Severus slipped back into his quarters, the door creaking shut behind him, echoing in the silence of the room. The light from the dying embers of the fire cast an eerie, dim glow around the place. The day had been strenuous, every moment of it dominated by either his classes, the staff meeting, or the worries about Potter and Umbridge. But now, he finally had a moment of solitude, a chance to collect his thoughts.
In the quiet solitude of his quarters, Severus found his mind drifting back to the staff meeting earlier that day. The image of Umbridge, with her toad-like face twisted in a perpetual scowl, was vivid in his mind. She had spent the better part of the meeting berating Potter, her voice shrill and grating as she complained about his defiance. Severus could still hear her words, echoing in his mind, a relentless tirade against the boy who lived.
He remembered how Minerva had stepped in, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of irritation. She had defended Potter, as was her duty, but there was a certain lack of conviction in her words. Severus had caught her eye across the table, a silent understanding passing between them. They both knew the game they were playing, the roles they had to perform for the sake of appearances.
And then it had been his turn. He had spoken against Potter, his words harsh and biting. But he had felt a strange emptiness as he did so. There was no venom in his words, no real anger. It was all a performance, a mask he wore. And he knew, as he looked around the room, that the others had seen through it. They had seen the lack of true malice in his words, the absence of real hatred. But Umbridge, in her blind fury, had missed it entirely.
Severus shook his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. The meeting was over, and there was no point dwelling on it. He had played his part, and now it was time to focus on the present.
His eyes traveled to the couch, seeing Harry still sleeping there peacefully. A sigh escaped him, one filled with a strange mix of frustration and relief. Frustration because, even asleep, Potter seemed to have a way of drawing attention, and relief because, despite the tremors and the stress, the boy seemed safe for now.
Severus moved towards the couch, sinking into the armchair next to it. He studied Harry's sleeping form, his forehead furrowed as he took in the sight. It was hard to believe that this sleeping boy was the very person causing such chaos within the castle's walls. Harry's face, usually etched with determination, was peaceful in sleep, the creases of worry smoothed out temporarily. Severus found himself hoping that the boy was faring better in his dreams.
Taking a deep breath, he decided to distract himself from the present problems. His eyes drifted to the parchment on his desk - a list of potion ingredients he needed for his upcoming classes. Going over it, he distracted his mind from Potter and Umbridge, focusing instead on the mundane task at hand. It was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.
About an hour later, he saw Harry stir slightly. Severus moved from his armchair to sit on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him. He reached out and gently shook Harry's shoulder, attempting to rouse him from his sleep. It took a moment, but Harry's eyes slowly fluttered open. The look of confusion on his face was quickly replaced by recognition.
"Potter," Severus greeted, a hand moving to feel the boy's forehead, checking for any signs of fever. Finding none, he continued, "Did you sleep the entire time I was away?"
Harry blinked a few times, looking around the room as though trying to get his bearings. He then nodded, his voice still hoarse from sleep as he replied, "Yeah, I guess I did."
"And how are you feeling?" Severus asked, withdrawing his hand from Harry's forehead. The concern in his voice was subtle, but it was there nonetheless, his eyes searching Harry's face for any indication of discomfort.
"I'm fine," Harry said after a moment, attempting to sit up a bit more. He stifled a yawn, then added, "Just... really sleepy."
Severus nodded, noting that despite the tiredness, Harry seemed to be doing better than he had been. "Rest is important, Potter. But you slept an awful lot today."
"I'd say you're rivalling a cat in terms of sleeping hours," Severus added, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into a faint smirk. The sarcastic comment hung in the air between them, lightening the atmosphere for a brief moment.
Harry frowned at this, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He looked as though he wanted to retort, but instead, he sighed, dropping his gaze to his hands. "I suppose you're right, sir."
Severus watched him for a moment longer before turning his attention to the stack of parchment sitting on the coffee table. "Now, Potter," he began, picking up the pile and handing it to the younger wizard, "do you think you could manage to do some of your homework before dinner?"
Harry looked at the stack of parchment, his brows furrowing. He looked up at Severus, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, sir. I can do that."
"Good." Severus' gaze was steady as he looked at Harry. "There's no sense in letting your education suffer because of... well, everything."
Severus then moved to his desk, sorting through various potions notes and ingredients lists. He busied himself while Harry started on his homework, occasionally glancing over to make sure the boy was actually working and not just staring blankly at the parchment.
After a few minutes of silence, save for the scratching of quills on parchment, Severus spoke again. "Potter," he began, his voice calm and measured, "Madam Pomfrey will be visiting later tonight, after dinner. She'll go over your recent test results."
Harry's quill stopped mid-sentence as he looked up from his parchment, a flicker of apprehension in his eyes. "Test results." he stated, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Severus confirmed, without looking up from his own pile of papers. "She also wanted to look at your hands again."
Harry's gaze dropped back down to his parchment, his brows furrowing. He nodded, swallowing hard. "Alright, sir."
However, Harry didn't immediately return to his work. Instead, he stared at the words on the parchment, his quill lying forgotten in his hand. His mind was clearly elsewhere, consumed with worry about the upcoming visit.
Observing this, Severus sighed, setting down his own quill. He rose from his desk and walked over to where Harry sat, schooling his face into its usual stern expression. "Potter, are you actually planning on writing anything or just contemplating a career in parchment staring?" he said, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. He arched an eyebrow at the younger wizard, a small smirk playing on his lips.
Harry's gaze shot up, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, sir. I just..." he trailed off, not finishing his sentence, but the concern in his eyes said it all.
Understanding what was left unsaid, Severus nodded, gesturing towards the parchment. "May I?"
