Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
AN: Thank you all for reading, following, favouring and reviewing. It is always nice to know that people appreciate what I write, and I love the ones with constructive criticism. You all deserve hugs and lots of salted-caramel ice-cream or Oreos, whatever you prefer.
And to the ones leaving insulting and negative reviews: nobody is forcing you to read this story. Stop reading if you don't like it. But at least most of them make me laugh, seriously I have a twisted humour.
This chapter is longer than the previous ones, but I didn't want it to end at the typical length, because then we would be in a cliff-hanger and that would have been too mean. But I don't think the next one will be as long as this.
This chapter is beta'ed by the wonderful vichan and Cameron Lindsey. Thanks to you two, you are the best!
Have fun reading.
On with the story.
Chapter 5: Scrutiny and Subterfuge
'Breathe. This can't be any worse than one of his detentions.' Harry tried to calm himself as much as possible before he knocked on the office door.
Still, a little uneasiness was settling in his stomach, because it certainly was different than detentions.
For the last four years, Snape had only been his Potions professor. Harry was about to face him as his Head of House, and if he had learned anything about Slytherin in less than twenty-four-hours as a snake, it's that their Head of House didn't handle things the same way as McGonagall.
"Come in, Mr Potter," his Potions professor answered. The change of address startled him and he nearly stumbled into the door; he had just been Potter for so long. Harry caught himself, took another breath then opened the door to step inside. Snape sat behind his desk and gestured to the seat in front of him, which Harry took, his back stiff. The professor regarded him with an unreadable expression before he spoke with a rather calm and collected voice.
"Mr Potter, your placement so late in your education is highly unusual, but nevertheless, you are now part of Slytherin house," he said, "Despite our… unfavourable relationship so far, I am now responsible for you and I take this duty seriously." For a brief moment Snape looked as if he was actually pained to say such a thing. "This includes your physical and emotional wellbeing. If any student is giving you trouble due to your new sorting, your previous standing in Slytherin, or because of certain… allegiances, you may come to me." Snape paused. "You must come to me if anyone is threatening you. It will not be tolerated."
Harry suppressed a snort; he knew that he would never take Snape up on his offer, even if he had managed to say it without looking like he had bitten a lemon. Even so, his uneasiness grew with the professor's statement. Never had an adult announced that they were taking his well-being seriously in any way and Harry wasn't really sure how to handle it.
Then the professor's eyes turned scornful and derogative, an all-too familiar expression.
"Now - let me make one thing very clear to you, Potter. I've watched you running around the castle, blatantly disregarding the rules – which are in place to keep students and therefore you and your friends safe – with minimal consequences." Snape narrowed his eyes at him. "Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore may have given you leeway so far, but I certainly will not do so. You will abide by all of the rules or you will learn how I punish members of my house. Do not foolishly believe that your fame will help you in any way, and your arrogant behaviour will do you no favour." Snape sneered at him and his cold glare bored into Harry.
The uneasiness in Harry died down. That was the Snape he was used to, the one he knew how to handle and how to react to. He didn't say anything but simply met Snape's stare with his own.
He had no delusions that Snape would actually treat him the same as the other Slytherins. Their animosity was too great. The man had hated him from the very first look. Why should him wearing green change any of that?
The professor was quiet for a few moments before picking up one of the parchments from the pile on his desk. He unrolled it and started to speak in an unsettling calm and controlled voice. Harry would have preferred the sneer.
"What we will talk about today is your school work, how you are settling in so far, and about anything you or I think needs to be discussed," he said. "We will also discuss your medical report if there is something that needs to be discussed. Let us start with your school work."
The change in topic threw Harry a little. He wanted to talk about his school work? Did Heads of Houses do something like this? Did teachers?
The uneasiness rose up again.
"I have surveyed your performance report. Your grades in Defence Against the Dark Arts are at the top of your class." Had that been a compliment? Snape continued. "Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration are all above average. If you would be graded in these subjects based on O.W.L. standard now, you would receive at least an A. Your wand work seems satisfying enough, and with a little effort in your theoretical work you could raise your grade to an E, perhaps even an O."
