Part 5
This time, Severus took precautions in case things turned nasty, and it was a good job he did because as soon as the demon Crowley appeared, he tried to lunge at Severus in a fury. Only the devil's trap etched into the dirt road kept him from reaching Severus. It was a basic circular runic spell, symbols within circles that worked together to restrain certain magics – or in this case, certain magical beings.
Like potions, a lot of runic magic was looked down on by many wizards because they weren't flashy, but they were undeniably effective. So long as the outermost circle remained unbroken, the demon couldn't leave its confines, even if it left the human body hosting it.
"You filthy, cheating piece of human shit," he snarled, stalking the edge of the devil's trap, Cockney accent thickening in his fury. "You were supposed to perform that sacrifice!"
"So it worked," Severus said, keeping his voice flat, hiding any relief and fear he felt.
"Worked!" Crowley spat. "Of course it bloody worked, I made a deal, the boy's soul was free if his crystal was destroyed in the blood of a Dark Sacrifice, and I don't break deals, but it should've been you, not that thrice-cursed abomination!"
Severus cautioned a step closer to the circle. "What do you know about Nemo? Who is he?"
"I'm not telling you fucking anything, but I promise you this." The demon stopped pacing, standing at the very edge of the circle, glaring across the distance at Severus. "I won't forgive this, and I know who you are. I know where you go when you die. Dark Sacrifice or not, I'll see you again one day, Severus Snape, and that day, you'll be the one trapped."
"I'm sure," Severus said blandly, lifting his wand. "Until then – Arkamda olsun."
It was the first thing he learnt when he originally decided to summon a demon – an exorcism spell. He wouldn't be like the Muggles who left monsters free to roam the earth.
He followed it with a banishing spell that returned the now-bodiless demon to earth, then left the now unconscious human lying where he'd fallen. He didn't care about whatever unfortunate fool had been possessed. He cared only to return home, to return to his son.
Snape wouldn't tell Harry why he didn't like Mr Lupin, but he didn't take Harry out of school and Mr Lupin helped them get in to see Calla, so Harry didn't mind so much.
It happened on Friday, after school. Snape surprisingly insisted on picking him up every afternoon, but instead of taking him home that day, they Apparated away from the school and appeared on a street in London.
Mr Lupin appeared moments later. He smiled briefly at them, then turned to the window of a closed down shop, leaning close and murmuring to the dummy on the other side, "Here to see Calla Potter."
The dummy nodded and gestured with its finger, and the three of them stepped through the glass window. The reception area on the other side was filled with people suffering various maladies, some more obvious than others, and Mr Lupin led them past the chairs and towards the stairs.
"Calla's in room two of the children's ward," he said quietly to Harry and Snape. "Get somewhere out of the way when we get there; I'll convince James to come out for a bit and take him up to the cafe." He gave Snape a sideways look. "How you get past the floor orderly is up to you."
Snape said nothing to that.
On the third floor, Snape pulled Harry into a corner, ordered him quiet and cast a spell over them that felt like a broken egg running down Harry's back. They watched Mr Lupin go to the door of a private room, opening and disappearing inside. From further down the corridor, the faint noise of quiet chatter came from the main ward, and an orderly was helping a child with a wooden foot to the bathroom.
It felt like they stood there for hours, but eventually the door to room two opened again and Mr Lupin came out with James. Harry shifted. He hadn't seen James since Calla's accident and he wondered what James would say if he saw him now. Probably nothing pleasant.
Once James and Mr Lupin were gone into the stairwell, Snape briskly led Harry towards room two. It took them past the floor orderly's desk and she glanced towards them, frowned, then blinked and looked away with a shake of her head when Snape cast a quick spell at her.
At the door, Harry stopped, suddenly afraid to go in. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the condition he'd put his sister in. Sure, it hadn't been intentional, but it was still sort of his fault, wasn't it? He'd decided to make the potion without supervision and then let Calla drink it first. It should've been him in a coma.
"Move, child," Snape muttered sharply, turning the handle and giving Harry a slight shove.
It wasn't as bad as it might have been. Calla lay in bed, tucked beneath the covers, looking as though she was merely sleeping except for the tube down her throat. That's what Mary said a coma was, but Harry had still imagined Calla looking worse. It was the effect of hospitals; they conjured unpleasant images.
