemed to lay bare Severus’s very soul. Something was definitely very wrong.
“Do you remember, Severus, that incident when you were about Harry’s age? The one where you spent weeks in the hospital wing completely blind.” Severus blinked. Well, that was certainly a rather odd shift in topic. Had they not been talking about Mr. Potter?
“Yes, I remember.” Severus nodded with a mild sneer. Of course, he remembered it. How could he forget after everything that had happened that disastrous day? “But I would much rather not talk about that. If I recall, we were discussing Mr. Potter.”
“If I remember correctly, you were cursed too, weren’t you?” Dumbledore continued, ignoring his words. Severus gritted his teeth, trying to not let the anger and disappointment seep through his voice. That was a long time ago. It did not matter now.
“Yes, headmaster,” he replied.
“It’s an odd coincidence, don’t you think, that the same curse you were subjected to when you were around Harry’s age has now affected Harry?”
“I suppose so.” Severus frowned. Did Dumbledore think there was any connection between those two events? But that happened years ago, before Harry was even born.
“Do you remember what you told me that day, Severus?” Severus bristled immediately. He forced his emotions back into his tight mask and looked at Dumbledore coldly. He didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like it at all.
“I was blind, scared and angry. I suppose I said all manner of things which I cannot remember now.”
“You told me, quite plainly, that James Potter had been the one to curse you. I told you that was nonsense, of course, but you kept insisting that it was him. You always did hate James, didn’t you?” But you didn’t believe me, Severus added bitterly in his mind, you never believed me. Potter had blinded him and left him outside in that cold winter night. He had nearly died but Dumbledore still didn’t believe him. He was a Slytherin so of course he had to be the liar. All Dumbledore had to do was check. If he had cast priori incantatem on Potter’s wand he would’ve seen that Potter was guilty. But no! Dumbledore immediately declared Severus a liar and punished him for weeks. That’s Gryffindor justice for you! Severus took a deep breath and forced his emotions inside himself. He had to remain calm.
“And what has that incident to do with anything?” That’s good. His voice was impassive and under control. His fingers were still.
“Don’t you think that the same person who cursed you might be the one who cursed Harry?” Certainly, Headmaster, James Potter has risen from the grave with his magic intact and cursed his own son. That theory is not absurd at all!
“That is unlikely. It happened such a long time ago.” Severus replied evenly. Accusing Potter again would only make his mentor even more angry. He had no doubt that Dumbledore still wouldn’t believe him.
“And yet there is a person who was involved in both these cases. A person who has both motive and the required skill to perform such dark magic.”
“And who is that?” Severus asked lightly. He couldn’t help the sarcastic tone he used. He knew for a fact that the person who cursed him was dead so the same person couldn’t have cursed Harry. This was a complete waste of time and energy! They had so many memories to go through, so many names to look into. The entire Order of the Phoenix and the staff at Hogwarts should be brought in to help. If Dumbledore insisted on pursuing this senseless theory they would lose valuable time and resources. He had to convince Dumbledore that these two events were not related but how was he going to do that? Dumbledore was very stubborn and headstrong and would never listen to someone else’s advice. An unfortunate downside to being the brightest wizard alive. What ridiculous person was Dumbledore going to blame now?
“What curse was used to blind Harry, Severus?”
“I cannot know, headmaster. That is what we have been discussing. We need to first catch the culprit before we can determine which curse was used.” Dumbledore sighed again. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I ask you again, what curse was used?” Dumbledore asked, tiredly. What is the matter with him today? Didn’t he understand what Severus was telling him?
“I told you, I do not know.” Severus repeated slowly, as if trying to speak to a small child.
“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, tell me! You have gone too far this time! What curse did you use on Harry?” Severus blinked. It took a few moments for the information to finally hit him. Dumbledore was accusing him of blinding Harry.
“What!” Severus exclaimed. He stood up abruptly, toppling his teacup in the process. Dark purple tea seeped into the table and turned it a dirty brownish color.
“Do not play dumb with me, Severus.” Dumbledore’s voice was deceptively calm.
“You think I cursed the child! That is absurd! I had nothing to do with this.”
“You have already cast this curse once. Now you have done it again.”
“Headmaster, are you insinuating that I cursed myself all those years ago?”
“Yes, Severus. At the age of thirteen, you were a bright talented child, talented and ruthless enough to know how to cast such dark magic.” Oh dear Merlin! This is ridiculous. This isn’t real. Not only does he refuse to believe that Potter blinded him but now he accuses Severus of blinding himself? That doesn’t even make sense!