Harry was stunned. No teacher before had ever spoken with him about his schoolwork; not even Remus had sat down with him to discuss how he was doing. And here Snape, of all people, talked with him about it in a surprisingly civil fashion.
"If you need help understanding the theory or need assistance in the construction of an essay, I recommend that you attend tutoring classes," Snape continued. "They take place every Tuesday and Thursday in the classroom next to my office from 3 PM until dinner. The upper years will be available to assist you in any subject you need. Additionally, Mr. Malfoy or Miss Davis would both be perfect choices from your year to ask for help. As the time between dinner and curfew is to be spent in the common room, that time may also be used for homework or tutoring."
There was absolutely no way in hell Harry would ask any of the Slytherins - especially Malfoy, of all people - for help with his homework. He paused in his thoughts and inwardly sighed. They had been rather civil thus far - friendly, even - and they were his housemates until he left Hogwarts. Perhaps he should ask… it wasn't like he had class with Ron and Hermione anymore. That thought made him equally sad and angry.
What would it mean for their friendship? Since coming to Hogwarts, he always had been together with Ron - in their dorm, in class, in the Great Hall. Their friendship had grown with the proximity. With Harry in Slytherin, they would have to plan and arrange times to see each other - that was if Ron was even still interested in keeping their friendship. He had to! Four years of friendship couldn't be erased that easily.
Harry shoved the thoughts aside and concentrated on Snape, who continued.
"Care of Magical Creatures also seems satisfying, if we overlook the competence level of the professor."
Harry clenched his teeth. He didn't think for one minute that the slur against Hagrid had not been deliberate, but Snape continued without a glance at him. Perhaps that hadn't been meant as a provocation of Harry, but simply Snape being - well, Snape.
"Your performance in Astronomy could stand some improvement, as well as in Divination and History. Your grades in those classes are abysmal." Even that insulting statement was made in a rather flat tone. Where was the mockery? The resentment? Could Snape's treatment of Harry really change that much simply due to Harry's change of house? He was practically dizzy from all the confusion.
"Regarding Divination, you are the only Slytherin student from your year taking it. You will therefore take part in the Hufflepuffs' class." Then Snape's tone changed briefly to the one Harry was used to hearing from him: hard, acidic, and slightly mocking. "And concerning your incompetence in Potions, I don't believe we have to speak of it." His gaze bored into Harry's, but there were too many expressions in his professor's face to distinguish them completely. Anger, resentment, rancour, loathing – yes – but there were definitely more.
The professor's attention turned back to the parchment. "For Potions, Divination, and History, a tutor will be assigned to you in order to improve your performance to at least a passing grade in each subject. We will see who is available during the first tutoring session. Any concerns or questions so far?"
Harry briefly wondered if he should ask if it was possible to change classes – Divination in particular - but decided against it and shook his head. "No, sir."
"Very well." Snape set down the parchment that evidently held Harry's grades and began paging through another stack. "Now, then... I read your medical history provided by Pomfrey and I must say the amount of time you have spent in the Hospital Wing is… impressive. I know of most of your escapades from the previous years and can link some of the findings to this, but I'd like some clarification on a few events." He seemed to find the parchment he was looking for and pulled it out. "The magical exhaustion at the end of first year was due to your confrontation with Professor Quirrell?"
Harry nodded, nausea squirming in his stomach. What all showed up in his medical file? And why did Snape want to talk about it? The whole situation – sitting with Snape in his office, speaking without exchanging a single insult – was rather disconcerting.
"Verbal confirmation, if you would, Potter." The professor's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly.
"How did you manage to lose all the bones in your arm in second year?" Snape looked down the bridge of long nose at him, still calm, still controlled, but not as cold as before.
