DISCLAIMER: Any and all familiar characters and story lines are the property of the wonderful Joanne Rowling, in whose world I am honoured and privileged to have an opportunity to play for a while.

Chapter 7: Potions, Potions Masters, and Poisons

'Headmaster,' Severus greeted Albus through the flames. He didn't mince his words. 'Potter has been ill – very ill – since late last night. I have given him various antipyretics and potions for his symptoms, but he is showing no response.'

Albus frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. 'Did you run a diagnostic?' he asked.

Severus felt somewhat affronted. 'Of course, headmaster. It was nonspecific. I do not think this is a magical illness, but –'

'How high is his fever?' Albus cut in.

'It has been fluctuating, but I cannot seem to bring it much below 40 degrees,' Severus answered. 'His throat, sinuses, and ears seem to be infected, and he is vomiting. But what concern me the most at present are his lungs. The congestion in his chest seems to be worsening despite the potions, and he is having great difficulty breathing. I think it may be dangerous to wait much longer before seeking professional help, but I am hesitant to take him to St Mungo's… it may raise awkward questions.'

Albus rose to his feet, pacing a few times before the fireplace, apparently gathering his thoughts. He turned after a minute to face Severus again. 'Who is with Harry now?'

'A house-elf, headmaster. I believe her name was Mina.'

Albus nodded, drumming his finger against his chin. 'Go back to him, Severus, and keep trying to keep him stable. I shall return to Hogwarts immediately, but it will take me around an hour to gather my things here and get to the international portkey location.'

Severus nodded, incredibly relieved that Albus was going to take over from here. He waited for Albus's dismissal, then pulled out of the fireplace. He took a moment to collect himself – it was incredibly disorienting to floo-call internationally, because you had to go through multiple points of transfer in order to reach your destination. Wizards were not permitted to actually transport themselves by floo from country to country, as most governments set up national wards to prevent unregulated travel. Albus could probably have removed the wards himself, but Severus knew the headmaster would hesitate to do so in the midst of international negotiations. Instead, Albus would have to travel to Calais by apparition and take an officially sanctioned portkey back to Hogsmeade. Even so, the trip should not take him long.

Once he felt he had his bearings again, he rose to his feet and headed back for Potter's room. Mina was seated on a short stool next to Potter's head, sponging at his brow. Like everyone else save Severus, the little elf seemed completely enamoured with the brat. He cleared his throat to signal his presence to the elf. She turned at once.

'Young master is so hot,' she said seriously to Severus. 'Much too hot, Master Snape.' Severus frowned, and approached the bed. He placed his hand on Potter's forehead again. The child felt as feverish as ever. He sighed.

'Indeed,' he said softly. 'You may go, Mina. I will take over from here.' The elf looked reluctant to leave, but recognised the dismissal. She nodded, and disapparated with a crack. Severus transfigured the stool into an armchair and conjured another flannel for Potter's brow, counting the minutes until the headmaster's return.

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Albus, meanwhile, had rushed back to his quarters at the Château de Glace, quickly spelled his possessions into his travelling case, and shrunk the bag so it would fit into his pocket. He did a quick sweep of the room to ensure he had everything, then headed quickly for the dining hall, where everyone else was still at dinner. His late entrance and the travelling cloak he'd fastened over his robes caused some raised eyebrows. Albus made for his place at the centre of the long table, but did not take his seat. Instead, he waited until all eyes had fixed on him, then cleared his throat for attention.

'I apologise for my late arrival,' he began, 'and I'm afraid I cannot stay. An emergency has arisen back at Hogwarts that I must see to at once, and thus I fear I shall have to leave you this evening. I do wish the Confederation the best in resolving these crucial issues in the remainder of the conference, and emphasise that I am always available by owl if my advice is desired or needed as these discussions continue. I urge you all to lead with your conscience, and give due consideration not only to what is best for us all at the present time, but what sort of precedent we wish to set for future generations.'

With that, Albus exited the hall again. He could hear the gossip breaking out immediately in his wake, but he paid no mind. His thoughts now were entirely trained on Hogwarts, and on Harry.

Fifteen minutes later, Albus had apparated to Calais, where he would be able to take an international portkey to Hogsmeade. After a quick conversation with the administrator working the counter, he was able to secure an old tyre lever, and a few minutes later found himself on the darkened high street of the familiar Scottish town. Wasting no time, he apparated quickly from the edge of the village street to the gates of Hogwarts, and entered the grounds at a brisk walk. He made his way across the silent park, through the castle, and past the gargoyle to his own quarters. Albus could hear Harry's barking cough even from the study. He strode quickly across the room and up the staircase toward the sleeping quarters. The door to the child's room was slightly ajar, and Albus pushed it open as he entered.