“Why? Why would I curse myself? I was blind and helpless for weeks. I wouldn’t do that to myself. No sane person would!”
“You were bitter, Severus. Bitter and jealous. James was a constant thorn in your side. He was rich, popular and had a caring family, all things that you never had. You were willing to do anything to throw a stain on James’s good name, even blind yourself.” Severus sank back into his chair slowly. He felt the sudden urge to start laughing like a maniac. This is just so ridiculous. Potter hexed him, cursed him, imprisoned him and tortured him but Severus was the guilty one? How can Dumbledore be so blind? Why could be never see what Potter was like? How could the greatest wizard of all time be so wrong?
“I admit that maybe I was too harsh on you when you were a student. After all, you were so troubled. I should have been a bit more lenient. A week’s worth of detentions for that incident was too harsh.” Severus was quiet. He didn’t want to speak about this. He didn’t even want to remember this.
“But the thing is, James was such a good boy with a heart of gold. I couldn’t help favoring him over you, who was always bitter and plotting against everyone in the school. I should’ve taken the time to talk to you despite your disrespectful and insulting words. I regret that now, bitterly. There was a lot of good in you back then, I should’ve nurtured it.” No, headmaster. You are wrong. You nurtured me well enough. You took care of me more than anyone had ever done before. You made me care about you and that is why it hurt so much, the blatant favoritism, the way you always looked at me with suspicion no matter how good I tried to be, the way you never ever, no matter how badly I was hurt, believed me. Deep breaths, Severus. Keep calm. The headmaster might decide to cast legilimence on him at any moment. He has to be ready. He felt no anger. He felt no pain. He felt no disappointment. He was not human. He was only a stone pillar, thinking nothing, wanting nothing, hoping for nothing.
“But despite all that, what you have done now is terrible. It was petty and vindictive.” Severus took a deep breathe. He felt nothing. He was made of marble, not of flesh. He was a weapon, not a person. He did not care.
“I have done nothing. Mr. Potter’s blindness has nothing to do with me.”
“You have taken your anger and prejudice out on poor Harry. You have hated him from the moment he has stepped foot into this school. You have been unfair to him, demeaning him at every opportunity but I did not say anything. It was only harmless words, you posed no danger to Harry or so I thought. Now, I see that you have cursed him with…”
“I repeat, Headmaster, it was not me.”
“I didn’t want to believe this. That you, of all people, were capable of this is shocking! Yes, I always knew you weren’t a good person. I love you, my boy, but I am not blind to your faults. You are too fond of your death eater friends, you cannot stop trying to help them. You have tried my patience so many times, Severus, but never did I think that you were capable of this. Blinding a child! How could you do this, Severus?”
“Oh dear Merlin!” Severus hissed. He was running out of patience. He was losing control. This was not good. “How many times can I say this? It. Was. Not. Me. Get that simple information into that thick Gryffindor skull of yours!”
“I trusted you with Harry, Severus, and you betrayed me.” Dumbledore stern eyes glistened with unshed tears, Severus could see the pain and hurt in those expressive blue eyes. Severus gulped. It was not me, headmaster. Please believe me, sir, it was not me. I would never betray you, never.
“Headmaster, you are welcome to peruse all my memories and to check my wand. I have not cast any spell that can induce blindness. You are sorely mistaken.”
“And what use will that be? You are a Master Occlumence, Severus. I look into your mind to see the truth of your words but it’s not a failsafe method. I can never trust what I see inside your mind. And as for the wand, you could’ve very easily used a different one.”
“I will consume a truth potion, then.”
“Long ago, you have made yourself immune to the truth potion. That is no use.” Severus rubbed his temples and fought to keep a clear head. Panicking is not a good solution. He had to come up with a plan and not give into despair. What can he do? How can he make Dumbledore believe his words?
“What exactly are you planning to do, Headmaster? Will you hand me over to the Aurors?” Dumbledore sighed again. He calmly and quietly stared at Severus, his blue eyes filled with sadness and disappointment.
“No, Severus. No matter what you do, I can never watch you get locked up in Azkaban. I will have to deal with you myself.” Severus gulped. That never meant anything good. Severus has experienced both Azkaban and Dumbledore’s punishments. He would rather have Azkaban. He must not panic. Dumbledore does not have any proof. He had enough decency to wait for proof before his punishments. Severus is safe, at least for now. The main problem here is the child. If Dumbledore thinks Severus is responsible, then he won’t look for the real culprit. That is simply horrible. At this rate, how can Mr. Potter ever get his sight back?