Harry nodded and handed the parchment over. Severus' eyes skimmed over the words, identifying the potion Harry had been tasked with explaining. It was a complex one, requiring a deep understanding of ingredient interactions and precise timing.
Severus cleared his throat. "Potter, you seem to have missed the significance of adding powdered griffin claw at the boiling point. Do you remember what that does?"
Harry thought for a moment, his brow furrowed. "It... enhances the restorative properties of the potion, doesn't it?"
"Correct," Severus nodded, his expression softening slightly. "This is a potion that demands precision. The timing and order of ingredients are critical."
He then returned the parchment to Harry, sitting on the arm of the couch next to him. For the next half hour, they went over the different steps of the potion, Severus explaining the effects of different ingredients and their combinations. He asked Harry questions, challenging him to think and reason.
The strategy worked. Soon, Harry's attention was back on his work, his fear momentarily forgotten. They worked in silence, the room filled with the sounds of quills scratching and parchment rustling. The lingering tension was pushed aside as the minutes passed, replaced by the comfort of academic focus. Severus continued to guide and correct Harry, every once in a while slipping in a sarcastic comment to lighten the mood.
Finally, Harry managed to finish his potions assignment, jotting down the last sentence with a sigh of relief. He glanced up at Severus, a small, tentative smile on his face. "Done," he announced, offering the parchment for inspection.
Severus took the parchment, scanning over the meticulously written paragraphs. After a few moments, he nodded, handing it back to Harry. "Not perfect, but acceptable. The potion's intricacies are difficult to understand."
Harry nodded, taking his work back and setting it aside. His gaze dropped to his lap, his fingers idly picking at the edge of the parchment. The moment of accomplishment seemed to have temporarily stilled his nervousness, allowing him to relax, if only for a moment.
"Well, we still have a few minutes before dinner. Should we start on transfiguration?" Severus suggested, not wanting Harry to dwell too much on his upcoming visit from Madam Pomfrey.
Harry sighed, but nodded nonetheless. "Alright."
The next half-hour was filled with a similarly rigorous discussion of transfiguration theory. They went over spellwork and incantations, the importance of intent and visualization, and the challenges of human transfiguration. Once again, the intensity of the academic focus seemed to have a calming effect on Harry.
However, their productive study session was interrupted by a small pop in the kitchen. Severus sighed, setting aside the transfiguration book he'd been referencing. "Dinner, it seems," he said, getting up to answer the door.
In the kitchen stood a house-elf with a tray of food, his large eyes twinkling in the dim light. "Dinner, Professor Snape, sir," the elf said, holding out the tray.
"Thank you," Severus replied, taking the tray from the house-elf. He glanced back at Harry, his gaze a silent command to clear the coffee table for the food. They needed a less formal dinner tonight.
As Severus walked back into the living room and laid out their dinner, Harry couldn't help but ask again about Umbridge. He looked up at Severus, his emerald green eyes filled with worry. "Umbridge... You're sure it's not causing more trouble I'm not there?"
Severus snorted, his black eyes gleaming with a dry humor. "As sure as I can be, Potter," he said, smirking. "Unless you count tripping over invisible items and getting her hair messed up by the house-elves' spellwork as causing trouble."
Harry's eyes widened at this. "The house-elves?" he repeated, sounding both surprised and amused.
"Even they have their limits, Potter," Severus replied, his smirk widening. He seemed to enjoy Harry's shocked reaction. "Our dear Umbridge has found herself on the receiving end of a few accidental spills, trips and her blackboard saying interesting things recently. Rather unfortunate."
Harry couldn't help but chuckle at this. "That's... good to know," he said, his smile genuine for the first time that evening.
"Indeed," Severus agreed, his gaze softening a bit. "Now, let's eat."
Despite the comfort of Severus' words and the reassurance of Umbridge's 'misfortunes', Harry found himself picking at his food rather than eating. His appetite was still absent, his stomach churning with nerves. However, he did his best to hide his lack of hunger, not wanting to worry Severus further.
The potions master, of course, noticed. He watched as Harry prodded at his food, his gaze sharp. But instead of calling him out on it, he merely shook his head, letting the matter rest. After all, he knew better than anyone how stress could affect one's appetite. They ate in silence, the calm before the storm that was Madam Pomfrey's visit.
"Potter, are you even trying?" Severus finally said, breaking the silence. His tone was pointed, his gaze fixed on the barely-eaten plate of food.
Harry glanced up from his plate, meeting Severus' gaze briefly before looking away. "I'm not that hungry, sir," he replied, his voice small.
Severus huffed, seemingly unimpressed. "That's evident," he said, his tone dry. He pushed his own empty plate away, his meal finished. "However, considering the state you're in, I would rather not be blamed for you wasting away."
With that, he stood, moving to a nearby cupboard. He pulled out a small vial filled with a familiar liquid - a nutrition potion. He walked back to the table, sliding the vial across to Harry. "Here, drink this. It should at least help until you regain your appetite."
Harry just stared at the potion, his gaze thoughtful. He seemed to be considering his options, but made no move to take the vial.
The silence stretched on, growing heavier with each passing moment. Finally, Severus sighed, his patience thinning. "Potter," he said, his voice stern. "Your body needs the nutrition."
Still, Harry did nothing, the weight of the situation seemingly keeping him anchored in place. His face was pale, his eyes dark with exhaustion. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, made something inside Severus clench.
Heaving a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair. "Harry," he said, softer this time. He reached out, gently pushing the vial closer to the young wizard. "It's not poison. Just... drink it. Please."
