Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Kyrie, eleison.
Christe, eleison.
Kyrie, eleison.
Chapter Nine
Severus was not sure why he was so pleased at the quick response from Healer Weasley but he opened the thick packet of parchment as soon as the owl dropped it into his hands. He gave it a quck scan for any tracing spells and found none. That was good. At least she wasn't nosy enough yet to seek out his precise location, though he was sure she knew he—or rather Jack Hier—lived in Wales.
The first piece of parchment was a brief missive explaining that she had included her own notes, those of Hestia Jones on werewolf physiology, and Terry Boot's calculations. Part of him was surprised that she would readily send off all her research to a complete stranger. Then again, she appeared to be completely desperate for a Potions master, so much so that his slight interest in her work had triggered her to send everything she had.
He opened up the notes from Hestia Jones first, wondering if she had anything to say that he didn't already know as a Dark Art's expert. They had been Slytherin together, though Hestia was one year older than he. She had gone on to join the Ministry of Magic, first as a magical law enforcement officer, and then as an Auror after a promotion. Apparently, she was somewhat of an expert in regards to dark creatures.
Most of the information she gave was already stuff he knew. He knew that werewolves transformed for three nights of a twenty-eight day moon cycle, including the days before and after the actual full moon. They could be distinguished from normal wolves by their larger size, the shape of their snout, and the propensity to walk on the hind legs. Sufferers of lycanthropy had shortened lifetimes of those affected by approximately fifteen years, partially due to the effects of transformation but also because werewolves tended to live on the fringes of society in poverty. One only became infected if bitten by a transformed werewolf but only 50% of those bitten survived, usually due to injuries beyond the scope of the bite itself. Werewolves were vulnerable to silver in any form as well as to traumatic injuries, though they healed at an accelerated rate.
He had known all that but what surprised him was the information about werewolf infection. Wizards had always assumed that lycanthropy was some kind of transferable curse as it only affected witches and wizards. It had always been treated as such and the Wolfsbane potion was based on limiting the magic to extend only to physical transformation instead of affecting the brain as well. Hestia, however, theorized that the transformation was not, in fact, a curse but was instead an infection, transmitted from person to person through contact with saliva. She noted some data that involved more muggle science than he understood. There was something about blood cells and DNA. If Hestia was right, then it opened up a whole new way to think about a cure. Rather than making a potion to block a curse, they could work on a cure to a disease.
That, of course, was only possible if she was correct. He would need to see more evidence before he decided.
He moved on to the sheaf of calculations from Terry Boot. The first was a calculation as to whether or not the potion could be simplified (it could). The next several pages were full of calculations as to whether or not specific ingredients could be replaced, and then calculations about the appropriate substitutions. He glanced over those notes before reaching what he really wanted: Hermione's notes about the potion.
She had identified five ingredients they most wanted to replace in the potion: fluxweed, flesh eating slug mucus, enchanted belladonna extract, Griffin feather, powdered horn of bicorn, and thunder god vine. That was logical; they were the five ingredients that were both highly expensive and highly volatile. It wouldn't be easy but given that he'd already figured out how to replace two ingredients, he knew it was possible.
Turning to the next page, he almost choked: Hermione had figured out the Rhodiola Rosea substitution, including the exact proportion, temperature change, brewing time, and its effect on the quantity of the Saint John's Wort. While he knew she was intelligent, he would not have imagine the perpetual textbook memorizer to be capable of the creativity needed to do ingredient substitution.
The next page was more shocking, not just because of its content but because of its departure from her normal neat, orderly handwriting. The notes were scrawled across the parchment on a slant and the hastily scribbled arithmancy equation was barely legible. It showed something he wasn't entirely sure he would have thought of: the hoof shavings of a winged horse could be substituted for the powdered horn of bicorn.
It must have been her latest discovery because it was not complete. Her equation indicated that while the substitution worked, there was a missing factor. A second calculation showed that factor as the breed of the winged horse. Animal husbandry had never been his strong suit and his knowledge of the different types of winged horses was minimal. He would need to do his research before determining which breed was required.
