Sick
A taster. This will be a dark story.
Chapter One:
Albus Dumbledore was just about to settle down to a pot of tea and his new knitting magazine, tired from a week of meetings at the Ministry and other such delights, when the door nearly buckled under the force of a knock that was both urgent and terrified. He stood and opened the door with wandless magic-and in the doorway was his newly elected Headboy, Toby Stephens. "Toby?" He asked, wondering why the brilliant yet modest Ravenclaw student had come to him, instead of going straight to his Head-of-House. "Headmaster. I-I didn't know who else to go to..."
"Slow down, Toby. What is the problem here?" He always referred to his Headboy by his first name; it was the only way to bridge the gap between teachers and students in a way that was vaguely appropriate...and he was concerned by the fear he could see, evident in his student's hazel eyes.
"Some of the younger students came to find me. It's Professor Snape, Professor...I think...maybe you should come see yourself..."
And now Albus understood. Toby, naturally gifted at most subjects, had a particular affinity with Potions. He had impressed the new yet terribly strict Potions Master, who had just started his third year of teaching. It was rare for Severus to compliment and speak well of a student, especially to other teachers in the staffroom. As a result, the relationship between Professor Snape and Toby Stephens was particularly harmonious...at least, as harmonious as they could be. "Where?"
"His office, sir. I don't know what happened..."
Albus did not say another word as he and his Headboy swept down toward the dungeons, using one of the secret passages that only the most knowledgable and the most fortunate Hogwarts' residents knew of, cutting the journey time at least in half. Albus stopped outside the door that led to Severus' office; almost instantly, he could feel that there was something wrong. The wards on the door were present, but considerably weaker than usual. "What did the younger students see?"
"They didn't. He didn't show up to their detention." Toby glanced toward the Potions classroom, "I believe that they are still there, Professor..."
"Go and see to them. I'll see what has kept Severus." Something, deep inside Albus' chest, told him he did not want Toby to see whatever lay beyond the door. Albus wasn't sure he wanted to, either. He waited until Toby was definitely out of sight before turning the door handle and opening the door.
He stepped into what had used to be Severus' tidy office. His foot brushed against parchment-which had clearly become a new carpet. Books lay strewn across the room, their innards ripped from them with no due care or attention. Every single vial that Albus could see was smashed, across the table, across the window sill. The chair that Severus had kept from his predecessor was ripped-and Albus recognised the handiwork of Severus' own curse, Sectumsempra. The fire was bright and hot and too high to be completely safe. Albus swallowed. What had caused such devastation?
The adjoining bedroom was no matter-it was though a terrible storm had ripped through every inch. The curtains were scorched, the bed hardly resembled a bed any more, and Albus could hardly seen anything that was still intact or untouched. This was destruction at its worst; and unless it was accidental magic, Albus could see no other reasoning for it.
"Severus?" He called gently. So far, he had seen no signs of life. He was beginning to become extremely worried about what state of mind his newest teacher was in. Severus was, by all accounts, an incredibly neat and tidy person, conscious of even the slightest mess-and yet. Here was the result of...Albus couldn't even begin to imagine.
He turned on his heel when he heard no reply. He pushed open the bathroom door, hearing a tap dripping amidst the strange, almost unearthly silence and wondering if Severus was also trying to flood a room as well.
But he was wrong. It wasn't water.
Albus suddenly found himself unable to move. He stared across at the collapsed figure of his Potions Master, slumped against the wall, one arm resting against the side of the bath. In one hand was a bloodied knife. The opposite wrist was dripping blood at an alarmingly fast rate. Albus looked at Severus' face, deathly white, eyes closed, all life seemingly diminished.
It was the footsteps behind him that alerted him back to reality. "Toby. Go and fetch Madame Pomfrey. Immediately." When Toby did not respond, he turned. "Now." His eyes and his tone bode no argument, and Toby half sprinted from the room. Albus carefully walked across the slippery floor, trying to ignore the amount of blood. He knelt next to Severus, using his hand to staunch the blood flow and touching his other fingers to Severus' neck. "Child." He murmured, feeling something painful crack in his chest. "What happened?"
But Severus didn't answer.