A moment of silence hung heavy between them. Severus had never used his first name before. Hearing it now, coming from Severus of all people, was enough to startle him, yanking him out from his preoccupied thoughts. The surprise was evident on his face; his brows knitted together in confusion, a visible uncertainty painting his expression.
"Harry," Severus had said. The name echoed inside Harry's head, bouncing around, replaying itself in a loop. A feeling of shock rippled through him. He wasn't sure what to make of it. It wasn't a reprimand or even uttered in the usual snide, sarcastic tone. It was a plea, a genuine request, softer than any words he'd heard from the man before.
He looked up at Severus, catching his intense gaze, which held an uncharacteristic trace of concern. It was unnerving. The corners of his mouth twitched as he watched Severus push the potion vial closer to him. It felt surreal, a scenario that Harry would never have predicted.
'Is he really that worried?' Harry wondered. His professor had been behaving oddly since they had discovered Umbridge had cast the cruciatus curse on him. What with Umbridge, sleeping almost all day, waking up in the middle of the night due to his perceived weakness, now barely touching his food. It wasn't like him, and he hated to be perceived as weak. 'Does he think I'm turning into a basket case?' The idea gnawed at him, making him uncomfortable. He wasn't himself, and it seemed to have put Severus in an unfamiliar state of concern.
His thoughts whirled inside his head. An uncomfortable truth stared at him in the face: Harry had been slipping, his strength waning. It wasn't just about not eating his food or not wanting to drink the potion. It was deeper than that. It was about letting Umbridge win and having the adults fight her and not letting him participate, being hidden away like a fragile piece of china.
Determined to shake off the looming sense of helplessness, he let out a silent breath, composing himself. He nodded at Severus, his fingers reaching out to grip the vial. "Alright," he conceded, the single word barely more than a whisper. The room was silent except for the soft pop of the vial being uncorked. The potion slid down his throat, leaving a bitter aftertaste. He pulled a face but made no comment.
Severus watched him closely, a certain tightness around his eyes easing off when Harry finished drinking the potion. A tiny flash of relief flickered in his gaze, and he nodded his approval. "Good," he murmured, leaning back in his chair.
But as Harry retreated into silence, leaning back against his chair, Severus couldn't help but voice his worry, though more to himself than anyone else. "I'm going to have to make more of those, aren't I?" he said softly, a resigned tone threading through his words. His gaze fell on the pile of parchments, the long list of potion ingredients growing ever longer in his mind. He sighed, the reality of their situation sinking deeper.
When Harry had finished half-heartedly picking at the rest of his food, Severus cleared away the plates and the half-empty bottle of pumpkin juice. The dishes were banished with a flick of his wand, disappearing in a soft puff of smoke. He knew that a house-elf would be waiting in the kitchens to clean them. "Why don't you work on your assignments a bit more, Potter," he said, keeping his tone gentle yet firm. "Madam Pomfrey will be here soon."
Harry's response was an obedient nod, his mind still obviously elsewhere. With a soft sigh, he pulled over his books and parchment he had set aside, picking up a quill to continue working on his Transfiguration.
Severus watched as Harry got down to work, his head bent over his parchment, the black ink of his quill scratching against the surface. He sighed, rolling his shoulders to loosen the tension. His thoughts circled back to the worries about the boy's health that had plagued him, then back again to their current situation with Umbridge.
With another sigh, he reached out for a piece of parchment and his own quill. It was time to write a letter to Remus. Severus was not one for expressing concern in letters or in general, especially when it involved discussing another person's wellbeing. Yet, he had no other choice. He needed information about Harry's past behavior and habits, information that Remus, as a friend of the boy's father and godfather, might possess.
Severus observed Harry for a moment longer before moving away to his own, seldom used desk, the one usually buried under stacks of parchments and unused potion vials. With a flick of his wand, the clutter vanished, revealing the worn-out surface underneath.
He sighed, pulling a fresh piece of parchment and dipping his quill in the inkpot. His usually sharp handwriting was noticeably softer, the curves of his letters less rigid.
'Dear Remus,' he started, 'I trust this finds you in good health. I regret to inform you that the circumstances that have led me to write to you are far from pleasant.'
He paused, his black eyes glancing over at Harry, who was now scribbling away at his assignment. Seeing the boy's focused determination, despite everything, brought a bitter, yet somewhat proud, smile to his face.
'Harry has been facing certain... difficulties,' he continued, his quill scratching the parchment in a rhythmic beat. 'Due to circumstances beyond our control, he has been subjected to the Cruciatus curse multiple times, and as a consequence, he is currently being hidden in my quarters until we can boot Umbridge from the castle.'
Severus found an unfamiliar tug of concern pulling at him, a sentiment that rarely, if ever, featured when dealing with Potter. Seeing the boy in this diminished state stirred unwelcome emotions he had no inclination to explore. Dismissing such thoughts with a shake of his head, he pressed on, his quill continuing to glide over the parchment, 'Potter's behavior concerning food has raised some red flags. Can you recall instances where he displayed this fiddling around his meals? I require knowledge whether this is a recent development or a recurring pattern.'
As his quill hovered over the parchment, lingering as if debating the right words, a gentle rapping at the door pulled him from his contemplation. With a sigh, Severus re-capped the inkpot, laying down his quill and rising to answer the soft knocks. As he opened the door, Madam Pomfrey stepped inside, her usually stern face lined with a certain degree of worry, the familiar satchel filled with medical instruments slung over her shoulder.
Wordlessly, Snape shut the door behind her, his gaze drifting to Harry. "Potter," he commanded with an odd softness. "Put your books aside."
