Black Phoenix

Chapter 2

Madam Pomfrey had cleared out all the other patients who could be released. Ron and Hermione, along with a few others, remained on the ward, taking doses of Skelegro and blood replenishers for their injuries. Madam Pomfrey had cordoned off Harry's bed with some screens so that he wasn't visible to the casual visitor. They all knew that a first-hand picture of him lying in his bed would rate a front page of whichever publication made the highest offer.

She honestly had expected that Harry would sleep on his own for a while longer. Surely the trauma to his body and the magical depletion would have assured him a long unmedicated sleep? She should have known better.

Hermione and Ron had been quietly talking, already making plans to scour the library for any information on Harry's conditions. Hermione was determined to go to the Muggle libraries, as well, on her quest to find treatment options for her friend.

From behind the screens surrounding Harry's bed, a wail arose that froze their blood. It took several seconds for them to stop staring at each other before Ron was up off his own bed and limping around the screens as quickly as he could go. In his haste, he knocked them askew, revealing to everyone the ghastly pale boy, backed up against his headboard, one hand gripping it tightly and the other clawing at his eyes.

Ron reached his friend and grabbed the clawing hand, trying to stop Harry from tearing more furrows into his cheeks. His own hands were trembling badly, with pain and with the panic of seeing Harry in this state.

Madam Pomfrey came at a run and grabbed a vial of potion from Harry's bedside table. With Ron trying to hold Harry's hands, she tried to press the vial to Harry's mouth. He jerked his hands from Ron's grasp and shoved it away, the vial shattering on the floor when Pomfrey lost her hold on it.

Harry was alternately rubbing at his eyes and then at his ears, the panicked breathing coming harshly from his chest. Every time Pomfrey or Ron touched him he would bat their hands away, a feral growl coming from between bared teeth.

The floo roared to life and Severus stepped out. He took in the scene at a glance and hurried over. "You said he would sleep –"

"Obviously, I was wrong! Could you just –" she asked, as she tried again to get Harry to take another vial she had summoned. Ron's efforts were pretty much ineffectual; he was tired and hurting from his own injuries, and he was reluctant to add to Harry's own discomfort, as it seemed their holding him did.

Severus had no such compunctions. He reached for Harry and firmly pulled both hands away from his face and held them at his side. Harry may have been exhausted, but terror gave him strength. In an instant, he had thrown himself back and away from Severus, using the hold Severus had on him for extra leverage. He hit the floor on the other side of the bed, landing on his back.

For a few moments he laid there, the wind knocked out of him. Then he was up and scrambling backwards, moving rapidly until he came up against the wall, feeling his way along until he was in the corner. Once there he sank down to the floor, shaking violently.

Pomfrey started towards him but Severus held out a hand to stop her. He slowly walked to where Harry was crouched. Unfastening his robe, he tossed it to a nearby bed so that his movements would be unhampered. He sat down in front of Harry, crossing his legs until their knees nearly touched.

The other people in the room gradually settled back onto beds or relaxed their tense postures when Harry appeared to be calming.

Ron and Hermione gasped when they saw Severus withdraw his wand and point it at Harry.

"You can't stun him, sir!" Hermione said desperately. "Please! He's been hurt enough!"

"Get away from him, if you're just going to hex him!" Ron exclaimed.

"Quiet, both of you!" Severus hissed. "I have an idea, and now is as good a time to try it as any."

Harry seemed to feel the breath of Severus speaking, because he tentatively put out a hand and turned his face towards the Potions Master. When Severus had a clear view of the terrified green eyes, he whispered, "Legilimens!"

Harry's outstretched hand closed into a fist and his face contorted for a moment. But he gradually relaxed, his arm dropping so that his hand landed on Severus's knee. His fingers dug into the material of Severus's trousers, gripping the leg below hard enough to bruise. Severus kept his wand at Harry's temple, and the whole of the Infirmary held its breath.

HPHPHPHPHP

He could not reign in his terror, no matter how hard he tried to pull it back inside. It had come undone inside him, washing over him like a tidal wave. He was blind. He was deaf. The void was huge and he had the sensation of falling but never hitting bottom. The continual pull of his stomach dropping reminded him of the one time he had ever ridden a roller coaster. Dudley had wanted to see if Harry could stand it before he got onto the ride himself. Harry had made himself grin when he had gotten off, unwilling to give Dudley the satisfaction of seeing him dry heaving. It was one time when he had been glad that he had not been allowed to eat the same junk food that Dudley had consumed, as his insides roiled and churned in the aftermath of the dizzying ride. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had yelled at Harry when Dudley was hanging over a trash bin after he exited the coaster. The fact that Harry hadn't forced Dudley to get on was apparently beside the point. Harry had been sent to a bench at the park gates, not allowed to ride anything else. His uncle had taken a vicious hold of his earlobe as they walked out of the park later on. A week of double chores and less food than ever followed.

