A New Place To Stay

Chapter 37

Dumbledore's Turn

Neville's face was plastered with sweat, his breathing laboured; he was sitting hunched over. He wasn't sure how Harry had managed to keep this up for so long, he was utterly exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed already and sleep, sleep the entire day away. His legs and arms were shaking; his muscles weren't used to the strain. He'd only managed to run around once; Harry had run around three times... without even so much as breaking a sweat! He was impressed with Harry's endurance. Neville had yet to eat anything; he was unable to get his breathing under control.

"Breathe through your nose, big, even, deep breaths," Harry calmly instructed, demonstrating for his exhausted friend. He was eating his breakfast as he always did, not a hair out of place. Luna had sat on the benches when they were running, giving Neville support. Luna would be good for him; she was honest, sometimes too honest and blunt. She didn't care that he was only able to go one lap, she still congratulated him as if he'd run a marathon. He'd have loved to have someone like that to support him, a girlfriend. Unfortunately it was far too dangerous for him to have one; they'd likely be killed by either some wannabe Death Eaters or, worse still, Voldemort.

A few minutes later, Neville was surprised to find Harry's advice worked. Suddenly parched, he practically drank the entire goblet of Pumpkin juice in seconds. "Thanks Harry," Neville murmured, finally grabbing some food to eat.

"No problem," Harry replied. "Did you manage to read any of the book last night?" Neville had said he planned on reading it; he was rather curious as to why he hadn't read it while at home. His birthday was nearly the same as his, and he'd managed to read a lot of books in Prince Manor.

"Yes, five chapters; it gets more fascinating as it goes on! I had no idea," Neville admitted enthusiastically.

"Yeah, it's a good book," said Harry, "What about Luna, does she have a copy?"

"She took a copy from Hogwarts library, I think she's already halfway through it." Neville grinned in amusement. It was clear to Harry why Luna was in Ravenclaw; she did love her books, but didn't live inside of them, like some of the other Ravenclaws. Some Ravenclaws were never seen without a book in their hands. Yes, it was a school, but there was no need to carry a book around everywhere. He'd always felt that way; maybe it was because at Hogwarts he'd felt free, finally able to live, breathe, without fear of being beaten and ridiculed by the Dursleys. Unfortunately it hadn't lasted long, he'd realized that people were fickle, and it wasn't just the Dursleys. Fickle as hell; they all were. They just loved to hate people and scorn them, whether they'd really done something or not. Or maybe it was because he'd survived something as a child that made him more geared towards needing to be approved of, or disapproved. Hermione had been the only one not to disapprove of him... his eyes travelled towards her and a sigh left his lips. Why had she chosen Dumbledore over him? He could imagine what he would have been like if he'd been cooped up inside Privet Drive. Trying to listen in on the Muggle news for information, wondering why his friends weren't writing. Wondering what Voldemort was up to, what he had done. To them he had been somewhere ten times worse, with a man who'd at that point hated every breath he took. His friends' abandonment still hurt, he could admit that; he didn't want to be hurt again. He was sick of it, of being judged, being laughed at, and being liked only to be hated again. It was relentless. So with new friends, he might just find some solace and peace yet. He couldn't deny he missed his old friends, but he was also extremely angry. He doubted he'd ever be friends with them again, not the way they used to be. It just wasn't possible; maybe Hermione, someday, if she stopped choosing adults over her friends. Ron, though, had proven himself unworthy over and over again.

"Harry?" Neville was staring at Harry in concern.

"Hm?" Harry asked, coming out of his thoughts and looking around in confusion.

"Are you okay?" the black haired teenager asked, "You sort of spaced out there." His eyes were filled with concern for him and it warmed Harry's heart.

"Sorry about that," Harry murmured, "I'm kind of distracted." But he did not elaborate on what.

"I can see that." Neville grinned, opening his mouth to say something else, but he didn't get a chance. He just so happened to look down the Gryffindor table, and caught sight of Dumbledore. Neville burst out laughing; the old man was scratching himself like a monkey, a rabid monkey. His face had gone bright red, where he was itching.

Harry followed Neville's gaze, curious to see what had gotten him so amused. His jaw dropped, he'd never seen a more ludicrous sight in his entire life. Dumbledore was always so composed, never letting anything bother him. Yet here he was, almost dementedly scratching himself, like a man possessed. He tried stifling his laughter, but that didn't matter since everyone else was laughing in amusement at Dumbledore's current predicament.