"It was broken by a bludger and Lockhart vanished the bones in his attempt to heal them," he answered reluctantly. Snape stared at him like Harry was a puzzle he didn't have all the pieces to.
Snape finally nodded and his gaze wandered down the parchment. Harry prayed that he wouldn't ask about the events at the end of second year. He hadn't gone to Madam Pomfrey and nobody insisted that he go. He was quite sure being bitten by a Basilisk – even if healed by Phoenix tears – would have merited further medical attention and medical scans, and Harry had been quite happy to avoid them.
He wasn't even sure if he had ever mentioned the bite to Dumbledore. If Snape learned of it, Harry was certain that would result in suspicion and would merit an extra trip to the infirmary. He still wasn't even sure how he could evade the one already set for today.
"In your third year, Madam Pomfrey had to treat you three times due to Dementor exposure - a check-up directly upon arrival at Hogwarts, after the attack during a Quidditch match, as well as at the end of the year, when you foolishly tried to save Black." Snape sneered the name in disgust. "You have quite a severe reaction to Dementors, I gather."
It was not phrased as a question and Harry didn't answer. He certainly would not tell Snape what he heard when a Dementor was near. He shrugged as he felt the man's gaze, but for once it didn't feel threatening or scornful.
"The treatments during the Triwizard Tournament are also listed here, as well as the stay after the third task. Acromantula bite, nerve-damage, a rather long and deep cut in the pit of your arm and magical exhaustion." Snape paused after listing what was noted on the parchment. "'Nerve-damage?'" he repeated, giving Harry a questioning look. He sat stiff in his chair, uncomfortable with Snape's scrutiny. He didn't want to remember that particular day.
But Snape's expression demanded an answer.
"Er…" Harry cleared his throat. "Vol…" Snape's sharp glare stopped him. "At the graveyard… he liked to use Crucio."
Something unreadable flickered in the professor's eyes. "How often?"
"Twice."
The man made a noise that Harry couldn't read - not quite a gasp, and it didn't sound like surprise. That expression that Harry couldn't quite read almost seemed like concern.
'No,' Harry decided. 'Couldn't be, not from Snape.'
"No lasting effects? Spasms? Numbness or stiffness?"
"No." The questions and the expression rattled him. His answer wasn't entirely truthful; sometimes the knuckles in his right hand were stiff, but he was almost positive that was because Dudley had once slammed his hand in the car door.
Snape's unsettling, studious look continued for another moment or two before he continued. "A rather unusual assembly of injuries over the years. Despite this, there is nothing in your medical report of typical ailments - no colds, no flu." The tone suggested that an answer was needed.
"I don't get ill very often," Harry said evasively. It wasn't really untrue - he didn't often get ill enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary. When he had gotten ill in second year he had nearly gone, but the whole situation with the petrifications and Slytherin's heir made Harry decide against it. And it had only been a cold. Ron and Hermione had attributed his silence, pale face, and fatigue to the hostile atmosphere in the school.
"It seemed you received the necessary shots at your Muggle primary school, but no follow-ups were ever done. Care to explain?"
Harry felt more and more like he was being interrogated.
"The D – my aunt and uncle must have forgotten during the summer holidays, I think." He shrugged and the professor narrowed his eyes at the gesture.
"I will write a note to Madam Pomfrey to get you caught up with preventative potions." Snape's quill scratched across the parchment.
"What also seem to be missing are the annual health checks. Did Professor McGonagall not send you Madam Pomfrey for those?" Now Snape's voice was flat, as if daring him to lie.
Harry squirmed in his seat. "She does - I just missed it one or two times…" He trailed off.
"Or all times. Above a simple health check, Potter? Or do you believe you know more about your own health than a certified healer?" Snape's lips curled into a mocking smile.
Harry decided not to answer and ignored the piercing gaze.
"Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for you when we are finished here. You will immediately go to the infirmary, and this will be rectified. As Madam Pomfrey has had you in her care more than once, I don't expect the health check to reveal anything surprising; nevertheless, it has to be done. But I do hope, Mr Potter, that nothing aside from a simple cold will hold you in the infirmary from now on."