As Harry obediently complied, setting his quill aside and pushing the assignment away, Poppy made her way over to the couch, where she gestured for the young wizard to sit. Severus, after securing the door, moved to stand beside them, his gaze guarded.
"Potter, your bloodwork came back clear," Madam Pomfrey started, her voice gentle, "but I'm having difficulty understanding why your hands continue to shake so frequently." She held out a hand, her fingers brushing against Harry's, who promptly withdrew, his eyes wary.
"I think a deeper diagnostic spell would help," Poppy suggested. "It could reveal something a routine scan might miss. Would you allow me?"
Harry, visibly hesitant, shot a glance at Severus. The Potion Master's gaze was intent, his eyes reflecting the seriousness of the situation. "Harry," Severus began, using his first name again in an attempt to alleviate the tension, "if Madam Pomfrey believes it's necessary, then I suggest you cooperate."
He looked down and away from the adults, his hands still trembling. Harry took a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice his concerns. "What... what could the scan show?" he asked softly, his voice filled with nervous anticipation.
Poppy's touch on his hands offered a comforting reassurance, and her calm demeanor helped ease his anxiety. "The scan will go deeper than a normal scan and provide us with a clearer picture of what's happening within your body, Harry," she explained gently. "We need to understand why your hands are shaking and find a way to make them better, especially since this was the first time the Cruciatus curse was cast on you. This is not a normal reaction."
"Will the diagnostic show past injuries?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The room seemed to shrink around him, the enormity of his admission heavy in the air.
Severus raised an eyebrow at this, his black eyes meeting Poppy's. She nodded gently, answering for the both of them. "Yes, Harry," she confirmed softly. "It would likely reveal the extent of past trauma as well."
Harry swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the edge of the table. His secret was out; they knew he'd been hit by the Cruciatus curse before. He hoped against hope they wouldn't want to proceed with the diagnostic knowing this new information. His hands might've been shaking, but they were not that bad after all.
"Are you sure?" Harry tried one last time to dissuade them. "It's not... it's not that serious."
"Harry, we can't take any chances," Severus countered firmly, "Not when it comes to curses as dark as the Cruciatus. We need to ensure there aren't any long-lasting effects."
"I... I've been hit by the Cruciatus before," Harry finally admitted, his eyes shifting away from the intense gaze of the adults present. His words hung heavy in the room, casting a chilling silence.
Severus stiffened, his eyes flashing a hint of alarm before he controlled his expression. "When?" he managed to ask, his voice eerily calm.
Harry's eyes met his, a hard glint in them as if preparing for an argument. "It doesn't matter. I survived, didn't I?" he retorted defensively. He was hoping to deflect and avoid the diagnostic charm at all costs.
At Harry's stubborn deflection, a surge of frustration rippled through Severus. He rose from his seat and moved over to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of Harry, placing himself in the young wizard's line of sight.
"Harry," he started, his voice a low rumble, "this is not a matter of surviving. This is about understanding the impact this curse could have had on you and taking the necessary steps to heal."
Severus studied Harry's face for a moment, the stubborn set of his jaw, the fear thinly veiled behind defiance. This was not an easy conversation for either of them. He softened his tone, hoping to reach the teenager who was bracing for a fight.
"You do not have to bear this alone. We're here to help you, not judge you. If you've been hit by the Cruciatus before, we need to know when and how often. It will help Madam Pomfrey devise the best course of treatment."
His stern demeanor melted away, replaced with an uncharacteristic tenderness. The sight of Harry, so resistant and scared, pulled at a chord in Severus' heart he had long thought was severed.
"Please, Harry," he pleaded, his voice a soft whisper in the room, "let us help."
Harry was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the worn wooden planks of the floor as he let the weight of his admission hang in the air. He felt Severus's hand gently resting on his knee, a silent promise of support that was hard to ignore. The simple touch seemed to pull him out of his reverie.
When he finally lifted his head, his green eyes met Severus's black ones with a hardened resolve. His features held a painful vulnerability, but they were marked by an unspoken determination, a stark contrast to the despair that had resided there moments ago.
"In the graveyard," Harry finally admitted, his voice so soft it was nearly lost in the ambient noise of the crackling fire and rustling parchment. "Voldemort cast it on me. And then... and then the imposter Moody cast it again."
Poppy sighed softly from her spot next to Harry on the couch. "And you... you were never treated for either instance." she stated, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You likely have nerve damage and Umbridge's curse just compounded it."
"And we need to see just how far the damage goes, Harry," Poppy added, her gaze softened with sympathy. "May I run the deep scan?" The request came out more of a plea, their concern for the boy clear.
"I...I..." Harry stammered, a sudden surge of fear rendering him momentarily speechless. He suddenly got up, knocking Severus's hand from his knee, cutting through the tense silence. "I need...I need to use the bathroom," he excused himself, barely meeting their eyes.
Severus and Poppy watched as Harry retreated, his usual confidence replaced by a raw fear that seemed out of place on the usually resilient young wizard. They exchanged a worried glance, the silence between them heavy with shared concern.
When the bathroom door closed behind Harry, Severus turned to Poppy. "Perhaps it would be best if you go for now," he suggested, his tone thoughtful. "The boy is clearly overwhelmed."
Poppy's brows furrowed as she started to protest. "Severus, he needs..."
"I will try to talk to him," Severus cut her off gently. "If he consents to the scan, I can do it and send you the results. The situation is... delicate."
After a moment of consideration, Poppy sighed and nodded, understanding the rationale behind Severus' suggestion. She rose to her feet, her expression heavy with worry. "Alright. Just... keep me informed, Severus."
With that, she made her way to the door and exited the room, leaving Severus alone to wait for Harry's return.
