Weasley shook Harry awake some time later. Severus did his best to appear recovered, and managed to convince the boy that he didn’t need to be watched all the time.
However, when all the boys had left for breakfast, Severus realized that he just wanted to sit still and not move. He certainly didn’t want to do something as straining as turning back into a human.
And he wasn’t exactly in a hurry, was he? Breakfast would take a while. He could rest for some time before he had to act.
Not much time had passed, though, when he heard footsteps.
There was something wrong. It was not one person on the stairs but two. Yet they did not walk as two people should be walking. They ...
“Stop shaking, boy. You have nothing to fear. We will just wait here for Harry Potter to come rescue you …“
They sounded like a man was pushing a stumbling boy forward.
“He won’t! We aren’t friends, I didn’t tell anyone I have forgotten my Remembrall. No one will notice I’m not there!”
Longbottom. Of course. Bad luck seemed to follow that boy wherever he went, and if Severus didn’t know better, he’d think Longbottom suffered chronic Malaclaw venom poisoning.
“What a pity. We might have to wait until the evening, then.”
“I wouldn’t stay here so long if I was you”, Longbottom continued weakly. “I ... I have detention with Professor Snape in half an hour, and he’ll come fetch me if I don’t turn up!”
Impressive. Who would have thought the boy had it in him to tell such blatant lies?
“You are lying”, the adult male voice said, sounding amused. “Even if you had detention, Severus would not go to the trouble of fetching you. He would just give you more detention and tell your Head of House to deal with you.”
Perhaps Severus should have made more of a habit of invading other Houses’ common rooms and dormitories, after all.
Severus. So this man knew him. A Death Eater? The voice sounded vaguely familiar ...
He inched towards the closed curtains and peeked through, ignoring his headache for the moment.
The man had sat down on one of the beds, holding a knife to the throat of a trembling boy who was cowering at his feet.
Crouch. Bartemius Crouch junior. He ought to be in Azkaban.
But Severus had better things to do than think about the How and Why. The important thing was figuring out what to do.
Amusing as turning back into his usual self and demanding to see Longbottom in detention might be, he couldn’t risk it.
Not just yet, at least.
If he had to, he just might sacrifice Neville Longbottom to save Harry Potter, but he really didn’t want to.
As the boy had stated, no one would miss him for a while, so Severus still had time to figure out how to distract Crouch from his hostage.
A few, silent moments. Then: „I’m hungry.“
„Oh, are you now?“
Severus flinched at how similar Crouch’s words sounded to something he might have said himself. He didn’t want to have anything in common with the man. The mark on his arm was quite enough.
“I’ll get some sweets from my bag”, Longbottom decided. His voice trembled. “If you don’t like it, you can just kill me now.”
“Oh, I am not cruel. Go ahead.”
More like he didn’t want to kill his hostage.
Longbottom rummaged in his school bag, retrieved a handful of something, put it in his mouth, swallowed.
“Weyberries are quite delicious, don’t you think?” Longbottom smiled, opening his hand to reveal a shriveled red fruit.
Ah, yes. Weyberries. Delicious, but the kernels contained a lethal poison.
“Spit that out! I need you alive!“
“Too late. Already swallowed them. I feel a bit woozy.”
Crouch removed the knife, just in time, as Longbottom keeled over.
He knelt over the boy, apparently trying to make him throw up.
Severus gathered his strength, or rather, the feeble remains of it.
Crouch gave up his attempts on the boy, instead rummaging through the potions kit, probably in search of a bezoar or antidote.
Severus turned back into a man, seized his wand, and shot a silent stunning spell at Crouch, followed by a spoken and more powerful body bind.
Then he thought of Lily, laughing in the sunshine, to conjure his patronus.
“Death Eater in Harry Potter’s dorm. Come at once.” The silver doe set off to inform Dumbledore.
He felt like someone was pounding on his head with a giant hammer, but still got out of bed and dragged himself towards the limp body of Neville Longbottom.
“Sit up and stop pretending. Weyberry poison does not take effect until after at least a quarter of an hour has passed.”
Longbottom’s eyes flew open. “Professor Snape?“ he gasped. „But … but …“
„Did you not say I would come to fetch you for detention? To the hospital wing with you, now!”
Let the boy believe his words had magically summoned Severus. It was not as if magic like that didn’t exist.
“Yes, sir. I didn’t chew the kernels, I think I have some time. Aren’t you coming?”
Was this really Longbottom, or some hallucination his brain was producing to ease his distress? Since when was the boy this competent? Leaving the kernels intact meant he might even survive without any medical attention, if he was lucky. It was a pity Severus hadn’t thought to replace the bezoar in his pocket after feeding it to Harry. An oversight that might have cost a life if not for this unexpectedly competent Neville Longbottom.
“I ...” Severus held to a post on the nearest bed. “I shall guard ...” No, he couldn’t put his pride over safety. „Yes, I will come.”
