Disclaimer: This is a piece of fan fiction. Harry Potter and all characters, magic, events, royalties, etc., are the ideas and property of J.K. Rowling and whoever she designates to translate them to book, recording or film. I hope you'll enjoy my own take on this particular universe, even though I don't own it and didn't invent it.
Second Chapter, A Trauma Transference
The problem with Trauma Transference potions was that they needed a week to set, in some cases, two weeks. Albus sighed and made the requested one up, then set it on the shelf to get started on the other potions Poppy needed. It couldn't hurt, he thought as he worked, to send an owl to St. Mungo's, to see if they had any TT potions they could have. He finished the second potion, then went up to the owlery to do just that.
When he arrived, he found that another person had decided the owlery was a great place to hang around. Harry Potter, who never went home for Christmas, was visiting his owl, Hedwig.
"Good afternoon, Harry! How are you this fine day?"
Harry looked up at the sky, which was very heavy with clouds. "I'm fine, Professor."
Albus looked at the sky as well. "It looks like snow," he commented.
"I was wondering if I should even bother sending a letter off to Ron. He'll be back in a couple of days."
The sky didn't look too promising for sending an owl anywhere. "I'd keep Hedwig in," he advised. "The weather looks like it's turning."
That wouldn't do at all. They needed a potion quickly, to resolve the problem with Severus. School would be starting up again soon, and they already had a competent DADA teacher. What they needed was their Potions Master.
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.
Albus pulled himself away from his thoughts. "Yes. Yes, there is. We need a potion quickly, but it takes a week at least for it to set."
"Aren't there other potions that could work?"
"Yes, but they take longer."
"Oh."
"I suppose I'll have to use the floo to get in touch with St. Mungo's," Albus sighed.
"Why St. Mungo's? Is someone sick?"
Of course the boy hadn't heard of the problem. Albus took the opportunity to sit and watch the clouds as they rolled in lower and lower.
"Professor Snape's had an accident. We need a certain potion, which I've begun. But it will take a week, as I said, for it to set. School begins again on Monday."
"He isn't hurt badly, is he?"
"No, thankfully, he wasn't. It's just that he's contracted a rare condition, Trauma Transference, that needs attention before school begins. Or you'll be without a Potions Master. Which isn't a very good thing for students at all," he continued, sensing the boy's secret elation at the news, "If you miss even a part of your Potions course, you'll have to make it up before you can graduate."
Mission accomplished: elation a dead issue.
But...
"Harry. My boy!"
Harry looked up.
"Why don't you go to the hospital wing and see Professor Snape?"
The look on Harry's face conveyed both confusion and dislike. "He hates me, sir," the boy replied. "He wouldn't want to see me."
"I believe you'll find him much different," Albus replied. "I believe it would do him a world of good to hear how much he is needed. I wouldn't ask you this, Harry, if I didn't think it would do some good. Stress how much he is needed in the Potions classroom... No matter what he says."
The boy's expression turned to surprise. He was wondering if Snape's accident had made him think he was no longer needed, or wanted. That was something the boy could understand, so Albus left it alone.
"I'll be in my office, if you need me for anything. But I'm sure Madam Pomphrey will be more than capable to answer any questions you might have. And, Harry? I do appreciate your doing this."
The boy scurried off. Albus watched him leave, then stood up.
"Yes," he said to Hedwig, who had come to the end of her perch to question him, "I did have to send him off. His words of encouragement could very well mean the difference between our having a Potions instructor, if not our old Potions Master, back for the start of the new semester."
Harry Potter looked shyly into the ward. Rows and rows of empty, perfect beds met his gaze. At the near end of the room, one bed was curtained off. That must be where Snape was being treated. No one was around, but someone must be in attendance. Harry heard the strains of 'My Girl' issuing from some hidden spot.
He approached the curtain and peered around it. What he saw made him almost turn and leave. Snape was sitting up in bed, a purple robe tossed casually about his shoulders, singing.
"When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May!" the professor warbled before noticing Harry's head poking around the screen. "Oh! I didn't hear anyone come in. Here. Have a seat! So good of you to drop by!"
Harry sat down, more confused than ever. The first thing he never thought he would see was Professor Snape in anything but deadly black. The first thing he never thought he would hear was Professor Snape singing a love song.
"I heard you had an accident, sir. I'm... I'm glad you're feeling better."