'Severus,' he called quietly. The man turned at once to face him, relief evident on his face. Albus could see that the Potions master held a damp flannel in one hand.

'Headmaster,' he breathed in greeting, the cool indifference in his tone not quite masking his concern. Albus' gaze was drawn immediately, however, to Harry's slight form on the bed. The child was ghostly pale, sweating, and shaking. Although he looked to be asleep, Harry's breathing was laboured and his discomfort was clear even in unconsciousness. Albus moved toward him automatically, and Severus rose quickly to step out of the way.

The headmaster knelt down next to the bed, his hand smoothing back Harry's sweaty fringe to rest on his forehead. His frown deepened as he felt the heat of the fever.

'Oh, Harry,' he said softly, stroking his fingers through the child's hair. He did not stir. Without looking up, Albus addressed Severus again.

'Send for Poppy at once,' he said. 'She is staying at her sister's in Brighton. You should be able to find the address somewhere on my desk. Tell her what has happened. We will need her assistance. Then, if you would, please call for Minerva. I do not wish to alarm her, but she would have my head if I did not inform her of this.'

'Of course, Albus,' Severus said. He departed for the study at once.

Albus rose from his knees and took up Severus's chair at Harry's bedside, continuing the stroking of his hair. Harry broke into another coughing fit, tossing restlessly on the bed. Albus tried to sit him up a bit to ease the pressure on his chest, but he couldn't keep the squirming child in position. The coughing continued, and Harry seemed unable to catch his breath. Alarmed, Albus climbed onto the bed himself and sat against the headboard, drawing the child against him so he was almost seated in his lap. He rubbed his back soothingly, waiting for the fit to pass. At last, Harry quieted, his head lolling back to rest against the headmaster's chest. His breath still came in wheezes, but the change in position seemed to ease some of the strain on his lungs. Albus adjusted himself against the headboard and put one arm protectively around Harry's stomach, holding him in place. With the other hand, he resumed the carding of his hair.

Severus re-entered the room minutes later. He looked a little surprised at the headmaster's new positioning, but did not comment. 'Poppy will be here within the hour, Albus, she needs to pick up some supplies first,' he said, moving toward the bed. 'She says that we should try and wake him to hydrate him, if we can.'

Albus nodded. 'Thank you, Severus. And were you able to reach Minerva?'

'I spoke with one of her nieces – Ophelia, I believe. She said that Minerva had gone out on a walk through the village, but was expected back shortly. I did not leave the details, but asked that she have Minerva floo you immediately upon her return.'

Albus inclined his head again. 'Thank you.' He looked down at the sleeping child in his arms again. 'I suppose we had better try and wake him, then. Would you mind fetching a glass of water? Or perhaps juice would be better, actually, since you've said he has been unable to keep any food down of late.'

Severus pulled out his wand obligingly, and gave it a wave. A moment later, he caught the summoned glass of pumpkin juice, setting it on the night stand. Albus, meanwhile, began to stroke Harry's cheek, calling softly. After a minute or so of this, Harry's eyelids began to flutter. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his unfocused gaze coming up to the headmaster's face.

'Harry,' Albus said, smiling down at the child.

'Pr-professor,' Harry breathed, his voice raspy with illness and sleep. 'You came back.' The relief and obvious need in his voice tugged at Albus's heartstrings.

'Indeed, child,' he said in agreement, stroking Harry's hair once. 'Professor Snape sent for me this evening, and I came at once. I am sorry you've been feeling so unwell.'

'But your conference –' Harry began, breaking off abruptly as he sent himself into a coughing fit again. Albus shifted the child and rubbed circles into his back, trying to ease his breathing.

'Ssh… just relax now. The conference will continue without me. There are more important things,' he assured him firmly. 'Madam Pomfrey will be here soon, and we'll get you feeling better. Right now, however, I want to check your temperature again, and then we need you to drink something, alright? You are growing dangerously dehydrated.' Harry nodded weakly, and Albus held out his hand for the thermometer that Severus had retrieved from the night table. He slipped it gently into the child's mouth, and they sat in silence for a few minutes while they waited for the reading to register.

'Still 40.1,' Albus said with concern after removing the instrument. 'I don't want to give you any more potions until Poppy has had the chance to look you over. But please try and drink the pumpkin juice, Harry, slowly.' He offered the glass to Harry, but kept a hand around it to steady the drink, as Harry's own were shaky and weak. Harry drank about a third of the juice, then pushed the glass away again.

