Nightmares and Daydreams
By Teacherbev
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I am not a multinational bookselling company, nor am I a multi-million dollar movie company, so I don't own anything that you recognize. I am a retired former teacher who likes to twist plots and play with characters, so enjoy.
AN: A note on my belief of Harry's power. A recurring theme of all of my stories is that Harry is a powerful wizard; to support this I cite the following. As a child Harry apperated to the top of his school, he grew his hair back when his Aunt cut it as well as making his teacher's hair blue and other unspecified 'abnormalities'. He wandlessly and wordlessly blew up his Aunt Marge at twelve, he cast a corporeal patronus at thirteen, he 'Accio-ed' his broom from a very long distance away at fourteen, and he learns defensive spells quickly and easily (he taught himself almost all of the ones he used in the Tri-Wizard tournament and those he taught to the DA). The prophecy said Voldemort 'marked' him as his equal, it doesn't say 'his equal when he is ten, or fifteen, or even seventeen'. Harry was Voldemort's equal when he marked him… at fifteen months. After all Harry was able to not only stop Voldemort's spell in the graveyard after he was injured by the spider and the bloodletting and exhausted by the tournament, but he literally forced the spell back and into Voldemort's wand. To me that means that Harry overpowered Voldemort's magic at only fourteen years of age, while gravely injured and in shock … that's one powerful little puppy. Don't agree … tell me why, I'm open to your opinion if you can back it up.
Chapter 4: The Acclero Potion
The Ministry for Magic was in chaos. First Draco Malfoy had tried to kill Harry Potter, second, he had succeeded in killing his own father, though no one thought he had actually intended to commit patricide, and thirdly, the Minister himself had disappeared with the aforementioned Draco Malfoy; to some undisclosed location, for some unknown purpose. Most of the witches and wizards within the Ministry actually believed Harry Potter had been telling the truth when he returned bloody and traumatized at the end of the third task of the Tri-wizard Tournament last year; the dead body of his classmate gripped tightly in one hand, the cursed trophy in the other; but with Cornelius Fudge zealously refusing to acknowledge the dark wizards return, they had been unable to accomplish much. After all, the boy had just won the Tri-Wizard Tournament; if he was only after fame and glory that, combined with his being the Boy-Who-Lived, would have garnered him the front page of The Daily Prophet for the entire summer, and most likely his own Chocolate Frog card. There was just nothing for either Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore to gain in declaring that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned.
Within moments of news of the abduction of Cornelius Fudge reaching the Ministry for Magic, the Inner Council of the Wizengamot used that kidnapping to invoke the Emergency War clause of the Ministry's charter to declare a state of emergency. Their first act was to appoint Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as the Minister Pro Tem. Her first act was to fire Fudge's personal advisors and have all of their belongings removed, the second to have all of their passwords replaced and competent people called in to be vetted and approved by an emergency meeting of the full Wizengamot. She smiled in satisfaction as the belongings of the odious Dolores Umbridge were boxed and forwarded to her residence at Hogwarts. Umbridge would have been first in line to take control of the Ministry, except for her leave of absence status. In leaving for a year to take the open DADA position at Hogwarts personally, she had effectively removed herself from the chain of command, and left her most hated political enemy in the spot instead. Amelia knew that Zachariah Cooper was nothing more than a 'yes man' but she was ecstatically happy to remove Phyllias Smythe from his unofficial position of 'power behind the throne'. The man's manipulations and plots had effectively bound the stern witch's hands in her own department for so long, that she promised herself a stiff Firewhiskey after work in celebration of his removal. But for now, she had the business of stopping panic, stabilizing the wizarding world, and finally beginning to fight against the evil that had been allowed to grow unchecked for the last year.
Amelia looked up as Kingsley Shacklebolt ducked his head to enter her new office, the tall black Auror automatically ducked his bald head when entering or leaving a room, whether the doorway was tall enough for him to safely enter or not. "Madame Minister," a broad grin showed straight white teeth as the man smiled from ear to ear in deep satisfaction. "You have no idea how wonderful that sounds, Amelia!" The two had been friends as well as colleagues for many years, and both had been frustrated at the constraints and roadblocks their idiotic Minister had shackled them with for the last ten years.
"Can you give me a report, Shack?" Madame Bones had an equally manic smile on her face, her monocle tightly squeezed with her cheek muscles as she watched Kingsley flop down into the chair in front of her parchment buried desk.