Harry understood the underlying message just fine and could only barely suppress a sigh. It wasn't that he searched for trouble; trouble just always found him.
Snape set the quill aside and folded his hands under his chin, giving Harry a rather intense look, and Harry had a sudden panicking suspicion that he could read minds.
"Now, are there any other issues you want to discuss?"
Harry shook his head. There was no way that he would discuss anything with Snape. "No, sir." So far, the Slytherins had treated him rather normal. Nobody had tried to steal his stuff or hex him or anything of the sort. Nobody had even insulted him – apart from Malfoy and Parkinson the previous evening, but that was to be expected.
"This unusual change will take everyone some time to grow adjusted to, but I have every faith in my snakes. Now, Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you. Go along." Snape dismissed him with a gesture towards the door.
If someone had told him that a civil, insult-free conversation with his most hated teacher was possible, he would have believed the person to be crazy. But he indeed managed to have a civil, insult-free conversation with the professor, and wasn't sure what he should make of it.
Harry took his time on the way to the hospital wing, his mind going in a hundred directions all at once. If he didn't appear Snape would surely hear about it, ask questions, and then drag him there. If he let Madam Pomfrey perform the health check, there would be questions, regardless.
No matter what, Harry was going to have to face someone questioning his physical state.
He slipped into a nearby bathroom and locked the door behind him. He shrugged off his robe and then slipped out of the hoodie and tee he wore beneath it. Harry approached the mirrors above the sinks and inspected his back; there were a handful of half-healed welts scattered across his skin, one curled around his ribcage in a mockery of a tattoo. The numerous bruises stood out harshly under the bathroom light.
He sighed. How could he hide this? Even a superficial medical scan would make the injuries apparent. The bruises he could explain with some physical activity – rugby, American football, or even brawling.
The welts were a different story. He was lucky Uncle Vernon had not used the side with the belt buckle, or they would have been much deeper. As long as Harry was careful, these wouldn't even leave a scar.
Still, there was no explanation for the wounds without raising Madam Pomfrey's suspicion.
Ideas raced through his head, even ideas that were reckless and foolish and certain to go wrong. There was no possible way he could sneak into the Hospital Wing, steal some healing potion, and heal himself before he had the check-up. He was already down to the wire, and he wasn't even sure he knew what type of potions to look for. He heard a voice – which sounded unsurprisingly like Hermione – telling him what a terrible plan it was and how there was no way it would work.
He discarded that idea with a sigh.
He dressed again and splashed his face with cold water. How could he get out of this predicament? He wished he could ask Sirius, but he had no means of contacting Sirius. Besides, his godfather would surely want to know why he needed a way to hide injuries from a medical scan.
Running a hand through his hair, Harry stared sightlessly into the mirror and sighed again, trying to think of what he actually knew about the medical checks he'd never attended. He remembered hearing from his former Gryffindor roommates that the health check was usually just a diagnostic spell; Madam Pomfrey apparently didn't ask anyone to disrobe unless something came up in her spell.
With that, it hit him.
The wards he had put on his bed prevented spells, noise, and even objects or people from passing through, hiding and concealing what was behind them. The wards were based and anchored in spells and runes, linked and combined to direct Harry's intentions.
Yes, runes were theoretically only letters, but if it was possible to use runes as anchors and templates for spells, like they could be used in wards, why couldn't it be possible with medical scans? He just needed a way to prevent the scan from penetrating all the way down to the injuries, much like he'd prevented spells from penetrating his bed curtains.
He stared at his reflection. Was it possible? He would need to write the runes on his clothes or skin. He gripped the edge of the sink tight as he processed the idea.
Theoretically, it should be possible. He needed to look at his books to make sure, but the feeling of coming up with such a solid foundation renewed his determination.