'I can't have any more right now, sir,' he said hoarsely. 'I might be sick again.' Albus nodded, and handed the glass over to Severus, who was hovering awkwardly at the bedside. At that moment, Albus heard his own name echo from downstairs, in Minerva's familiar Scottish brogue.

'Ah,' he said, his eyes twinkling a bit. 'I do believe Minerva got your message, Severus. Would you mind receiving her call? I do not wish to leave Harry just now.'

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Severus nodded in reply, and headed out of the little room again. He heard Minerva call from the floo once more, her voice a touch impatient, and quickened his pace. He entered the study to see Minerva's head floating in the flames, showing an expression of mingled confusion and concern.

'Severus,' she greeted him primly. 'Ophelia said you'd asked me to call? What's going on? I called for Albus at the conference, but was told by the concierge that he'd left earlier this evening. Has something happened?'

'Albus returned about an hour ago,' Severus replied. 'Potter has fallen ill. We have sent for Poppy – she should be here shortly.'

Minerva's eyebrows contracted. 'How ill, Severus?' she pressed.

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes with great effort. He was growing tired of relating the tale. 'He has been running a high fever and having some respiratory distress, among other symptoms. The headmaster is sitting with him now.' Minerva's concern appeared to deepen. She bit her lip for a moment, then seemed to reach some sort of resolution.

'Step back, Severus. I'm coming through.'

Severus straightened and stepped back from the hearth as Minerva came through the floo, brushing ash from the sleeves of her robes.

'Where are they?' she asked briskly.

'In Potter's room. Upstairs,' Severus answered. The Transfiguration professor took off for the staircase without another word. Severus teetered for a moment, uncertain as to what to do, then followed at a slower pace.

In short order, he found himself once again in the boy's bedchamber, looking in from the doorway on an odd little scene. Albus was still seated on the bed and holding Harry against his chest, both arms now wrapped around the child. Minerva had placed herself in the chair he had occupied for so many hours alone. She was leaned over the bed, and had taken over Albus's ministrations – running one hand through Potter's hair and grasping his right hand in her left. Severus could hear her whispering quietly with Albus. It appeared the child had fallen into a doze again. Severus felt strangely like he was interrupting a very personal family scene – the spectre at the feast. The thought made him feel oddly hollow and a little annoyed. He hovered awkwardly in the doorway, unwilling to enter farther but at the same time wanting to draw their attention to his presence.

It was Albus who noticed him first.

'I could not seem to keep him awake,' he said in explanation, inclining his head toward the dozing boy. 'But he has kept the juice down, for now. I think it alright if he rests until Poppy comes – his strength is spent.' He looked down at the child's form with such tenderness that Severus felt slightly nauseous.

'Perhaps I shall wait for Poppy in the study, Headmaster,' Severus suggested, keen to remove himself from the brat's bedroom now he was free to abandon his vigil. Albus nodded, and Severus swept from the room again to await the mediwitch.

Alone in the study, Severus sat on the headmaster's sofa, staring into the flames. He felt the turmoil of his thoughts. He did not like Potter. He found him rash, reckless, and at times as arrogant as his father before him. He thought the headmaster and the other professors gave the brat far too much leeway. Most of all, he thought the Golden Boy had far too little talent and far too little appreciation for his own mortality to complete the monstrous task he knew the child would one day face. The task that, on some level, Severus felt he had thrust on this child's shoulders. And that frightened him.

But even so, he certainly didn't wish more harm on the Golden Child. It was his fault – Severus's fault – that Harry Potter was parentless. It was his own foolish pride that had taken Lily from this world, the one person he'd always depended on… the one person he had loved. He owed something to Harry Potter, because he had taken something away. A life debt. He hated that.

It was why Severus had been the one to visit the Dursleys four days ago.

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He had come to Dumbledore in the middle of the night, long after he knew the boy would be asleep. He'd found Albus still pacing in his study, preparing for the conference. Minerva hadn't been there, to his great relief. He'd made the request. Albus had been rather surprised, and offered to send Minerva instead, but Severus had insisted. He had been the reason for Harry's need of Petunia's protection. It was right that he should see to the fall out. Albus had acquiesced.

'Do try to keep your temper, Severus,' Albus had said, as Severus prepared to leave the office. 'Remember that a time may come in future when we need the Dursleys, alive.'

Severus's eyes had glinted. His right hand, unbidden, had gone to his left forearm, closing over the Mark that he knew still marred the flesh, even while its strength and ink had faded with the passing of a decade and the disappearance of its master.

'I know, Albus,' Severus had replied. 'I do not forget.'

He had swept from the room, his temper smooth and contained, for the moment. He disapparated from the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, coming to land in near silence at the end of the driveway to Number 4, Privet Drive.

