TITLE: A Gryffindor Tried and True
AUTHOR: Meercat
LONGER SUMMARY: Harry Potter dislikes Severus Snape. Severus Snape loathes Harry Potter. No one is more shocked than the Hogwarts Potion Master when Harry takes a potentially fatal spell to save the Death Eater turned Phoenix spy. Harry's sole hope of survival lies with Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, and, of all people, Neville Longbottom.
Chapter 8"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"
The call came from far away, pulling him from dreams of dark shadow and pain. He fought his way out, anchoring himself to the voice as sailors once did the lifesaving beams from a lighthouse. His nose tingled with fragrant healing herbs, the tang mingling with the rose scent Madame Pomfrey used to refresh the hospital linens.
Harry Potter opened pasty eyes to see a vague, red-capped blur. The blur moved, accompanied by the rustle of robes against cloth. Glass frames settled across the bridge of his nose. He blinked twice; the blur snapped into focus.
"R-Ron." He coughed, a dry, raspy noise.
"Right here, Harry. Thirsty?" At his weak nod, Ron pressed a straw to Harry's cracked lips. "Here you go. Better then? How are you feeling?"
Cool water soothed the ache in his throat. "Hurzz."
Ron grimaced. "I know. But we have some news that'll make you feel better. Remember back when Neville got lost for a whole day? He stumbled on a room full of plants. One of them's what we need to make the antidote to this curse. It won't be long before you'll be up and about again."
Harry looked from one face to another and struggled to understand. Ron's face glowed with hope. Neville shuffled in place, his expression a blend of fear and excitement. Snape wore his typical mask--half-sneer, half-grimace, yet even his eyes held a spark of confidence.
Could it be true? He wanted so desperately to believe.
A bone-deep chill rattled his bones. Every shudder hitched the aches in his muscles and bones a few notches higher. Everything hurt, even his skin.
Through chattering teeth, Harry whispered, "Prof'sor?"
Severus Snape shifted his weight and looked around, as though seeking an escape. Finding none, he sighed and answered, "Mr. Weasley is correct. If all goes well, we should have an antidote by this time tomorrow."
Ron's hand slid beneath Harry's and squeezed. "Go back to sleep, mate. I'm here."
The shadow of a smile flickered across Harry's face. Languid warmth flowed from their joined hands to chase away the chill. He drifted back to sleep, comforted by the contact.
###
Hermione dropped two stuffed backpacks on the empty bed next to Harry's. "I've put together some packs for us."
Snape opened the first bag and examined its contents. Spare clothing and coils of bandages padded bottles of powders, herbs, potions, and elixirs. The second bag held a dozen thin candles, food, gardening tools, and empty containers to hold the harvested blooms. A coil of rope hung on one bag, a collapsible shovel on the other.
"You seem to have thought of everything," the Potions Master said at last, holding up a size two pewter pot, "including a variation of the kitchen sink."
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and said, "If we need it, we might not be able to come back and get it."
"True enough." Snape buckled the second bag closed and shouldered both. "Very well then. Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom. Whenever you're ready."
Neville swallowed hard, nodded, and turned toward to door.
"I'm not going."
Every eye turned toward Ron Weasley. He stood on the far side of Harry's bed, his left hand resting on his friend's shoulder. He stared back without apology, an uncharacteristically mature light in his eyes.
"Not going?" Hermione repeated. Hurt and disbelief clouded her expression. "Why?"
"I wouldn't recognize the right plant if I buried my head in a basket full of it. I suck as Potions, you're much better with spells than I am, and Neville's going as the guide. There's not a lot for me to do except get in the way." Ron waved to the room at large and his unconscious friend in particular. Even in sleep, Harry held tight to Ron's right hand. "But there is something I can do here."
"And what might that be, young Weasley?" Snape asked.
Ron met the former Death Eater's gaze without flinching. "The Headmaster's sent an owl to the Dursleys, Harry's Muggle guardians. They sent back saying they want to come here. From what I've seen of them and from the stories Harry's told me, he's going to need someone here. Someone who'll look out for him. That someone is me."
Severus Snape stared on the youngest Weasley boy. One eyebrow arched over dark eyes.
"Wisdom . . . from a Weasley. Whoever would have known?"
Hermione bristled a moment on her friend's behalf then fell into heavy thought. The professor's words were harsh, biting, yet something in his tone spoke of grudging respect.
"Very well then. We are now a party of three." Snape stepped up to the bedside and stared down at his most famous pupil. Almost against his will, his fingers brushed the sweat-damp hair from the boy's forehead. "Do your best for him, won't you, Mr. Weasley? As you say, he often needs someone to 'look out for him'."
Ron pulled out his wand and laid it on the bed close to hand. "No one, Wizard or Muggle, will get near him to hurt him. Not while I'm here."
"I do believe you're right."
Snape nodded once, spun around in a swirl of black cloak, and ushered his small party out of the room.
Albus Dumbledore joined them in the corridor outside the hospital wing. The group walked in silence until they came to the intersection of corridors where Neville Longbottom first began his adventure.
Dumbledore pointed to a suit of armor on a granite pedestal. "Is this the armor Peeves knocked over?"
"Yes, sir."
"I take it, then, this is the wall you fell into?" He pointed to the far wall.
Neville nodded once more.
Severus Snape examined the stone. He marveled at the intricate fit of the blocks--only one who knew for certain a door lay beyond would see the telltale cracks that marked a hidden entrance. He judged Longbottom's height, plotted where the boy might hit the wall, and found a small knot of stone half-hidden behind another suit of armor. On the surface was carved the head and beak of a bird.
"It would seem," Snape said as he turned back to his companions, "that Salazar Slytherin was not the only Founding Member to leave behind a hidden chamber."
Dumbledore took a startled step forward. "What?"
"If I am not mistaken," Snape indicated the raven-shaped projection of stone, "this would indicate the hand of Rowena Ravenclaw in the creation of this door, if not the atrium itself."
Snape pressed the raven's head. With a growl of long-unused hinges, the door swung open. Stone ground against stone. The grating sound shot straight to the root of every tooth.
"If anyone wants to turn back," Snape said, "now would be the time."
Neither Longbottom nor Granger replied. Snape sighed, lit his wand, and stepped into the black opening. Hermione and Neville shared a last look with the Headmaster then followed.
As the stone slid back into place, Albus Dumbledore whispered, "Good luck."
TBC