Disclaimer: All rights belong to the inimitable J.K. Rowling.

Too Deep for the Healing

Chapter 14

The Wolfsbane Potion

That Thursday was the last of the glorious, sunny autumn days. The weather turned increasingly harsh, and the water in the bog became unpleasantly cold. The mist thickened and the damp air of the wetland and the frequent rains soaked the convicts' clothes, perhaps even their skins, and anti-cold herbs gained popularity.

Snape helped Irene put the dried plants into proper containers. In addition, he gave her tips for making certain potions and replacing some of the missing ingredients with available ones – those were ideas that her standard potions manual knew nothing about, and they proved rather useful. Other than that, nothing noteworthy happened in the coming days; nothing to break the monotony of his daily work and the dull fatigue of the weekends.

Then, on a Saturday morning, an owl brought him a note from Irene.

Severus, please, come to my office as soon as you can.

That was all it said, and Snape hurried to the hospital almost immediately. He saw Tanner just outside the building, smoking a cigarette. He was clearly on duty – the hospital was permanently patrolled by a guard. Tanner shot a filthy glance at Snape but said nothing. Snape entered and went up the stairs. The waiting room was empty, but someone was obviously with Irene in the consulting room. Through the door, Snape could hear voices, and the conversation sounded so heated that he began listening intently. Was someone – shouting?

He hesitated. Instinct told him to go and investigate – and after all, Irene had asked him to see her. But he was reluctant to break in upon a conversation she was having with one of her patients. The guard, too, was there to protect her. But then again, he was taking a cigarette break outside …

His hesitation ended abruptly when he heard a scream from inside. He tore the door open and saw Irene with Hunter the werewolf standing opposite her, yelling. Irene had apparently just freed her wrist from his hands.

"Manners, Hunter!" Snape said stepping behind the convict.

Hunter turned around.

"Mind your own business," he snarled.

"Severus," said Irene, "I'm so glad you're here. I need your help again."

"I need help!" the werewolf screamed into her face. "You must sort out my problem first!"

Snape seized Hunter's arm and dragged him away from Irene.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, looking at her, while holding the wriggling little wizard with firm hands.

"My potion …" Hunter whined.

"Yes, your potion," said Irene. "That's what we must talk about."

She turned to Snape.

"It's a very … special type of potion."

"Wolfsbane Potion," Snape replied.

Hunter stopped wriggling and gaped at him.

"How do you know?"

"Recognizing a werewolf," Snape answered, "is an OWL-level question at Hogwarts."

"I never went to Hogwarts," Hunter hissed. "Get your hands off me!"

"I will - if you promise to behave respectfully."

Hunter groaned something that Snape interpreted as the required promise, and released him from his grip. Hunter stepped away from Snape at once.

"Our order from Diagon Alley has finally arrived," Irene said. "The timing is perfect, since we need a new supply of Wolfsbane Potion today. Unfortunately, by some mistake, instead of Wolfsbane Potion, they've sent us only … wolfsbane."

She opened one of the cabinets that Snape knew already, and showed the two wizards a textile sack labelled 'wolfsbane'. It obviously contained the plant, not the potion.

"Why don't you make the potion then?" Hunter barked. "The full moon is tonight, I need it!"

"Because I'm a healer, not a potion-maker," said Irene. "It's a very complicated potion, which I've never attempted to brew."

"Wolfsbane," Snape explained, "is a highly toxic plant, and the potion is lethal unless it is prepared perfectly. It's very easy to spoil it. An accidental change at any stage of the brewing or the presence of the smallest amount of foreign matter may upset the delicate equilibrium and arrest the process that neutralises the toxic effect of the plant -"

"Too many fancy words," Hunter muttered sulkily.

Snape raised his voice.

"To put it simply, any change to the recipe, even adding a morsel of sugar, would make the potion poisonous again. That's why it is never sweetened. "

"Could you help me, Severus?" Irene asked. "Will you make the potion for him? You're my last hope."