He had recognised the house. He'd been there once before, ten years ago. He'd come in the early evening at the start of the Christmas holiday at Hogwarts, under cover of newly fallen darkness, his heart still torn afresh with grief for Lily. He hadn't been sure, then, why he'd come. Some part of him had needed to see the child he'd sworn his life to protect. Lily's boy. Potter's spawn. The living proof that Lily had chosen another – the worst alternate path to happiness with him that Severus could have imagined.

He'd looked through the window of the sitting room on that occasion. He hadn't told Albus he would be visiting, and he didn't want Potter's relatives to spot his presence. He saw a little family through the window, recognising Petunia's dirty blonde hair and horsey face, even though it had been many years since last he'd seen her. She was seated on the sofa with her husband, cooing over a fat little blonde child in her lap. The toddler was gurgling with pleasure, swiping a pudgy fist at her hair, and shaking a stuffed toy in one hand. The man – Vernon Dursley, Severus suspected – sat alternating his attention between his son and the television set. At first, Severus had not seen another child in the room at all. Casting a disillusionment charm on himself, he moved to the windows on the other end of the room, from which he could better study the faces of the people in the house.

He could see the Potter baby now, the blood red scar prominent on his forehead. The little boy was seated in a corner of the room, penned in by some sort of Muggle child fence. He was watching the three on the sofa with a trembling lip, though Severus did not see him cry. As the Potions master watched, the child pulled himself up on the bars of the play fence, he eyes coming up sharply to look Severus straight in the face. Severus took an involuntary step backward, though he knew his spell should hide him from the child's notice. Still, he couldn't help the feeling that the boy knew he was there. His gaze intensified for a moment as he seemed to search the glass of the window. Severus was struck by the uncanny resemblance to Lily. The child was clearly Potter's spawn, for the most part – all untidy black hair, with James' handsome skin tone and something of his father in the set of his tiny shoulders. But those emerald eyes were all Lily. They pierced right to Severus's damaged soul.

After a moment or two, the child seemed to lose interest in his search of the window. He plopped down again in his corner, one small hand fisting in the thread of the carpet, the other going to his mouth. He suckled at his fingers, watching his aunt, uncle, and cousin on the sofa. Petunia's son was squirming, eager to get down to the floor. Severus watched her lower the boy carefully to the carpet, where he toddled into the centre of the room, gurgling nonsense words as he played with the stuffed toy. Severus could see Harry watching him with longing in his expression, his own hands empty. Suddenly, the little black-haired toddler's gaze intensified, and he thrust his arms out in front of him. To Severus's surprise, the toy in the blonde child's hands suddenly broke free, flying in an arc through the air to land in front of Potter. Severus was rather impressed despite himself. After all, Harry Potter could not yet be even eighteen months.

The blonde child screamed, throwing himself to the ground and pounding his fists in an almighty tantrum.

Potter seemed to know he was in trouble. He pushed the stuffed toy behind him, looking around in fear. Petunia got quickly to her feet, gathering her son into her arms and cooing at him. She turned to face her husband, passing the boy to his outstretched hands.

'It's that freakish nonsense,' she spat at Vernon, shooting a dark glance over at the young wizard in the corner. 'Just like my sister he'll be if we don't watch out. Stealing Diddy's toys and causing mayhem wherever he goes.' The man had barked something in agreement, and Petunia strode over to the corner. She pulled the toy from its ineffectual hiding place, and tossed it toward her husband on the sofa.

'Give that back to Dudley, Vernon. I'll put this one off to bed.'

She pulled the little boy by the arm up off the ground, and delivered one smart smack to his bottom. 'You are not to take things that aren't yours, freak,' she said harshly to the child. 'And you do not take Dudley's things – ever,' she shouted, landing another spank.

The Potter boy began to cry, more out of shock than pain, Severus guessed. Petunia kept him bent over her arm as she toted him from the room and out of sight. Severus waited a bit longer, but neither she nor the boy returned. Eventually, he apparated back to Hogwarts.

He'd returned to the school to find the headmaster waiting at the front doors, a curious expression on his face. Severus had told him he'd gone into the village for a drink. He didn't think Albus had believed him, but he hadn't pressed the point.

Severus had never told Dumbledore the truth about that first night.

And as he returned on his second visit to Privet Drive, he never intended to share the details of this trip with the headmaster either. Appearing in silence at the end of the drive, Severus looked up at the darkened windows of the house and felt a deep sense of self-loathing. He'd put Potter in this home, through his actions on that fateful evening so many years ago, when a stolen thread of conversation had changed the course of the future for them all. And he'd seen what care Potter had enjoyed here. Perhaps, if he'd said something after that first visit, Dumbledore would have interfered before. Perhaps if he hadn't been so self-indulgent, so blinded by hatred, he would have recognised the early signs.