Now, Harry felt as if he were in perpetual free fall. The wall at his back and side helped steady him, as it gave a perception of boundaries. He knew that he had been clawing at his face, unable to believe that it would not somehow wake him up from this nightmare. He kept clapping at his ears, too, hoping that he would hear the sound, and not just feel the slaps against his head. Hands tried to stop him, and their touch startled him. Who was it? Death Eaters come to finish the job? He felt cold glass pressed to his lips, and smelled Sleeping Draught. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to wake up from this horror. He slapped everything that touched him away, and when hands gripped him, he used them to propel himself backwards and away.

He was falling then, and the sudden blow of falling onto the stone floor stunned him for a moment. Then he was backing away, until he had found himself in this comforting corner. The ground was solid beneath him, and the walls helped him feel as if he were protected, at least from the rear. Hadn't Snape always tried to tell him not to leave himself unguarded, where he could not see the possible enemy sneaking up? He had hexed Harry during sparring practice more times than he cared to remember. It had seemed that the bat had taken perverse delight in the opportunity to do so without retribution.

He finally felt able to slow his breathing down, and then he sensed the whisper of air across his face. He turned towards it instinctively, and began to reach for the source.

A momentary flash of light made him gasp, the intensity like a knife through the darkness. Then it was gone. He felt memories of the recent events spiraling around him and he suddenly knew what this was; it was familiar, even in its harshness. It was Snape, invading his mind like he had done countless times before while training. Maybe Snape was trying to reach him through the darkness and silence?

Harry let his hand drop and it fell on a leg; Snape's? He needed the feel of having someone near, now that he had calmed. Even Snape. Maybe especially Snape, since they had a psychic bond from all the work that they had done in preparing Harry to confront Voldemort. He had a sudden fear that whoever this was, they would leave him adrift in the void again, and he gripped the leg under his fingers fiercely.

From under the memories, he heard Snape's voice. "Potter? Can you hear me?"

Harry reached for that voice, afraid it was only a dream, and not the man he thought was sitting in front of him. "Professor?"

The voice came again, more urgently. "There is not much time. Your magic is quite depleted. I cannot risk further damage to you by staying long. You are safe in the Infirmary at Hogwarts. Yes or no answers to questions can be accomplished by the squeezes from my hand, once for yes, twice for no. We may be able to understand your verbal questions, even if you cannot hear yourself speak. You are not alone. Madam Pomfrey needs for you to take the potions she has for you; they will help you get your strength back …" His voice faded and Harry reached out with his mind, trying to catch up to it as it sped away. The memories began to fade too, until the void was complete again.

Severus had been there so briefly, and Harry hadn't had time to ask anything. He increased his grip on Snape's leg, for he was sure now that it was his teacher who sat before him. The thought of the man leaving him was more than he could bear, and he almost laughed at the irony of it. Last week, he would have given anything if Snape would just leave him in peace for one day and forego the relentless training and sparring. Now, he didn't think he could force himself to let go of the man. He felt the flush of embarrassment color his cheeks, and tried to loosen the grip of his fingers.

A hand touched his and then covered it, squeezing lightly. Harry made himself loosen his grip as he felt the form in front of him standing up. The hand on his drew him up, too.

Harry swayed, vertigo tilting his sense of balance. Hands steadied him and then slowly led him away from the corner.

At first, Harry was reluctant to move. It was very difficult to leave the solid wall for open space. The hand on his was insistent and he shuffled forward hesitantly. After what seemed a million steps and across vast emptiness, another hand lightly touched his shoulder. His hand was gently pulled forwards and down until he touched the edge of a bed. He sat down and the hands left him.

A burst of terror rushed through him at the loss of contact and he reached out wildly. He felt the bed dip beside him and the hands were back, grasping his forearm and squeezing. He was urged to scoot back on the bed and his lap was covered with the blanket. He didn't realize until then that he was shaking. The blanket warmed and he knew someone had cast a charm on it. He made himself let go of the hands that held his arms and let his own hands drop onto the blanket. With a big sigh, he buried his hands in the comforting fleece of the blanket.

