Ok, I lied. This didn't get out exactly on time. Sorry.

I'm also gonna change the amount of a cliffhanger that I'll end this story with. I have plans to solve everything left undone in this story in its sequel. Promise. BTW, this is not the last chapter. I think there was some confusion with that in Chapter 11.

As always, enjoy!!



Lupin began his search with every potion book in the Dark Arts section of the library. He looked up ancient poisons, ancient mentions of poisons and their effects as well as all the counter potions known in the medieval world, both Muggle and Wizard. He could find nothing.

He knew that if they didn't find something soon, Harry would be dead. Lupin had many reasons to not want that to happen, not the least of which being that he honestly cared for the boy.

During their lessons together, Lupin had seen in Harry the same fire and talent he'd seen in James and Sirius. Even Snape, if he was ever inclined to reluctantly admit it. And it seemed that Snape himself had finally come to realize it. To an extent that even Snape himself seemed amazed.

Lupin shook his head, wondering over Snape. The cold man had never seemed so human as when Lupin and Sirius had first found him and Harry. He seemed to be almost like a worried father hovering over his sick child.

And then when Snape had handed Harry over to Madame Pomfrey... No one would have ever expected to see such a look pass over his face at the horrified gasp that the nurse had emitted. While it was true that it was rare to catch Madame Pomfrey off her guard like that, which only reiterated how bad Harry's condition truely was, it was not a scene that should have caused Snape to react so blatantly.

But it had.

For a moment, Lupin even went so far as to believe that the cold-hearted Snape would finally break and perhaps let a tear slide down his face. The anguish on the other wizard's face was so pronounced that Lupin was sure how he had kept from sobbing, as Lupin himself had almost wanted to cry seeing it. But then Snape's normal cold, annoyed expression had returned, though he'd followed Madame Pomfrey over to the beds to continue to watch over Harry as he at out of the way on a near-by bed.

Lupin sighed, deciding he would never understand Severus Snape. He could only hope that if Harry did indeed manage to survive, that whatever had occurred between Harry and Snape would not upset Hay's relationship with Sirius. He didn't think Sirius's heart could take that.

Sirius was another reason Lupin did not want Harry to die. The last friend he had in the world would die and he would be alone to grieve for him. It was not a fate Lupin particularly wanted to face.

Lupin turned another page in the overly large tome and found something very interesting about halfway down the page.



The poison, Syncocid, is a very old and very virulent

killer. It symptoms begin with a fever which slowly rises

to a dangerous degree. Then the patient begins to sweat

and soon becomes weak, though this weakness takes its

time in overcoming its victim. Next the patient becomes

violently ill due to the poison beginning to destroy stomach

and esophagus tissue.



If the victim is lucky, they will now lose consciousness.

Otherwise, they will continue to suffer in agony, their

breathing constricted and their bodies unable to do more

than wait for death. Soon, they will lose consciousness and

fall into a deep sleep that will turn into the sleep of death by

the end of a week after consciousness has been lost.



Lupin sat in shocked silence, capable only of staring at the words written on the page. After a moment he shook himself and searched frantically for any mention of a cure. There was only one line referring to it:



Only the sacrifice of loving blood may save

That which spite and hate would take.



Lupin decided then and there that he hated riddles.

With a soft sigh, Lupin marked the page and collected the book along with a few others. He could continue his search with Sirius and Harry in the Sickbay. And then he would be able to tell Madame Pomfrey about the riddle. Perhaps she would know what it meant.



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Snape walked swiftly to his dungeon office. His body still ached painfully and he would like nothing more than to sleep, but he couldn't stand the thought of what would happen to Harry if he allowed himself to. He was sure he'd seen that poison in one of his books, which, if true, meant that he could probably find a cure for the fool child.

He slammed the door to his office shut behind as he finally entered it and scowled. Now he had to remember which book the poison was in.

Snape made his way over to his books and began to shift though them, impatiently reading titles and looking for the right book. His library consisted of many old and new books on potions of all types and few could boast to have such titles as he possessed in his collection. He knew if the answer was to be found, he could find it in one of these books.

Snape leaned back with a thoughtful expression. If the poison hadn't been cured in 500 years, then it wouldn't be in any books published within the last 500 years. Just to be sure, add another hundred years to that. If Snape remembered correctly, he only had two books that fit that description.

He pulled out the first book, with a vague feeling of something being wrong. He searched the book and cursed when he found nothing. He sighed, sitting back and feeling defeated. When he pulled the next book over to him, he did so with a resigned sigh. Suddenly doubting himself and feeling as he had when he had finally come to Dumbledore and asked for his help in escaping his deatheater life, he began to read.

Approximately halfway through, he had found what he was looking for.

Sitting up quickly, his heart beating in triumph. There on the page were the directions for curing Harry - and Snape had all the ingredients. Although he'd have to raid Professor Sprouts greenhouse for one.

He let a smug triumphant smile pass over his face, before his eyes fell on the very last ingredient, to be added an hour before the intended victim drank their salvation.

Someone had to grant Harry their blood. Blood straight from an artery. Willing blood sacrificed in order to selflessly save the life of the victim.

Snape knew the implications of this. The amount of blood needed would drain the giver, possibly killing them before the bleeding could be stopped. And all for a skinny teenager with a lightning bolt scar.

Snape's heart raced in a panic, but then he calmed himself and stood. There would be plenty of willing donors for the boy. Sirius being the first in line.

But he stopped. Snape stood in his doorway and asked himself why he hesitated. Harry's life was in danger and he was standing in a doorway. He had to get Sirius down here-

That was the problem. Snape didn't want Sirius to be the donor. Snape had been saved by Dumbledore once when he was next to dying, though for very different reasons. He had been saved again by three little words uttered by Harry, "Please be careful."

Snape could still see Harry's face when he'd uttered those words. He'd been so concerned for him, so worried and caring.

Nobody had worried over Snape in years, except perhaps Dumbledore, and it had done his heart a world of good to find someone else cared.

And then Snape remembered something else, he remembered what the woman who'd held them captive had said: "Because he loves you. You're his little boy."

It was true. He did love Harry. He didn't know when or where or how it had happened, but sometime during all his sneering and constant cruelty, he'd fallen in love with the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was like the son he'd never had. Not that he'd particularly wanted one, but he felt that he had one anyway. And now he had to save him, to give Harry the willing sacrifice of blood that would prove his redemption.

And perhaps it would prove the redemption of a spiteful old Potions Master as well.

Snape left his office in a determined stride, determined to find the only ingredient he had need of now.



Next Chapter: The Cure