But it did no good to focus on what might have been. For now, he could repay some measure of the debt he owed.

Severus approached the front door of the little house, black robes billowing behind him. The lock clicked free with his wordless spell, and he pushed his way into the house. The entryway was dark; the moonless night devoid of any light. Severus lit the tip of his drawn wand, and ascended the staircase to the first floor. He felt his way along the wall, listening keenly for the sounds of sleeping occupants. He passed the room that must have been Potter's – the door, as Dumbledore had told Minerva and himself on the night of Harry's arrival, was littered with various locking devices. He gazed in disgust at the wood panels before moving onward.

The second door he came to was closed. An ear against the wood told him someone slept inside. He opened it. In the bed was a massive figure, but it was not his quarry. This, Severus reasoned, must be the blonde child he'd seen ten years ago, now grown into an equally oversized boy of eleven or twelve. Potter's cousin. He backed out of the room again, and shot a muffling charm at the closed door. There was no sense in waking this child when he found his parents. Severus moved on.

Two bedroom doors lay on the other side of the floor. One, he saw, was cracked open, the room beyond unoccupied. Probably for guests. The second was shut, and Severus could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy snoring through the cracks. This must be where Vernon and Petunia lay.

He turned the lock with another nonverbal spell, and banged his way into the room. The two occupants of the bed started awake immediately. Petunia gave a shriek, cowering toward her husband. The man – Vernon – snorted in surprise, fumbling for the bedside lamp. He gave a roar of anger upon seeing Severus silhouetted in the doorframe and made to get out of the bed, bellowing like a wounded bear.

'Incarcerous,' Severus said lazily, pointing his wand at Vernon Dursley. Ropes and gag sprang into existence, wrapping themselves around the irate Muggle and forcing him to fall back upon the bed, silenced and immobile. Petunia gave another shriek, her hands over her mouth, staring from her husband to Snape in abject terror.

'Good evening, Tuney,' Severus said in a silky, indifferent voice. Petunia's eyes narrowed as she considered him.

'It's you,' she spat at him in horror, recognition dawning in her eyes. 'You! The Snape boy, from down Spinner's End.'

'Indeed,' Severus acknowledged with a bow of his head. 'Although these days I am a professor in residence at Hogwarts, where your nephew Harry Potter attends school. I dare say I spend about as much time back in Cokeworth as you do of late, Tuney.'

He moved farther into the room as he spoke, sending the door shut with a wave of his hand, and casting a silencing spell at it. 'A pity you seem to have left rather less of your childhood tendencies behind you.'

Anger flashed in Petunia Dursley's eyes. 'If you're looking for that boy, you've come to the wrong place, Snape. He vanished days ago, while we were out. We've not seen him since.'

'No, Tuney,' Snape continued, taking another step toward her. 'It is not Harry Potter I came to see tonight, but you. You see, I know exactly where your nephew is. And the state in which he arrived there.'

Petunia looked more nervous still, but she continued to press her advantage where she saw it. 'Lily spoke of you, you know,' she said, watching Severus' face closely. 'That last summer, before she went off with that Potter for good. She was crying. She said you'd gone off with that dark one – the one that killed her and her no good husband in the end. That Voldemort.' She smiled vindictively as she caught Severus' involuntary flinch at the sound of the name, clearly feeling she'd wounded his pride. 'Oh yes, Snape. Very torn up about it, Lily was. I'm surprised that mad old fool has let you near the boy, considering what you became. I'd have thought he'd have him wrapped in plastic judging by the way he talked in his letter.'

'Your concern is touching, Tuney,' Snape said sarcastically. 'I'll be sure to pass these worries along, when next I chat with Albus. But you have no idea how correct you are.' He leaned closer still, towering above her on the bed. 'I left to follow the Dark Lord – Lily was right. I learned things about dark magic you could not possibly hope to comprehend. I tortured people. I hurt them. I killed them, Tuney. Men. Women. Children. More than I can even recall.' He watched the colour drain from her face as he spoke. Beside her, Vernon's eyes widened comically as Severus spoke, his face purpling with the effort to speak through the gag. 'But enough about me,' Severus said, straightening up again and twirling his wand through his fingers. 'Your husband struck that boy hard enough to fracture his zygomatic arch. I want to know what else you've done to him, while he was under your… care.'

