Chapter 3 - St. Mungo's
"I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is rough and steep
Yet beauteous fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep."
- Poor Wayfaring Stranger
American traditional song
--------------
Professors Sartoris and Penderdandis accompanied Albus Dumbledore to St. Mungo's, widely regarded as the finest medical facility in the Wizarding world. The still-unconscious Severus Snape had been assigned to a bed in what Muggles would call the psychiatric ward.
"My name is Asphora LaChance," said the intake counselor, who had just come back from observing Severus and getting him settled in. She was young with a silver puff of hair surrounding her delicate face. "It is my usual custom to taste the aurae of those who bring our patients in to see us. Mr. Dumbledore, you have an astounding aura," she said. "Full and florid and robust. I sensed glimmers of it in Severus. You have undoubtedly influenced the young man."
"For good, I trust," Albus said.
"Indeed. And Mr. Penderdandis – yours is more on the utilitarian side. A rather hardy aura, I would say. On the other hand," she continued, now looking at Sartoris, "you have a rather poisonous one."
Professor Sartoris was thunderstruck. "How dare you!" he spat.
"Shall we continue?" Albus said, trying to smooth over his professor's ruffled feelings yet filing her observation away in his mind for later contemplation. He turned once again toward Healer LaChance. Her eyes gave him a funny little signal. He would have to speak with her later about it, without a doubt.
"Let me see if I understand the situation. The young man in question – "
"Severus," Dumbledore said.
"Severus, of course – had suffered an episode of depression earlier this year. He seemed to come out of it with your help, Mr. Dumbledore? Then, he suffered some sort of social setback with friends over the Yule and New Years holidays, which precipitated his suicide attempt. Am I correct?"
Dumbledore nodded. He was trying to decide whether Asphodel (or whatever her name was) used a charm to make her hair stand up the way it did. He personally did not care for it.
"I would like to ask you a number of questions. Anyone with knowledge can answer. The questions involve the behavior of someone who is depressed enough to attempt suicide. Shall we begin?" she said, picking up a quill.
"Has Severus experienced a change in sleeping habits?"
"Yes."
"Has Severus experienced a change in eating habits?"
"Yes."
"Have his grades gone down, or has he stopped going to class?"
"He had, yes."
"Has Severus neglected his personal appearance?"
"Yes."
"Has he become isolated socially?"
"Yes."
"Has he had trouble getting along with others?"
"Definitely. It appears to be an ongoing problem for him."
"Has he shown extreme sensitivity to rejection?"
"Yes – when some students he did not like came to the house where he was spending the Yuletide."
"What did he do, Mr. Dumbledore? Or is it Professor?"
"Professor will be fine, although my administrative duties keep me from enjoying a classroom these days. He summoned a demon."
"Excuse me?"
"A demon. He summoned a demon."
"Oh dear. I trust that is not a talent encouraged at his school."
"You are very correct. I believe his father taught him."
"Aha. Has he experienced stress at home lately?"
"Severus is an abuse survivor, Healer LaChance," Albus solemnly stated. "His abuser – his father -- is now in Azkaban."
"Good place for him. And does Severus have a good relationship with his mother?"
"I think not," Albus continued. "She witnessed years of systemic abuse and did next to nothing. She also spent the Yuletide in the Mediterranean instead of spending it with him."
"In other words, Mr. – excuse me – Professor Dumbledore – his mother has abandoned him."
"I think that is correct," the Headmaster said, nodding.
"Has Severus shown an overreaction to sounds, motions, and the like?"
"He practically jumps out of his skin at loud noises and hates it when people get too close to him or touch him."
"Has he ever mentioned suicide, even in jest or in passing?"
"No," said Penderdandis.
Sartoris shook his head.
"Yes," sighed Albus. "Yes, he did – earlier this year. He said that his housemates wouldn't appreciate his slitting his wrists because of the mess it would leave."
