As the hours rolled into night, the fortress of Hogwarts lay cloaked in the ethereal beauty of moonlight. A shimmering silver glow painted the castle and its grounds, the tranquil darkness punctuated by the delicate dance of fireflies. Outside Harry's window, the moon was a stunning masterpiece in the sky, its radiant aura casting long, serene shadows across the room.
Despite the tranquillity, a storm was brewing within Harry. He woke with a start, his breath ragged and heart pounding as an unbearable pain coursed through his joints. His hand clutched his chest, tears of agony welled up in his eyes as he curled into a ball, trying to contain the screams that threatened to escape his lips. He whimpered, his soft cries echoing through the quiet room.
Across the corridor, Severus was drawn from his study by the faint sounds of distress. A furrowed brow marked his concern as he silently moved towards Harry's room. Pausing for a moment, he placed his ear against the door, confirming his suspicions before quietly pushing the door open.
Under the ethereal glow of the moonlight, Harry lay curled up in his bed. His face was twisted in pain, his body curled protectively. Severus stood at the doorway, lines of confusion creasing his typically impassive features. The enduring effects of the Cruciatus curse weren't aligning with his understanding of the spell's typical progression.
"Potter," he ventured, his voice barely louder than the hushed whispers of the wind outside. The young wizard flinched slightly at the sound, his pain-laden emerald eyes blinking open facing the wall away from Severus.
Harry merely nodded, wincing as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. "Professor Snape..." His voice was strained, a mere thread of sound in the silent room.
Severus moved closer, his own discomfort with the situation buried deep beneath years of practiced stoicism. "Hold on, Potter," he instructed, his hand coming to rest briefly on the boy's back, before he retreated to retrieve a pain potion.
Having secured the vial, Severus moved gently back to where Harry was. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. His movements were careful, the usual hardness in his demeanor softened as he extended a hand to help Harry.
"Roll over, Potter," he directed in a quiet tone, aiding the boy in shifting his position so he was now facing Severus. The normally stark lines of Severus's face appeared softer, shadowed in the dimly lit room. The silence in the space between them was only filled with the soft rustling of the sheets as Harry repositioned himself.
"Drink," Severus commanded, his voice disciplined yet subtly hinting at concealed worry. He extended the vial, its contents casting a faint glow in the dim light. Harry hesitated, his gaze fixed on the glowing vial as if mesmerized. After a pause, his shaking hand reached out, the icy touch of the glass contrasting sharply with the warmth that seemed to emanate from Severus's hand. The wordless question in Harry's bright green eyes made him look up at the stoic professor.
In response to the unasked question, Harry pressed his lips tightly together and bravely swallowed the liquid. The taste had him wincing, but its effect was astonishingly swift. His body, previously stiff with tension, began to relax, and the pain that had haunted his eyes started to retreat, replaced by a glazed relief.
"Thanks..." he managed to utter, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyelids fluttered, fighting against the sudden wave of sleepiness that washed over him. Ultimately, his exhaustion prevailed, pulling him gently into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Severus merely watched as the young wizard drifted off, his mind racing with unanswered questions. The lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse were abnormal, and he wondered if Umbridge had cast something along with the Cruciatus that could be causing this effect.
An unsettling quiet filled the room as Harry slept. The pain potion had done its work, easing the boy's physical pain, but Severus wasn't ready to conclude his observations yet. He moved his hand to Harry's forehead, his normally stoic face softening into concern as he detected a higher-than-normal temperature. A fever, Severus realized, taking a step back.
"Potter," he called softly, nudging the boy awake. Harry blinked, his green eyes glazing over with confusion and exhaustion. "Are you feeling unwell in any other way?"
He waited patiently as Harry seemed to mull over the question. A silent nod followed by a faint whisper confirmed his suspicions. "My throat's sore. Thought it was from, well, the screaming..." Harry’s voice trailed off, and he swallowed uncomfortably, his gaze flickering towards the door.
The additional information clicked into place. A fever, a sore throat... these weren't residual effects of the Cruciatus curse. Severus sighed, realizing Harry was probably coming down with the flu, or a bad cold at least, on top of the trauma he'd already endured.
"This should have been tended to earlier," he murmured more to himself than Harry. "Rest now, Potter. I'll be back with something for your throat and fever."
Severus returned to Harry's room in a matter of minutes, a cold draught and a fever reducer in his hands. Like before, he gently seated himself on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. Carefully, he set the potions on the bedside table, their contents shimmering ominously under the dim light.
Turning his attention back to Harry, he reached out, placing a surprisingly gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. With a light shake, he roused Harry from his sleep. The boy awoke with a soft groan, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of his potions master.
"Potter," Severus started, his voice steady despite the late hour, "I have a couple of potions here for your throat and fever." His words were followed by a pause, allowing the fog of sleep to lift from Harry's mind.
With effort, Harry managed to sit up with Severus's help, grimacing as his body protested the movement. Severus handed him the first vial, a cold draught that would soothe his sore throat and try to stop any other symptoms from showing. Harry's face screwed up at the taste, but he managed to swallow the entire potion. The fever reducer came next, and with a deep breath, Harry took that as well. The worry that Severus so often hid was now subtly present in his actions, revealing a concern for the boy that the potions master seldom voiced aloud.
"There," Severus said once Harry was done, "You should feel better by morning and if you don't you will let me know."
A wave of relief passed over Harry's face as he settled back into the bed. "Thanks, Professor," he whispered, his voice already sounding less hoarse. His eyes fluttered shut once more, the potions and exhaustion pulling him back into sleep.