"He?" Hunter pointed a dirty finger at Snape.

"He's a potions expert," Irene explained.

"Order him to make it then!" the werewolf demanded before Snape could answer. "Don't ask! If you give him orders, he must obey!"

Snape's eyes flashed.

"Severus …" Irene said. "Help me, please."

"If you've got all the other ingredients as well," said Snape, "I'll make the potion for you."

Irene beamed at him.

"And how do you know it'll be good?" asked Hunter, who, a minute before, could have killed if Snape had refused the request. "How can we be sure he won't poison me?"

Snape looked down his nose at him.

"You either trust me or not."

"Don't be ridiculous," Irene snapped. "It'll be the best Wolfsbane Potion you've ever drunk."

When Hunter left, Irene sat down with a sigh of relief.

"He said if he didn't get the potion, he would break out of his hut tonight and attack me. Poor man! How painful it must be to turn into a werewolf! It sounds horrible, but he had never even heard about Wolfsbane Potion before being brought here."

"Why don't you just put him in his place?" Snape burst out.

"My patients are not only patients but prisoners as well," Irene replied. "Some of them feel guilty; others are angry and frustrated. What can I expect?"

"And what's your wand for?"

"My wand? For lots of things, healing included. But I'm not very good at hexes, jinxes or curses."

"Not very good?" Snape repeated with disbelief. "Irene, I'm talking about defending yourself! In a workplace like this, you must be tough."

"Like Titania?"

"I bet Hunter wouldn't dare to threaten her," said Snape.

Irene sighed again.

"I didn't tell you the full truth. 'Not very good' is an understatement. I'm rubbish at spells used for fighting. Even my wand, which is excellent for healing and various other types of magic, would become weak if I tried to use it to hurt anyone. Mr Ollivander says the wand chooses the witch. I suppose it suits me perfectly."

"You'd better find another job then and leave it to the hag to take care of this lot," Snape replied sardonically. "In the meantime, how about a simple Shield Charm? That wouldn't hurt the poor man who is attacking you, and you'd have time to shout for a guard at least. This building is guarded day and night."

"I know," Irene said resignedly. "I didn't consider the situation bad enough to invite Tanner in."

Snape stared at her.

"What's wrong with Tanner?"

"Are you asking that?" she responded, slightly irritated. "You've met him yourself."

"But," - Snape was puzzled – "that was different. He'd skin us alive with pleasure, but you're not a convict. He's supposed to protect you!"

"I guess he'd protect me," Irene answered. "But I want to avoid it if possible. Since he spent a week in this hospital, he's kept coming back … to me. It is very annoying."

"You can report him if he doesn't stop pestering you," Snape suggested. "He's got a boss."

Irene shrugged.

"I don't like him, that's all. But back to Hunter, his main threat was about tonight … If he doesn't get his potion, he'll be locked up, won't he?"

"I think he's locked up every month anyway," Snape said. "Let's see the ingredients for his potion."

She rose.

"What do you need? We've got our potions store refilled now."

Fortunately, the Wolfsbane Potion did not require many ingredients. It needed mainly wolfsbane (also known as aconite or monkshood) and a few other, common potion ingredients, serving the purpose of preventing the werewolf from being poisoned.

The real difficulty was in the manner of preparation. Working with wolfsbane, one had to be careful to avoid coming into direct contact with the plant parts or inhaling the fumes. Then all ingredients had to be cut up in a very peculiar way and measured with utmost precision. All parts of the wolfsbane plant had to be used in the potion, but different parts were put into the cauldron separately, in strict order. One tiny bit of a leaf mixed among the roots and added at the wrong time, for example, meant the end of the potion.