Healer LaChance blinked at him. There was silence in the room for an uncomfortable amount of time.
"Gentlemen, I have asked you ten questions. All of them are warning signs of severe depression at the least and suicidal tendencies at the most. You have answered all of them in the positive. May I speak frankly?"
"By all means," Albus said, knowing what was coming.
"This child could have written 'Help me, I'm going to kill myself' across his forehead in Muggle day-glo spray paint and none of you would have taken the trouble to read it."
"You certainly speak your mind," Sartoris said frostily.
"I know no other way to be," Healer LaChance said. "Our stakes are too high on this ward. We forego the euphemisms here. We forego the excuses. We forego the blaming. We forego any behaviors that do not get to the truth involving our patients. We deal with children who want to die when living should be their greatest joy."
The three men sat, silent and contemplative.
"It is far easier to build boys than to repair men, gentlemen."
"Indeed," said Professor Penderdandis. "This is a fine boy who has seen far too much evil, darkness, and pain. We cannot get in touch with his mother at the moment. Though we are but his teachers, we are taking the lead here and want Severus to get better and find some measure of satisfaction and happiness in his life. What can we do for him?"
"Bringing him here was an excellent first step," Healer LaChance said, her attitude softening a bit. "As much as you wanted to help your young man some months ago, Professor Dumbledore, it is not a job for amateurs, or people who are emotionally close to a depressed child."
Albus sighed. "So – it seems that Severus perked up around me because he wanted to please me – not because he felt any better."
"Probably," she said. "Well, there is no doubt that this young man has been depressed for a long while, probably for years. He has been abused and abandoned by those who should have been his greatest protectors. He cannot get along with his classmates because he never learned how. He has even tried to show his teachers the magnitude of his distress – summoning a demon is probably the most extreme reaction to stress I've ever heard."
"He did it twice, actually. Once in the Great Hall during dinner. Fortunately, I was able to dispel the entity before any harm was done."
Healer LaChance bit her lip. "He has repeatedly tried to show his teachers the magnitude of his distress, then. Had any of you considered the possibility that the young man's life might be out of control, or that medical care might be needed?"
The three esteemed professors looked at their shoes like miscreant schoolboys.
"Well, he is here at last," the healer sighed. "Again, forgive my frankness, but I work with children who try to kill themselves because their pain is too great to bear. Sometimes they live, and sometimes they don't. As teachers, all of you should have seen these danger signs. You might consider educating your staff before one of your students' ignored cries for help lead to his or her death."
"Of course," Albus said. "Sometimes we become so busy and so preoccupied with the minutiae of our daily routines that we lose sight of such things – and we shouldn't."
"Let me tell you what we intend to do for Severus. Let us have him for the next month. He'll work with a number of healers, me included. We will give him counseling, recreation, good food, fresh air, and sunshine. Who among you would be the closest to Severus, emotionally?"
"The Headmaster," Sartoris said.
"That is correct," Albus added. "I have taken him under my wing, so to speak, although it's now apparent that I've thoroughly bungled the job."
"Ah! You are the Headmaster of his school, then. Don't be too hard on yourself – any positive attention paid to these heartbroken children is better than none. Now, tell me why the Headmaster of a school with hundreds of children chose to focus on this particular child?"
"Severus is special. He has a great soul. He has withstood horrors and darkness that would have broken most students. I want him to have a better life than he has so far." Albus did not elaborate on the prophecy involving Severus which lay in the most protected part of the Ministry of Magic. "I – admire him, in short. And Severus has latched onto me – his own father was a tragic disappointment."
The healer gazed at Dumbledore, letting her inner eye browse over his aura for any deception, any ulterior motive. Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. "I would like you here for at least portions of the next few days. Is that a possibility?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said.
"And you two gentlemen will try to contact Severus' mother in the meantime? I need to speak with her as well."
"Certainly," Professor Penderdandis said.
At that moment, a young wizard came in and whispered in Healer LaChance's ear.