"Come on, Albus, up you get," Poppy ordered in her normal no-nonsense voice. When Minerva moved to help her, Poppy gestured for her to stay. "It might be contagious; until we know what's causing it, nobody should come near."

"Very well, Poppy," Minerva said, ceasing in her attempt to help Albus. She stepped away as well, since her seat was right next to his. Poppy bound him to a stretcher, stopping him from scratching further. She had the forethought to leave through the teacher's entrance, rather than lead him through the thong of laughing students.

Minerva turned to the students, pursing her lips angrily. She let off a few bangs with her wand, getting the students to quiet down and turn their attention to her. She was not happy with their behaviour. Of course she was being prejudiced; if it had been Umbridge, she'd have done nary a thing. Since it was Dumbledore, the tables had of course turned, but thankfully the students stopped laughing.

"I think it's best if we got on with our breakfast, don't you?" she said sternly, "Twenty points from each house for such a blatant lack of respect." Even the Slytherins stopped laughing, staring at her incredulously; twenty points for laughing? When they'd laughed at Umbridge? Yet they'd done nothing about their laughter then.

"That's not fair," Neville said in disbelief.

"Since when was life fair?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow at Neville.

Neville blinked; Harry looked very scarily like Professor Snape at that moment― it was rather intimidating. Blinking again, he found that Harry's face was back to normal… had he imagined it? Shaking his head, he decided not to think about it too much. Then he finally registered Harry's statement and nodded in agreement. It was true, life wasn't fair, but he couldn't believe they'd lost twenty points for laughing. They'd laughed at Umbridge all year, yet as soon as someone else was targeted, it was a blatant lack of respect? Just because it was Dumbledore? He wanted to scoff, but held it in; that wouldn't be very Gryffindor of him. He'd noticed, of course, as usual, that Hermione hadn't laughed, although Ron had, and he was currently being lectured by Hermione. For his "blatant lack of respect for the Headmaster." Neville did scoff this time.

"What is it?" Harry asked, turning to Neville again at his scoff.

"Looks like Granger hasn't learned her lesson; if she keeps it up, she'll lose the only friend she has left." Neville was being obviously loud about it; Hermione flushed bright red and ran from the Great Hall.

Harry grinned in surprise and amusement; he really liked Neville. He knew by that comment that there was more to him than met the eye, or rather even more to him than met the eye. He'd known there was more to Neville, ever since first year. Dumbledore's words had been true. It did take someone brave to stand up to the enemy, but a great deal more courage to stand up to one's friends. It was a very Slytherin thing to do; he remembered Malfoy's doing it to him, his snide comments about having no family to go home to. At the time, he'd been so happy, relieved even, that he didn't have to go back, he just couldn't care what Malfoy said at the time. It had been a dream come true. He thought better of actually saying something like that to Neville, especially when the others were around. They'd take it into their hearts, and start ignoring or bullying him because of it.

"What do you think was really wrong with Dumbledore?" Neville asked curiously.

"I don't have the faintest idea," Harry told him, and he really didn't care to think about it. He was beyond angry with the headmaster; thinking about the prophecy made his insides begin to boil in fury.

"I guess we best get to class," Neville said.

They were in Potions, a class both Neville and Harry hated, though of course for different reasons. Neville was clumsy; half of it was because he was afraid of their teacher. The other half was that Neville just didn't have a steady hand. Harry had offered to pair up with him; Neville didn't have a reason not to, so he agreed to it. He hadn't wanted to, not out of maliciousness, but because his potions always ended up a mess. The Slytherins had favourite targets; he and Neville were those targets, which helped mess up their potions to ruinous extremes.

"Potter, what do you call this?" Severus asked, staring down his hooked nose at Harry.

"A ruined potion?" Harry responded, being deliberately cheeky.

"It would appear you aren't as stupid as you look," Severus sneered. "Five points from Gryffindor for this disgrace, and your cheek."

Harry stared him in the eye; he'd never backed down before, so he could hardly start now. The Slytherins sniggered in amusement at the fact that he was being told off. Harry didn't get how they could still find it funny. It had been happening for five years, the same insults every time. It had gotten boring a long time ago; he had resigned himself to the fact that Snape hated him ages ago. Or that's what he had thought, of course. If figured that the thing he tried to hide, was the thing that made Severus like him. The real him, Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived he'd created for the world.