"Better? I've never felt better in my life! Not even the time I singlehandedly captured a Mountain Troll for the Ministry in Bulgaria. Have I ever told you about that?"
Harry shook his head. He had no idea Snape had even been to Bulgaria, let alone captured a Mountain Troll singlehandedly.
"There were five of us in the expedition originally. But we lost two to frostbite, and another two to fear. The situation was completely grim. I could have turned tail and run myself, it would have been understandable under the circumstances. But I couldn't very well let an entire village suffer. So I took my trusty wand..."
Harry stared at Snape as though he had grown a second head. This was so unlike him that Harry began to understand that his injuries were more extensive than they appeared. As the story unfolded of a miraculous escape and the resulting capture, the only person he could think of who talked like that was Gilderoy Lockhart.
And for strange beasts, Snape and Lockhart were on opposite ends of the spectrum.
"And that is how I earned the Bulgarian Royal Cross," Snape finished with a smug grin. "I can see you're completely overwhelmed by my tale. But I assure you, it's all true."
Harry could feel the man's assurance. He merely nodded.
"Well? What about you? What do you think of my little exploit?"
"It was... Fantastic," Harry said, summoning up all the credulity he could muster. He'd heard that people with head injuries could be dangerous if aroused, and he certainly didn't want to arouse Snape's ire. One could never tell when someone like this would turn.
"So, aside from my presence, what brings you into these drear wards?"
"I... I'd heard you were injured, and came to see if I could cheer you up. We... We really need you back here, you know."
"Of course you do! My experience is invaluable to young students like yourself. When I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, there will not be a single heart that won't be beating double time..."
Some things never changed. Snape had always wanted the DADA post, and Lockhart had taught it. But, they had a perfectly good DADA teacher. What they needed was a Potions teacher.
"I'm sure you would be marvellous in the post," Harry said, trying to smile sincerely, "But we really need your expertise in the Potions classroom. I've heard you're quite knowledgeable about Potions..."
"And what happened to that depressing Professor Snape? Has he taken a powder?"
"Er, no, sir. He's... he's laid up. Ill. Had an accident. And we're without our Potions Master. If we don't have Potions, we won't be able to graduate. We're... we're counting on you to save the day."
"Of course you are," Snape answered as though it was the most natural thing on earth for a student to implore him to teach. "Though I must say, I wouldn't trust the man farther than a kneazel could toss a wraith. In fact, just between us," and Snape leaned forward conspiriatorily, "I wouldn't be surprised in the least to find that it was old Severus himself who put this spell on me, to force me into teaching his classes."
"Spell?" Harry raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, don't think I haven't seen it in your eyes. Confusion, doubt... They told you that Professor Lockhart was back, though ailing. You come rushing down to greet me, but find to your dismay that it appears to be Professor Snape. Who you would, likely, rather run from than toward. You're startled, you're shocked, you begin to have uncertainties about the information you've been given, and who could blame you? The job is quite complete, don't you think? I do look very like him, don't I?"
"Well, er, now that you mention it..."
"And who else but snarky Severus could have done such a bang-up job? I know he's quite boring, and lacks imagination, but he's quite a hand with potions. Almost as good as me, if I do say so myself. I think I'd have done a better job with the hair, but overall, and without close scrutiny, I could easily pass for the old wet blanket!"
"Yes, sir. The resemblance is remarkable. Until you speak, that is. You don't speak a bit like Snape."
"Thank Merlin for small favors! Though I am very much Merlin's favorite. Everybody says so. My near escapes, my fabulous record..."
Harry knew Lockhart's record was as false as any could be. But, did Snape know that? Or did he actually believe, in his condition, that Lockhart was as brave and bold as he publicized?
Surely he couldn't! Harry remembered the contempt Snape had shown toward Lockhart, and on looking back, could see how the Potions Master had seen right through him.
So, why be Lockhart?
"Cheer up, dear boy! Gilderoy won't let you down! Have I ever let you down before?"
Harry shook his head. Lockhart had, but Snape never had. Snape was always, until now, Snape. And Harry was beginning to wish for the old Snape to return.
"I have never heard so much soft soap in all my life!" Poppy told Albus later on, when he came to check on Severus's progress. "The boy sat there as bold as brass and told him how we counted on him to save the day. Poor thing! He had to suffer through two stories of sensational salvations, though, before he left. And he only got away by begging that he had to study since the new semester would be starting soon."