After a moment, a hand withdrew one of his and gave it a squeeze. Could he try to ask a question? He opened his mouth and realized that his mouth was dry and his throat scratchy. A glass was pressed into his hand and he put the other hand up to help steady it. The unseen hand guided his efforts at getting it to his mouth. Before he drank, he sniffed carefully. The bed shook slightly, as if the person sitting there had laughed at that, causing Harry to scowl. He sipped the water, grateful for the coolness and the relief of thirst.

The glass was taken away and the hand on his squeezed again, seeming to urge him to try again. He opened his mouth, he could feel that he had. It was totally disconcerting to know that sounds had to be coming from your mouth, yet not be able to hear them at all. He hoped that whatever was coming out was understandable.

SSSSSSSS

When Severus returned to the Infirmary by floo, it was merely to expedite his delivery of the few healing potions he still had in his own stores. He had set up a room full of cauldrons in the dungeon and was preparing to undertake a massive brewing to replenish what had been used in the last days.

He certainly had not expected to hear the inhuman wailing that filled the room. He stood for a moment, taking it all in. Patients were sitting, or in some cases, standing, and looking toward Potter's bed, their faces in expressions of horror.

Pomfrey and Weasley were at Harry's bed, battling the hysterical boy as he shrieked. He had clawed his own face and Ron was attempting to keep him from doing it again. Pomfrey tried to put a flask of potion to his lips and Potter had reacted with sudden flailing motions, sending the flask to the floor. He could see that their efforts were being wasted. Even in the depths of magical depletion and physical exhaustion, Potter was winning. They were obviously afraid to use too much force against him.

Severus strode forward. "I thought you said he would sleep."

A harried Pomfrey summoned another flask of potion and was attempting to give it to Potter again. "Obviously, I was wrong! Could you just –" The flask went crashing to the floor to join the mess already there.

Severus reached over her to grasp Potter by the upper arms. They would never get him under control if they persisted in trying to do it without force. For a brief moment, Severus was able to hold Harry still. Then, the boy used the solid grip of Severus as leverage and violently propelled himself backwards and away from them all. Severus could not catch him as he flew off the bed to land hard on his back on the floor. It should have taken Potter longer to recover himself after all he had been through, but once again he surprised them by scrambling backwards until he was up against the Infirmary wall. Hands splayed back against the stone, he quickly edged over until he had himself in the corner. There, he stopped, and looked as if he were trying to get some control over himself. He was shaking so hard they could hear his teeth clacking together.

Pomfrey started over to him and Severus put up a hand to stop her as he walked over to the boy himself. He unfastened his outer robes as he went, removing them and flinging them to a bed. He wanted no encumbrances if he was to have further difficulty subduing Potter.

He strode up to the huddled boy and noted that Harry turned his face toward the movement. Did he perhaps feel the displacement of air? In Severus's brief time spent reading so far, he had learned that the visually impaired develop keener senses of touch and feel. Was Harry already showing this tendency? He sat down cross legged in front of the shaking boy.

Harry reached out a tentative hand. Snape withdrew his wand, suddenly sure that he had to try whatever means necessary to make even brief contact with Harry. Protests erupted around him. The idiot Gryffindors jumped to typical conclusions about Severus's apparent inclination to hex Harry. He hissed a rapid explanation, never taking his eyes off the brilliant green ones staring sightlessly in his direction. He did not know if this would work at all …

"Legilimens!"

Harry's hand closed convulsively in the air before dropping onto Severus's leg. Fingers curled into the cloth and into the flesh beneath, hard enough to make Severus wince. He felt his mind enter Harry's and the flood of memories washed over them both as he moved his own mind forwards.

Harry recognized him, calling, "Professor?"

Severus did not want to cause further injury to Potter. There may have been tremendous discomfort at being undergoing Legilimency so soon after the trauma he had endured. But Potter reached out with his own mind; not all his magic could be gone if he managed this strength of psychic connection. Never the less, Severus hurried.

"There is not much time. Your magic is quite depleted." He saw no sense in telling the boy that his magic was, at the moment, undetectable. "I cannot risk further damage to you by staying long. You are safe in the Infirmary at Hogwarts. Yes or no answers to questions can be accomplished by the squeezes from my hand, once for yes, twice for no. We may be able to understand your verbal questions, even if you cannot hear yourself speak. You are not alone. Madam Pomfrey needs for you to take the potions she has for you, they will help you get your strength back …"

He felt the connection weaken and let it go. It would have to be enough for now. Later, when he was stronger, Severus would use this avenue again, since it had obviously worked.