Everyone waited with bated breath for more humiliation or points to be removed; they didn't get a chance. A loud hesitant knock sounded on the door, surprising everyone. Nobody in his right mind willingly knocked on Professor Snape's classroom door. If anything, everyone avoided going near him unless they had to—or at least the students in the houses that didn't begin with an "S."

"Enter," Severus snapped, glaring at the door; everyone almost expected it to catch fire, his glare was so fierce. On the one hand, Severus was glad for the interruption; on the other, he hated being interrupted during class. Potions was a very volatile class; one wrong addition could render the classroom completely destroyed... in the process making student-kebabs.

The ashen face of Dennis Creevey slowly appeared around the door, his body shaking. He was fourteen years old; you'd think he'd have been a little hardened by the previous three years. Even Neville wasn't that bad; Harry wondered if Severus picked on Dennis a lot. Judging by the sick look on the teenager's face, Harry would bet ten Galleons he did.

"Madam Pomfrey wanted me to give you this, sir," the teenager squeaked, hastily going over to hand him the closed letter, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. As soon as Severus grabbed it, he retreated five feet.

"Leave," Severus snapped, not sparing the trembling boy a second glance. Showing no emotion, he read the missive, obviously from Poppy Pomfrey, and they could guess what it was about. It had only been this morning that Dumbledore had been taken to the Hospital wing.

Dennis didn't need told twice; he was out of there like a shot.

"It looks like you are safe for now, Potter; the rest of you, bottle your potions and leave them on my desk. You have ten minutes to be out of my classroom before I begin docking points," Severus briskly announced.

Everyone hastily began bottling their potions, leaving one on the desk and banishing the remains, cleaning up and heading for the door. "Oh, and Potter, detention tonight," the teacher said, his voice full of vindictiveness.

"Yes sir," Harry said angrily, leaving the classroom and the sniggering behind.

"What is the matter, Poppy?" Severus asked, dramatically making his way into the Hospital wing. His robes twirled around him, as if protecting him from anything that might come his way. He looked angry, even with Poppy. "It better be important."

"Albus has had a severe allergic reaction to Toxicodendron radicans," said Poppy. "None of the usual remedies are working." Her voice was flustered and exasperated. Twice someone had come into her hospital wing with what appeared to be something simple wrong with them. Yet when she'd tried to help, it had failed; she was beginning to feel rather useless.

"Poison ivy? How did he come into contact with that? Has he been in the greenhouses?" Severus asked, secretly amused. Of course it wasn't working; he was a Potions Master. He'd altered it to be unresponsive to normal remedies. He wasn't even sure if Sprout had any poison ivy in her greenhouse; obviously Poppy had no idea either.

"I have no idea," Poppy replied, extremely agitated. "I'm at a loss; can you try and figure out why this is different?" Poor Albus was covered from head to foot in big oozing blisters. She'd had to tie him to the bed to stop him from spreading it any further, not that there was anywhere else to spread it to. She'd applied calamine lotion, baking soda, and jewelweed. None of these had worked, and it had been six hours since she'd brought him here.

"Give me a sample of his blood and the oil residue; I'll see what I can do," Severus said irritably.

"Thank you, Severus," Poppy replied in relief. Going over to her patient she used a spell, and a small amount of blood was placed in a vial. She then scraped his skin, to get a small quantity of the urushiol to test. Urushiol was what caused the boils and sores that currently made themselves at home all over Dumbledore's body. She wasn't sure what Severus could do, but he was a genius at potions. If anyone could come up with something, it was that man.

Handing them over, she sighed tiredly. "I don't understand it, Severus; in all my years I've never had to ask another for help. Never in my career; having to contact St. Mungo's was bad enough… what am I to do about this?" she said, feeling disgraced.

"No matter how good we are at what we do, Poppy, we always have something new to learn," Severus simply said before leaving.

Poppy stared after Severus, realizing he hadn't sneered or snarled at her for her "sentimentality." He'd been nice, in his own weird way, and he was never like that. She stared after him for what felt like forever, until her shock wore off, when Dumbledore moaned in agony. The itching was driving him crazy; if he couldn't scratch it, he was going to go insane.

"What happened to Dumbledore?" Harry asked, the second Severus stepped through his front door. It was the only door, actually. He didn't have a back door; it was a school, after all. Severus stared at Harry curiously; he was relieved to see that the boy wasn't worried or upset.

