Chapter 2: "Azkaban? Or Hogwarts?"
Hagrid was the first to recognize what it was, or rather, who it was. He drew his aim on the mass of robes, but Crookshanks moved to get in the way.
"Out of the way; out of the way now!" he bellowed.
Hermione then connected the pieces, and she interposed her body, too.
"No Hagrid, he had no choice!" she screamed.
"What are you talkin' about Hermione?" Hagrid demanded. "Get out of the way, and I'll put an end to this traitor."
"He's not a traitor," she wailed. She bent down to move the body, "He's hurt. Hagrid help me get him back to the castle."
"I'll do no such thing!" continued Hagrid. "He killed the Headmaster. He's going to pay for that. I'll tear off his arms then his legs, then…"
The robes moaned as Hermione rolled him out of the ball, "Let me see where you're hurt, sir."
Hagrid kept moving to get a shot off when Hermione stood to face him, "Hagrid! Hagrid!" she screamed. "Professor McGonagall just witnessed what they, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, were doing in the Forest." She shook him, "You remember what you thought you heard them arguing about?"
He continued to angle a shot.
"Fine, don't believe me, don't believe Professor McGonagall, believe Crookshanks, then! He's done nothing but rub and purr over the Professor," she hotly reminded Hagrid. "And look, it's Fawkes! He would never have anything to do with anybody or anything that was not 100 percent loyal to Professor Dumbledore."
Fawkes let out a few notes and fluttered to perch on Snape's boot. Hagrid lowered his crossbow and nodded. His jaw was thrust out in defiance.
"Professor Dumbledore apparently asked Professor Snape to strike him down, if it came to that," Hermione began. "He's innocent of Professor Dumbledore's death."
"But Harry saw…" Hagrid began, raising his crossbow.
"I know what Harry saw, but it does not matter. He saw what he was supposed to see," Hermione's mind was racing.
She began to run her hands gently over Snape's broken form. She could feel broken bones and lumps nearly everywhere. He was coated in blood from his head to his knees. Some of it was dried and the rest painfully fresh and wet. Hermione conjured a stretcher just as Snape had done for her years ago. Hagrid dutifully placed the broken body on it, and together they carried him back to the castle. Fawkes flew on ahead of them. Hermione was terrified by the ragged gurgles that Snape was breathing. Hermione Granger – patron saint of lost causes and lost souls!
Ron saw them coming across the grounds as twilight meandered across the lawns. He raced down, pulling up short when, at last, he recognized who was on the stretcher. Ron's wand flew up and pointed at Snape's throat.
"Put it away," both Hermione and Hagrid said simultaneously.
"I will not!" exclaimed Ron hotly.
"Yes, you will," McGonagall spoke softly from behind him; Fawkes perched on her shoulder.
Without pausing, Hagrid and Hermione rushed toward the hospital wing with McGonagall and Ron in tow.
"Mr. Weasley," began McGonagall, "run ahead and tell Madam Pomfrey to prepare for Professor Snape's dire condition.
Unhappily, Ron complied so that by the time the stretcher was there, the mediwitch was ready to direct them to an examination area. She gingerly removed Snape's outer garments and laid open the inner ones so she could begin to see the extent of his injuries. The shirt tore at his skin since the dried blood was like glue. He groaned in pain at this process. She moved her wand over his shattered body in intricate diagnostic patterns. Madam Pomfrey directed all but Hermione and McGonagall to leave instantly. Ron raced off to the owlry to tell Harry all about Snape's surprise return.
With a gasp, Snape's eyes flew open. He steeled himself for action, drawing in as deep a breath as his current condition would allow.
"Minerva," he gasped. "Dark Lord…attack…Muggle Parliament…13th…save them…I failed…" was all he could manage as coughing overcame what little strength he had remaining. With that his head rolled to one side, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
Madam Pomfrey mended broken ribs and nose allowing him to breathe somewhat less painfully. The gurgling noises, at last, subsided a bit. Nonetheless, his breathing remained strained.
"Hermione," the mediwitch began, "You once said you wanted to become healer some day. Well, here is your chance, dear. Gently, clean him up as I work on the other broken parts."
Hermione gritted her teeth and began to cleanse the wounds over his chest and arms. As she moved her wand over his left arm, she came to the Dark Mark. Running the length of it was a deep gash. It appeared to her that somebody had wanted to eradicate it from his person. As she cleaned, she worked to slow the blood flow from the deeper wounds, leaving the shallower ones for later. McGonagall noted that Hermione was a natural.
Madam Pomfrey directed Hermione in selecting potions to begin to counteract the abuse that Snape had recently suffered.
"I've seen him back after those Dark Revels," she began. "But I have never seen him this badly injured. I remember once, a Muggle shot him in the struggle between the Muggle and three Death Easters. Severus was in the way. It tore a chunk out of his right thigh. Oh, how he hated limping," she muttered as she worked to repair the deeper damage.
"Hermione, dear," the mediwitch directed, "come closer and observe how I'm going to treat some of these internal injuries. These are much more serious than the broken bones. Although, I think some were caused by the ribs poking through what was never intended to be poked at all!"
Madam Pomfrey's wand swept back and forth across his torso in rhythmic passes. She murmured charms for healing as she went. Occasionally, she would direct Hermione to apply a deep penetrating ointment to a spot here and a spot there. At last, after three hours of working, Madam Pomfrey stood up straight.