As soon as Poppy was gone, he let out a heavy sigh, walked towards the bathroom door. His hand hesitated for a moment before he knocked gently, calling out in a soft tone, "Potter, are you alright?"
"Everything's fine," came Harry's muffled response, but his voice sounded strained, hardly convincing.
Severus's brows furrowed in concern, his hand still resting on the door. "Potter, if you need time, take it. I'll be in the living room with some tea when you're ready. Madam Pomfrey left for now to give you some space."
There was a long pause, filled only by the hushed whispers of the wind outside the window. Then, the sound of running water ceased, replaced by the quiet shuffle of movement within the bathroom.
"Alright," Harry finally responded, his voice a bit steadier. "I... I'll be out in a minute."
Satisfied, Severus moved away from the door, striding back to his armchair. He summoned a house-elf and ordered a fresh pot of tea, along with another mug of hot chocolate. The sweet and comforting aroma of the beverage seemed to warm the room, chasing away a bit of the tension that had settled there.
As he waited, Severus allowed his thoughts to wander, a memory from long ago flitting into his mind. He recalled how Lily would always offer him hot chocolate in times of distress, how her simple act of kindness seemed to soothe his worries and fears.
Involuntarily, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps Harry would find the same comfort in the warm, chocolatey drink.
Severus was pulled from his reverie by the sound of the bathroom door opening. He watched as Harry emerged, his face still pale and his eyes shadowed, but he looked more composed than before.
Without a word, Severus gestured to the couch, indicating that Harry should sit. Once Harry was settled, he handed him the mug of hot chocolate.
"For you," he said softly, a rare kindness echoing in his tone. "Take a moment. When you're ready, we can discuss... we can discuss what we need to do next."
Harry nodded gratefully, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. He took a deep breath, preparing to face the inevitable, and finally lifted his gaze to meet Severus's.
"You seem... scared, Potter," Severus stated gently, observing Harry's body language carefully.
"I'm not scared," Harry protested, a hint of his usual defiance seeping through. But as he tried to lift his mug, he realized his hands were shaking too much. He stared at them, the reality of the situation sinking in, his denial wavering.
"I... I suppose I am," he admitted, lowering the mug and his gaze with it. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I guess... I guess I am scared."
"Would you like to share what it is that you're scared about?" Severus asked. His tone was patient, the harsh edges of his usually curt manner dulled in the face of Harry's vulnerability.
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft crackling of the fire. Harry remained silent, his mind visibly wrestling with the question. He took a deep breath, the confession sticking in his throat. The past was always a difficult subject to broach, filled with painful memories and raw emotions.
"I... I don't want to bring up the past," Harry confessed, his voice choked with emotion. He felt his throat tighten, his breath hitching at the prospect of delving into a part of his life he'd rather forget until the next summer.
Harry remained silent, his gaze distant, lost in his troubled thoughts. The warmth of the hot chocolate had begun to seep into his cold fingers, but he barely noticed it. He was focused inward, contemplating the inevitable scan, the unvoiced fears, the risks it posed.
His heart pounded in his chest at the mere thought of what the scan could reveal. Not just potential physical or magical ailments, but the shadow of his past as well - the parts he desperately wanted to keep hidden. The implications of the scan were more than just medical. They were deeply personal, and he feared the Pandora's box they could potentially unlock.
Severus observed the young wizard carefully, noting the fear etched onto Harry's face. He sighed heavily and rubbed at his temples.
"Potter," Severus began, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation, "This isn't about unearthing your past. There's something wrong with your nerves. We need to find out what it is so we can help you. If other things are discovered, we'll deal with them as they come."
He paused, looking at Harry pointedly. "Is there something else you want to tell me?"
Harry shook his head, his movements almost violently abrupt. His eyes, however, told a different story; they were wide and fearful. It was clear that he was far from convinced.
Severus sighed once more. He had known this wouldn't be easy, but he hadn't expected Harry to be this resistant. Trying to lighten the mood, he let a hint of his usual sarcasm seep into his voice. "Well, Potter, it's not like we're asking you to face down You-Know-Who again. This is just a scan, nothing more."
The attempt at humor had the desired effect. Harry's rigid posture relaxed slightly, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. Yet, there was still an unmistakable hesitation in his eyes.
Seeing this, Severus softened his tone. "Harry, we won't force this on you. It's your decision. But remember, the goal here is to ensure your well-being."
As Harry finished his hot chocolate, Severus made a decision. "We'll discuss this more after you've had a full night's sleep," he said. "Sometimes, a fresh perspective in the morning can make all the difference."
With that, Severus stood up, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. As much as he wanted to help the young wizard, he knew that some battles had to be fought alone. This was one of them. Yet, he couldn't help hoping that come morning, Harry would make the right choice.
Retreating to his desk, Severus sat down and picked up the letter he had written earlier. He perused the neat, crisp lines once more before tucking it neatly into an envelope. His gaze briefly lingered on Remus's name written across the front, his mind momentarily caught in the past, in the battles they'd fought side by side, and the bridges that had been burned and slowly rebuilt over time.
Sealing the envelope, he summoned a house elf. "Winky," he called out, and the elf appeared in a pop, her bulbous eyes looking up at him curiously. "I need you to deliver this letter to Remus Lupin. Please be careful and ensure it is delivered directly into his hands."
Winky took the letter, nodding in understanding before disappearing with another pop.
Feeling slightly lighter having sent the letter, Severus turned back towards the couch just in time to see Harry slowly retreat to his bedroom. The young wizard still looked lost and unsure, but his posture was less defeated. A small progress, Severus noted, but a significant one nonetheless.