"Still haven't found hide nor hair of the elf that disappeared with Potter and Snape; though some of the portraits reported hearing Cornelius planning on locking the boy away in the mental ward at St. Mungo's, and the elf vowing to stop that from happening. Still don't know where they are, or how an elf managed to disappear from Hogwarts with two human passengers. Also no sign of the Malfoy boy, his mother claims to have no knowledge of what he did, and is putting on an act of the 'bereaved widow' that isn't fooling anyone. Especially after the temper tantrum she threw when she got an owl from Gringotts, informing her that all of the Malfoy vaults have been frozen pending Draco's trial; and all that she has is access to, are the remnants of a single small vault of galleons left from her dowry. Man, for a pureblood aristocrat, that witch has a mouth that would make a muggle sailor blush!" Kingsley's deep baritone filled the room with his laughter at the memory. His face turned serious once more as he continued his report. "We were unable to find any traces of the poison used in Mr. Malfoy's belongings, but we are still searching the castle and Malfoy Manor for any clues. Poppy Pomfrey said she didn't recognize it, and that Severus Snape apparently didn't either, which really worries me. I sure hope the Potter boy is still alive and safe… wherever they are."
Amelia nodded her head in agreement and pulled a stack of parchments towards her; straightening them before handing them across her desk to the Auror. "I have these arrest warrants processed and signed. Send only Aurors that you can trust, but make sure you get all of the Death Eaters that Harry Potter witnessed at the rebirth of Voldemort last year. There is no use in letting them escape justice any longer. Oh, and make sure their vaults are frozen too, while we sort out how involved their spouses are. Also, send Auror Tonks with a solicitor's pensieve to take testimony on Sirius Black's innocence. I don't intend to continue the charade that Fudge built up; that he didn't deserve a trial because he was so obviously guilty." Her voice had turned decidedly sarcastic by the time she ended speaking. At Kingsley's satisfied grin she shooed him out of her office; and pulled a fresh parchment out, to begin making sweeping changes to the moribund and corrupt British Magical Ministry as quickly as she could ram the changes through the Wizengamot.
Snape was exhausted. He had spent the last fifteen hours brewing one of the most complicated potions he had ever brewed alone. The precise stirring and meticulous timing allowed for no rest during the complicated brewing, and any misstep would render the potion completely useless, if not violently explosive. He leaned over toward a small elf as the creature held up a goblet of cold water laced with a strengthening solution for him to drink, before it wiped the beaded sweat off of Snape's forehead with a soft folded flannel. Snape never stopped stirring or counting the motions, even though his arms and fingers were stiffening with the relentless hours of mental concentration and physical exertion.
"Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five" he stopped the counter-clockwise motion and turned the silver stirring ladle in a clockwise motion, never missing the count, "ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred." He stopped the stirring and lifted the ladle, a thick purple liquid dripping back into the rune inscribed silver cauldron. He held his breath and watched. The potion shimmered twice and then a small circle of silver began in the very center. As the tired man watched with growing satisfaction and relief, the circle grew and grew. The silver taking over the dark purple until finally, the cauldron was filled from edge to edge with a glowing silver liquid that shimmered as it reflected the flickering of the torches that lit the basement potions lab.
Feeling for the tall stool behind him with one aching foot, he hooked his toes around a leg and pulled the stool directly behind him before slumping down onto its welcome support. He had completed a potion all by himself that usually required at least two brewers and a couple of fully trained apprentices to complete. A small sigh of satisfaction matched the upturning twitch of his lips as he waved off the fire below the small cauldron, and tiredly levitated it over to the waiting cooling stand.
Tippy came to stand in front of him, waiting respectfully for Master Snape to acknowledge it's presence before speaking. "Master Snape's dinner be ready. Is you wishing it in Master Potter's room or in the dining room?"
Sighing deeply at having to think about anything in his bone aching tiredness, Snape ran a potion splattered hand through his lank sweaty hair before answering. "In Potter's room, I need to check on his condition, and the potion must cool for at least an hour before it can be used."
Tippy nodded and snapped his fingers before bowing to Master Snape, offering to show him the way to the boy's room so the tired wizard wouldn't get lost in the large and unfamiliar mansion.
Tom Riddle was hunched over a grubby and well used map of Great Britain when a loud gong signaled the unexpected arrival of a portkey into the dank and echoing meeting room. He stood, his evil red eyes glinting with anticipation of the punishment he could deliver to whoever had the unmitigated gall to disturb him without being summoned. His thin and unnaturally mobile tongue licked his thin bloodless lips as a skeletal hand rubbed over the top of his bald, snakelike pate.
