Summary: Three years after he graduated, Harry is badly injured in a battle
against Voldemort. He returns to Hogwarts to try to recover.
Author's Notes: This is one of my favorite stories that I've written. I don't know why, I just love it.
Rating: PG
Feedback: Please
Disclaimer: The lovely Ms. Rowling created these fabulous people, and I am \indebted to her for providing me with yet another obsession.
__________
Dance the Silence
By OcelotKitten
__________
Professor Severus Snape heaved a heavy sigh as the last of the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs fled his classroom, no doubt glad that the bell had rescued them from Potions class once more. He surveyed the classroom. For once, the first years had left the room in some semblance of order, instead of the usual mess of potion residue, and unused bits of ingredients lying around. The threats of detention and house point deductions had obviously worked. Thankful that his classes were over for the day, Snape left the room, and headed up out of the dungeons. He didn't think he could have handled another class of brats today, even his own Slytherins. It had been a particularly tasking day, and Snape wanted nothing more than to relax.
Entering his office, he busied himself with grading papers, and took great delight in marking through most of the reports. The students almost invariably did well on them, but it was expected that he would be hard- nosed and unforgiving in the grading. So he marked through passages that looked generally iffy, and wrote endless scathing comments. Occasionally, however, one or two papers would genuinely deserve high-marks and he would content himself with grudging praise, and a note to endeavor to retain that level of aptitude in the future.
Before he realized it, he had worked the entire remainder of the afternoon away, and the bell announcing dinner was ringing. With a sigh, Snape left the office, and made his way to the Great Hall. He disliked the school gatherings, whether it was special events such as the Yule Ball, or such mundane things as meals. But his presence was expected as the Head of Slytherin House, and as such he had to attend at least dinner.
Once there, he took his seat at the teacher's table with the other faculty. Students were still straggling in. Snape glanced at the Headmaster. The usually jovial old man had an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face. Snape was tempted to ask him what was wrong, but he knew that if Dumbledore deemed it something that needed to be known, then he would make an announcement about it, and if it wasn't then it was none of Snape's business.
Once the four tables were full, Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat for the usual evening announcements. When the chatter of the students had died down, he began, "Good evening, everyone. I have a brief announcement to make. I received an urgent owl from the Ministry this morning, and it contained both wonderful news and dire news. First, the good news . . . the Aurors and Battle-mages have scored a major victory in the battle against the Death Eaters, and it is believed that our very own Harry Potter killed Voldemort in the most recent battle."
There was wild cheering at this announcement. Dumbledore held up his hands and said, "Please! Quiet! There is more." When silence had fallen once more, he said, "The bad news is that Harry was grievously wounded in the fight. When he was found, he was suffering from many terrible curses. Most of them have not been identified, but the Cruciatus seems to have been used several times."
There was frightened mutterings, and Snape suppressed a shudder. The Cruciatus was one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It was a torture curse, and inflicted terrible pain. The use of these incantations was strictly forbidden, and the use of just one of them on another human being was enough to earn the caster a life sentence in Azkaban, the wizard's prison. Dumbledore continued, "He was taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but he isn't doing well, despite the excellent efforts of their best medi-witches. He has been asking for nothing except to return here to Hogwarts. The Ministry is loathe to deny him anything in the hopes that the smallest thing might be what he needs to recover."
Dumbledore paused, but a somber silence had fallen over the room, "He will be arriving tomorrow evening, so I would like to ask that you do not try to sneak down to the grounds to try and see him. He is to be treated as an honored guest for the duration of his stay."
__________
The rest of the day, classes were in shambles. None of the students wanted to concentrate on the lessons, and as a result, Snape was taking points and handing out detentions left and right. Finally, after Snape grew so exasperated that he threatened to hex his entire class, orderliness was finally restored.
Mercifully, the last class finally ended, and Snape went out to the grounds to await Harry's arrival with the other teachers. The slate gray sky perfectly complimented the mood that hung over the small crowd of Hogwarts faculty. Snape stood next to Dumbledore and surveyed the group. McGonagall looked even more pinched and strained than usual, her lips presses into a thin, tight line. Hagrid was snuffling, surreptitiously wiping his eyes with an enormous handkerchief. The rest of the teachers looked little better.
They didn't have long to wait as, right on schedule, the Ministry carriage appeared. As it rolled up the hill towards to teachers, a palpable sense of foreboding seemed to grow. It was if the seemingly innocuous carriage carried with it a portent of doom. It came to a stop, and the doors opened. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, stepped out, followed by several medi-witches, and the levitated form of Harry Potter. Snape had to stifle a gasp of alarm. There was a collective outcry from the other teachers, and Hagrid gave a howl like a wounded dog.