For now, Severus decided to leave the matter of the scan aside, giving Harry the time and space he needed. The matter was urgent, but he was not willing to push Harry over the edge. If it meant delaying the scan by a day or two, so be it.
Severus watched as the door to Harry's room closed with a soft click, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare display of frustration. He had hoped that Harry would be more receptive to the idea of the scan, but he should have known better. The boy had always been stubborn, just like his father.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the time. The meeting with the other Heads of Houses was due to start soon. He had planned to attend, to discuss their ongoing efforts against Umbridge, but now he found himself hesitating. He was worried about Harry, a feeling that was both unfamiliar and uncomfortable.
Severus had always been a man of logic and reason, but the situation with Harry was making him question his usual approach. The boy was clearly scared, and Severus couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy. He knew what it was like to be afraid, to feel like the world was closing in on you. He had experienced it himself, many times over.
He stood up, pacing the room as he thought. The mystery surrounding Harry's condition was nagging at him, like a puzzle that was missing a crucial piece. The clues were adding up, but he still couldn't see the full picture. And he had a sinking feeling that when he did, he wouldn't like what he found.
He stopped pacing, staring at the closed door to Harry's room. He sighed he would have to attend the meeting and maybe he would talk with the other heads to see what their thoughts were.
Severus stood in front of Harry's door, his hand raised to knock. He hesitated for a moment, then rapped his knuckles against the wood. "Potter," he called out, his voice low and controlled.
He waited until he heard a quiet 'come in' before he opened the door slightly, just enough to admit him. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from a small lamp on the bedside table. Harry was tucked into bed, a book resting on his lap. Severus recognized it as 'The Hobbit', a book he had seen Harry reading earlier. He was glad to see the boy reading again, it was a good distraction.
"Potter," Severus began, his gaze sweeping over the boy. "I have to leave the rooms for a bit. There's a meeting I need to attend. If you need anything, just call a house elf to fetch me."
Harry nodded, his eyes not leaving the book. "Alright, Professor," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Severus hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the knob. He wanted to say something more, to offer some words of comfort, but he found himself at a loss. He was not used to this, to caring for someone else's well-being. It was new, and it was uncomfortable.
With a final, lingering glance at Harry, Severus quietly closed the door behind him, leaving the boy alone with his thoughts and his book. He stood outside the door for a moment, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns. He shook his head, as if physically trying to clear his mind, before turning on his heel and striding down the corridor.
The castle was quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of students absent due to the late hour. The only sound was the soft echo of his footsteps against the stone floor, a rhythmic beat that seemed to match the pounding of his heart. The torches lining the walls cast long, dancing shadows, their flickering light painting an eerie picture on the ancient stone walls. The air was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of his quarters, and he pulled his robes tighter around him as he walked.
He passed by numerous portraits, their inhabitants either asleep or engaged in quiet conversation. A few of them nodded in his direction, their expressions varying from respectful to wary. He paid them no mind, his thoughts focused on the meeting ahead and the boy he had left behind.
He finally arrived at the designated classroom, a room that had been abandoned for years and was now used for clandestine meetings such as this. The door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in soft candlelight. A large, round table sat in the middle, surrounded by chairs. Three of them were already occupied.
Filius Flitwick, the diminutive Charms professor, was engaged in a hushed conversation with Pomona Sprout, the matronly Herbology professor. Minerva McGonagall, the stern Transfiguration professor and Head of Gryffindor House, sat alone, her gaze focused on a parchment in front of her.
Severus took the empty seat next to Minerva, his arrival drawing the attention of the other two professors. He nodded in their direction, a silent greeting that was returned with varying degrees of warmth. He turned to Minerva, a sarcastic remark already on his lips.
"Minerva," he drawled, his voice dripping with feigned cheerfulness. "I see you've managed to tear yourself away from your beloved Gryffindors for this meeting. I'm touched."
Minerva merely raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "Always a pleasure, Severus," she replied, her tone dry. "I'm glad to see you've managed to maintain your sunny disposition."
"Now that we're all here," Minerva began, her voice clear and commanding, "let's get started."
Minerva, in her usual stern and commanding tone, turned to Filius, "Filius, how are the house elves doing with the wands? Is it having any effect on Umbridge?"
Filius gave her a sly smile, clasping his hands together. "Oh, they're having a grand time indeed," he chirped, a glint in his eyes. "One elf, in particular, has been having an enormous amount of fun following Umbridge around this evening. He's been conjuring water from the castle walls, ensuring she gets drenched at every turn."
"And that's not all," Filius continued, the smile widening. "I've heard they're planning on asking the castle itself for help. Imagine, the corridors shifting and changing so Umbridge ends up lost on her way to classes. What a delightful chaos that would be!"
Severus snorted, a glimmer of amusement in his normally cold eyes. "I'm almost disappointed I haven't had the pleasure of witnessing this," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "I do hope they ensure she gets particularly lost when attempting to find the Slytherin common room."
Pomona, who had been listening to their exchange with wide eyes, shivered. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wouldn't want to be on your bad side, Severus. Or even the house elves', for that matter."
A chuckle filled the room, breaking the tension and filling the space with a warmth that felt almost foreign, given the circumstances. For a moment, the four Heads of Houses allowed themselves the luxury of amusement, a small respite from the storm that was Dolores Umbridge's reign at Hogwarts.
For Severus, however, the moment was short-lived. His thoughts quickly turned back to Harry, alone in his room, his condition still an enigma. He sighed inwardly, his mood turning somber once more.