Timing was absolutely crucial – any ingredient added a few seconds later or a few seconds earlier than the required moment could prevent the potion from progressing to the next stage. Stirring the potion was so tricky that it could hardly be taught. One had to simply feel the right speed and intensity. If not stirred enough, some ingredients would settle on the bottom of the cauldron and get burned. If stirred with too much force, the potion might even explode.

All the necessary ingredients were in stock. In the hospital's potions kitchen (it could not really be called a laboratory), Snape started preparing the potion immediately. It was Irene's job to ensure he was not disturbed by anything or anyone. He placed the cauldron over the fire and put on protective gloves to handle the poisonous plant. Making this potion had always required his undivided attention, and nowadays he was out of practice, too. But he readily shouldered the responsibility that brought him back into a familiar environment, where he was doing what he could do really well.

His hands had not yet forgotten anything. They cut up the plants with the same old precision. When he measured the ingredients, the scales proved his estimation skills were still accurate. Timing was a nerve-testing exercise, where irrevocable decisions had to be made quickly; but each good decision increased the sense of achievement that was secretly growing in him, though he did not have time to think about it yet. He was stirring the cauldron with just the right, neither too intense, nor too light movements. The hot liquid was bubbling away softly, giving delicate noises as though the evolving substance consented to his directions and even enjoyed being formed with such expert skill.

After several hours of intensive work, he wiped his forehead, and allowed himself a few gratifying minutes to admire the fruit of his efforts – the perfectly made Wolfsbane Potion. He did not regret giving up a part of his weekend - the day did not seem wasted at all. He was thinking of Irene, who had needed his help and whom he had not let down.

The potion was enough for two goblets – Hunter would not have time to drink more than that until the night; and even one gobletful was enough to make him a safe wolf, the second one would simply ensure that he did not feel even the mildest pain during the transformation. He filled a goblet with the steaming liquid and left it on the table; then he closed the cauldron with a lid thoroughly and placed it on the mantelpiece, where it would keep warm until the second dose was needed.

He checked that the window, situated near the fireplace, was properly closed. It was a chilly day, and even the solitary tree next to the building appeared to be shivering with cold.

Near the window, there was a tray on the mantelpiece with a cup of coffee and a sandwich, which Irene had brought him. Snape had not eaten since breakfast. He drank the coffee now and had a few bites of the sandwich before locking the kitchen and hurrying off.

He went to Hunter's hut to bring back the werewolf. While he had been brewing, patients had gathered in the waiting room, and Irene was busy, but Hunter was admitted almost immediately. Snape followed him – it did not seem wise to leave Hunter alone with her.

Irene hurriedly brought the goblet from the potions kitchen, one of whose doors was leading directly to her office.

"Did he make it?" Hunter asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Irene replied calmly. "Drink it while it's hot."

"He should taste it first," Hunter grunted, but Irene put the goblet into his hands.

"You won't be poisoned, don't worry," she said encouragingly.

Hunter mumbled a few more words, but lifted the goblet to his lips at last. His face disappeared behind the steam as he took the first gulp; and Irene and Snape did not see at once what was happening. But then the goblet fell out of the werewolf's hands, his features contorted with a terrible pain and his jaw dropped wide open.

"Bezoar, quickly" said Snape, himself growing deadly pale, as he caught the falling body.

But Irene did not need to be told. Within moments, she was there with the bezoar. Snape was holding Hunter's head while she was feeding him the stone.

"Fetch the nurse," she said as soon as the bezoar had gone down Hunter's throat.

Snape ran.

He returned with the nurse, but no one seemed to need him any more. He was left alone in the office while the two witches were tending to Hunter in one of the wards. He remained standing over the spilled Wolfsbane Potion, clutching the desk for support and shaking all over. How had it happened? He had been absolutely certain that the potion was perfect. He still could not recall any suspicious signs. Each stage of the brewing had taken place exactly as it had to, and the result had appeared to satisfy all criteria (and he had never taken those lightly) – yet, something had gone wrong, abominably, disastrously wrong. How had he made such a gross mistake, and why had he not recognized it in time?