"Thank you, Philby. Gentlemen – it seems that our patient is waking up."
------------
The four made their way down a winding stairway and across a brightly-lit roomful of patients, most of who did little more than sit and blink and gaze into space. Albus shuddered, sensing massive amounts of hopelessness and misery in the room.
They swept around a corridor. Healer La Chance motioned them into a room on their right.
The room had six beds, three of which were occupied by children and adolescents of various ages. The three professors spotted Severus right away. Another healer stood beside his bed, his hand on his patient's. Albus could feel the energy pouring from him into the sick boy.
"I will leave you here," Asphora LaChance said. "This is Sib Hammer."
Albus was the first to reach the bedside. He leaned over Severus, whose breathing tube had been removed and his throat healed.
"You were able to unblock his esophagus as well?" Sartoris asked the healer.
"We did. We've seen this particular poison used before. Its use can indicate very strong self-hatred – it isn't enough that the child simply dies. With this potion, he or she also suffers."
"I wonder where he got it," Penderdandis said, frowning. He darted a glance at Professor Sartoris.
"Its ingredients are not stocked at Hogwarts, I can assure you," the Potions Master snapped.
"Never mind that now," Albus said. "May I?" he said to the healer, gesturing toward his hands. Upon the healer's nod, Albus placed both hands on the sick boy's temples. "Come home, son," he whispered, pulsing quiet healing energy into him.
Severus' eyes fluttered. He had been put into a deep healing sleep upon his arrival, and it took some time to come out of it.
"Severus," Albus whispered, stroking his cheek. "Severus. Come back to us. We're waiting for you."
The child began to shudder and twitch. The healer standing beside him dropped his head and streamed more healing energy into him.
"Cruciatus," he said by way of explanation. And he's suffered this curse before."
"Who would curse a child in such a manner?" Penderdandis whispered.
"There are a lot of monsters out there, sir," the healer said. "We've seen worse. Who was the culprit here?"
"His father," Sartoris answered.
Severus relaxed a little. His eyes fluttered; he was clearly trying to do what Albus had asked him to do.
"Come home, Severus," Dumbledore whispered again, taking the boy's hands in his own.
Finally, the boy's eyes opened. He looked around him, eyes darting from the healer to his professors to his headmaster.
"Welcome back, Severus," Healer Hammer said. "We're very happy to see you. Don't be afraid if your throat hurts. That will heal very soon."
The boy tried to speak. His young brow furrowed with the effort. "Wh – "
"Talk to us, Severus," Dumbledore said, holding the boy's still-limp hands.
"Wh – why – am – I – "His face reflected his frustration.
"Take your time," the healer said.
"Why – am – I – st -- still – alive?"
The boy burst into tears, his hands pulling away from Dumbledore's to cover his face.
"Severus," Albus crooned. "It's all right. We're all here to comfort and help you."
The boy shook his head, face still hidden by hands.
"The only thing you have to worry about is getting better," Professor Penderdandis said. "Don't worry about school just now, either."
"The Potions Lab will be there waiting for you when you return," Professor Sartoris said.
"I wanted to die," Severus said in a hoarse voice, his throat still quite sore. "Why didn't you just let me go?"
"It's not your time, Severus," Albus said. "There are important things you must do later on in life. You wished to die, but as you can see the Fates have intervened and saved you."
"Damn it," the boy whispered. "I can't take any more. I don't want to live, and I hate you all for bringing me back."
The healer touched his forehead to give the boy some healing energy. Severus batted his hand away.
"Leave me the hell alone," he said. "All of you."
The healer nodded at the three men. "Which of you is closest to Severus?"
Again, Dumbledore nodded.
"Fine. You stay and the rest of you can wait outside."
The healer than positioned himself so that Severus couldn't see him. Albus took a chair and took one of the child's hands away from his face. He resisted, but finally allowed Dumbledore to hold his hand.