It was that moment that he had to stop himself. He was acting like this was his potion's project. The reality was that it was not his project, the project was that of Hermione Weasley. He, Severus Snape, was not on the team. Neither was Jack Hier, his alter ego. It was almost disappointing. This was a shockingly interesting project for him and part of him wanted to continue to work on it. Money from such a pursuit would be nice, yes, but it was more intellectually stimulating than anything else.
He mentally flirted with the idea of participating in the research as Jack Hier. He could either correspond with Hermione via owl or if need be, polyjuice himself into a muggle in order to participate in person. Then Jack Hier would need to fall of the face of the planet and his calm, private life would be over because he would have to move from the stone cottage in Wales to a location unknown. Was this academic curiosity worth it? He didn't think so. But it wouldn't help to correspond with Healer Weasley, perhaps pass on the tip about the Hippogriff feathers as a professional curiosity. At least until she located an actual potions expert. Before he passed on that information, though, perhaps he ought to see if her mind was really set to the task at hand. He sat down at his desk to pen a response.
Dear Healer Weasley,
The notes you sent to me are mediocre at best. Most of the notes by Ms. Jones could be provided by any third year Hogwarts student from his or her Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. Surely someone who has supposedly studied healing enough to be a certified Healer would know the characteristics of werewolves and how lycanthropy affects a person. The only original piece of information is the theory that lycanthropy is a disease rather than a curse. I require more information in order to make a judgment as to whether her idea holds water. I expect a detailed report as to how these conclusions were drawn and how to test the theory.
While the Arithmancy calculations were undoubtedly useful to you, the variety of factors and difficulty certainly does not require a master to achieve. Surely any person with a NEWT in Arithmancy could replace the work of Terry Boot. Perhaps you ought to send him on to a project that actually requires Arithmancy since you seem to do most of your ingredient calculations on your own.
It is perfectly clear in your potions work that you are not a master. You have had study in subject, yes, but you are not a master. It is a good thing you are seeking one because if you ever wish to go beyond ingredient substitutions into curing lycanthropy, you will most definitely need one. You have successfully replaced one ingredient of the potion and judged how it will affect other ingredients. Congratulations. You have lowered the cost of the potion by two galleons. I'm sure the families that cannot afford the potion now will feel so much better that the price has dropped from impossibly beyond their financial reach to well beyond their financial reach.
Your substitution of winged horse hoof shavings for powdered horn of bicorn may have merit but obviously requires more research. Am I to assume by the illegible state of your calculations on the subject that it is something you are still working on? You have identified six key ingredients to simplifying the brewing process and making the potion less expensive. I agree that these are the most important ingredients to replace. You have replaced one and are working on another. Do you have a plan for identifying substitutions for the other four ingredients on that list? Perhaps they are beyond the depth of your training.
I await your speedy reply.
Sincerely,
Jack Hier
He attached the missive to the large barn owl's talon and watched as the owl flew off into the sky. His feelings regarding his communications with Hermione Weasley were mixed at best. Though a brilliant witch doing far beyond what he would have assumed she was capable of, she was a remnant of the past. She was a former student of Severus Snape, a man who had died almost ten years ago, as far as the world was concerned. As he sat in one of the arm chairs in his living room, his mind traveled back to the day he died.
It hadn't surprised him that Voldemort decided it was time to kill him, only that it had taken so long for him to do it. Whether for his involvement in defeating Dumbledore or Voldemort discovering his true loyalties or even for breathing too loudly during one of his rants, Severus Snape had expected to be killed at some point. His only hope had been that it wouldn't be a simple 'Avada Kedavra' that took him out. He had always doubted that would happen given Voldemort's flair for the dramatic but it was always a possibility.
The fact that Voldemort had chosen Nagini as his weapon of choice was a happy discovery. Somewhat afraid of the snake as it was (how ironic for the head of Slytherin house), he had begun taking anti-venom in small doses ever since he had returned to the circle of Death Eaters. It would protect against the poison of the snake long enough for him to take a full dose combined with blood replenishing potion.