Severus stood back, allowing the silence to fill the room once more. As he looked down at the sleeping figure, his eyes softened slightly. Despite his height, Harry was noticeably smaller than a boy his age should be, his thin frame barely causing a dent in the sheets. It was a stark reminder of the challenges the young wizard had faced in his short life.
Severus quietly stepped out of Harry's room, closing the door gently behind him. The castle was silent, save for the hushed whispers of the wind outside. He made his way towards the living room, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows onto the walls. As he settled into an armchair, his thoughts turned towards the boy in the next room.
His mind drifted back through the years. He had always been aware of Harry's small stature compared to his peers. At first, he had dismissed it as a simple variance of growth, attributing it to the boy being a late bloomer. But now, after witnessing the troubling events of the past day, he began to question that assumption.
The thought gnawed at him, unsettling him in a way few things did. Harry had been remarkably adept at hiding the depth of Umbridge's abuses, only sharing his struggles when it became impossible to keep them secret any longer. He had even confessed that he believed that speaking up would only worsen his predicament.
This was not the behaviour of a typically small child. It was the behaviour of a child conditioned to endure, to hide pain, to survive. Severus frowned, his mind reeling with this realization.
It was then that it dawned on him: Harry's small size may not have been purely physical. There was a possibility that it was a manifestation of years of physical and emotional neglect, of enduring hardships far beyond his years.
There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he pieced together the pieces of the puzzle. A child with an apparent lack of self-care, tendencies to underplay his injuries, to shrink back from attention. Was this not an indicator of some form of abuse or neglect?
The brooding potion master felt a surge of regret for his previous harsh treatment of the boy. There were layers to Harry's struggle that Severus had not considered, layers that were now hauntingly clear.
Deciding then and there, he resolved to keep a closer eye on the boy. Not just for physical ailments or symptoms of magical curses, but for the more subtle signs of enduring emotional trauma. He would ensure that Harry, even though he was seemingly forced to grow up too fast, was given the chance to truly be a boy, at least while he was within the walls of Hogwarts.
Staring into the flickering flames, Severus sat in silence. His mind filled with thoughts and worries he had never expected to have for the boy.
His eyes drifted to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. The hands pointed ominously at three in the morning, reminding him of the late hour. Sighing, Severus acknowledged his own exhaustion. The evening's unexpected turn of events had taken their toll on him, both physically and mentally. He realized he needed rest, a brief respite to clear his mind.
But as he rose from his chair to head towards his quarters, he cast a final glance towards the corridor leading to Harry's room. A pang of concern hit him, a newfound sense of responsibility that was strange and unfamiliar. He made a mental note to check on the boy in the morning, promising himself to ensure that Harry received the help he needed.
With a sigh, he retreated to the solitude of his room, his mind weighed down with the evening's revelations. Sliding under the cool sheets, he granted himself a moment to untangle the unexpected intersections of his past—a history marked with regret and pain—and Harry's. His eyes closed, but the potent images from the evening stubbornly refused to fade, lingering like silent specters in his mind.
When dawn broke, tendrils of sunlight crept through the curtain gaps, painting long strokes of illumination across the room. As Severus came to, a momentary disorientation enveloped him, last night's events appearing as fragments of an unusual dream. Yet, as the veil of sleep lifted, the stark reality rooted itself firmly again. Sitting up, a thought instantly formed, seamlessly connecting the transition from night to day—Harry.
Simultaneously, Harry was stirring into consciousness, his eyes narrowing against the harsh intrusion of the morning light. His hands were still slightly shaking, a faint echo of the tremors from the night before. He ignored them, focusing instead on the general improvement in his condition—the pain in his joints was now merely a dull throb and his throat felt less raw.
As the fog of sleep and remnants of his dreams started to recede, the events of the night before resurfaced in his mind. Had Snape really come to his aid? His mind churned with the memory, his feelings a tangled web of gratitude, surprise, and confusion. His encounters with the Potions Master had been consistently contentious, Snape's palpable disdain for him coloring their every interaction. Now, this unexpected act of assistance complicated their relationship further.
As he tried to push himself upright, he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him, his body still weak. But despite his physical discomfort, his thoughts were elsewhere. His mind replayed the night's events, and amidst the confusion and pain, he realized something.
The stoic, cold man who had always been a figure of fear and authority had shown him a side he had never seen before. A side that was caring and considerate, even if Snape would never openly admit it. The realization hit Harry like a stunning spell. His mind filled with conflicting emotions - shock, disbelief, and surprisingly, a hint of relief.
Harry rubbed his temples, feeling the dull ache subside. A mess of emotions swirled within him - confusion, surprise, and a reluctant form of gratitude. He couldn't help but ponder over the peculiar kindness that Snape had shown him, an attribute he was unaccustomed to associating with the man.
"Professor Snape..." He whispered the name, his voice trailing off as his thoughts drifted back to their past encounters. For years, he had seen Snape as a strict, cold, and often vindictive person. But then, memories of moments where Snape had protected him began to surface. The time he had saved him from Quirrell's jinx during his first Quidditch match, the numerous occasions he had defended him in the Order of Phoenix meetings, and even his constant vigilance in keeping Draco Malfoy in check. His efforts were masked under harsh words and cold stares, but they were there, Harry realized.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft rustling sound at the doorway. Harry looked up to find Severus leaning against the doorframe, his stern gaze fixed on him. The Potion Master's usual cool expression seemed somehow softer in the morning light, his eyes revealing a hint of concern that he had never noticed before.
"Potter," Severus's voice broke through the silence, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. Severus cleared his throat and announced, "Breakfast is on the table."