Harry was hardly more than twenty, but he looked more than twice that age, face drawn and pale. He bore horrific scars to rival Mad-Eye Moody's, the legendary Auror. A vertical scar slashed down over his right eye, but the eye itself seemed to be intact. The scar traveled down his cheek and neatly split his mouth on the right side. Faint scars criss-crossed all over his face. Fresher cuts added yet more lines to his young face. The way his hands were folded on his chest looked strange until Snape realized with a sickened lurch of his stomach what the problem was.
Harry's formerly graceful hands had been maimed, the joints swollen and gnarled as if they had been viciously broken, and the last two fingers of his left hand were missing. As one by one, the assembled teachers noticed Harry's hands, there were gasps and groans of sympathy. It was a terrible thing to maim a wizard's hands. Since so much of magic, potion magic and wand use if nothing else, required hands to manipulate things, his hands were a wizards most important assets.
One of the medi-witches flicked her wand, and Harry floated forward with Fudge as he approached Dumbledore. "It is good of you to do this, Albus," Fudge began, but Dumbledore waved a hand. He said, "It was the least we could do, Minister."
"He has been sedated for the journey," Fudge said, glancing at Harry, "A counter-spell will wake him when we get to the infirmary." The procession to the infirmary was like some sort of bizarre honor guard. Once there, most of the teachers didn't want to leave, but Dumbledore's stern request of "House heads only, please," sent most of them away.
Once the other teachers were gone, one of the medi-witches administered the Anti-Sedative Charm, and then they retreated to Madam Pomfrey's office, leaving Fudge, Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick at Harry's bedside. Harry woke slowly and groggily. His eyes fluttered open, and as he recognized his surroundings, he visibly relaxed back into the bed. He whispered, "Thank you, Minister."
Fudge smiled, "You are quite welcome, my boy." Dumbledore said warmly, "Try to sleep now, Harry. There is plenty of time tomorrow for whatever else might be said." But Harry was already asleep.
__________
AN: Thanks to those of you who took the time to read this, and to those of you who read this because you liked "Degree of Fear", I hope you liked this equally well . . . or better. :)
Author's Notes: This is one of my favorite stories that I've written. I don't know why, I just love it.
Rating: PG
Feedback: Please
Disclaimer: The lovely Ms. Rowling created these fabulous people, and I am \indebted to her for providing me with yet another obsession.
__________
Dance the Silence
By OcelotKitten
__________
Professor Severus Snape heaved a heavy sigh as the last of the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs fled his classroom, no doubt glad that the bell had rescued them from Potions class once more. He surveyed the classroom. For once, the first years had left the room in some semblance of order, instead of the usual mess of potion residue, and unused bits of ingredients lying around. The threats of detention and house point deductions had obviously worked. Thankful that his classes were over for the day, Snape left the room, and headed up out of the dungeons. He didn't think he could have handled another class of brats today, even his own Slytherins. It had been a particularly tasking day, and Snape wanted nothing more than to relax.
Entering his office, he busied himself with grading papers, and took great delight in marking through most of the reports. The students almost invariably did well on them, but it was expected that he would be hard- nosed and unforgiving in the grading. So he marked through passages that looked generally iffy, and wrote endless scathing comments. Occasionally, however, one or two papers would genuinely deserve high-marks and he would content himself with grudging praise, and a note to endeavor to retain that level of aptitude in the future.
Before he realized it, he had worked the entire remainder of the afternoon away, and the bell announcing dinner was ringing. With a sigh, Snape left the office, and made his way to the Great Hall. He disliked the school gatherings, whether it was special events such as the Yule Ball, or such mundane things as meals. But his presence was expected as the Head of Slytherin House, and as such he had to attend at least dinner.
Once there, he took his seat at the teacher's table with the other faculty. Students were still straggling in. Snape glanced at the Headmaster. The usually jovial old man had an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face. Snape was tempted to ask him what was wrong, but he knew that if Dumbledore deemed it something that needed to be known, then he would make an announcement about it, and if it wasn't then it was none of Snape's business.
Once the four tables were full, Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat for the usual evening announcements. When the chatter of the students had died down, he began, "Good evening, everyone. I have a brief announcement to make. I received an urgent owl from the Ministry this morning, and it contained both wonderful news and dire news. First, the good news . . . the Aurors and Battle-mages have scored a major victory in the battle against the Death Eaters, and it is believed that our very own Harry Potter killed Voldemort in the most recent battle."