He picked up the goblet. Some of the potion was still at the bottom: not much, but more than enough to kill a person. He stared at the liquid. The elegant thing would be to drink it up instantly; but he could not stop staring although his eyes and his head began aching.

The door opened and Irene entered, followed by an officer whose face was covered with a rash.

"Severus," Irene said gently, "I have to see a patient."

Snape could hear the distress in her tone.

"Of course," he muttered.

Snape left the room, but he did not leave the hospital. He sat down in the waiting room, the goblet still in his hands. He did not look at anyone; in fact, he hardly realized that there were others in the room with him, and he did not see Irene glancing in his direction every time her door opened. He did not notice when the last patient left, only that suddenly Irene was standing in front of him.

"He's alive," said the quiet healer voice that he had got so used to in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. "I've just been to see him again. The worst didn't happen."

As she spoke, she tried to take the goblet from him, but Snape was clasping it tightly. The guard on duty was passing by, his footsteps echoing round the room.

"May I go in?" Snape asked in a subdued voice.

"Yes … yes, of course," Irene answered. "I'm sorry, I'm confused, too."

In the office, she gave him a goblet of Calming Draught. He took a sip.

"It's not the first time I've made this potion … and not even the second," he began. "I … wouldn't have let it out of my hands if I had had the slightest doubt."

Irene drew closer to him.

"I know," she replied sympathetically. "But it's an especially tricky potion and you haven't had a chance to make any potions since May… and you've been under a lot of strain. You probably need therapy yourself. It was a stroke of luck that Hunter didn't die immediately. We had enough time to save him."

"You saved him," Snape corrected. "I only … made the mistake. I wish I had tasted the drink first."

"There must be safer tests than that," Irene said. "Why don't you put that goblet down? Drink your Calming Draught … you'll feel a little better."

But Snape did not want to feel better.

"It has changed," he said. "Looking at this liquid now, I would never let anyone drink it. It seemed normal when I finished brewing it."

Irene glanced into the goblet.

"It's practically nothing," she said. "How can you draw any conclusions from this?"

"I can see it," he answered. "I can see the difference."

He carefully shook the goblet.

"Is there a unicorn horn in this place?"

"Yes, I think there is one, why?"

"I want to analyse this sample."

With an uncertain expression, she gave him the long, slim horn.

"What are you expecting to find?" she asked. "The only poisonous ingredient in the potion was the wolfsbane plant."

"As a teacher, I saw many cauldrons of badly made potions," he replied. "It was always easy to pinpoint the mistake … But something is very strange here. I've been thinking about it all this time… I must understand what happened."

He poured the contents of the goblet into the unicorn horn.

"Can I borrow your wand?"

"Perseco," he murmured a second later, pointing Irene's wand at the contents of the horn.

The liquid started whirling round, and slowly it separated into several thin layers.

"I need some goblets or cups," Snape said.

Irene put several small cups on the desk next to him. With a sure hand, it was possible to pour the magically separated components into different containers, but Snape's fingers were trembling with nervousness. He took another sip from the Calming Draught. Irene noticed the problem.

"Let me see your hand," she said.

She took his hand between hers and began massaging it. Snape felt as though the blood circulation all over his body had been refreshed and invigorated. Irene repeated the treatment with the other hand. The trembling stopped, and he was now able to safely pour each layer of the potion into a different cup. He glared at a sticky white mass among the components.

"Sugar," he announced.

"Sugar?" she echoed, perplexed. "How is it possible? The cauldron and the goblet were clean … I myself checked them."

Of course, they had been clean; otherwise he would not have used them. Snape turned round and dashed into the potions kitchen. The place was significantly cooler now than it had been before – this circumstance was easily explained by the fact that the window was slightly ajar, banging periodically against the window frame. The wind blustered outside, and the tree branch nearest the window was hanging half-broken, in the manner of Nearly Headless Nick's head. On the floor of the kitchen, Snape glimpsed the shards of a broken cup. But the cauldron was on the mantelpiece, where he had left it.