Harry unlocked the door and ran all the way back to the Slytherin common room, grateful that he remembered the way without an issue. He skidded to a halt in front of the stone wall concealing the entrance and tried to even out his breathing before whispering the password in an urgent tone.
Once inside he saw that the common room was occupied, and a few surprised looks were sent his way as he hurried through, but he ignored them and walked briskly down to his dorm. The fifth-year dorm was thankfully empty, and Harry swiftly searched through his trunk for the books he had brought with him from the library at Grimmauld place.
He knew he had to hurry. He wasn't sure if Madam Pomfrey would alert Snape if he did not appear immediately.
He began to flip through the books on warding, ancient runes, as well as some of the darker books he had brought with him.
It felt like a lifetime until he found the information, he needed in one of the darker books - Magic of Flesh and Blood. However, he certainly would have to change the procedure described there; there was no way he was carving the runes into his own flesh.
But, yes, he could write runes on a living being, and combine them with spells to strengthen their protections. As far as Harry could tell they would only hold against simple scanning spells; for more invasive spells the runes would need to be written directly on the organs and bones. The pictures beside the description were rather gruesome, and Harry had no interest in causing himself further injury. They would also not hold for very long, and if he had to remove his clothes the runes would be immediately seen, which would result in a whole different series of questions that Harry wouldn't want to answer.
But it was better than nothing. It was crazy, but Harry was rather good with crazy, reckless plans.
He transfigured a quill into a brush, grabbed an ink bottle, and went to the bathroom to hide in a shower stall. He definitely didn't want his new house mates to walk in while he painted runes on himself. He started painting on nearly every part of his body - on his stomach, his arms, his chest, his ribcage, his lefts, and the parts of his back and shoulder blades he could reach. As he moved the brush from limb to limb Harry realized that there was scarcely a single part of his body that Vernon hadn't left bruised.
The runes for concealment and evasion should misdirect the medical scanning spell. The runes for deception and illusion would be combined with the glamour charm he had just learned that morning, which would allow him to hide the bruises and welts. He used the rune for truth to tie the glamour spells and illusion runes together, and then added the rune for health so Pomfrey's medical scanning spell should give her normal read-out.
The runes alone would do nothing, but linked and combined with warding spells, which used them as a template and anchor, it should – it had to function. Harry might have been new at using runes and building wards, but he didn't have a choice; he had to make sure that they worked.
Harry took a deep breath as he set the brush aside and lifted his wand. The glamour charm came first, followed by the spell to link all of the runes. Then he performed a spell to activate and raise a ward that would anchor the runes and function based on their intent. He put as much magic into it as he dared. He felt the magic settle in and around his skin. It was an odd feeling; like an electrical current traveling all over his body.
He looked into the mirror and couldn't help but laugh. He'd succeeded; the bruises and welts were no longer visible and when he carefully traced his ribcage where the large welt had been, he couldn't even feel the injury anymore.
But he looked completely insane with the runes covering his skin. His hair was completely out of control as always, and his green eyes seemed brighter than usual. He seemed to be the perfect picture of madness.
Harry shrugged and turned around to inspect his back, where he could only reach his hips and parts of his shoulder blades with the brush, but the skin there also appeared unmarked and uninjured.
He knew he had to hurry. He'd never tried anything like this and wasn't sure how long it would actually hold. He felt the buzz of the 'body-ward' traveling across his skin, working to fulfil its purpose, but the magic he had put in it would not hold forever.
Harry dressed carefully after he was sure the ink was dry, placed the brush, ink and books back into his trunk, and finally made his way to the infirmary.
Madam Pomfrey was busy with a young Hufflepuff when Harry walked in, but she gestured towards one of the beds when she saw him enter.
Harry took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried desperately not to sweat; sweating would smear the runes and break down the wards on his body. But he was nervous; what if his crazy idea didn't work? If it was that easy, somebody certainly would have done it before, and Pomfrey would have caught them.
He took a deep breath and desperately tried to calm the chaotic thoughts in his mind.