He put a hover charm on the body-bound Death Eater and made him float after them while they walked down the stairs.
When he arrived at the common room,the headache had become unbearable.
And Longbottom looked at him with an expression that looked suspiciously like pity.
“Did he fire a spell at you, sir?”
Severus chose not to answer that question. Let the boy believe he was incapacitated by dark magic. Much more dignified than the truth.
He thought quickly. Sending Longbottom off to the hospital wing would mean he was alone with the Death Eater. And some other student might return from breakfast early.
“Take away his wand, then point your own wand at him. If he moves, use any spell you deem appropriate.”
Longbottom retrieved the wand, handed it to Severus, then looked at Crouch hesitatingly. “You know I’m not good at magic, sir.”
Severus sat on a plushy red couch and rested his head on the backrest. “You are powerful. I am confident you will manage to cause death and destruction with any spell you choose. Keeping this man alive is very low on the list of my priorities right now.”
Perhaps he should have killed him. Not with the Death Curse, of course, but surely no one could object to his killing a dangerous Death Eater with the Sectumsempra curse? Severus had always liked the idea of having his own trademark curse.
Lily had not been so impressed, saying it was dark magic, regardless of how small the cuts he caused with it were ...
And of course, Sectumsempra would have made a terrible mess, what with all the blood ...
There was a faint cracking noise, and Albus Dumbledore stood in the room, phoenix on his arm.
“Bartemius Crouch”, he said softly. “Oh dear. Are you injured, Neville?”
“No, sir. But I think he got Professor Snape.”
“Longbottom ate Weyberries”, Severus hissed, pressing his hands to his aching temples. “He needs an antidote.” Everything was too loud, too bright and he was feeling nauseous.
Dumbledore walked to the fireplace, and Severus closed his eyes
He still felt the pain in his head increase as green flames flared up.
The headmaster conversed with the healer and Severus fought the bile in his throat. He would not throw up in front of Longbottom.
The boy had likely lost respect for him after seeing him in this weakened state, no need to make it even worse.
Shortly after, the door flew open and several teachers, led by Minerva, stormed in, wands drawn.
“The situation is under control”, Dumbledore informed them. “It seems Bartemius Crouch junior escaped Azkaban. Minerva, Filius, the two of you can surely find a safe place to lock him up until the Aurors arrive?”
“Certainly”, Minerva replied. “Mr. Longbottom, are you alright?“
“Yes, Professor. Don’t worry about me.”
“Splendid”, Dumbledore said in an inappropriately cheerful voice. “Everyone else can go back to the Great Hall. The students should be informed that Gryffindor common room is off limits for half an hour or so.”
With Crouch out of the room, Severus allowed himself to close his eyes. There was only so much pain he was willing to endure to protect his dignity.
“Now, Neville, would you tell me what, exactly, has happened?”, he heard Dumbledore ask.
“I was walking to the Great Hall with the others, but then I noticed I had forgotten my Remembrall, so I went back to get it. I had just gotten inside here when I noticed something was following me. Before I could turn around, someone held a knife to my throat. He told me to walk up the stairs and said he would wait until Harry notices I am missing and goes after me.”
“So he was after Harry, indeed. Do continue.”
“I tried to tell him that Harry wouldn’t come, but he said he would just wait, and I didn’t know what to do, so I thought perhaps he would let me go if he thought I was dead. Weyberries aren’t really all that poisonous if you don’t chew the kernels, and I thought he’d probably not know that, because almost no one ever cares about Herbology and it is only in some library books, so I ate some and pretended to be unconscious.”
“Very clever. Well done, Neville. What happened then?“
“I am not sure, sir. Crouch tried to get me to throw up, then he gave up, and somewhen after that, Professor Snape put a spell on him and told me to stop pretending. I kept my eyes closed, so I’m not sure what happened.”
“Thank you, Neville. Ah, that will be Madam Pomfrey.”
And sure enough, the healer walked in.
“Mr. Longbottom, you have swallowed Weyberries?”, she asked briskly.
“Yes, Madam. Five. Didn’t chew the kernels.“
„Take this.“ She handed him a phial. „Report to me if you notice any symptoms.“
Then she turned her attention to Severus. “Let me have a look at you. The Headmaster may say you have a concussion, but I like to be sure.”
Severus suffered silently while she performed her diagnostic spells. “It is a concussion alright, but Severus, what spell did he use? In a muggle, this kind of concussion would not be very noteworthy, but in a wizard ... I don’t think any healer has seen the likes of it since that horrid game Creaothceann has been outlawed.”
That game, Severus recalled, involved catching big rocks in a cauldron strapped to your head. “I did not hear an incantation”, he stated truthfully.
She clucked her tongue. “Well, I can heal the bone, but you will need strict bed rest for a week.”
And then, finally, she did heal the bone.
It didn’t ease the pain by much.
Chapter 13