With a simple nod, Harry acknowledged Severus, his thoughts swirling in an attempt to reconcile the Snape he remembered—a man of cold disdain—with the unexpected caregiver who had shown him kindness the night before. Before trailing Severus, he caught sight of neatly folded clothing at the foot of his bed, left there considerately by Severus. He picked up the garments, appreciating the simple gesture, and swiftly changed into the clean attire, feeling a bit more refreshed.
Silently, he then stepped out of the room, his footsteps lightly echoing those of Severus leading towards the kitchen. As he eased himself into a chair at the table, the familiar, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him, mingling with the scent of toasted bread dancing in the air.
His gaze was instinctively drawn to Severus, the man navigating the kitchen space with an almost reverent efficiency. His familiar billowing robes swirled around him as he moved, an echo of his characteristic stride in the potions lab. It was a sight that was simultaneously familiar and strange, placing Snape in a domestic context that was wildly different from the dungeon-like classrooms at Hogwarts.
This entire scene felt eerily surreal, a stark deviation from their usual interactions. The billowing robes, the graceful movements—it all contributed to this new, perplexing image of Snape. This uncharacteristic sight left Harry in a state of mild bewilderment, struggling to reconcile this domesticated Snape with the stern Potions Master of his memory.
"Thank you, sir," Harry mumbled, glancing towards Severus. The words felt foreign on his tongue, his gratitude directed towards a man who had, until recently, been a source of his misery.
Severus merely nodded, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile as he responded, "Just eat, Potter before you blow away in the wind."
Severus watched as Harry sat down at the breakfast table. His plate was generously heaped with food, but Harry just stared at it, pushing the food around without really eating.
Severus raised an eyebrow from across the table. "Do try not to play with your food, Potter. The house elves didn't slave over a hot stove for my culinary efforts to be so poorly received." His voice was dry, the faintest hint of humor threading his words.
Harry looked up, his green eyes meeting Severus's gaze. He looked unsure for a moment before the corners of his lips twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile. He took a bite of his toast, seemingly pacified by Severus's words.
Severus watched him from the corner of his eyes as he sipped his coffee. Harry was eating, yes, but it was the bare minimum. His movements were slow, like he had to force himself to eat. He tried another approach, "If you starve yourself to death, Potter, they'll blame me for killing you."
Harry frowned, his gaze focusing on his plate. Severus's words, although steeped in sarcasm, had an effect. Harry took a few more bites of his food, eating slightly more than he had before.
Feeling a bit victorious, Severus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a small victory, but one he was willing to take. In his own way, he was making sure Harry was taking care of himself, even if it was just by eating a bit more at breakfast.
After a few minutes of silence, Harry had managed to eat about half his breakfast, but seemed unable to finish the rest. His fork idly prodded the remaining food, his gaze distant. Severus sighed, putting down his coffee cup.
"Potter," he began, his tone uncharacteristically soft, "why aren't you eating?"
Harry looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the question. He shrugged, his fingers playing with the edges of his napkin. "I'm... not very hungry, sir."
A silence fell between them. The clink of dishes and the hum of the Hogwarts castle filled the quiet void. Severus observed the boy, his worry lines deepening. His mind raced to make sense of the situation, his eyes darting over Harry's slight figure, the shadows under his eyes, and his overall lack of appetite.
He felt a tug at his gut. It was more than just physical exhaustion from the night before; something deeper seemed to trouble Harry. He had seen the same symptoms in children who had suffered long periods of neglect or starvation.
The realization hit him like a jinx. Harry's lack of appetite, his inability to finish meals, the lack of growth compared to his peers -- it all pointed towards a serious nutritional deficiency.
Without saying a word, Severus pushed a small vial across the table he had prepared hoping to not need it. The liquid inside glowed with a warm light, a clear sign of a well-brewed potion.
Curiosity piqued, Harry reached out, his slender fingers curling around the small vial. He held it up to the soft stream of morning light filtering through the nearby window, his emerald eyes reflecting the glowing potion. "What's this?" He asked, his voice laced with a hint of cautious intrigue.
Severus, ever the one for dramatics, replied with a stone-faced deadpan, "Poison. A particularly painful one too. I prepared it specifically for brats who annoy me."
Taken aback, Harry raised an eyebrow, his surprised expression turning into one of dubious seriousness. His mouth hung open slightly, and he gazed at Severus, uncertainty creeping into his wide eyes.
With a roll of his eyes, Severus retorted, "Close your mouth, Potter, you'll catch flies." A hint of exasperation flickered in his gaze before he continued, his tone reverting to its usual detached monotony. "It's a nutrition potion," he clarified, his dark eyes observing Harry closely. "It will compensate for the nutrients that your body desperately needs but evidently isn't receiving from your meals."
Harry seemed hesitant, his fingers running over the smooth glass. But after a moment, he nodded, uncorking the vial and taking a small sip. He grimaced at the taste, but drank it all nonetheless.
As Severus rose from his chair, his gaze fell upon the parchment lying forgotten on the table. A soft sigh escaped his lips, and he carefully placed the document back into his satchel. Pulling on his outer robes, he brushed off invisible specks of dust.
"I know it's beyond your capabilities to stay in one place for long, but stay here while i'm in class." Severus smirked as he tossed the remark over his shoulder.
Harry, despite the circumstances, couldn't suppress a quiet chuckle. Even in his own private space, he retained his trademark sarcasm and aloof demeanor. Nevertheless, his deeds reflected a softer, more compassionate side.
Severus's smirk vanished as he pivoted to regard Harry. His countenance mellowed, his typically frosty gaze lost its edge. "Listen, Potter," he initiated, his tone bearing an uncommon gravity, "for your own welfare, you need to remain here until Umbridge vacates the castle. She seems to bear an unwarranted grudge against you, and as faculty members, we are bound to shield you from further harm."