When Madam Pomfrey finally approached him, he forced his panic down. There was no way out now.
"Hello, Mr Potter. I really hope not to see you very often this year." She gave him a kind smile.
"I will try my best, Madam Pomfrey." He was grateful that his voice didn't shake.
"So, let's see." She flicked her wand and a parchment came flying out of her office. "Ah, Severus commented on the lack of health check reports from the previous years and that it appears you missed some vaccinations. He is always very thorough with checking on his wards."
She read further. "It does appear that we missed some health checks." She regarded Harry with a frown. "All of them, in fact."
"Er… the beginnings of the school years were always kinda chaotic, and I forgot… I think." Harry scratched his neck and looked up at her with a sheepish expression. She continued to regard him with a measuring look, but the frown disappeared.
"If you say so, dear," she said. "It seems this was partially my fault; I never realized that the reports were non-existent. I will be sure not to overlook it again." She gave him a stern look Harry gulped and nodded. There would be no more evading the yearly visit. "Now, then - let's not wait any longer. I will perform a standard medical scanning spell. One copy will be sent to your Head of House, and the other will be placed into your medical file."
She lifted her wand and Harry stiffened.
"This will only take a few minutes at most," Madam Pomfrey said. "It will look for present illness or injuries, will check your weight, height, blood pressure, nourishments, test for allergies and the like. It is not a deep scan, which I only will perform if something of concern is found in this one."
The panic was back again; he had completely forgotten about his weight and he wasn't sure if a few weeks with Mrs Weasley's food would counter the poor nourishment he certainly had from the Dursleys.
But Madam Pomfrey was already waving her wand and Harry felt the buzzing on his skin react to the magic settling over him. It was a very strange sensation. He could feel how the matron's spell flowed through him – searching, scanning, analysing - but he could also feel how it was misdirected from the welts; it was as if her magic was skipping over parts of his skin.
Harry felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He didn't dare to breathe.
Madam Pomfrey waved her wand again over a blank parchment and the magic flowing through Harry left him and sank down into the sheet. Writing appeared, eerily similar to how the words had appeared in Riddle's diary.
The matron picked up the parchment and started reading, nodding here and there, but also – to Harry's not diminishing panic - frowning at some points.
"First, Mr Potter - what happened to your hand?"
Startled, Harry looked at his hand and groaned. He had forgotten what had happened in the shower earlier that morning and the wards didn't seem to extend to his hands.
"Mr Potter?"
"I slipped and fell in the shower," he mumbled. He received a disapproving look from the matron, who carefully took his hand and examined the damage.
"Well, nothing is broken," she said. "But it is a rather serious contusion. I will give you a salve for the bruising and a potion for the pain and to accelerate healing." She left Harry to get what she needed and returned with bandages, a small container, and a potion. She instructed Harry to drink the potion, then she spread cream from the container over his knuckles and immobilised the hand by wrapping it in bandages. The cream felt soothing and cool on his skin and Harry registered that the throbbing he had unconsciously ignored was subsiding.
He gave her a grateful smile and rested his hand in his lap. Madam Pomfrey looked at him in approval and settled on a chair beside him.
"Now, Harry - let's talk about your medical scan results. I am a little concerned over some of the findings."
'Findings?' She wanted to talk about what the scan had found? What had it found? There was something to talk about? Harry felt nausea rising in his gut.
Madam Pomfrey continued. "It says you are rather underweight for your height, and your height itself is short for your age. You also show signs of malnourishment, which may explain the lack of height and weight. The malnourishment also compromises your immune system. We'll have to postpone your missing preventative potions until it is more stable."
Harry's mind was racing. "What… what does that mean?"
She sighed and a look of concern blanketed her face. "That means, Mr Potter, that your immune system is rather weak and can't fight off diseases as your schoolmates can," she said. "You can come down with an illness much easier, the symptoms would be far more severe, and the recovery times would be longer. A cold which would give, let's say, Mr Weasley, only an inconvenient cough, could lead to bronchitis or even pneumonia in your case."