"But, did he agree to teach Potions?"
"He did. How could he resist such a pitiful plea?" Poppy laughed. "It's hard, though, not to believe it isn't Lockhart in Severus's body. He's got the character down so well!"
"Downright eerie," Dumbledore agreed.
"Have you finished my potions?"
"Yes. I put them on your desk. Other than the TT potion, which has to ferment a week before it can be used. It's in the lab, on the shelf. I did contact St. Mungo's, though. They'll see if they have something they can let us have."
"Good. I can't tolerate much more of that," Poppy said as Snape burst into 'Oh What A Beautiful Morning' behind his screen.
St. Mungo's had a very limited supply of Trauma Transference potions, and preferred to keep them on hand, just in case, as it took a while to brew them up. Dumbledore thanked the healers for considering their case, and leaned his head on his fist.
If they had brought Snape in, the potion would have to have been used anyway. Why hoarde it like that when there was a genuine use here?
But, it was no more than he'd expected. Living for more than a century had shown him more of human nature than he cared to see. Well, they would have to do their best with what they had, and perhaps things would work out all right in the end.
Two weeks. That's how long it would take before they had the genuine Severus Snape with them again, instead of the bogus Gilderoy Lockhart. The potion would take a week to set, then another week of daily doses, to do its job. In the meantime, Snape/Lockhart had been allowed limited freedom in the castle, providing he return to the sick ward at mealtimes. That would set the precedent for when the potion was ready to be dispensed. The only problem would be explaining to Snape/Lockhart why he was receiving thrice-daily doses.
Harry's talk with the wizard, overheard by Poppy, had given Albus his story. The potion was to remove the spell on 'Lockhart' which made him look like Snape. Since the wizard who had placed the spell was absent or not admitting it, it was the only thing they could do. Many years ago, such a deception would have gone against Albus's grain. But these days, he thought, anything that did the job would do.
Especially anything that rid the school of a bogus, though uncannily accurate, Gilderoy Lockhart. The original had been more than enough!
At least Snape didn't have his Lockhart singing in company. He only sang when he thought he was alone. That disturbed Albus more than a little. What made Snape's mind believe that Lockhart would sing to himself like that?
And those stories! There were similar stories in Lockhart's books, to be sure, but none exactly matching. Though Severus was sharp; perhaps he knew that Lockhart's stories were more fiction than fact anyway.
Albus laughed to himself. The stories were absolutely extraordinary. Tales of singlehanded combat with Mountain Trolls and Water Piskies, facing dangerous Boggarts, conquering dragons, saving damsels... There was more locked away behind Severus's stern glare than met the eye.
The only problem was, how would the students react to the 'new Snape'? And, how would Severus react once he regained his equilibrium and discovered how he'd exposed himself while ill? That was something which bothered Dumbledore on the eve of the new semester starting. How would this affect their old, familiar Severus?
Harry Potter was thinking the same thing. There was no love lost between him and Snape, but he couldn't stand the idea of the wizard being embarrassed so completely in front of the students. He decided he'd have to do something about it. Taking his Potions book to the ward, he sat down with whoever Snape was that evening and opened to the last lesson they had learned.
"I've been thinking, sir."
"Studying your text! Good boy!"
Harry felt like a retriever who had just brought back a grouse.
"Since you look so much like Snape right now, it might be better if you acted like him. At least in class. I know it isn't like you, but... Well, it might distract the other students from learning."
Snape rolled this around in his brain for a minute. "Yes. I can see your point. The students will, of course, be dazzled by my personality, but confused by seeing it in what they think is Severus's body. Do you really think I could pull it off?"
"If anybody could, it's you."
"Yes, I always was a consummate actor. By Merlin! I'll do it! They won't know my character from the real Snape! Wonderful idea! Not to disturb the students... I'll bring it up with Albus when he comes in tonight. He's been so forthcoming with me about all of this... He leans heavily on me, you know."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll just sit him down and explain the situation. He'll agree, of course. My powers of forethought are legendary. He'll simply have to go along."
When Dumbledore came in that evening, he was happily surprised to find that Snape/Lockhart had already thought of disguising his flambouyant personality 'for the sake of the students'. Poppy told him later that it had been Harry's idea.