Harry stared in astonishment. It was not the admonition that caught him off guard. It was the unexpected tenderness in Severus's voice. It served as a poignant reminder of the lengths to which his professor was willing to go to safeguard him.
"Stay here, do your homework," Severus continued, "I'll bring it to you, so you can keep up with your classes." He paused for a moment, his gaze almost sympathetic. "It won't be for long. Just until... the situation is resolved."
Harry nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Alright, sir," he agreed quietly, still taken aback by Severus's unexpected gentleness. There was a lot more to the man than he'd given him credit for, and this new realization filled him with a deep sense of gratitude.
Severus's eyes softened just a fraction more before he straightened up, his usual icy demeanor slipping back into place like a well-worn cloak. "Don't destroy anything, Potter," he warned with a final glance around the room. And with that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
He moved through the castle corridors swiftly, his mind filled with concern for Harry and annoyance for Umbridge. He had a meeting with Minerva and the other Heads of Houses. They needed to come up with a plan, a way to protect Harry and the other students from Umbridge's vindictive rule. It was high time they took action against her reign of terror in Hogwarts.
Reaching the meeting place, Severus pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes meeting Minerva's worried gaze. The other Heads of Houses were already present, their faces marked with the same concern and determination.
Taking a moment to survey the room, Severus closed the door behind him and moved to join the others. He moved past rows of bookshelves, their contents whispering tales of the ancient magic that pervaded the castle. Reaching the large wooden table, he pulled out a chair and sat down, the old wood creaking in protest under his weight.
"All right," Severus initiated, leaning forward on the large wooden table, his gaze sweeping over the assembled faculty. "We have work to do."
"Indeed, we do," Minerva concurred, her tone grave. Her hands, wrapped around a warm mug of very strong coffee, tightened and she looked thoughtfully at her colleagues, her brow furrowed in worry. "This has already gone too far, Severus."
Staring into the dancing flames in the fireplace, Fillius nodded grimly, his face mirroring Minerva's concern. "If we allow Umbridge to continue her reign, the future of the children, especially Harry, is unpredictable."
Severus acknowledged Fillius with a grim nod, sharing a look of understanding with Pomona Sprout. The Herbology teacher, usually bursting with life and energy, clenched her fists on the table, her face hardened with determination.
"Understood," Pomona affirmed, standing tall as her eyes shifted from the embers of the fireplace to the solemn faces of her colleagues. "Our students' safety is our priority. That woman is nothing short of a menace."
Minerva rose from her chair, her voice echoing around the room as her gaze settled on each member of the faculty. "It is decided then," she declared, her hand tracing the back of her chair. "We must find a way to remove Umbridge from Hogwarts, ensuring we avoid implicating ourselves or Albus in the process."
"We must tread carefully," Severus cautioned, resting his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled in front of his face. "The Ministry is in Fudge's pocket. We need to be certain that our actions remain untraceable."
Pomona nodded, her gaze thoughtful, absently tracing the grain of the wooden table. "We need to expose Umbridge for the monster she really is. I believe there are many within the Ministry who would reconsider their allegiance if they knew the true extent of her malevolence."
"Agreed," Fillius interjected, adjusting his spectacles and leaning back in his chair. "However, we need incontrovertible evidence."
"Something that would thrust her into the public spotlight," Severus added, his gaze hardened. "Force Fudge into a corner."
"The centaurs," Minerva suggested suddenly, her face brightening with an idea. She straightened in her chair, excitement flashing in her eyes. "We could capitalize on their existing hostility towards her. Suppose she were to have an unfortunate incident in the Forbidden Forest..."
"And who would the Ministry believe?" Severus finished the thought, a glint of cunning in his eyes. "A group of 'barbaric' centaurs or their own High Inquisitor?"
The others nodded in agreement, wheels turning in their heads as they began to sketch the outlines of a plan. A spark of determination ignited in each of their eyes. They were on a mission, a mission to safeguard the wellbeing and sanity of their students.
"True," Minerva concurred.
"Perhaps," Filius interjected, a crafty gleam in his eyes as he rubbed his chin, "we could employ a memory charm."
A heavy silence settled over the room as they digested his proposition. "An Obliviate?" Severus questioned, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.
"No, not an Obliviate. A Confundus Charm," Filius clarified, waving his hand dismissively. "We could confuse her into thinking she has an urgent matter to attend to in the Forbidden Forest..."
Minerva shook her head, her lips pursed in contemplation. "No, Filius," she replied, "That could potentially incriminate us. If anyone was to suggest that we had cast a Confundus Charm on her, we would be under heavy scrutiny. That simply won't work."
Filius' face fell slightly, but he nodded in understanding. "You're right, Minerva. We need to be more cunning. Something... subtle."
Minerva's gaze suddenly fixed on a point beyond the table. Her mouth curled into a knowing smile, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Why don't we make use of some resources at our disposal?" she proposed, her voice low but excited.
Severus raised an eyebrow in question, following her gaze to the item resting on the corner of the table -- a box of confiscated Weasley's trick wands. "Ah," he muttered, understanding dawning in his eyes. "Yes, those could be of use. I picked up a few from students as well."
"But," Filius started, looking a little unsure. "Won't that be traceable?"
Minerva shook her head. "Not these. The twins made them to be untraceable. Each one can only give off three good spells, but they're quite effective, as several students who were on the receiving end can attest."
The four heads of houses huddled over the box of trick wands, examining the innocent-looking objects that would become instrumental in their plan. Pomona was the first to speak. "We need to use these intelligently, and make sure we don't arouse any suspicion. We need to let these wands create the chaos, while we remain on the sidelines, seemingly clueless."