Harry looked at her with wide eyes, shocked. She patted his uninjured hand reassuringly.
"This will be easily solved if we improve your general health, and to do that we need to improve your nourishment levels," she said. "Now, Mr Potter, why is your weight below the acceptable level and why do your nourishment levels suggest starvation?" Her level gaze rested on him.
Harry tried to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers in his lap. He couldn't look into the nurse's eyes, and his mind grasped for something to say. "After what happened at the end of last year… I wasn't… I couldn't…" He wasn't completely sure what he wanted to say, but Madam Pomfrey patted his hand again and regarded him with a kind but sad, almost motherly expression.
"I understand, Mr Potter. I assume you had sleeping problems and little to no appetite?"
Harry nodded, relief washing over him. She was giving him an explanation without him having to say anything.
"Did you also have problems with keeping food down? Fatigue or restlessness?" The motherly demeanor she'd shown earlier was gone; she was all business.
Harry shook his head. "I… didn't eat regularly… but had no problem keeping it down."
"That is good. I will prescribe you a nourishment potion, which you will take with your breakfast. But until your weight is at an acceptable range there will be no flying for you, young man." She gave him a stern look that told him she was not to be argued with. Harry tried to look crestfallen, but inwardly he was relieved; he didn't need an excuse as to why he wouldn't try out for his new house team.
"If you are having issues sleeping, I could give you a sleeping potion, but these are addictive and shouldn't be used too often." Her concerned gaze made him uneasy.
"No, that's…. that's ok." Harry evaded her gaze, but she seemed to hear more in his voice than he wanted.
"Harry, do you have sleeping problems?"
He shoved the rising feelings from the nightmare this morning aside. "Sometimes." He still didn't look in her direction, but her expression told him she knew what he was not saying.
She sighed. "I really don't want to give you Dreamless Sleep, but…" She paused in consideration "But we can try something different. I will order a house-elf to bring you a cup of tea every evening. It will be brewed from relaxing and soothing herbs and is known to help with these kinds of ailments. Now, fatigue or restlessness?" Madam Pomfrey enquired, her expression demanding an answer.
"Both." Harry answered reluctantly and she nodded in understanding.
"Both should get better with quality sleep and a general improvement of your health," she said. "But even with the nourishment potion you must eat balanced meals and drink plenty of fluids. If you can't eat much at one meal, try to snack during the day. Healthy snacks, Mr Potter - not sweets. Vegetables, fruits, nuts, and dairy products like yoghurt. I will inform the kitchen to provide them for you." She gave him another no-nonsense look and then made several notes on the parchment. "I want to check on your progress in a few weeks. I will send you a note for the follow-up and will inform Severus of the date and time."
Harry nearly choked. He had to go through all that again?
Madam Pomfrey rolled the parchment, then stood up and smiled at him. "If your issues with sleeping do not improve, please come back, Mr Potter. That is not something which should go overlooked. Your Head of House will get your updated medical file, so be prepared to be called for another talk. Severus is very invested in the wellbeing of his Slytherins. If you have nothing else, you are free to go."
Relief washed over him as Harry left the infirmary and headed back to the dorms. He needed a shower to remove the ink from his skin. He was still a little dazed. That had gone much better then he even had hoped to imagine. It seemed that for once his sheer dumb luck had played in his favour.
But what did she mean he should be prepared to talk with Severus again?
He found his answer waiting in the common room. Harry had not even taken one step when Head Girl Fraser appeared beside him.
"Potter, Professor Snape wants to talk with you. He is waiting in his office."
He nodded at her, turned around and left the common room. He could handle another talk with Snape, but he already felt completely exhausted when the day wasn't even halfway done. Merlin, he hadn't even started classes yet.
He felt drained when he knocked at the Snape's door for the second time that day.
"Mr Potter, come in and sit down." It was as if he hadn't left the office at all. Snape still sat at his desk, a stack of parchment in front of him. Harry sank into the chair he had vacated only an hour ago.