"I am not going to leave you," the Headmaster said. "I care about you and I don't want you to die. I will help you get through this, Severus, and when you get better, you can come back to Hogwarts. Things will be different, I promise you that."
"Where am I, Headmaster?" Sev said, tears still rolling down his face.
"You're at St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said. "You'll stay here a little while and they will help you feel better. Don't give up hope, Severus. Please don't give up hope. You are still with us for a reason."
"And what reason is that? To give the Marauders somebody to torment? To give my father someone to curse and beat up when he's released from Azkaban?"
"No," said Albus.
"Does anybody know that I'm here?"
"Most likely the whole school by now, Severus. After drinking the poison, you lost consciousness and then you lost your ability to breathe. Professor Sartoris cut into your throat and fashioned a breathing tube. He held a bezoar under your tongue, and also made an antidote to the poison you had in the bottle. Where did it come from, my boy? Please tell me."
"I took it from -- my father. He had beaten me up really bad the last time I was home, and I wanted to die then. But I couldn't summon the courage to do it."
"And so you brought it to school with you."
The boy nodded. "When James Potter tricked me, I thought about the bottle again. I felt so stupid and gullible that I didn't think I was fit to live any longer."
"But James Potter hadn't tricked you. He told me that it had all been Sirius Black's idea, and that he had been horrified at what happened to you there."
Severus shook his head, tears still trickling down the sides of his face. Albus took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed in front of his ears. "They all tricked me. None of them are my friends. I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I can't believe you."
"Your choice of friends is yours and yours alone, Severus. However, James, Lily, and Remus all came to see you at Slytherin Tower, to see if you were all right. All three of them cried for you."
Severus winced but said nothing. Dumbledore touched the boy's forehead and whispered a sleeping charm.
"Sleep now, my son. Remember -- no worries."
Sev's beautiful dark eyes closed, his hand clinging to the Headmaster's.
"Rest and get well, child."
"I know dark clouds will gather 'round me
I know my way is rough and steep
Yet beauteous fields lie just before me
Where God's redeemed their vigils keep."
- Poor Wayfaring Stranger
American traditional song
--------------
Professors Sartoris and Penderdandis accompanied Albus Dumbledore to St. Mungo's, widely regarded as the finest medical facility in the Wizarding world. The still-unconscious Severus Snape had been assigned to a bed in what Muggles would call the psychiatric ward.
"My name is Asphora LaChance," said the intake counselor, who had just come back from observing Severus and getting him settled in. She was young with a silver puff of hair surrounding her delicate face. "It is my usual custom to taste the aurae of those who bring our patients in to see us. Mr. Dumbledore, you have an astounding aura," she said. "Full and florid and robust. I sensed glimmers of it in Severus. You have undoubtedly influenced the young man."
"For good, I trust," Albus said.
"Indeed. And Mr. Penderdandis – yours is more on the utilitarian side. A rather hardy aura, I would say. On the other hand," she continued, now looking at Sartoris, "you have a rather poisonous one."
Professor Sartoris was thunderstruck. "How dare you!" he spat.
"Shall we continue?" Albus said, trying to smooth over his professor's ruffled feelings yet filing her observation away in his mind for later contemplation. He turned once again toward Healer LaChance. Her eyes gave him a funny little signal. He would have to speak with her later about it, without a doubt.
"Let me see if I understand the situation. The young man in question – "
"Severus," Dumbledore said.
"Severus, of course – had suffered an episode of depression earlier this year. He seemed to come out of it with your help, Mr. Dumbledore? Then, he suffered some sort of social setback with friends over the Yule and New Years holidays, which precipitated his suicide attempt. Am I correct?"
Dumbledore nodded. He was trying to decide whether Asphodel (or whatever her name was) used a charm to make her hair stand up the way it did. He personally did not care for it.
"I would like to ask you a number of questions. Anyone with knowledge can answer. The questions involve the behavior of someone who is depressed enough to attempt suicide. Shall we begin?" she said, picking up a quill.