"I suggest we involve Peeves and the Bloody Baron in our plan. They've both been wanting to cause a bit of trouble for Umbridge for a while now," Severus suggested, his tone careful and calculated.
Minerva nodded. "We could influence them to cause some mischief around Umbridge. The Baron can appear to be haunting her more than the others. Peeves... well, Peeves can just be Peeves, but more persistent."
"Precisely," Severus confirmed. "Meanwhile, we can manipulate the wands to turn her life into a living hell. Misplaced personal items, uncontrolled magical outbursts, unexpected showers of slimy slugs, and even mysteriously locked doors. We can add in some eerie whispers in the corridors and strange, unsettling dreams. We need to construct an illusion where it seems like the castle itself is rebelling against her."
Filius chimed in with a gleam in his eye, "Imagine Umbridge's fury if her quills started writing gibberish in the middle of her sentences, or if the classroom board started displaying sarcastic remarks about her instead of her lessons!"
Severus smirked at the thought, while Minerva chuckled softly. Pomona, trying to suppress her smile, said, "That should make the students quite happy, at least."
"But how do we ensure the wands are in the right place at the right time?" Minerva inquired, becoming serious again.
Filius offered, "The house elves can be of assistance. They are nearly invisible to most people at Hogwarts, and certainly to Umbridge. Since these are joke wands they could use them and the fact that they're untraceable makes it even better."
Severus picked up one of the wands, eyeing it thoughtfully. "And then, of course, there's the matter of the wands themselves. Weasley's invention might be just what we need to take the fight to Umbridge without lifting a finger ourselves."
Minerva gave him a stern look at this, "Your main job, Severus, remains the protection of Harry, and to a wider extent, all students. Should this backfire, we would need you in your primary capacity. Umbridge still thinks you're on her side so you are the least likely to be fired."
Severus scowled slightly at this, "Don't worry, Minerva. I plan to be far from the line of fire, as per your suggestion."
He then grinned, twirling the wand in his fingers. "I can still give the elves some ideas though, picture this, if you will," he said, a devious glint in his eye. "The esteemed Dolores Umbridge sitting at her desk, attempting to draft yet another one of her ridiculous decrees, only to find that every line she pens turns into the most flattering compliments about the students she detests."
"Speaking of students," Minerva interjected, her tone softer now, "how is Harry doing?"
Severus snorted, "Probably basking in his usual glory, no doubt."
But Minerva only shook her head, seeing right through his sarcasm, "Your concern for the boy is poorly hidden, Severus."
Severus merely grunted, choosing to ignore the statement. He then continued, "Or perhaps, in the middle of a staff meeting, her tea cup suddenly transforms into a toad. Not harmful, of course, but enough to give her a shock and amuse the rest of us."
Filius let out a surprised laugh, and even Pomona couldn't hide a smile. Minerva merely raised an eyebrow, but her eyes were twinkling with mirth and pursed her lips to hide a smile, "Severus, I never thought I'd see the day you'd be planning pranks."
"Well, times are dire," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly, but his eyes were gleaming with a rare mischievousness. "Besides, isn't it said that all's fair in love and... what are we calling this? A mini rebellion?"
Minerva snorted at this, causing Filius to burst out laughing again. Even Pomona was chuckling softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Very well, Severus," Minerva finally said, her eyes still sparkling with amusement, "Let's call this our mini rebellion then."
Severus smirked, satisfied. He placed the wand back into the box with a soft clatter. "Perfect. So it's decided. We'll need to brief the house elves and ensure that Peeves and the Bloody Baron understand their roles."
"The house elves will need to be instructed on how to use the wands," Minerva continued, taking one out and examining it thoughtfully. "I will see to that."
"And the Bloody Baron?" asked Pomona. "Who will speak with him?"
"I shall," Filius offered, a determined glint in his eye. "The Baron and I have always had an understanding of sorts. He'll play his part."
"And I'll handle Peeves," Pomona stated, determination etching her features. "He's always been more receptive to me than others. I think it's my green thumb."
Minerva gave a nod of approval. "Very well, then. We all know what we need to do. Let's get to work."
They all rose from their seats, the box of trick wands in Minerva's hands. There was a sense of urgency in the air, a palpable energy that reflected the seriousness of their undertaking.
As they started to leave, Minerva asked, "Severus, can you stay back for a moment?"
Once the room was emptied, Minerva turned to him, her stern exterior softening. "Severus, how is Harry really doing?"
Severus sneered, "I'm not his babysitter, Minerva."
"Severus," she scolded, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice. "You know as well as I do, that's not what I meant."
Severus sighed, his sarcastic demeanor deflating as he slumped into his chair. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke. "He's not well, Minerva. He woke in pain in the night. I've...I've never seen that before with the Cruciatus Curse."
Minerva looked deeply concerned, her face pale. "He woke up in pain? The curse shouldn't have...lingering effects."
Severus nodded again. "That's what is...odd. Disturbing. I don't know if it's because of the curse itself, or if there's something else going on with Potter."
"But you've taken care of him, right?" Minerva pressed, her worry evident.
Severus waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, I have. I'm not completely heartless, you know." He gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, his attempt at lightening the heavy atmosphere. "I made sure he got a proper dose of pain potion and sent him back to bed. He'll live."
Minerva let out a sigh, her worry lines softening somewhat. "Good. Thank you, Severus."
"I'd say 'anytime', but we both know that would be a lie," he quipped, a trace of his earlier sarcasm resurfacing. His comment succeeded in bringing a ghost of a smile to Minerva's lips.
Severus became serious again. His characteristic smirk faded, replaced by a far-off look in his black eyes. He stared into the flickering fireplace, seemingly lost in thought.
"Minerva," he began, his voice quiet and unusually somber. "Have you ever noticed how small Potter is?"