Petunia shot a terrified look at her husband. 'We,' she started, her voice cracking, 'We've done nothing to the boy, Snape. What happened the other night was an accident. Vernon's never hit the freak before.'

Severus gave a humourless laugh. 'Have you forgotten how I grew up, Petunia Evans? I know that was no accident. And even if that was the first time the boy's been physically struck – we both know there are other ways to abuse a child. What else have you hidden away in this foul home?'

Petunia said nothing, but shot Vernon another terrified look. Severus sneered. 'I have other ways of finding out, Tuney. You need not use your… words.' He held up his wand again, drawing closer than ever to the bed. Petunia backed as far away as she could, her fingers scrabbling the headboard.

'Your mind,' Severus said quietly, 'should do just as well. Legilimens!'

Several hours later, Snape had left the Dursleys' home, his own mind teeming with the memories he had wrenched from Petunia and Vernon. Like the first time he had returned from such a visit, Dumbledore was waiting up for him. Only this time, he hadn't been standing at the doors.

Severus had stalked down to his dungeon office, slamming the door as he entered. He went immediately to the cabinet where he kept several bottles of drink, selected a fine old scotch, and poured a measure into a crystal tumbler. He knocked it back in one go, and poured a second. He picked up the glass to repeat the gesture, but at the last moment hesitated. He stared instead at the amber liquid, tipping it back and forth in his hand, watching the alcohol cling to the crevices in the cut crystal. In a sudden flare of temper, he hurled the glass hard at the opposite wall. It smashed into a million shards of diamond, raining down upon the office floor.

'I certainly hope you left Harry's aunt and uncle slightly more intact,' came a sombre voice from the corner of the room.

Severus whirled about to see Albus, seated serenely in a corner chair. He examined Severus over his half-moon spectacles, a serious expression on his face. Severus snarled and waved his wand to clear the mess.

'Relax, old man,' he said, digging out two fresh tumblers and pouring a healthy measure of drink for both of them. 'The Muggles have suffered no permanent damage this night.' He handed Albus one of the glasses, and settled into the chair opposite with the other. He took a bracing swallow.

'What did you do, Severus?' Albus pressed, not yet touching his own scotch.

Severus waved a dismissive hand. 'Nothing that you or Minerva would disapprove of, Albus. I merely attempted to … persuade the pair of them to see the error in their ways. I did nothing illegal, and – as I said – caused no permanent damage.' Albus waited, but Severus did not continue. The headmaster sighed, and took a sip of the nightcap.

'If you have not caused damage, Severus, I wonder that you are so enraged upon your return,' he commented lightly, running a finger over the rim of his tumbler.

Severus grimaced, staring into his own tumbler. 'I am merely reminded, headmaster, that I was once a man capable of far worse things. I must admit, I nearly gave in to old tendencies tonight.'

Albus set the glass on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting a hand on Severus's arm. The Potions master nearly shrugged it off; from any but Albus, he would have.

'You have come a long way from the man you once were, Severus,' Albus said, very quietly. 'You are not a Death Eater any longer. And you are not your father. Just as Harry is not his.' Severus gave an involuntary twitch, but said nothing in reply. He drained the glass of amber liquid.

He would never tell the brat that he'd gone. He had omitted the details even to Albus. It was a secret he wanted to take to his grave.

One of many.

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Severus was pulled from the contemplation of his memories as the flames he'd been absently watching flared green. He pushed himself off the sofa and stood, just as Poppy Pomfrey's form came spinning into the room. Severus reached out a hand to help her from the hearth.

'Ah, Severus,' she said in greeting, handing him a case while she brushed her wand across her robes like a hoover, ridding herself of ash from her travels. 'How is Mr Potter?'

'His condition remains unchanged,' Severus answered, passing her back the case as she stowed her wand again. 'I believe the headmaster and Minerva are in the room with him now. Shall I show you the way?'

'If you would,' she replied briskly, taking the handle from him and turning for the stairs. Severus inclined his head and preceded her, guiding the mediwitch up to the landing and down the corridor to Potter's bedroom. The scene that met them remained largely unchanged from Severus's exit a half hour or so before. Albus still sat on the child's bed, holding Harry against his chest. Minerva, seated next to the bed, quickly abandoned her post to make room for the mediwitch.

'Poppy,' the headmaster said in greeting, relief evident in his voice. 'Thank you for coming. I am sorry to have pulled you from your holiday, but it seems Harry has been unresponsive to Severus' treatment thus far. I do not wish to involve St Mungo's unless we have to.'

Poppy waved a hand in dismissal, already striding toward the bed and pulling out her wand. 'Of course, headmaster. It is no trouble at all. Let me see here…' She pushed a hand under Potter's fringe, feeling his temperature. 'Yes, he's quite warm. When did you last check the fever?'