"Has Severus experienced a change in sleeping habits?"
"Yes."
"Has Severus experienced a change in eating habits?"
"Yes."
"Have his grades gone down, or has he stopped going to class?"
"He had, yes."
"Has Severus neglected his personal appearance?"
"Yes."
"Has he become isolated socially?"
"Yes."
"Has he had trouble getting along with others?"
"Definitely. It appears to be an ongoing problem for him."
"Has he shown extreme sensitivity to rejection?"
"Yes – when some students he did not like came to the house where he was spending the Yuletide."
"What did he do, Mr. Dumbledore? Or is it Professor?"
"Professor will be fine, although my administrative duties keep me from enjoying a classroom these days. He summoned a demon."
"Excuse me?"
"A demon. He summoned a demon."
"Oh dear. I trust that is not a talent encouraged at his school."
"You are very correct. I believe his father taught him."
"Aha. Has he experienced stress at home lately?"
"Severus is an abuse survivor, Healer LaChance," Albus solemnly stated. "His abuser – his father -- is now in Azkaban."
"Good place for him. And does Severus have a good relationship with his mother?"
"I think not," Albus continued. "She witnessed years of systemic abuse and did next to nothing. She also spent the Yuletide in the Mediterranean instead of spending it with him."
"In other words, Mr. – excuse me – Professor Dumbledore – his mother has abandoned him."
"I think that is correct," the Headmaster said, nodding.
"Has Severus shown an overreaction to sounds, motions, and the like?"
"He practically jumps out of his skin at loud noises and hates it when people get too close to him or touch him."
"Has he ever mentioned suicide, even in jest or in passing?"
"No," said Penderdandis.
Sartoris shook his head.
"Yes," sighed Albus. "Yes, he did – earlier this year. He said that his housemates wouldn't appreciate his slitting his wrists because of the mess it would leave."
Healer LaChance blinked at him. There was silence in the room for an uncomfortable amount of time.
"Gentlemen, I have asked you ten questions. All of them are warning signs of severe depression at the least and suicidal tendencies at the most. You have answered all of them in the positive. May I speak frankly?"
"By all means," Albus said, knowing what was coming.
"This child could have written 'Help me, I'm going to kill myself' across his forehead in Muggle day-glo spray paint and none of you would have taken the trouble to read it."
"You certainly speak your mind," Sartoris said frostily.
"I know no other way to be," Healer LaChance said. "Our stakes are too high on this ward. We forego the euphemisms here. We forego the excuses. We forego the blaming. We forego any behaviors that do not get to the truth involving our patients. We deal with children who want to die when living should be their greatest joy."
The three men sat, silent and contemplative.
"It is far easier to build boys than to repair men, gentlemen."
"Indeed," said Professor Penderdandis. "This is a fine boy who has seen far too much evil, darkness, and pain. We cannot get in touch with his mother at the moment. Though we are but his teachers, we are taking the lead here and want Severus to get better and find some measure of satisfaction and happiness in his life. What can we do for him?"
"Bringing him here was an excellent first step," Healer LaChance said, her attitude softening a bit. "As much as you wanted to help your young man some months ago, Professor Dumbledore, it is not a job for amateurs, or people who are emotionally close to a depressed child."
Albus sighed. "So – it seems that Severus perked up around me because he wanted to please me – not because he felt any better."
"Probably," she said. "Well, there is no doubt that this young man has been depressed for a long while, probably for years. He has been abused and abandoned by those who should have been his greatest protectors. He cannot get along with his classmates because he never learned how. He has even tried to show his teachers the magnitude of his distress – summoning a demon is probably the most extreme reaction to stress I've ever heard."
"He did it twice, actually. Once in the Great Hall during dinner. Fortunately, I was able to dispel the entity before any harm was done."