Minerva paused, turning back to face him. "Small?" she asked, confusion clear in her voice. "Severus, you know James wasn't particularly tall either."
Severus shook his head, his gaze not leaving the dancing flames. "This is different," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "It's not just his stature. Have you noticed his eating habits?"
"His eating habits?" Minerva repeated, her brows furrowing in thought. She had, indeed, noticed Harry's slender build, but she'd always attributed it to him being a teenager with an active lifestyle. But Severus was right. The boy was thin, perhaps unhealthily so.
"Yes," Severus continued, finally looking up at her. "Potter is... he's undernourished, Minerva. He barely touches his food."
Minerva paused for a moment, absorbing his words. "Undernourished?" she echoed, a frown creasing her brow. "What are you insinuating, Severus?"
Severus sighed slightly. His black eyes met hers. "It might not be anything," he admitted, his tone somber. "But... it might also be a sign of something more serious."
"Such as?" Minerva asked, her tone equally grave.
Severus sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Malnutrition. Neglect," he said slowly, each word heavy with implications. "We know he lives with his Muggle relatives during the summer. Who knows what sort of care they're giving him?"
The thought struck Minerva like a blow. She had never truly liked the Dursleys, having met them only once when she had dropped Harry off as a baby. They had seemed... unfit, to say the least, to raise a child like Harry. But she hadn't considered that they might neglect him to such a degree.
"You think... they're not feeding him enough?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Severus shrugged, his expression dark. "It's a possibility," he said. "And given the unexpected effects of the Cruciatus Curse... It might not be the only form of abuse he's suffering."
Minerva felt a lump in her throat. "We... we should investigate this," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil within her. "If Harry is being harmed in any way..."
Severus nodded, a glint of determination in his eyes. "I will delicately inquire, Minerva. In the meantime I started giving him nutrient potions"
Minerva's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You have?" she asked.
Severus merely nodded. "Subtly, of course. We wouldn't want his pride getting in the way of him getting the help he needs."
Minerva sighed, a small smile curling at her lips despite the severity of the situation. "Thank you, Severus," she said, her voice sincere. "Despite your hard exterior, you have a caring heart."
Severus rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. "Don't go spreading it around," he grumbled, but there was no real venom in his voice.
Minerva chuckled softly, but her smile quickly faded. "If there's anything else I can do, Severus," she said earnestly, "please let me know. I'm more than willing to come spend time with Harry. Perhaps...perhaps I can talk to him."
Severus snorted at the idea. "Two lions in the snake's den?" he muttered, but there was no malice in his tone. "I can only imagine the stir that would cause."
Minerva shrugged nonchalantly. "I think we've already established that we're in the midst of a mini rebellion," she said. "What's one more transgression?"
Severus shook his head, but a small, amused smirk was tugging at his lips. "Indeed," he said, begining to walk to the exit. "Who am I to argue?"
With that, he turned towards the door, preparing to leave the room. But as he reached for the doorknob, he turned back towards Minerva, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"I swear," he said, shaking his head, "I'm surrounded by do-gooders."
"Well, Severus, try not to frighten the children too much today, will you?" Minerva said, her eyes twinkling with humour now.
"I make no promises," Severus responded dryly. He gave Minerva one last look, his expression unreadable. "Take care, Minerva."
With that, he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him as he made his way to start his first class of the day, thoughts of the impending 'mini rebellion' and a certain green-eyed teenager swirling in his mind.
Meanwhile, Harry back in Severus's rooms was tracing his fingers along the spines of the books on the shelves. He had never seen Severus's personal quarters before, and they were vastly different from the cold and slightly threatening atmosphere of his potions classroom.
It was surprisingly homey, filled with comfortable furniture and warm light from the lamps scattered around the room. The walls were lined with bookshelves that reached the ceiling, all filled with books that seemed old and well-loved. There were stacks of parchment, quills, and various other pieces of wizarding paraphernalia scattered across the tables and counters, the evidence of a lived-in space.
Harry was drawn to the bookshelves, his fingers tracing the spines of the books on the shelves as he wandered around the room. His hand paused on a book that looked strikingly out of place amongst the textbooks and potion manuals - 'The Hobbit' by J.R.R. Tolkien. Surprised, he pulled it out and settled on the couch to leaf through it.
It was a first edition, pages yellowed with age but well preserved. There were notes in the margins, written in Severus's neat handwriting, and some parts were underlined, others marked with a star. It was apparent that this was a well-loved book, read multiple times, and the thought of Severus Snape, potions master and feared professor, enjoying a piece of Muggle literature was unexpectedly heartwarming.
Lost in the world of Bilbo Baggins and his unexpected adventure, Harry didn't notice time passing until he was interrupted by the creak of the door opening. Looking up, he was startled to see Severus Snape himself standing at the doorway, his usual sneer replaced with a look of mild surprise.
"Potter," Severus said, closing the door behind him. "Reading my books, I see."
Harry quickly closed the book and stood up, placing it back on the shelf. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to..."
Severus held up a hand to stop him. "It's fine, Potter. Just... be careful with them. They're quite old."
Harry nodded. "I will, sir. Thank you."
There was an awkward silence, and then Severus said, "I trust you are feeling better?"
Harry gave a slight nod, "Yes, sir. But..."
"But?" Severus's sharp gaze caught Harry's hesitation.
Harry glanced down at his hands, noticing how they were trembling ever so slightly. "My hands... they're a bit shaky. It's strange."
Severus immediately moved closer, his expression serious. "Let me see."
Feeling a bubble of anxiety in his chest, Harry reached out his hands. The sensation of Severus's fingers, warm and unexpectedly tender against Harry's shaking ones, was disconcerting. A shudder he hadn't anticipated rippled down his spine.