"I received the report from Madam Pomfrey." Nothing in Snape's voice or face revealed his thoughts about it. He went directly to the matter at hand. "As your lack of nourishment is dangerously low, I will brew a specialised potion myself. She informed you that it is to be taken every morning with breakfast?" His dark gaze found Harry's, who nodded.
"The prefects, the Head Girl, or I will take note that the potion is taken correctly."
Harry frowned. Would that mean they would be watching him? He didn't like it. But at least it didn't seem like Snape wanted to talk about the reasons for his health problems.
"But even the best potion will not do any good without proper balanced meals." The Professor lectured him while holding Harry's gaze. "I've already informed the house-elves to put a specific diet plan together for you. Your personalized meals will appear directly before you. This doesn't mean that you are not allowed to eat any of the other food on the table, but you should finish everything on your plate before engorging yourself with whatever rubbish teenagers prefer these days. Additionally, there will be snacks provided for you in the common room."
Harry squirmed under the intense stare and simply nodded again. Snape's voice was flat and controlled; Harry had absolutely no clue as to what the professor was thinking.
"The prefects have been informed about your diet plan, the immune deficiency, and the no flying rule. The Slytherin prefects and I will be keeping an eye on you. If you feel even the slightest bit ill you will immediately come to one of us. This is no situation for foolish recklessness." The Professor's voice made it clear that he would not accept any objections.
Witnessing Snape – or any adult, really - showing an unfamiliar interest in his well-being left Harry feeling unbalanced - again.
"Madam Pomfrey also remarked that you have sleeping problems and prescribed an herbal tea," Snape continued. "You are to drink it immediately before sleeping. If the tea doesn't help, I will consult with Madam Pomfrey about alternative solutions, as I am also reluctant to give a highly addictive potion to a teenager on a regular basis."
Snape rested his chin on his folded hands.
"She also had to treat your hand due to a contusion." His gaze wandered to the bandaged hand resting in Harry's lap. "How did this happen?"
"Er…"
"Do not even think to lie, Mr Potter," Snape said.
"I… punched a wall, sir."
If the situation hadn't been so surreal, Harry would have laughed at the perplexed expression on the man in front of him. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a look grace Snape's features.
"You… punched a wall?" Snape slowly repeated, blinking.
Harry nodded. "Yes. This morning, in the shower."
"And why, Mr Potter, did you feel the need to... punch a wall?" Snape's drawl made it clear that Slytherins didn't tend to throw their fists into walls.
Harry shrugged. "I was… a little overwhelmed with the situation, sir."
Snape stayed silent while scrutinizing him, then he nodded and said dryly, "Very well. I would recommend to not punch walls going forward, as they more often than not tend to be more indestructible then your bones. In a fight between a wall and your fist, the wall will win." He raised one eyebrow at Harry. "That is all for now Mr Potter" he said in a clear dismissal.
Harry barely registered leaving and he found himself out in the hallway, his mind racing. Had that been a joke? A joke from Snape?
Harry walked back to the common room in a haze of confusion; the entire morning had honestly felt like a very vivid and very strange dream. He settled into an armchair and stared at the bowl of yoghurt, mixed with nuts and berries that had appeared before him. He realized he'd been focused on the bowl for several minutes when a cough shifted his attention to the Head Girl standing before him. How long had she been standing there?
"The house-elves didn't prepare that for you to stare at. Eat!" Fraser's voice was quiet but demanding. When Harry picked up the bowl and brought the first spoonful to his mouth she smiled, gave his shoulder a pat, and settled on a nearby settee with a book.
After the events of the morning, Harry was a little bit afraid to find out what the rest of the day would bring. Then he remembered that he still had to wash the ink off of his body. Looking down at his snack, he decided to do it after he ate.
Perhaps a relaxing shower would help calm his mind enough to deal with the rest of the day.
AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
First published: 24th February 2019