And yet, it was worse than it looked, because he knew now – really knew – what coma truly meant. It wasn't just a deep sleep she wouldn't wake up from, it was a problem with her brain and she wasn't just going to suddenly wake up one day, perfectly fine and cheerful. If they didn't figure out what was wrong, she could get worse and die.
Swallowing thickly, he stepped up to the bed and looked down at her. Looking closer, it was more evident she wasn't just sleeping. Her face was pallid, her red hair limp against the pillow, and her mouth open around the tube. It was to supply potions and food straight to her stomach, the only way they could.
Around the tube, just behind her teeth, and just within her nostrils, was a faint green glow – the mark of a Breathing Assistance Charm. Harry remembered suddenly the blue tinge to her lips that came the day of the accident; he'd thought then that it was an unexpected side effect, but knew now it was a sign of oxygen deprivation.
"Do you understand this?"
Harry dragged his gaze away from Calla and over to Snape, who stood at the foot of the bed and held out a clipboard. Harry took it, frowning as he read it. He knew a whole host of medical jargon now, but it wasn't words he'd learnt so he didn't immediately recognise everything. It didn't help that the handwriting was difficult to decipher.
Eventually, however, he figured it out and looked from it to Calla. "It says she's showing all the signs of anaphylactic shock, but also that her brain activity has almost completely stopped even though they treated the anaphylaxis quickly and there's no reason for it. The anaphylaxis keeps reoccurring, like she's still being subject to the trigger."
"Hm."
Harry looked up at Snape. "Oh, that means –"
"I know what anaphylaxis is, thank you," Snape said shortly. "So why does it keep reoccurring?"
"They don't know," Harry said, putting the clipboard on the bed, and adding miserably, "Neither do I. It shouldn't happen if the trigger isn't present, and they got rid of all the toxins in her body, and the rooms are sterilised, and they tested her for allergies to all the ingredients in the Bubble Burp Brew and for a whole bunch of other stuff, but they can't figure out what the problem is."
Snape picked up the clipboard and flicked through it, eyes scanning a few pages closely. He drew his wand and tapped it, and duplicates of the sheets appeared. He returned to clipboard to it's place and stuffed the duplicates in his pocket. "There's nothing here on what tests they've run on the potion you brewed. We should leave; Potter and Lupin will be back soon."
"But…" Harry looked at Calla, twice as miserable and guilty as he had been before. He was supposed to heal her, to use all this knowledge he'd gained from the demon, knowledge he'd sold his soul for, and yet he was just as useless as he had been before. He wanted to stay, to sit by her side until something clicked and he figured out what the problem was. He had to.
"If Potter finds us here, you'll never get the chance to cure her," Snape said sharply. "We're leaving, now."
Harry sighed, nodded, but reached out and patted the top of Calla's head. "I'll be back," he promised her. "I'll figure out what's wrong with you and come back and heal you, I swear it on my magic."
Snape frowned at him, but Harry ignored him. He meant it and he wanted Calla to know it. If he couldn't heal his sister from something that was his fault, then he deserved to lose his magic and go live with Muggles.
Severus took Harry down to the research and testing laboratory in the basement; his contact in the potion lab had finally got back to him and agreed to give him a sample of the potion Harry brewed. The colour was slightly off, but aside from that it appeared properly made. The smell and consistency were right, and the colour variation would only suggest ingredient mismanagement which should only make it slightly less effective – smaller bubbles and fewer burps.
Obviously that hadn't been the case here.
He wanted to test it immediately, but Harry complained of it being past dinner time. Severus used to eat whenever he got hungry and wasn't busy, having odd meals at odd times of the day or night, occasionally going a day with nothing but coffee as he focused on his brewing.
Now, Harry got grouchy if he didn't have dinner by six in the evening; ate a full bowl of cereal or toast and eggs for breakfast; sandwich, crisps, and fruit for lunch; and snacks mid-morning, mid-afternoon, and shortly before he went to bed. It seemed a lot to Severus, but the boy wasn't fat, nor as skinny as Severus had been as a kid, so presumably it was as much as a growing kid needed.
Eager to get into the lab, he picked up fish and chips from the first Muggle takeaway he saw in London, then Apparated them back to Cokeworth. Once home, he left Harry eating and took only a handful of chips for himself as he headed for the lab.