“Now, my boy, I will look the other way and choose to ignore what you have done. After all, no permanent damage has been done. All you have to do is tell me which curse you used.”
“Brilliant. Now, all that remains for me to do is find the name of an unknown curse I did not cast.” Severus stated bitterly glaring up at the old man.
“That attitude is not helping, Severus.” He glared some more. Maybe there was a way out of this situation. He will go and recover the child’s memories and find the culprit himself. Severus will capture the criminal and bring him to Dumbledore and all this nonsense will be over. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that one of his friends might have done this, maybe even Lucius or Narcissa. How can he hand them over to Dumbledore? Severus banished those thoughts immediately, one step at a time.
“Headmaster, I will prove to you that I am not responsible for this. I will question Mr. Potter thoroughly and I will find the culprit myself. That way you will have no choice but to believe my words.”
“I am afraid I cannot let you do that, Severus. After what you did to the child, I can’t let you anywhere near him again.” Severus blinked. What? He will never see Harry again? That… that is not possible. Severus felt as if a stone had lodged itself in his throat.
“But… but, I have to go see him.”
“Why, Severus? You hate Harry. Why would you want to see him?”
“Because I gave my promise that I would return to him at the end of the day.” Dumbledore eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Severus, surely you can see that Harry will be better off with someone else. He is blind and hurt. He wants someone who can love him and comfort him. He doesn’t need and he definitely doesn’t want you.” Could that be true? Severus frowned, worriedly. Was the child really better off with someone else? What can Severus offer him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley cannot offer? Nothing. They would take much better care of Harry than he ever could. They were fantastic parent while he was cold, stern and not to mention scary. Children take one look at him and run away, afraid of the man in black. Why would Harry ever want someone like him?
“Harry will be moved to the Borrow where I understand his friend Miss Granger is also staying. It is the best situation for all of them.” And yet, Severus couldn’t forget the way Harry had clung to him this morning, how he practically begged Severus not to go. Even when he heard the Weasleys outside the door, he had still insisted on keeping Severus beside him. For some bizarre reason, the child wanted him. Maybe it was simply because he felt safer with the dark and dour Severus and not because he cared for him. Still, Severus cannot disappoint the child and he most certainly will not go back on his word. He has to go see Harry today, no matter what the headmaster said.
“No, headmaster. I promised the child that I will see him at the end of the day and I will not go back on my word. I will ask him if he wants to live with the Weasleys and if he replies in the affirmative, I will personally escort him to the Borrow and sign over all guardianship to the Weasleys.”
“That is out of the question, Severus. You have cursed Harry and now you expect me to just let you walk up to him? No, my boy, that is not possible.”
“But you are the one who insisted the boy stay with me in the first place!” Severus hissed angrily. “I have not cursed that child and you are wasting your time arguing with me when you could be out there looking for the real culprit!”
“Stop this foolishness, Severus! I know that you did it. You are the one who blinded Harry and that is why he is no longer safe with you. When I forced you to take him in, I never thought you would be capable of something like this but now I know better.” Severus took a single deep breathe. He has to keep a clear head. He has to stop being hurt by Dumbledore’s words. The man wouldn’t believe him, he never did. There was no point in trying to convince him of his innocence. If Severus wants to keep his promise to Harry, he has to agree with Dumbledore and let him take the child to the Borrow. Then, the moment Severus gets out of here, he will cast a disillusionment spell on himself and sneak into the Weasley residence. He will find the child and inform him of everything that has happened and make sure that he is happy and well taken care of. Next, he can devote his energies to finding the real culprit and maybe if Harry’s sight is restored and his innocence proven, Dumbledore might even consider letting Harry live with him again. Only if the child wishes it, of course.
“Very well, headmaster. I am a man of my word and breaking a promise, even one made to Mr. Potter, is bitter indeed.” Severus stated coldly, forcing his plans to the back of his mind. “But, since it seems I have no choice in the matter, I will accept the situation.” Dumbledore nodded and stood up slowly. He seemed tired, as if every limb in his body was weighed down by grief. Severus felt sorry for the man. He really did believe that his beloved Severus would do something like this. That must hurt.