He carefully lifted the lid – despite the open window, the contents of the cauldron had stayed warm. A mere glance at the potion was enough to fill Snape with relief. It looked and smelled exactly as true, perfectly brewed Wolfsbane Potion had to look and smell. He took a sample and put it into the unicorn horn. There was no foreign matter in it.

"This is the real potion," he said with renewed confidence, "and it will work. Hunter must receive it immediately!"

He peered through the window. How much time did they have?

"Severus … Are you quite … certain?"

The question hurt him, though Irene did her best to sound kind and tactful.

"Do you want me to taste it?"

"No," she answered, "it's for werewolves only."

"The potion was correctly made," he said gravely. "The dose that nearly killed Hunter was contaminated somehow, but this cauldron contains the original, pure Wolfsbane Potion, and it must be used. It is still warm enough."

He took a clean goblet and poured the potion into it.

"I'm afraid he will not want to drink it," Irene said anxiously. "He won't trust either of us. But even as a werewolf, he can't be really dangerous when he is so ill and weak."

Snape was not going to give up easily.

"Hunter fears the pain of changing. In his current condition, that's the last thing he needs. Besides, if we let him lose faith in the potion, he may never be willing to take it again."

"He believes the poisoning was intentional … because he is a werewolf."

"He's quite right," Snape replied, storming out of the kitchen. "Someone did want to poison him. The sugar in the potion was no accident. He'd better make a list of his enemies first thing in the morning. Where is he?"

Apart from Hunter's health and the safety of everyone near the werewolf, it was his honour as a potioneer that was at stake. He had little time left to prove that the potion was good, but he was determined to prove it – or die trying. Literally.

She showed him the way to the ward.

"You stay out of here," Snape said with the unmistakable air of a Hogwarts Headmaster, as he turned the doorknob.

"You forget that I'm the healer," she snapped. "The main responsibility is mine."

Her tone left no doubt that any further argument would only be a waste of precious time. They entered the ward together.

As Irene had predicted, Hunter refused to take the potion. He had a greyish-pale colour, and all he could do was pressing his lips together and shaking his head, but the refusal could hardly have been clearer. He was visibly afraid of Snape and would not listen to anything he was saying.

They were running out of time. Snape knew the potion would soon become too cold to be of any use.

"Give me your wand," Snape whispered to Irene.

But his request was ignored.

"Give me that goblet," Irene whispered back.

With the potion in her hand, she tried her own, gentler way to persuade the reluctant patient, whose life she had just saved. She was at least able to make Hunter look at her, which was more than what Snape had achieved, and she used this achievement to her advantage at once.

"Let's see if we can trust this medicine," she said abruptly, taking a spoon from her pocket.

Snape made a sudden movement as though she wanted to stop her, but it was too late. She quickly swallowed a spoonful of the potion and shuddered violently – the Wolfsbane Potion tasted anything but pleasant. Not entirely without effort, she smiled nevertheless.

"I confess I have had tastier drinks in my life," she said to Hunter, who let out a deep sigh and nodded slowly.

Irene helped him drink; then she cast a diagnostic spell. Snape stepped back, but did not leave the ward. Irene was talking to the patient.

They were still there when the transformation began.

"It's not going to be a pretty sight," Snape warned, pulling Irene away from the sickbed.

Even an ordinary wolf was a wolf, after all.

"He's in no condition to hurt us if we don't stand too close," Irene said. "Perhaps it would mean something to him if he did not have to be alone for once."

Snape had no idea if Hunter could appreciate the presence of the two of them in such a moment, and he, personally, would much rather have left, but since Irene stayed, he stayed, too. The change was smooth and apparently painless. The skinny wolf gave a single sad and feeble howl before lowering his head onto the pillow with a wounded look in his eyes.