'About thirty minutes ago,' Albus replied at once, 'He was running a temperature of 40.1 degrees. Severus said it has been around that high for the past day or so.'

Poppy looked to him for confirmation, and Severus nodded. 'I ran a diagnostic on him when he first fell ill,' Severus informed her. 'It came up largely nonspecific – inflammation in the throat, ears and sinus, and some congestion in the chest. The chest congestion seems to have grown progressively worse.'

'Hmm,' the mediwitch said, now checking the boy's pulse. 'It sounds like a common Muggle flu, but it should have responded better to the potion regimen. I assume you already gave him Breathe-Ease and an antipyretic, Severus?'

'Yes, Poppy,' Severus replied. 'He has had two variants on the antipyretic, and I have given him anti-inflammatory as well. Nothing seems to have taken effect.'

Poppy nodded, now running her own diagnostic. Albus had manoeuvred himself out of the way, leaving Potter propped against the pillows. The boy hadn't stirred as the mediwitch ran her examination. She peered closely at the results.

'It looks like the infection may have progressed into pneumonia, but we should be able to get it under control,' she said, finishing her scan of the parchment generated by the spell. She turned to Severus again. 'I will need you to brew the juvenile version of the pneumococcal relief potion, Severus. I don't normally keep it in stock. It should work more efficiently than the Breathe-Ease. And I'll start him on the Grade V fever reducer as well. Once the infection is under control, his fever should start to subside. It can be tricky in young wizards, but I'm sure we'll see some improvement if we can start him on the new potions before morning.'

Severus easily gave his consent, and left for the dungeons to brew the required potion.

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As Severus departed, Poppy turned her attention to Albus. 'What concerns me, headmaster, is the rate at which this disease has progressed. Mr Potter should not have become ill so quickly if, as Severus suggested, he only started to become symptomatic yesterday.'

'What are you implying, Poppy?' Albus asked, concerned.

The mediwitch sighed, conjuring a fresh flannel for the child's forehead as she contemplated her answer. 'I think, Albus, that Mr Potter was deliberately exposed to the virus that caused this. The suddenness of the attack on his system, and the difficulty in successfully treating the symptoms, suggests that the contagion was directly introduced into his bloodstream, probably from a cut he received at some point during the day before he fell ill. With the right enchantment, it is possible to speed the effectiveness and onset of a viral contagion – making it work similarly to poisoning.'

Minerva gave a gasp from her position on the opposite side of the bed. 'Are you saying,' she asked in a shaking voice, 'that you believe someone deliberately made Harry ill? While he's been at Hogwarts?'

Poppy looked sharply from Minerva to Albus, giving both an assessing once-over. 'I could not say,' she replied carefully, 'I did not even know the child was here until this evening. I don't know how long he's been at the castle. But if it has been longer than three days… then, yes, I would say Mr Potter was exposed to whatever caused this whilst he's been at Hogwarts.'

Albus exchanged a significant look with Minerva. 'I do apologise, Poppy,' he said to the mediwitch. 'We brought Harry here a little over a week ago. We would have told you soon, in any case, but I'd rather the information were not widely known outside the castle at present.'

Poppy tutted, but seemed to accept the headmaster's explanation. 'And are you intending to keep the child here much longer, headmaster? If not, you ought to inform his family to expect a delay in his return. Even with the new potion, I'd rather he not be moved for several days – at least until he has been fever free for more than 24 hours, and somewhat recovered his strength.'

Albus leaned over the bed again, adjusting the flannel on Harry's forehead. He stroked the child's cheek tenderly – the cheek that had been so badly marred when he'd brought the child home.

'No, Poppy.' He said quietly. 'Harry will not be returning to Surrey this summer. I'll watch over him here.'

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Severus returned with the potion a little over an hour later. Everyone had grown quite exhausted with the emergency of the night, and Severus stayed only long enough to drop the phials with the mediwitch before bidding the headmaster and Minerva good evening. He returned to sleep in his own quarters, now that Albus intended to stay at the castle. Poppy helped Albus and Minerva wake Harry, and remained long enough to ensure that he took the pneumonia potion and the enhanced antipyretic. She had also insisted on a potion for his left ear, which she feared might remain infected if not treated separately. Harry – only partly aware, very delirious, and exceedingly tired – had fussed over that potion particularly, as it had to be administered directly into the ear canal and was highly uncomfortable. Minerva had held him on his side and stroked his hair back, while Poppy used a dropper to pour four drops of the potion into the infected ear. Harry had to remain still for several minutes while the potion took effect – something made more difficult by the fact that the positioning caused a coughing fit. When he could be let up again, Poppy bullied him into taking another dose of dreamless sleep, and tucked him snugly under the covers for the night. She left strict instructions for Albus and Minerva to call for her if he worsened or awakened before daybreak, and set a monitoring charm over the bed.