"Now, it's up to his will to live and God on high," she said as she wiped her brow. "Now would someone care to tell me how all this happened, and why I just treated a murderer as if he were still one of us?" She glared at Minerva.
"Quite simply," Minerva began, "because he still is on our side. You heard the warning he just gave us about Muggles being attacked at their seat of government."
Madam Pomfrey nodded and looked for more with pursed lips.
"Hermione, I want you to keep an eye on him tonight," Madam Pomfrey decided against arguing. "He will surely run a fever after all he's been through. See if you can get some of this down him at two hour intervals," she passed Hermione a bottle of potion. "If that fails, wipe him down with cool water and get me."
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey."
"There is nothing more I can do for him, Minerva. He's on his own now," the mediwitch sounded almost resigned to death's approach. "The rest of these injuries will simply take time to finish healing. We have set the healing process into motion, that's all. And it will take him more time to regain his strength after all his body has obviously been through recently."
Madam Pomfrey called to Hagrid to move the Professor to a bed on the ward where Hermione could keep a closer eye on him. Hagrid gently lifted Snape onto a stretcher, slid it over to a bed near the mediwitch's room, and slipped him onto that bed. Even as carefully as Hagrid moved, Snape still moaned and grunted in pain. With a wave of her wand, Madam Pomfrey dimmed the lights and sent all but Hermione out. She warded the door as extra protection for the night. She was more than a little concerned that whoever had beaten Snape so mercilessly would be back for anther round or to finish the job begun.
Crookshanks had sequestered himself under a cupboard while Snape was being worked on. Now, he reentered the room with a soft mew.
"Oh, so there you are," smiled Hermione. "Just look at your handiwork now, old boy."
Crookshanks leapt upon the bed and made his way to Snape's head. He butted the sleeping wizard in the face, and then administered "kitty kisses" by gently licking his temple a few times with the bare tip of his tongue. Finally, Crookshanks settled in next to Snape's left hand for a catnap. Hermione listened to him purr for five minutes before the great ginger cat fell into a light sleep. All this made Hermione terribly tired. Her eyelids refused to stay open for it was at least two in the morning. She had dutifully administered the fever reducing potion as Madam Pomfrey had directed, but she was simply too tired to stay focused. She tried pacing the floor. She tried doing Arithmancy in her mind. She tried brewing healing potions in her mind. She tried everything known to an eighteen year old to stay awake and pull an all-nighter. Finally, she succumbed to a light doze herself. After an hour's nap, she jerked awake as her head pivoted forward and her chin bounced off her chest.
She saw Snape's body writhing in the bed. He was grinding his teeth; she presumed he was in great pain. He was alternately shivering and sweating profusely. Her hand reached out to touch him. He was burning up with fever. Hermione took the potion indicated by Madam Pomfrey and sitting him up a bit, spooned some more into her former potions professor. She stroked his throat causing him to swallow. She took care not to choke him. Hermione removed the covers after she had drawn cool water, added a cooling charm to it, and she began to sponge him down. Madam Pomfrey had dressed him in what Muggles called boxers and a muscle shirt. It gave him sufficient covering to protect his own modesty should he rouse, but at the same time allowed his caregiver to apply what needed applying.
When the sponge touched his body, she felt him shudder and grunt. She thought that perhaps she got the water too cold, but then realized that she had to get his temperature down and down now before the fever ravaged his mind further. Hermione wrapped a cold compress across his forehead and kept renewing the cooling charm on it as she sponged the heat away from other parts of his body. By four in the morning, she thought she had finally turned the corner with her patient. It mattered little that the bedding was soaked. He was still feverish, but it was nothing like it had been. Madam Pomfrey checked on her patient's progress around five-thirty. She was pleased just to see that Snape had survived the night. Hermione apologized for having fallen asleep to begin with; sure that she had caused the spike in his fever due to her inattention. Madam Pomfrey told her otherwise. Then she did some diagnostic wand waving to see how healing was proceeding. She was even more satisfied with the results of her testing that he might just pull through after all.
Shortly after daybreak, the castle awakened fully for a Saturday of Quidditch and a Hogsmeade trip for those with permission. Madam Pomfrey sent Hermione off to get some much-needed sleep of her own. The mediwitch was very pleased with the overall performance of the younger witch and told her so.
Minerva came by to check on Severus before she went to the Great Hall for breakfast. Madam Pomfrey had placed a charm around Snape's bed to protect him from intruders and to let her know if his condition changed at all significantly.
"Poppy," asked McGonagall, "where is Miss Granger?"
"I sent her to bed after I had the house elves bring her a bite to eat," Poppy replied. "She did an excellent job tending Severus last night. She will make a fine healer one day. She has everything necessary!"
McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief. She looked down at her colleague and patted his arm gently. She reached out to brush away a few strands of hair as well.
"Poppy, you know that the Ministry will likely hear about him soon," she began. "What is your prognosis for his recovery?"
"He cannot be moved now or any time very soon. His condition is most unpredictable and unstable," she offered the Headmistress. "I would not even consider moving him to St. Mungo's, not the way he is at present."
McGonagall nodded her head, "I don't think they'll move him to St.Mungo's. It's more likely Azkaban," there was an ominous tone to her voice.
"Surely. Now would you care to explain to me why he should not be sent to Azkaban?" Poppy wanted to know.
"Yes, do explain that, Professor!" Harry Potter stood in the doorway, wand in hand but not extended.