Healer LaChance bit her lip. "He has repeatedly tried to show his teachers the magnitude of his distress, then. Had any of you considered the possibility that the young man's life might be out of control, or that medical care might be needed?"
The three esteemed professors looked at their shoes like miscreant schoolboys.
"Well, he is here at last," the healer sighed. "Again, forgive my frankness, but I work with children who try to kill themselves because their pain is too great to bear. Sometimes they live, and sometimes they don't. As teachers, all of you should have seen these danger signs. You might consider educating your staff before one of your students' ignored cries for help lead to his or her death."
"Of course," Albus said. "Sometimes we become so busy and so preoccupied with the minutiae of our daily routines that we lose sight of such things – and we shouldn't."
"Let me tell you what we intend to do for Severus. Let us have him for the next month. He'll work with a number of healers, me included. We will give him counseling, recreation, good food, fresh air, and sunshine. Who among you would be the closest to Severus, emotionally?"
"The Headmaster," Sartoris said.
"That is correct," Albus added. "I have taken him under my wing, so to speak, although it's now apparent that I've thoroughly bungled the job."
"Ah! You are the Headmaster of his school, then. Don't be too hard on yourself – any positive attention paid to these heartbroken children is better than none. Now, tell me why the Headmaster of a school with hundreds of children chose to focus on this particular child?"
"Severus is special. He has a great soul. He has withstood horrors and darkness that would have broken most students. I want him to have a better life than he has so far." Albus did not elaborate on the prophecy involving Severus which lay in the most protected part of the Ministry of Magic. "I – admire him, in short. And Severus has latched onto me – his own father was a tragic disappointment."
The healer gazed at Dumbledore, letting her inner eye browse over his aura for any deception, any ulterior motive. Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. "I would like you here for at least portions of the next few days. Is that a possibility?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said.
"And you two gentlemen will try to contact Severus' mother in the meantime? I need to speak with her as well."
"Certainly," Professor Penderdandis said.
At that moment, a young wizard came in and whispered in Healer LaChance's ear.
"Thank you, Philby. Gentlemen – it seems that our patient is waking up."
------------
The four made their way down a winding stairway and across a brightly-lit roomful of patients, most of who did little more than sit and blink and gaze into space. Albus shuddered, sensing massive amounts of hopelessness and misery in the room.
They swept around a corridor. Healer La Chance motioned them into a room on their right.
The room had six beds, three of which were occupied by children and adolescents of various ages. The three professors spotted Severus right away. Another healer stood beside his bed, his hand on his patient's. Albus could feel the energy pouring from him into the sick boy.
"I will leave you here," Asphora LaChance said. "This is Sib Hammer."
Albus was the first to reach the bedside. He leaned over Severus, whose breathing tube had been removed and his throat healed.
"You were able to unblock his esophagus as well?" Sartoris asked the healer.
"We did. We've seen this particular poison used before. Its use can indicate very strong self-hatred – it isn't enough that the child simply dies. With this potion, he or she also suffers."
"I wonder where he got it," Penderdandis said, frowning. He darted a glance at Professor Sartoris.
"Its ingredients are not stocked at Hogwarts, I can assure you," the Potions Master snapped.
"Never mind that now," Albus said. "May I?" he said to the healer, gesturing toward his hands. Upon the healer's nod, Albus placed both hands on the sick boy's temples. "Come home, son," he whispered, pulsing quiet healing energy into him.
Severus' eyes fluttered. He had been put into a deep healing sleep upon his arrival, and it took some time to come out of it.
"Severus," Albus whispered, stroking his cheek. "Severus. Come back to us. We're waiting for you."
The child began to shudder and twitch. The healer standing beside him dropped his head and streamed more healing energy into him.
"Cruciatus," he said by way of explanation. And he's suffered this curse before."
"Who would curse a child in such a manner?" Penderdandis whispered.
"There are a lot of monsters out there, sir," the healer said. "We've seen worse. Who was the culprit here?"