'I'll stay in my quarters in the Hospital Wing tonight,' she said to the teachers as she gathered her things, 'And remain tomorrow to see him out of the woods. After that, he should be well on the way to recovery. Are you quite certain you would not rather I take him with me for the night?'

'No, we'll be alright here. But thank you again, Poppy,' Albus said, gratefully. 'We could not run this castle without you.'

'Oh, tosh, Albus,' Poppy said with a wave of her hand, but she looked mollified all the same. 'You two ought to get some rest as well, you know. You'll be done in at the morrow and then where will we be?' she admonished, heading for the door. Albus inclined his head in acknowledgement as she bustled from the room.

When she'd gone, he turned to Minerva. She had situated herself in the chair at Harry's bedside again, her feet pulled up onto the seat and her arms wrapped around her knees as she watched him sleep. His breathing had begun to even out now, and he looked far more peaceful. Albus walked over to lay his hand on her shoulder.

'We should turn in, Minnie,' he said softly, 'Harry is stable for the present, and we'll hear if he stirs in the night.'

Minerva shook her head, her eyes still on Harry. 'Not just yet, Albus,' she whispered back. 'I'll stay a few minutes more, I think.' Albus nodded and, with a wave of his wand, expanded Minerva's chair so it became a more comfortable sofa. He seated himself and pulled Minerva close. She turned so that her head rested on his shoulder, her body curved into his side.

'I don't understand how this could have happened,' she said quietly, entwining her hand with his. 'If what Poppy said is true, somehow somebody must have realised Harry's here. And someone has gone out of their way to hurt him. I know the child has many enemies, but I did not realise the situation was truly so dangerous at the moment – not with You-Know-Who still missing and the Death Eaters all imprisoned or in hiding. How could Harry be in such danger?'

Albus sighed. 'I am not sure either, my dear. But I would not mind finding out a bit more about this house-elf that visited Harry at his aunt and uncle's. Harry said he warned him about a great danger at the school this year. I must confess I find myself more anxious than ever, given the events of this week.' He stroked the back of Minerva's hand with his thumb, lost in thought.

'Your concern is the elf, when someone has just nearly killed the Boy Who Lived?'

'I am not convinced that the two events are unrelated,' Albus clarified, his voice dark. 'Harry shall have to be particularly careful from now on. It is clear there are dangers abounding that even I cannot foresee.'

The pair sat in silence for a while then, watching Harry's chest rise and fall. After a time, Minerva fell asleep. Albus knew he should wake her and they should both head to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet. To his surprise, it was the return of the Potions master to the room that drew him from his musings.

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'I apologise, headmaster,' Severus said, stepping into the room and feeling a bit uncomfortable. 'I realised when I got to my own quarters that I'd left my research notes up here. I just stopped in to retrieve them.' His gaze shifted to the bed for a moment, where Potter lay sleeping. The boy already seemed a bit better – not that he particularly cared.

'Do not concern yourself with waking Harry, Severus,' Albus said kindly, his eyes twinkling a little. 'Poppy administered a dose of dreamless sleep before she left for the night. He should not wake until morning.'

Severus scowled. 'I was not concerned with waking the boy, Albus,' he denied immediately. 'Although the dreamless sleep should hopefully allow you and Minerva some much needed rest. It seems that Potter also suffers from fairly violent dreams.'

Albus nodded sadly. 'I know. He's had quite a few nightmares since arriving here.'

Severus felt instantly annoyed that the headmaster had neglected to share this information before departing for France. 'You did not tell me the nightmares were so significant, Albus,' he noted, in a carefully controlled tone of voice. 'I nearly missed the start of this illness, Potter's reaction to his dream that night was so severe.'

The headmaster looked up, seeming troubled. 'I should have said something sooner,' he agreed. 'I suspect that is how Harry's system became so depleted to begin with. He has not had a decent night's sleep since the end of term.'

Severus did not comment. After a few minutes, he turned to leave. Something made him teeter at the threshold, his hand braced against the doorframe.

'Occlumency,' he said curtly, not turning to look back at the headmaster.

'Pardon?' he heard Albus reply, his tone distracted and puzzled.

Severus sighed. 'You should start instructing the boy in Occlumency, Albus. For the nightmares,' he clarified. 'It should help.'

Without waiting for a response, Severus swept from the room.