"Wormtail, attend to me at onc-c-c-e." He hissed loudly and menacingly. The fat lump in the corner of the map room unfolded to reveal a short, balding little dumpy figure. Noticeably quivering with fear, Pettigrew bowed and stumbled forward to almost fall at his Master's feet in abject terror.
"Yes-s-s, M-m-m-master, your wish is my com-m-mand, Master." The rat sniveled, his voice shaking as he stuttered nervously.
With a look of disgust, Riddle swept from the room, his long dark robe dragging through the accumulated dust and debris of years of neglect. The old Manor house that had once belonged to his muggle father's family was liberally decorated with cobwebs, layers of dust upon dust, and even patches of mold and black mildew where the ancient roof now leaked and the cracked windows no longer withheld the elements. Riddle wouldn't allow a house elf within the estate boundaries, and no Death Eater would deign to actually clean something, so the decrepit Riddle Manor would have fallen down long ago, except for the magic being wielded within it.
Flicking his wand angrily at the door that stood between him and his target, Riddle blasted the carved oak door that had once proudly guarded the old ballroom off of its hinges. It landed askew and cracked, lying to the side on the old moth eaten carpet, a huge cloud of dust marking its resting place, as the evil semi-human being and his cowering sycophant entered the large dirty room.
Sprawled in a mass of legs and arms, Draco Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge lay in the middle of a slowly settling cloud of dust and debris better left unnamed, both coughing and gasping for clean air.
"What is-s-s the meaning of this-s-s-s intrus-s-s-sion?" The snake faced evil wizard hissed menacingly, surprised at the identity of the intruders, but unwilling and even incapable of showing that emotion on his inhuman face.
Draco pushed himself up, using Fudge's ample belly to push up from. He stood, his knees shaking slightly despite his best efforts to appear calm. He bowed low, which looked rather ludicrous considering he was still attired in shapeless, now dust covered blue and white stripped hospital pajamas with no shoes; his hair in wild disarray. "My Lord," his voice cracked as he spoke only to be interrupted by the self titled Lord Voldemort.
"I AM NOT YOUR LORD, YET BOY! What is the meaning of this-s-s?" He demanded once more.
Draco bowed once more, his shoulders shaking in open fear now. "I have brought you Cornelius Fudge, Mas…sir." Draco thought it best to stop talking now and wait, it was always the best move when his father….oh Merlin…my … father….his thoughts wandered to the horrible sight of his father's bloody and lifeless face beneath his own as his breath hitched in realization of what he had done.
As Draco looked up, his pale grey eyes going dead with the shocked realization of what had happened; Voldemort caught his gaze and struck. "Legilimens-s-s!"
Draco went rigid with the agonizing pain, his lips parted in a horrified soundless scream as his mind was brutally raped. The entire afternoon played rapidly through his mind as Voldemort grew more and more agitated and enraged. Memory after memory was examined and thrown aside as Draco felt his mind being ripped open from the inside out. The agony lasted mere minutes but it felt like hours to Draco.
Voldemort turned away and furiously blasted huge chunks of plaster out of the walls, as he raged at the imbecilic actions of the child now quivering in a mindless puddle on the floor. His rage grew as he turned his attention to the few remaining pieces of ornate furniture that still lined the filthy walls; before he repeatedly and methodically blasted them until nothing but small slivers and chunks of wood and rotting red velvet remained, before fixing his evil red gaze upon the still quietly standing Wormtail.
"Put those….things…into cells. I will enjoy myself with them later." He pointed a long gnarled finger at the still slumped and hysterical figure of Cornelius Fudge before pointing his wand at the comatose figure of Draco Malfoy. An evil smile graced the reptilian face as he contemplated various tortures for the doomed Heir of the once proud Malfoy family. He sorted through the memories he had ripped from the teen's mind; his rage growing once more as he looked upon the dead face of Lucius, and the still living Harry Potter being portkeyed to the infirmary.
He swept out of the destroyed old ballroom, his black robes billowing behind him, his raw emotions cracking windows as he passed by them. The few portraits that had still remained fell from the floor, marking his progress back to his chambers. Wormtail looked between the sobbing Minister and the unconscious Malfoy brat and smiled maliciously at the two. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation and glee, he hit the Minister with a weak body bind, only then finding the hysterically sobbing man still had his unused wand in his breast pocket. In short order, the two had adjoining cells deep below the unplottable Manor house, and Pettigrew returned to his Master's quarters, awaiting his orders once more.