Severus observed the trembling with a precise, attentive gaze. "Are you in pain, Potter?" he asked, his voice lacking any clear emotional inflection but the intensity of his stare showing deep interest.
Harry shook his head, a lump forming in his throat. "No, sir. I'm not hurting. Just... shaky."
Severus appeared to retreat into his mind for a moment, his eyes distant but thoughtful. "Potter, I need to know about your health. Any odd occurrences."
Feeling the weight of Severus's inquiry, Harry shrugged, reluctance evident in his posture. Discussing anything linked to the Dursleys was a sensitive territory. "Not much to tell, sir. Just the typical colds and such."
Severus's eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "And the brushes with death, correct?" His comment had a dry edge to it, which sparked a wave of embarrassment in Harry.
"Ah, yes... those," Harry mumbled, his voice barely audible. A sense of unease crept up on him, amplifying his nervousness.
"Have you been subjected to a Cruciatus Curse before?" Severus's question was pointed, his gaze drilling into Harry.
Harry averted his eyes, and after a moment, shook his head. "No, sir."
Severus continued his inquiry, "Did Umbridge ever cast a different curse on you? Something memorable?"
Harry shrugged, genuine confusion etched on his face. "I'm not certain, sir. It could've been a silent spell, and I wouldn't have known."
Severus gave a slow nod, his stare intense. Suddenly, he threw Harry off guard with a question, causing Harry's heart to jolt in his chest. "Did your hands tremble like this prior to the Cruciatus curse?"
Harry dropped his gaze to his hands once more, before raising it to meet Severus's. He nodded, slowly. "Yes, sir... but not this badly."
Severus considered this, his gaze moving back to Harry's trembling hands. "Potter, have you ever had your blood tested? For thyroid issues or blood sugar imbalances?"
Harry shook his head, his gaze dropping. "No, sir," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment creeping into his voice. He had never really seen a doctor outside of primary school nurse and Madam Pomfrey's care. The Dursleys certainly hadn't bothered to take him to one.
Severus rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his dark eyes filled with a touch of concern that was unusual for the stoic potions master. He was a skilled healer, as part of his Potions Mastery training had included medical magic, but he was far from a specialist in this particular area.
"Potter, I think we should consult Madam Pomfrey," he said at last. "She may have more insight into your condition."
Harry hesitated, then gave a nod. "Alright, sir," Harry said very quietly.
Severus moved to the fireplace and indicated for Harry to sit down again before tossing in a handful of Floo powder. "Madam Pomfrey, Hogwarts Infirmary," he said clearly. His head disappeared into the flames for a few minutes.
After what felt like a million years to Harry, but in reality was only a few minutes, Severus stepped back, turning to Harry with a nod. "She'll be here shortly. Have you had any lunch yet?"
Harry shook his head, his gaze shifting uneasily to his hands. The mere mention of food was making his stomach churn uneasily. "Not... not really hungry, sir."
Severus simply nodded, making a mental note. As if on cue, Madam Pomfrey came through the Floo Network, dusting off the ash from her robes. She gave a curt nod to Severus, her professional demeanor overshadowing her surprise at being called to the dungeons.
"Harry," she said in her no-nonsense tone, taking a seat on the couch next to him. She noticed the slight tremors in his hands and immediately reached out to examine them. Her touch was gentle, her fingers cool against his skin.
"I've been told you're experiencing some unusual symptoms," she began, her sharp gaze scrutinizing his trembling hands. "Severus mentioned it might be related to your thyroid or blood sugar?"
Harry simply nodded, unsure of what to say. He didn't fully understand what those terms meant, but the way Severus and Madam Pomfrey were reacting, he could tell it wasn't something to be taken lightly.
"I'll need to take a bit of your blood for some tests," Madam Pomfrey informed him, pulling out a small vial and a syringe from her bag. Seeing the slight look of apprehension on Harry's face, she added, "Don't worry, Harry. It won't hurt. Just a slight pinch."
As Madam Pomfrey collected the blood sample, Severus stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes were filled with an unusual intensity as he observed the proceedings. He was used to dealing with wounds and magical maladies, not medical conditions. Yet, his concern for his student was evident, adding another layer to the enigmatic potions master.
Once Madam Pomfrey had the blood sample secured, she stood, her gaze meeting Severus's. "I'll need to run these tests back at the infirmary. They may take a bit of time."
Severus gave a curt nod, "Keep us informed, Poppy."
Madam Pomfrey gave a brisk nod and disappeared back into the fireplace, leaving a trail of ash that settled onto the cold stone floor. The room fell into an uneasy silence, with only the crackling of the fire and Harry's soft breaths echoing in the room.
"Potter, even if your appetite has taken an inexplicable vacation, you should at least have some soup," Severus said, a sarcastic edge to his tone. "You may not be hungry, but you are still a growing child."
Harry simply nodded and looked down chastised. "Yes, sir," he murmured.
With a flick of his wand, Severus summoned a house elf. "Bring Potter a bowl of chicken soup," he instructed the elf with a glance towards Harry. "And perhaps I'll suffer through a sandwich."
The elf bowed and vanished, only to return moments later carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a sandwich.
Severus lowered himself into the armchair next to the couch where Harry was sitting, taking the sandwich and beginning to eat with as much enthusiasm as one might show for a Grindylow dissection. "Potter," he said between bites, "your assignments for today will be arriving shortly. I trust you will manage to complete them in a timely manner despite your...current situation."
Harry glanced at his hands, the tremor in them not lessened by the warm soup he had begun to sip. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice small.