Harry was visibly trying to get himself further under control. His fingers tightened on Severus's leg before loosening again. Severus noted the flush spreading across Harry's features and wondered if he was embarrassed over his clutching at his teacher. He covered Harry's hands with his own and gave them what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. Standing, he drew Harry to his feet, steadying him when he swayed.

He slowly led Harry back to the bed and gave him a gentle nudge to sit down. When he pulled his hands away, Harry reached for them, a look of panic crossing his face. Severus sat down on the bed and laid his hands on Harry's forearms, urging him to move back on the bed. Severus pulled the blanket up, placing Harry's hands on it.

He cast a warming charm when Harry began to shiver again. After a few minutes, he reached and took Harry's hands in his own again, giving them a squeeze of encouragement.

Harry acted as if he understood and opened his mouth to speak, then grimaced. Severus immediately realized that his throat must be dry, if not sore, from all the screaming he had been doing. He snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared. He pressed it into Harry's hands and helped guide it to his lips. The boy drank thirstily before lowering the glass again. Severus squeezed his hands again and Harry began to ask his questions. His voice was soft and it was hard to hear him. Some of the words were not clearly enunciated, but he was still understandable.

"Is Voldemort dead?" Severus gave Harry's hand a single hard squeeze and Harry smiled with relief. Then his face clouded as he thought of what else he could ask, how he could ask in ways that could be answered with simple yes and no hand squeezes.

"Did any of our people die?" Severus hesitated and then squeezed once gently. "Ron? Hermione?" Harry looked about to panic again and Severus quickly gave two squeezes as Hermione struggled out of bed, Ron helping her to cross the floor to Harry's bed.

She sat down on the bed beside Harry and gently touched his arm. He reached out his other hand and put it over hers. After a moment, Harry tentatively ran his hand up her arm, to her shoulder and then her face. She leaned into his touch and he felt her curly hair over the back of his hand. Threading his fingers in the softness of it, he smiled again in relief. He knew that hair!

"Ron?" Ron patted Harry on the back and Harry reached back to take his hand, clasping it tightly for a moment.

Ron and Hermione's touch left him, but he knew they would still be there. Madame Pomfrey always had a hard time keeping them away when he was in hospital.

Harry tried to think of who else he could ask about …

"Remus?" One squeeze answered him and Harry frowned, trying to clarify. "I'm asking if he's dead, not if he's okay … is he dead?" Another squeeze answered him and he closed his eyes, suddenly not wanting to know who else was gone.

He said so, before whoever was in the room tried to convey any more. "That's enough … I don't want to hear anymore right now …" Then he began to laugh hysterically. "But I can't hear at all can I? Is it permanent?"

Snape's hand squeezed his once and Harry felt as if the man actually tried to make it comforting, if such a thing was possible.

"What about my eyes? I guess that's permanent too?" One squeeze. Harry yanked his hand out of Snape's and tried to reign in his anger. His words burst out before he could remember that there was no way for anyone to respond to what he said in a way he could understand.

"What happened? Did Voldemort use some weird curse or something? Did a bunch of Death Eaters gang up on me?"

When no answering hand squeezes came, he realized that he had withdrawn from them and that he had asked what could not be answered. Taking a deep breath, he started over.

"I sort of remember dueling Voldemort, being connected again by the magic streams … I remember pushing hard, and being afraid when it looked like his magic was coming down the stream closer to me … I pushed back really hard … and then I can't remember what happened next." Tentatively, he held out his hand and was relieved when it was taken by someone again. The touch was grounding for him and it helped still the fear that kept returning with bursts of nausea.

"The black phoenix feather that Professor Snape told us about … was that what did this to me?"

Severus's eyes widened. That was a very real possibility that he had not yet had time to consider. He squeezed Harry's hand hesitantly, hoping to convey the question that he had about that aspect. Harry nodded, "I guess it might be hard to be sure, huh?"

Severus squeezed once.

Harry suddenly clenched his eyes shut, and brought his other hand up to his head with a moan. Severus knew it couldn't be Voldemort making his head hurt, so it must be exhaustion. Harry was still very ill and weak.

Madame Pomfrey handed him another vial and in turn he pressed it into Harry's hand. Harry raised it to his nose and gave it a sniff. "Dreamless Sleep? I don't want to sleep anymore. Just give me a headache potion."

Severus made a motion to nudge Harry to drink the potion. With a sigh, Harry reluctantly obeyed. It did not take long for it to begin to effect him. Severus drew the blanket up over his shoulders after disengaging his hand from Harry's.

Harry closed his eyes and whispered, "Don't leave me …" and then he was out.