Albus Dumbledore was pacing his office, his trademark twinkle completely gone; his anger over the senseless happenings of the afternoon clearly visible as his aura was shimmering in full sight. Something that rarely occurred as Albus preferred to don a kindly grandfather persona; while shielding his full power as he was doing his job as the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and Poppy Pomfrey were watching him silently as he marched three steps to the fireplace, four steps to the front of the couches they were sitting at, two steps to the corner of his desk, and then back to the fireplace once more. Minerva finally sighed theatrically and snapped, "Come sit down, Albus you're giving us all a sore neck trying to follow your pacing. And it's getting nothing accomplished." Her lips thinned at her boss' seeming lack of focus.
Albus came back to the small sitting area and took the armchair that sat between the two couches. "I cannot find the smallest trace of either Harry or Severus; and none of the elves knows anything about the disappearance. Poppy, do you think Severus has managed to cure Harry? Do you think he is still in danger?"
The school medi-witch lifted both hands in a gesture of helplessness as she answered. "I honestly can't tell you, Albus. If Severus had a full potion's lab at his disposal to discover exactly what the poison was, and then the proper ingredients and facilities necessary for him to brew the proper antidote, perhaps. But without knowing where they are, what facilities are available, I have no way of predicting. You might as well ask Sybil Trelawney for her opinion; it would be just as accurate."
Minerva and Filius couldn't help snorting slightly at that pronouncement before looking grim once more. Dumbledore continued questioning the healer. "If left unchecked, what is the poison doing?"
"That I can tell you, but none of it is good news. The poison slowly destroys the voluntary nervous system. Severus and I were able to stabilize and negate the autonomic nerves, so that Harry's heart, lungs and other organs will continue to function, but anything he has control over will slowly stop working. He will lose the ability to use his legs and arms first as they are furthest from the center of his body. Next will be his ability to speak, and then to swallow or even blink. He will be trapped in his own mind as he slowly starves to death; he would likely go insane before then. And I did not recognize the specific poison so we were only able to slow it down, not negate its effects. Even if Severus manages to find and brew the correct anti-toxin, the damage to Harry's voluntary nervous system will already be extensive. The nerves can be re-grown with a series of potions and physical therapy, but it will not be an overnight cure by any means. I can only hope that Severus found the proper antidote quickly. We must find them quickly, Albus." Her voice grew in intensity as she spoke, her colleagues stunned and silent.
The two witches present had silent tears on their cheeks, while both Filius and Albus had gone whiter and whiter as the healer continued her explanation. Minerva had a pale hand in front of her mouth as she spoke, barely above a whisper. "How can we find them then? Albus, have you tried to scry for them, or tracked their magical signatures, or…" her voice faded down into nothing as each suggestion was met with a nod from the aged Headmaster and a look of deep sorrow.
Filius finally spoke up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Is there nothing more that we can be doing then, Albus?"
Dumbledore dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders shook as he reluctantly shook his head. The four sat in stunned silence, the sound of their breathing the only sound heard in the circular office until a soft chime pealed from one of the numerous whizzing and whirring little machines that dotted every spare surface.
Snape held the cold hand of the pale teen in one hand as he watched the sweeping second hand of the muggle watch he wore. Potter's heartbeat was still plodding steadily. It was too slow and sluggish, but it was at least much stronger and the rhythm was steadier than it had been. A strangely silent Dobby perched on the far side of the huge four poster bed, almost afraid to breathe and disturb the wizard that must save his Harry Potter.
"You have done well, Dobby is it?" Snape turned his tired black eyes toward the little creature who nodded enthusiastically at him. "Potter is still stable; the poison is significantly slowed but still present. I will need your assistance in drawing a sample of blood for testing. Come here and hold his arm like this…"he demonstrated and then turned to withdraw a sampling kit form the potions bag he had found downstairs in the potions lab. "Hold his arm steady, he might jerk at the pain but you must hold him steady." Snape silently withdrew a small vial of blood from Potter's elbow before healing the small incision with a well practiced flick of his wand. Leaving instructions to continue watching the comatose boy, Snape swept from the bedroom, heading down to the potions lab with the vial of the boy's blood for testing.
