14
On Wednesday Snape was woken earlier than usual by a house elf. The little creature was wringing its hands nervously and looked at the potions master fearfully.
"What!" Snape barked at the elf. Something important must have happened for a house elf to ignore Snape's order that no elf was allowed into his bedroom ever.
"Pitty begs master's forgiveness," whispered the elf in a shaky voice. "The headmaster is needing to see master immediately and master is to bring his stuff."
Snape was up in an instant. He grabbed his wand, a robe and his emergency satchel and threw himself into the fireplace. "Headmaster's office!" he cried. The flames licked at the smudge of floo powder at the bottom of the satchel.
Snape shrugged his robe on as he stepped into Dumbledore's office.
"Thank Merlin, Severus!" cried the old man. McGonagall was lying at his feet on the carpet. The witch looked very pale.
"What happened?" Snape asked as he rushed to the woman's side.
"We were talking and suddenly she passed out!" cried Dumbledore. "Poppy is visiting her brother in Ireland and will only be back around lunch time!"
Snape performed a couple of diagnostic spells he had learned during his apprenticeship. His master had been a potions master as well as a healer and had not only passed on the art of brewing to his apprentice but also basic knowledge of healing. It came in handy when you worked on healing potions when you knew a little about the illness you were trying to cure.
"She is drunk," Snape stated in a cold voice. "You woke me in the middle of the night because your drinking companion passed out on you!"
"Nonsense!" protested Dumbledore. "She hasn't had more than what she usually has when we stay up late to discuss school matters. You are not telling me that Minerva passes out because of a couple of shots of firewhiskey. I have seen her drink a half bottle and then perform better magic than most sober people. It must be her heart!"
Snape checked again but there was no sign of a heart related illness. He ran through the more sophisticated diagnostic spells he knew but not a single one of them brought a result.
"If she is indeed ill," Snape concluded, "it must be something rare and complicated. I don't dare give her any potion when I don't know what befell her. We must call St Mungo's."
"I'm afraid you are right," sighed Dumbledore. "I'll floo call them immediately. Please stay with Minerva while I do it."
Snape monitored the witch's breathing and heart beat faithfully while Dumbledore talked to somebody at the magical hospital. Two minutes later a young man of maybe 25 stepped out of the fireplace. He knelt beside the potions master and his patient and started running his own spells immediately. He came up with the same results as Snape but unlike the potions master, the young healer had a lot more diagnostic magic up his sleeve.
"There!" he cried a half dozen spells after Snape had admitted to himself that this was much more complicated than what he was able to do in mediwizardry.
The healer got up. "She will make a full recovery," he informed the two older wizards. "We've had a couple of cases like this in the London area last month. It's the Sleeping Beauty syndrome."
"Sleeping Beauty syndrome?" echoed Dumbledore and Snape.
"Yes," nodded the healer. "It's caused by a virus. Most witches and wizards are carriers, but the illness affects only few. The victim falls asleep for 100 years."
"What?" cried Dumbledore. "I need my transfigurations teacher! I can't wait that long for her to wake up!"
"Well, there's always the method with the kiss," smirked the healer.
Snape glared at him and the young man paled.
"And there is a potion," he admitted. "It takes a couple of hours to make and the ingredients are rather common. I guess you will have everything you need in your supplies, Professor. However, it's difficult to brew because the timing is extremely important. You'll find the recipe in 'Moste potente potions, volume 2', page 394. I assume the book can be found at the Hogwarts library."
The healer didn't even wait for a reply but stepped back into the fireplace immediately.
Dumbledore called a house elf and ordered her to bring Snape the book in question while the potions master returned to his rooms to prepare everything for brewing.
The healer had been right. Getting the ingredients was no problem and Snape was confident that he was going to be able to brew the potion for McGonagall as long as he was not disturbed. Dumbledore promised to make sure he could work in peace.
Snape brewed for almost 8 hours. By the time the potion was ready, the potions master was famished. Nevertheless, he took the potion up to the headmaster's office first.
"Brewed to perfection, as always, Severus," the headmaster praised as McGonagall started stirring mere seconds after Snape had administered exactly seven drops of potion. "You must be hungry. Why don't we have lunch up here? Minerva can join us when she has fully recovered."
Later, Snape wouldn't have been able to tell what he had had for lunch. He remembered that he ate but he was too tired to register what it was. A night with only little sleep, extremely accurate brewing on an empty stomach and the worry for his colleague were taking their toll.
When the potions master woke, he was lying on one of Dumbledore's sofas, covered with the softest blanket he had ever touched.
"Ah, finally," Dumbledore said from his desk. "I was beginning to fear you had caught the Sleeping Beauty syndrome, too, and who would have brewed the potions for you? We would have had to revert to the kissing plan." The old man smiled benignly.
"I'll thank you not to mock me after they day I've had," Snape said as he sat.
"And I'm afraid it is not over," Dumbledore sighed. "I need you to go down to dinner and allow today's calendar window to be opened. The students are very unhappy about the delay."
Snape couldn't have cared less how the students felt about the unopened calendar window but knowing Dumbledore, he said nothing and went down to the Great Hall.
He was, to his utter surprise, greeted by cheers.
It was Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw who made a beeline for him, waving a gold coin. Snape didn't wait for the girl to say anything. He just waved his wand and allowed her to get her box.
The girl happily plucked her prize from the tree and skipped off to the Ravenclaw table.
"What is in it?" somebody cried from the Hufflepuff table.
The girl opened the box and lifted a small figurine of a witch in a blue and bronze ballet outfit from it. Snape had no idea how the Ravenclaw knew what to do, but the blonde touched the tiny witch with her wand and a sweet lullaby filled the Great Hall. The little dancer started to move gracefully.
Everybody craned their neck to see better. There were remarks how beautifully the little ballerina danced but Snape wasn't interested in that. It was the lullaby that caught his attention. It was almost hypnotizing!
Snape hid a yawn, reinstalled the spell on the tree and silently made his way out of the Great Hall. By the time the figurine had finished her dance, the potions master was happily wrapped up in his bed, fast asleep.