“Come, Severus. I have work to do now. We will discuss this again very soon. You are being very stubborn now but one way or another, I will get this information out of you eventually. I’m begging you, my boy, do not force me to use any harsh methods on you.” Severus stood up and said nothing. What could he say? For once, Dumbledore was wrong. He didn’t do anything. Usually, Severus did something to earn Dumbledore’s punishments but this time, it was different. He was innocent. Surely that must count for something.
Mutely, Severus followed Dumbledore out of the room and into his office where the phoenix was still carefully preening his feathers. He crooned delightedly when Severus walked up to him and gave him a pat on the head. The feathers were warm under his touch as he stroked them but it didn’t dispel the chill that Severus was feeling. He hated this, leaving Dumbledore’s office after such a horrible meeting. Was there nothing he can do to bridge the gap between them? Severus turned to look at the headmaster who was standing directly behind him.
“Goodbye then, headmaster. I did not curse the child and I will prove it to you as soon as possible.” Severus nodded his head stiffly at the old man before walking up to the fireplace. He took a handful of the grey powder and threw it into the flames. He spoke the name of his destination clearly and concisely before stepping into the mass of green. Finding Harry was the first thing on his mind as he vanished from sight, engulfed by a flurry of ash and flames.
………..
He stepped out into a disgustingly purple room filled with orange polka dots. What the hell? A big white dog, half the size of Severus was wagging his tail at him and barking furiously, demanding to be petted. Outside the window, Severus could see the wide expanse of a large blue lake opening up in front of him and distant mountains framed its shores. Severus glared all around him. What in Merlin’s name was he doing here? This is not his house, this is Healer’s Touch, Dumbledore’s residence in the middle of Ireland. He had spoken the name of his destination correctly, why then did the floo bring him here? He heard the hiss of the flames behind him. Severus spun around sharply and came face to face with Dumbledore. He looked sad and more than a little scared as he looked at Severus sheepishly. He didn’t step out of the fireplace, he only watched Severus as if he was a wild beast ready to rush at him at any moment.
“What the hell am I doing in your home, Headmaster?” Severus hissed angrily.
“I am afraid I cannot let you wonder around the country freely, not until you tell me what curse you cast. The doors and windows are locked, the floos have been disconnected. I charmed this floo so that it would bring you here but you will no longer be able to use it. Only I can use it now.” Severus took a deep breathe, trying to fight the growing sense of panic. How can he prove his innocence if he is kept a prisoner? And the child? How can he keep his promise now? The child will think Severus disserted him in his time of need? No. This simply cannot be allowed to happen. He needed to get out of here.
“Every criminal has a right to defend himself when he is accused. You say you care about me and yet, you imprison me without even giving me the chance to prove my innocence.”
“I will search for proof, Severus. I will go over your potions lab and check your wand. You must understand, my boy, I do not want you to be guilty but in my heart I know that it is true. Your unjustified hate for James knows no bounds.” Severus was getting desperate. There must be a way out of this. There simply must be.
“Headmaster, let me go. I have a delicate potion that I must attend to, one that is crucial to the current research I’m conducting.” Severus lied smoothly. Let this work. Please, dear Merlin, let this work. The poor child! He must be waiting for Severus. The dog was now pressing its wet nose into Severus’s palm. Lemon was getting impatient, he growled menacingly up at Severus, demanding attention. “I will make a solemn wizard’s oath that tomorrow morning, I shall return to this home. Just let me go tonight.”
“I am sorry, Severus, but this situation is much more serious than any potion.” Severus’s heart sank.
“Dumbledore, let me go!”
“Do not worry, my boy. I will not harm you. Not yet, at least, and not ever if you cooperate and tell me what I need to know.”
“Do not worry?! You are imprisoning me, headmaster!”
“I’m sorry, Severus. I will treat you well. Your room is already prepared for you. It always is and my house elves, as you know very well, are completely at your service. They will get you anything you need. Now, I really have to go. I have an important meeting with the Minister of Magic.” Dumbledore murmured something and the green flames rose high, concealing him from sight.
“No, headmaster, wait! You cannot leave me here!” But it was too late. Dumbledore vanished from sight. The flames turned orange and Severus was left staring at the painfully bright fire with no way to keep his promise. Harry would wait, listening for his guardian’s footsteps until his eyes fell closed from exhaustion but Severus would not come. Oh Merlin, what will the child think of me now?
Unknown Curse