Pomona was the first to break the silence. "Severus," she began, her tone measured, "I couldn't help but notice you seem... unsettled tonight. Is there something on your mind?"
Severus turned to look at her, surprise evident on his normally impassive face. It was unusual for anyone to voice concern for him, much less Pomona. But there it was, genuine worry etched on her features.
He contemplated dismissing her concerns, to brush them off with a sarcastic remark or a casual wave of his hand. But something about the way she was looking at him, with an open sincerity that was hard to ignore, made him reconsider.
"I..." he started, unsure of how to proceed. He wasn't used to sharing his thoughts, especially not those that involved emotions. He'd always been a master at concealing his feelings, presenting a cold, unflappable exterior to the world.
Severus let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging a bit with the weight of his concern. He rubbed his forehead, a rare sign of his inner turmoil. "I'm... worried about Potter," he said finally, the words feeling strangely foreign as they left his lips.
His words hung heavily in the room, sparking an array of reactions among the other Heads of Houses. They looked at him, their faces reflecting a mixture of shock and concern.
"Wait, you're worried about Harry?" Filius asked, his eyebrows arching upwards in surprise.
Minerva, on the other hand, merely nodded, her face betraying her shared concern. "I've noticed his hands shaking, despite the Anti-Crucioutis potions," she commented quietly.
Severus nodded in affirmation. "Yes," he concurred, "but there's more. He's been showing other symptoms too. Symptoms that aren't typical of the Cruciatus Curse aftermath."
He paused, his thoughts spiraling before he finally spoke. "Madam Pomfrey believes it may be nerve damage," he said, the weight of the words sinking into the room. "However, without a more comprehensive examination, we can't be certain. Harry, however, is resistant to the idea of further scans."
Pomona, known for her warmth and compassion, took this in silently. A faraway look appeared in her eyes as if she was searching the depths of her own memories. "And what do you think these scans might disclose, Severus?" Her voice, normally laced with an amiable tone, was now heavy with worry.
Severus merely looked at her, his dark eyes mirroring a depth of concern he usually kept hidden. He didn't respond, the silence stretching out and filling the room with an unspoken dread.
Pomona studied his face before shifting her gaze to the other professors. Something in her demeanor suggested a deep, personal understanding of Harry's predicament. "Severus," she started again, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation, "Would it make a difference if I spoke with Harry? He might feel more at ease discussing his apprehensions with me."
Severus held her gaze for a long moment, a quiet battle being fought behind his unreadable eyes. Finally, he nodded, a subtle acquiescence that her suggestion might indeed be their best shot at persuading Harry to consent to further examinations.
His gaze softened as he looked at Pomona, gratitude flickering in his eyes. Her understanding and empathy for Harry's situation were palpable. In that moment, he felt a swell of appreciation for her.
As he gave his approval, Minerva, who had been silently observing their conversation, extended her hand and placed it atop Pomona's. It was a simple, silent gesture of solidarity and support.
The comfortable silence stretched a bit longer in the staff room, only to be broken by Pomona's soft voice. "Severus," she started gently, "I can stop by in the morning after breakfast and before our first class. We can see about getting the scan done then. I'll do my best to convince Harry."
Severus contemplated her offer for a few seconds before nodding. "That would be... agreeable, Pomona," he replied, appreciating her willingness to help.
Minerva, watching the exchange, turned her gaze to Severus. "You should take the morning off, Severus," she suggested firmly. "You've been running yourself ragged. It will do you good."
A grumble of protest rose in his throat, but Severus suppressed it, recognizing the logic in Minerva's suggestion. "Very well, I'll take the morning off. Not that I expect to find anything relaxing in this madhouse," he said, his sardonic humor making a brief comeback.
The room filled with a mixture of light laughter and sighs. The tension eased slightly. Then, Severus, reclining back into his chair, changed the topic. "Let's return to the delightful subject of Umbridge. How long do we estimate it'll take to drive her mad enough to leave Hogwarts?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his words. Then, as if it was a natural extension of the discussion, he added, "And while we're on the topic of irritations, does anyone have any ideas on how to rid my quarters of the lingering stench of Potter? The persistent odor of Quidditch and treacle tart is more than a little unpalatable."
At Severus's snide remark, Minerva raised an eyebrow and dryly responded, "At least you don't have the persistent scent of stale hair gel pervading your classroom like I do, Severus." A few chuckles echoed around the room as Severus rolled his eyes at the jab.
Filius, ever the tactful one, directed the conversation back to Umbridge. "As for driving her out, I'd say another day or two, at the rate we're going," he said with a glint in his eye.
This prompted a round of chuckles, a brief light moment in their otherwise grim circumstances. The thought of Umbridge getting lost in the ever-changing corridors of the castle, her pompous air deflated, brought a spark of joy into the room.
The chuckles faded away as each professor mentally prepared themselves for another day of dealing with Dolores Umbridge's reign of terror. A few more moments passed in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Let's call it a night, shall we?" Minerva proposed, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but firm, echoing the unspoken sentiment in the room.
A unanimous murmur of agreement swept the room. Pomona stood and straightened her robes, her ever-present smile dulled by the weight of their discussion. Filius packed up his books and parchments, his quick movements betraying his ever present energy despite the late hour.
Severus rose from his seat, a silent acknowledgement of Minerva's suggestion. His stern gaze swept over the room, lingering a moment longer on Pomona. His expression softened a fraction, a silent thank you for her willingness to speak to Harry.
As the professors said their goodnights to one another, each one disappearing through the door, the room seemed to hold its breath. Severus was the last to leave, his steps slow and measured as he walked down the long corridor, the echo of his footsteps the only sound breaking the deafening silence.