Severus finished his sandwich, a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth as he did so. He wiped his hands on a napkin, discarding the remains of his lunch with a small flick of his wand. "I must return to my classes shortly," he said, his gaze lingering on Harry's hands.
The sarcasm in his voice lessened as he continued, "However, if those hands of yours are giving you trouble, there is no harm in waiting until they are more...cooperative. After all, I wouldn't want your handwriting to become even more illegible than it already is."
"Sir," Harry began, swallowing another spoonful of soup, "Has... has Umbridge asked about me?"
Severus paused, an expression of disdain crossing his face. He gave a deep, drawn-out sigh, rolling his eyes as he nodded. "Indeed, Potter," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "She has been so kind as to call a staff meeting to discuss your apparent 'disobedience.'"
Harry's eyes widened slightly, the soup suddenly tasting a lot less appealing.
"But fret not, Potter," Severus continued, his tone now softer, less sarcastic, and more genuine. "Only the Heads of Houses know of your current whereabouts. We... well, let's just say that we have a brewing plan to deal with our delightful High Inquisitor."
Harry looked at him, a mix of curiosity and relief etched onto his face. "A plan, sir?"
Severus merely smirked, rising from his chair. "You just focus on not destroying my quarters, Potter. We'll handle the toad."
There was silence in the room as Harry mulled over the information. He realized he had one more question. “Have my friends... Hermione and Ron, have they asked about me?”
Severus gave him a curt nod. “Of course they have. It’s quite obvious they've been fretting over your absence. Though I must say, their attempts to feign indifference are as transparent as a clean glass window."
Harry felt a pang of guilt but was comforted by a subsequent nod from the potions master. "Minerva has assured them that you are safe and that the matter is being handled. No specifics were shared, of course."
Relief washed over Harry, but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sense of isolation. He missed his friends. Missed being part of their silly squabbles, their study sessions, even their reckless adventures. But he understood the need for secrecy. And he trusted his friends would understand too, eventually.
Finishing his soup, he placed the bowl on the side table and leaned back, a yawn escaping him. The whole ordeal was more exhausting than he had thought it would be.
Severus, having finished his own food, stood to leave. His usual stern expression softened slightly as he looked down at Harry, clearly worn out from the day’s events. "If you need anything, have a house-elf fetch me," he instructed, his voice softer than Harry was accustomed to.
Harry simply nodded, too tired to speak.
But as Severus neared the door, he turned back, the stern edge returning to his voice. "Remember, Potter, you are to stay here. You are not to leave these quarters. Not even if you think it's a matter of life or death."
Harry managed a weak nod. "Yes, sir."
Just as Severus was about to step out, he turned back once more, and with a swift wave of his wand, he cast a summoning spell. From the corner of the room, a thick, soft blanket flew through the air, landing gently into Harry's lap.
Before Harry could manage a word of thanks, Severus had already left the room, the door closing quietly behind him. Harry was left alone with his thoughts, the flickering fire being the only other presence in the room. As the door closed, a wave of exhaustion washed over him. The blanket in his lap, despite its sudden appearance, offered some small comfort against the silence of the room.
Harry’s mind was a whirlpool of worry, fear and confusion. The inexplicable fatigue that held him in its vice-like grip was unlike anything he had ever experienced. The tremors coursing through his hands were distressing, leaving a chilling sense of dread coursing through him. His fingers would twitch and quiver at random intervals, making it difficult to perform the simplest of tasks without great concentration or he would spill or drop something.
He had initially brushed it off as an unfortunate byproduct of the ceaseless stress he was under. With the relentless threat of Umbridge's twisted discipline, the looming shadows of the upcoming O.W.L.s, and the ever-encroaching sense of war hanging heavy on his shoulders, his body was merely reacting to the sheer weight of it all. It was a plausible theory, but the intensity of the concern in Madam Pomfrey's eyes and Snape's uncharacteristically kind demeanor suggested there was more to it.
Thinking of Snape brought a frown to his face, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. The Potions Master, whose sarcasm was as infamous as his intolerance for incompetence, had been different lately. He retained his acerbic wit, but there was an underlying gentleness to his actions. His snide comments were absent of malice, replaced instead with an odd sort of concern. The kindness Snape had shown him, his proactive approach in fetching Madam Pomfrey, was downright disconcerting. It felt foreign, like trying to read an unfamiliar script. Snape was a puzzle that Harry had long since given up trying to solve, but this new development was unsettling in its peculiarity.
His mind then shifted to Umbridge, and a bitter taste filled his mouth. The toad-like woman had become a thorn in the side of everyone at Hogwarts, her oppressive regime choking the life out of the school. Snape's cryptic mention of a 'brewing plan' against her left Harry's curiosity ignited. The cryptic hint left him wondering what exactly his professors had in mind. But the severity of Snape's orders, the gravitas in his voice as he told Harry not to leave his quarters under any circumstance, made Harry realize that whatever they were planning was dangerous, and probably not something he needed to be involved in.
His eyes grew heavy as the fatigue began to pull at him, tugging him down into its embrace. The day's events had been draining, a relentless barrage of worry, confusion and stress. His body craved rest, and despite his mind buzzing with questions and concerns, he couldn't fight the inevitable pull of sleep.
As sleep claimed him, Harry's mind was a storm of half-formed thoughts and unanswered questions. The mystery of his shaking hands, the threat of Umbridge, Snape's unexpected kindness – it all swirled in the darkness, a chaotic whirlpool in the otherwise peaceful slumber. But sleep offered a brief respite, a momentary escape from the tangled web of worries that ensnared him. Tomorrow, he would have to face it all again. For now, he was just Harry, alone in the quiet of the dungeons, the fading glow of the fire his only company.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Chapter 2