That Potter and his friends had been hiding under that infernal clock so close by was a fortunate stroke of luck for him. He was able to pass off the potion before passing out from the pain and venom coursing through his veins. He might have died before he ever had a chance to take the potions that would save his life but he woke as he heard their retreating steps across the dusty wooden floor. He reached into the pocket of his robes and took out the flask of healing potion. He barely choked it down before passing out again. Downstairs was a bottle of dittany that would close the gaping wound on his neck but it was woefully out of reach to him. If he didn't want to bleed out a second time, however, he needed to get to it.
Without strength to stand, he half crawled, half dragged himself across the floor. His blood soaked robes left a trail across the ground but he didn't care. He had to get to the potion. The stairs were almost the end of it. It took all his strength to make it down the stairs and to the spot under the floor boards in the front hall where he had hidden the dittany and additional blood replenishing potion. He poured the dittany onto the wound on his neck, screaming as the potion burned and healed. He took another dose of blood replenishing potion before his strength failed and all faded to black.
"Severus Snape!" a sharp female voice said to him.
He opened his eyes to see a pair of rectangular spectacles a few inches from his face. Minerva McGonagal. Apparently, he had saved his life only to die at the hand of the irate Assistant Headmistress. If only she knew all he had done to try to protect her and the students and the Order...
"Severus Snape, I do not know whether to hex you or kiss you," she said. "You awful, secretive, underhanded, wonderful man!"
He blinked, unable to produce words. This was not the reaction he was expecting.
"I know," she told him. "I know the truth now. That damnable wizard Albus Dumbledore left me a memory to find, stashed away in my office, magically keyed to appear when you fled the school to Voldemort's side. I know what you did and why you did it and I thank you for it."
"What—I—" he tried to speak through an impossibly rough throat.
"Don't speak, Severus Snape," she said. "I will take you to Hogwarts and you will be known as the hero you are. Voldemort is gone."
"No," he croaked. "No one can know."
She didn't fight him. He supposed she understood why. Both of them knew that he would never be a hero. He had killed Albus Dumbledore. It didn't matter the reasons, he had done it.
"Then I will hide you," she said, kneeling on the floor and pulling him to his feet to wrap her arms around him. He felt the empty bottle of his potion fall to the ground and break. He barely had time to notice, though. With the crack of apparation, they were gone.
Minerva McGonagal was the only person o the planet who knew that Severus Snape was alive. She had brought him to her cottage in northern Scotland where she cared for him as he healed. He was left alone most of the time as she dealt with the aftermath of the battle and her new duties as headmistress. He had spent some of it reading but mostly he slept, he slept and he mourned and he thought about what life he would lead. He just wasn't sure. This was the first time he would be living out from under the thumb of a master. It was his own life. Minerva had made sure everyone thought he was dead even without a body to find. She had spread a rumor that escaping Death Eaters had stolen his corpse in order to desecrate it.
After about two months of living in McGonagal's guest room, she told him she had figured out where to send him indefinitely. The Order maintained a number of safe houses throughout Europe and one in America. There most recent acquisition was in Wales and had only been known by herself and the Lupins. Because of its isolated location and the warded cellar, it was viewed as an ideal safe house for Remus and Tonk if things were to go South. Apparently, they liked the location so much, they had discussed living at the property when the war was finally over.
He was surprised at how deeply the death of his once-enemy affected him. Over time, he had realized that it wasn't Lupin that had truly endangered him; it had been Black who was responsible for that. Though in most ways he had made his peace with Lupin, Snape had never told the other man that he no longer blamed him. Another regret to add to the list.
Minerva had brought him to the stone cottage in Wales. It was in Brecon Beacons national park, set far away from the trails. It was unplottable and surrounded by anti-apparation wards but for the sake of actually being able to locate it when he left to go to the village, it was not invisible though there were wards to alert him if anyone intending harm to him. He felt secure in this place.
It was strange even to his own mind that he was willing to risk that security in order to communicate with Hermione Weasley. She wasn't the first person he would pick to exchange letters with but for reasons still unknown to him, he could not imagine ceasing the contact.
Thanks to the lovely DanB86 for her beta work. I also apologize for this chapter being a day late. It was a little busy between moving and having a bridal shower (my own. I get married next month!)