"His father," Sartoris answered.
Severus relaxed a little. His eyes fluttered; he was clearly trying to do what Albus had asked him to do.
"Come home, Severus," Dumbledore whispered again, taking the boy's hands in his own.
Finally, the boy's eyes opened. He looked around him, eyes darting from the healer to his professors to his headmaster.
"Welcome back, Severus," Healer Hammer said. "We're very happy to see you. Don't be afraid if your throat hurts. That will heal very soon."
The boy tried to speak. His young brow furrowed with the effort. "Wh – "
"Talk to us, Severus," Dumbledore said, holding the boy's still-limp hands.
"Wh – why – am – I – "His face reflected his frustration.
"Take your time," the healer said.
"Why – am – I – st -- still – alive?"
The boy burst into tears, his hands pulling away from Dumbledore's to cover his face.
"Severus," Albus crooned. "It's all right. We're all here to comfort and help you."
The boy shook his head, face still hidden by hands.
"The only thing you have to worry about is getting better," Professor Penderdandis said. "Don't worry about school just now, either."
"The Potions Lab will be there waiting for you when you return," Professor Sartoris said.
"I wanted to die," Severus said in a hoarse voice, his throat still quite sore. "Why didn't you just let me go?"
"It's not your time, Severus," Albus said. "There are important things you must do later on in life. You wished to die, but as you can see the Fates have intervened and saved you."
"Damn it," the boy whispered. "I can't take any more. I don't want to live, and I hate you all for bringing me back."
The healer touched his forehead to give the boy some healing energy. Severus batted his hand away.
"Leave me the hell alone," he said. "All of you."
The healer nodded at the three men. "Which of you is closest to Severus?"
Again, Dumbledore nodded.
"Fine. You stay and the rest of you can wait outside."
The healer than positioned himself so that Severus couldn't see him. Albus took a chair and took one of the child's hands away from his face. He resisted, but finally allowed Dumbledore to hold his hand.
"I am not going to leave you," the Headmaster said. "I care about you and I don't want you to die. I will help you get through this, Severus, and when you get better, you can come back to Hogwarts. Things will be different, I promise you that."
"Where am I, Headmaster?" Sev said, tears still rolling down his face.
"You're at St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said. "You'll stay here a little while and they will help you feel better. Don't give up hope, Severus. Please don't give up hope. You are still with us for a reason."
"And what reason is that? To give the Marauders somebody to torment? To give my father someone to curse and beat up when he's released from Azkaban?"
"No," said Albus.
"Does anybody know that I'm here?"
"Most likely the whole school by now, Severus. After drinking the poison, you lost consciousness and then you lost your ability to breathe. Professor Sartoris cut into your throat and fashioned a breathing tube. He held a bezoar under your tongue, and also made an antidote to the poison you had in the bottle. Where did it come from, my boy? Please tell me."
"I took it from -- my father. He had beaten me up really bad the last time I was home, and I wanted to die then. But I couldn't summon the courage to do it."
"And so you brought it to school with you."
The boy nodded. "When James Potter tricked me, I thought about the bottle again. I felt so stupid and gullible that I didn't think I was fit to live any longer."
"But James Potter hadn't tricked you. He told me that it had all been Sirius Black's idea, and that he had been horrified at what happened to you there."
Severus shook his head, tears still trickling down the sides of his face. Albus took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed in front of his ears. "They all tricked me. None of them are my friends. I'm sorry, Headmaster, but I can't believe you."
"Your choice of friends is yours and yours alone, Severus. However, James, Lily, and Remus all came to see you at Slytherin Tower, to see if you were all right. All three of them cried for you."
Severus winced but said nothing. Dumbledore touched the boy's forehead and whispered a sleeping charm.
"Sleep now, my son. Remember -- no worries."
Sev's beautiful dark eyes closed, his hand clinging to the Headmaster's.
"Rest and get well, child."