"Apparently he came into contact with some poison ivy," Severus replied without showing emotion.

Harry frowned. His mind drifted to Prince Manor; he'd seen poison ivy there; "Leaves of three, leave them be." Severus had no reason to do something so childish and immature… right? No, Severus hated pranks of any kind; Harry was drawing the wrong conclusion, just as in his first year.

"Will he be okay?" Harry asked, a mask of indifference on his face. It wasn't really a mask, though; he didn't care at the end of the day... well, he did, but only because he knew Voldemort hadn't attacked Hogwarts because the old fool was there.

"He'll survive," Severus stated, keeping the amusement out of his voice.

"Good, I'd hate to have to fight so soon," Harry remarked honestly. He wasn't ready; he knew that.

"Indeed," Severus smirked wryly.

"Do you know where Dumbledore's going to put me this year?" Harry asked nervously.

"I don't," Severus said with a pause. "Do not dwell on it, Harry; there's no point to it. It accomplishes nothing."

"I know," Harry said.

"But it changes nothing," Severus replied dryly. Harry would worry no matter what anyone said, even him. He made himself a cup of coffee and poured Harry some orange juice; he'd finally gotten around to buying it. Perhaps he should have left Dumbledore alone; he shouldn't be wasting his time on things like that. He had to find a way to extract the Horcrux from Harry's magic and body without hurting him. So far his research had been actually researching the Horcruxes, and the effects they could have. He could probably learn more from Harry than he could from any book regarding the effects. Right now he was considering looking up ways to transfer it from Harry into an inanimate object, to kill it that way. He had a journal full of details about Horcruxes, which he kept under lock and key, heavily charmed... nobody could ever read it. He'd considered spelling it so when he died, it would burn, but he didn't want to do that... just in case he died prematurely and Harry still needed it. He was a spy; each time he got called could be his last day on earth. He was by nature a pessimist; he'd never been a dreamer or deluded.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking his goblet of orange juice and grinning slightly. He wasn't bothered by Severus' emotionless state. It was just who Severus was; nothing would change that. He hoped, though, that underneath he was happy.

"Have you found anything about Zar yet?" Severus asked sitting down, deciding to get Harry's mind off the question buzzing around it. He was feeling very smug about himself; Harry was happy, and all it had taken was some orange juice. The teenager was very easy to please. He didn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. His son had been very happy with his Christmas presents as well; his face, to pardon the pun, had lit up like a Christmas tree. Harry wanted to keep his snake; he was looking for anything that could help him in that regard.

"No," Harry sighed, obviously very put out about it. "I'm going to go back down to the chamber… see what else I can find."

Severus frowned at that, "Then I shall accompany you." It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

Harry nodded his head. He didn't mind; in fact, he was glad for the company.

"I've told Dumbledore you are finally getting the hang of Occlumency," Severus said in warning, "So if he asks how it's going, you tell him you finally understand."

"Okay," Harry said. "Ron's been following me; I didn't notice it at first, until he was always unusually close on the map."

"Well, you need to be extra careful from now on," Severus said, naturally alarmed. Nobody could find out about them; it would be a catastrophe.

"I am," Harry retorted indignantly. Severus wasn't blaming this on him, was he? That was so unfair if he was. He couldn't help it if Ron was suddenly following him around. The boy should just be happy that his father was out of that coma, and recovering. He should be spending time with his family, and Granger, but no, he had to follow him. He didn't know what Ron could hope to accomplish by following him. What he did know was that it would spell trouble if he found out.

"Good," Severus said, trusting Harry's judgment, something he wouldn't have done a year ago. So much had changed and happened, some bad, mostly good for them both.

Harry settled down, his anger abating when he realized he'd overreacted. He was still on edge from the Potions class, he realized. He drank the rest of his orange juice in silence, reading his books. Meanwhile Severus wrote in one of his books, one he kept for potions research or ideas he had.

He headed off with a quiet goodbye ten minutes before curfew. For all intents and purposes, when he got up to Gryffindor common room, he looked exhausted, as everyone else did after serving detention with their Potions teacher. He never let a student go early, and he never took pity on one.

Soon enough, Harry was going to learn just how badly he never took pity, when Severus began the real duels. Severus had to teach Harry to kill now, not just to survive. They were on the turn of the tide, and Severus' decision would affect the world as they knew it. Whether it was good or bad… as always… would remain to be seen.

Thanks to Jake and Jordre for their dedication in editing this story :)