The peace, however, was short-lived. Within minutes of Severus leaving the room, the figure of Dolores Umbridge appeared at the end of the corridor, her usually bright pink robes dulled in the torchlight. A scowl was fixed onto her toad-like face as she spotted Severus.
Umbridge's face reddened, a sure sign that her temper was teetering on the edge. "That boy is a menace! Constantly disappearing and causing trouble," she huffed, her short stature seeming to shrink further in her frustration.
Severus watched her with an impassive gaze, his face as unreadable as a stone statue. "Indeed, Dolores," he responded, injecting his voice with a hint of agreement. "Potter has been known to be... troublesome at times."
His careful choice of words did little to quell her rising anger. "He's more than troublesome, Severus!" she spat out, her hands clenching at her sides. "He's a downright nuisance! And his incessant need to wander the castle is distracting the other students."
Inside, Severus was anything but calm. His mind was running a mile a minute, filtering through numerous unflattering words and possible potions that would best suit Umbridge. He could already imagine the satisfaction of seeing her succumb to the Forgetfulness Potion, or perhaps the Confundus Charm. His lips twitched slightly at the thought, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes hidden well by his stoic exterior.
However, he remained composed, a perfect picture of patience as he let Umbridge vent her frustrations. "I understand your concern, Delorus," he replied, his voice as smooth as silk. "I shall do my utmost to keep an eye out for Potter and ensure he does not cause any further disruptions."
Her face softened at his words, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. "Good, I knew I could rely on you, Severus," she said, a false sense of camaraderie in her voice.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus simply nodded, inwardly amused by her misplaced trust. "Of course, Dolores. As Head of Slytherin House, I share your dedication to maintaining discipline at Hogwarts."
Umbridge nodded, seemingly placated by his response. "See that you do."
Frowning, Umbridge lips pursed into a thin line. "Someone's been casting spells around me," she accused, "Do you have any idea who it could be?"
Severus hid a smirk, feigning ignorance as he shrugged. "Perhaps the castle itself is unhappy with your... methods. Hogwarts has been known to have a mind of its own," he mused, watching with barely concealed satisfaction as Umbridge's scowl deepened.
With a huff, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Severus alone once more in the corridor. He allowed himself a small smirk before it quickly disappeared, replaced by his usual cold, emotionless mask. He had bought himself a few minutes of peace, but he knew it wouldn't last.
Umbridge's features contorted into a frown, her normally puckered lips pressing into an even thinner, tighter line. "There have been spells," she declared, a note of accusation coloring her tone. "Unseen forces attempting to disrupt my routines. Do you know anything about it, Severus?"
A flicker of amusement flashed across Severus's eyes, but his face remained composed, the epitome of innocence. Feigning confusion, he lifted a hand in a nonchalant shrug, his expression thoughtful. "Are you certain it's someone, Dolores?" he queried, his voice as smooth as black velvet. "Hogwarts is an ancient castle with many secrets. It has been known to act of its own accord, especially if it disapproves."
His suggestion, presented so subtly and reasonably, gave Umbridge pause. He could see her mind churning, wrestling with the idea. Perhaps it was the castle; the thought visibly unsettled her. The ghost of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he watched her expression morph into an uncomfortable grimace. It was a small victory, but a satisfying one nonetheless.
"Utter nonsense!" Umbridge finally spat out, her face flushing a mottled shade of pink. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and Severus knew it would gnaw at her. "Hogwarts is a school, not a sentient entity."
Without waiting for his response, she spun on her heel, her voluminous robes swishing around her as she stormed away. Her abrupt departure left Severus alone in the vast corridor, the echo of her footsteps fading away.
His smirk widened into a fleeting, satisfied smile, a small victory celebrated in the solace of the vast Hogwarts corridor. The satisfaction, warming him from within, made the cold stones under his feet seem less chilling as he walked back to his quarters.
The journey was silent and uneventful, the quiet hush of the castle at night a stark contrast to the day's events. He savored these rare moments of peace before reaching his destination.
Upon arrival, he gently nudged the heavy wooden door open. It creaked softly, parting to welcome him into the familiar space that he called home. The low light from within his quarters gently bathed him as he stepped over the threshold, soothing his tired eyes.
The familiar scent of his sanctuary - parchment worn from the passage of time, the sharp, distinct smell of potion ingredients intermingling with each other, and the subtle musk of his quarters - all wrapped around him.
He turned towards Harry's door, his heart pounding slightly as he reached out to the knob. He silently twisted it, inching the door open just enough to peek inside. The soft, steady sound of Harry's breathing reached his ears, allowing him to breathe a sigh of relief.
Inside the dimly lit room, Harry was sprawled across his bed, his glasses abandoned on the bedside table and his dark hair messily strewn across his forehead. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, as he took each breath in his peaceful slumber.
Severus observed him for a few moments, his gaze lingering on the young wizard. Harry looked younger, more vulnerable in his sleep. A wave of unbidden protectiveness washed over him. Quietly closing the door, Severus allowed the vestiges of his concern to recede.
Retreating to his own room, he quickly readied himself for bed, the day's events weighing heavily on his mind. Slipping beneath the cold sheets, he allowed the silence of his quarters to envelop him. His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were not of Umbridge or her incessant questioning, but of Harry, and the weighty task of uncovering the mystery surrounding the boy's deteriorating health.
Despite the tumult of the day, the corners of his lips curled up in a ghost of a smile, the satisfaction of his small victory against Umbridge providing a small glimmer of contentment in the darkness. With that final thought, sleep embraced him, providing a much-needed refuge from the relentless stream of worries and responsibilities.
Chapter 3