Harry felt the darkness dimming again and looked around himself in curiosity. He had thoroughly enjoyed the last…dream…vision…memory? Well, whatever it had been, it had been really nice. He seemed to be in the same room as before, but now he was being held in soft and warm arms. He looked up and spotting the glowing halo of red hair glistening in the soft firelight, he realized he was on his mother's lap and that she was rocking him and singing to him. He felt his face light up with a big smile and cuddled down into the wonderful feeling. He could feel his mother's heartbeat and smell a delicate flowery perfume of some kind. He thought it might be apple blossom but he wasn't sure. He turned his head and buried his head into her robes, smelling deeply. 'Yes, it was apple blossoms.' He felt her chuckling at him before she pulled him away and looked directly into his eyes. He felt moisture blur his vision as he felt love flood him as he had never felt before.
Lily looked into her son's eyes, her own brilliant and unusual green reflecting back at her. "Now you aren't supposed to be giggling and enjoying yourself; you, my young man are supposed to be going to sleep. If you want to be awake tonight for your Daddy's birthday party, you must take a nap now. I'm not supposed to know, but I think your idiot of a father is going to try to sneak you up for a fly on his broom while I'm busy cooking dinner. He's been trying for the last three months, but I always manage to catch him at it. If you don't tell him, I'll let him sneak you out and pretend I don't know what he and his Marauder friends are up to." She smiled conspiratorially with her son before pulling his head down onto her shoulder once more; and beginning to rock, she sang softly, "Sleep my child and peace attend thee…."
Harry felt his eyes closing against his will, the wonderful feelings of love and the soft scent of his mother soothing him into the blackness once more.
Snape was too tired and apprehensive to stalk and swoop, so he just trudged down the long steps to the basement, one hand trailing the handrail in his fatigue. He nodded at the three odd little elves that were silently waiting for him as he entered the spotless potions lab once more. He moved over to the now cool cauldron full of the Acclero potion and sat the little vial of Potter's blood down beside it. A soft noise at his side let him know that Tippy was standing beside him, awaiting his orders. He nodded at the little being, thankful that it was so well trained and willing to help. "I need five medium sized vials with stoppers and an open bowl. I will also need a pipette and a siphon tube." No sooner had he requested the items then they appeared on the table beside him. He carefully placed a single drop of Potter's blood in each vial, then using the pipette and tubing; he measured a precise amount of the silvery potion within each vial. He held his breath as the first vial turned black, and then the second and third ones turned black. His shoulders slumped in relief as the fourth one flared bright blood red and then turned a sickly green. He tested the fifth vial just to be sure, but it turned the black of a negative response just like the first three had.
Snape banished the four useless vials into the sink to be cleaned and concentrated on the one green vial. He took out a quill and looked around for a piece of parchment. A soft tap of his elbow and he turned and accepted the piece being held out to him by one of the elves he didn't yet know the name of. "Thank you…uh…" He stopped and the elf looked at him shyly before saying, "Dinkins, my name be Dinkins, sir." Snape nodded and turned his attention to the blank parchment. He took a pipette and placed five drops of blood around the empty paper. He took out his wand and pointed at the first drop, "Revealo…" he incanted while watching the green potion swirl on the paper and then quiver once, twice and then nothing. He repeated the process with the next drop which had the same reaction. Finally the third droplet swirled and then formed two words in green letters. Snape gave an involuntary shudder as he read 'nervulus veneficium' on the parchment before moving it aside in disgust.
He stepped to a clean work station and began issuing orders to the three elves in a calm and efficient manner, burying his deep feelings of remorse and guilt down into the deepest hell of his own mind. 'How dare Lucius Malfoy allow his imbecilic son access to a deadly and horrific poison like that?' His hands moved in swift and sure motions as he prepared the necessary ingredients and began to brew the antidote; the antidote that only he could produce; the antidote to a poison thought to have no known antidote since he had never admitted to anyone that when he had developed that particular poison for the Dark Lord, he had also developed an antidote to it. Now if he wasn't too late…
AN: I need your help now. Please let me know if you would like Voldemort to kill Draco for depriving him of Lucius' services, or if you would like Draco to somehow escape after a very rude awakening about his father's Master? Also, should Dumbledore receive a message that Snape and Harry are safe or not? I will let them wonder and worry for a while, I just don't know how long to let them suffer.
Nervulus - nerves
Veneficium – poison, magical poisoning