There was wild cheering at this announcement. Dumbledore held up his hands and said, "Please! Quiet! There is more." When silence had fallen once more, he said, "The bad news is that Harry was grievously wounded in the fight. When he was found, he was suffering from many terrible curses. Most of them have not been identified, but the Cruciatus seems to have been used several times."
There was frightened mutterings, and Snape suppressed a shudder. The Cruciatus was one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It was a torture curse, and inflicted terrible pain. The use of these incantations was strictly forbidden, and the use of just one of them on another human being was enough to earn the caster a life sentence in Azkaban, the wizard's prison. Dumbledore continued, "He was taken to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but he isn't doing well, despite the excellent efforts of their best medi-witches. He has been asking for nothing except to return here to Hogwarts. The Ministry is loathe to deny him anything in the hopes that the smallest thing might be what he needs to recover."
Dumbledore paused, but a somber silence had fallen over the room, "He will be arriving tomorrow evening, so I would like to ask that you do not try to sneak down to the grounds to try and see him. He is to be treated as an honored guest for the duration of his stay."
__________
The rest of the day, classes were in shambles. None of the students wanted to concentrate on the lessons, and as a result, Snape was taking points and handing out detentions left and right. Finally, after Snape grew so exasperated that he threatened to hex his entire class, orderliness was finally restored.
Mercifully, the last class finally ended, and Snape went out to the grounds to await Harry's arrival with the other teachers. The slate gray sky perfectly complimented the mood that hung over the small crowd of Hogwarts faculty. Snape stood next to Dumbledore and surveyed the group. McGonagall looked even more pinched and strained than usual, her lips presses into a thin, tight line. Hagrid was snuffling, surreptitiously wiping his eyes with an enormous handkerchief. The rest of the teachers looked little better.
They didn't have long to wait as, right on schedule, the Ministry carriage appeared. As it rolled up the hill towards to teachers, a palpable sense of foreboding seemed to grow. It was if the seemingly innocuous carriage carried with it a portent of doom. It came to a stop, and the doors opened. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, stepped out, followed by several medi-witches, and the levitated form of Harry Potter. Snape had to stifle a gasp of alarm. There was a collective outcry from the other teachers, and Hagrid gave a howl like a wounded dog.
Harry was hardly more than twenty, but he looked more than twice that age, face drawn and pale. He bore horrific scars to rival Mad-Eye Moody's, the legendary Auror. A vertical scar slashed down over his right eye, but the eye itself seemed to be intact. The scar traveled down his cheek and neatly split his mouth on the right side. Faint scars criss-crossed all over his face. Fresher cuts added yet more lines to his young face. The way his hands were folded on his chest looked strange until Snape realized with a sickened lurch of his stomach what the problem was.
Harry's formerly graceful hands had been maimed, the joints swollen and gnarled as if they had been viciously broken, and the last two fingers of his left hand were missing. As one by one, the assembled teachers noticed Harry's hands, there were gasps and groans of sympathy. It was a terrible thing to maim a wizard's hands. Since so much of magic, potion magic and wand use if nothing else, required hands to manipulate things, his hands were a wizards most important assets.
One of the medi-witches flicked her wand, and Harry floated forward with Fudge as he approached Dumbledore. "It is good of you to do this, Albus," Fudge began, but Dumbledore waved a hand. He said, "It was the least we could do, Minister."
"He has been sedated for the journey," Fudge said, glancing at Harry, "A counter-spell will wake him when we get to the infirmary." The procession to the infirmary was like some sort of bizarre honor guard. Once there, most of the teachers didn't want to leave, but Dumbledore's stern request of "House heads only, please," sent most of them away.
Once the other teachers were gone, one of the medi-witches administered the Anti-Sedative Charm, and then they retreated to Madam Pomfrey's office, leaving Fudge, Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick at Harry's bedside. Harry woke slowly and groggily. His eyes fluttered open, and as he recognized his surroundings, he visibly relaxed back into the bed. He whispered, "Thank you, Minister."
Fudge smiled, "You are quite welcome, my boy." Dumbledore said warmly, "Try to sleep now, Harry. There is plenty of time tomorrow for whatever else might be said." But Harry was already asleep.
__________
AN: Thanks to those of you who took the time to read this, and to those of you who read this because you liked "Degree of Fear", I hope you liked this equally well . . . or better. :)