Testing potions could be either incredibly boring or immensely dangerous. In this case, he knew the components of the Bubble Burp Brew, but didn't know the flaw so couldn't be sure what reaction he'd get when he mixed it with the reagents. The flaw was a wild card that could reveal itself in either an unexpected smell – or an unexpected explosion.
He started with the standard testing agents, all of which confirmed his initial assessment. The potion was properly brewed, though at slightly too warm a temperature – the heaters in the room where it was made had probably been on – and with chizpurfle shells that were past their best. Likely the bamboo leaves hadn't been cut quite as finely as they should have been, too, but all in all none of that would do more than reduce the potency.
He moved onto other tests, first ones that the hospital lab would definitely have run, then ones they might not have – reagents that would identify parasites or rot in the original ingredients, tests to determine if the vial or cauldron it was in had been dirty, even tests with substances that imitated the fluids of the digestive system.
They all gave nothing.
Severus sat on a stool, staring at the remains of the Bubble Burp Brew. What the hell about this potion had put a healthy six-year-old girl into a coma?
He moved into his library. He had a book which covered simple brews like this, and the unexpected errors that could occur with them. Not one he'd looked at since childhood – he only made things which were actually worth the effort, money, or challenge – but he could never throw a book away.
It was on one of his highest shelves and he'd just located and got it down when a hesitant knock came at the door from the living room. His hand was halfway to his wand before he realised it must be Harry. As he set down the book and rounded his reading chair, he wondered how long it would take before he stopped forgetting about his own child.
When he opened the door, he found Harry standing in his pyjamas, messy hair suggesting he had actually been asleep a short while ago. To Severus' horror, he was crying. Teary eyes looked up at him woefully.
"I had a bad dream," Harry said.
"Oh," Severus said.
Several tears spilled down Harry's face. Snot was leaking from his nose and he sniffed, then wiped the excess on his sleeve. Severus' lip curled.
He conjured a handkerchief and thrust it at Harry. "Your sleeve is not a tissue. Wipe your face, child. It was just a dream."
Harry took the kerchief and wiped the tears and snot from his face, then ruined the whole thing by crying again as he stuttered out, "But it was really bad. Calla died and everyone knew it was my fault and I was arrested and they sent me to Azkaban and the Dementors sucked out my soul and you wouldn't save me and –"
"Stop," Severus interrupted harshly. He had vague memories of his mother comforting him as a child, holding him on her lap and assuring him that dreams couldn't hurt. He didn't feel quite up to holding Harry on his lap (wasn't the boy too old for that anyway?) but he took Harry's shoulder and guided him to the sofa, sitting him down and sitting beside him.
"Whatever happened to Calla is not your fault, and it still won't be if she dies. No one will send you to Azkaban, they don't use Dementors on children, and no matter what happens, I will not let your soul be lost."
Harry didn't look comforted. Severus sighed.
"Harry, I will not let anything like that happen to you."
"But what if Calla does die?"
"Then I will curse anyone who tries to arrest you."
"But it's my fault," Harry said, lip wobbling and fresh tears in his eyes.
"No, it's not."
"But I brewed the potion and let her drink it and –"
"Did you doctor it?"
"Doctor…?"
"Put something in it that you shouldn't have," Severus explained.
Harry frowned. "No, of course –"
"Did you purposely make it wrong?"
"No, I –"
"Did you hold Calla down and force her to drink it?"
"No!"
"Then it's not your fault."
"But –" Harry began. Severus was getting sick of that word.
"No buts. This was not your fault. In fact," he said, a sudden idea coming to him, "I'm going to prove it. You're going to come and brew the Bubble Burp Potion now."
Harry gaped at him. "Why?"
"To show me exactly how you did it. I am a master of potions; if there is anything wrong in your method, I will notice and tell you."
"Oh," Harry said. "Now?"
He went to wipe his face on his pyjama sleeve again. Severus stopped him, glaring pointedly at the handkerchief.
"Yes, now, unless you're too tired."
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to go back to sleep."
"Right then." He took the handkerchief from Harry, refolded it to a clean patch, and wiped the snot and tears the boy had missed before vanishing it. Harry made to slip off the sofa, but Severus pushed him back, staring at him hard. "I am going to let you into my lab for this, however I want to make it very clear that this does not mean you can enter it whenever you like."
"Okay."
"While we're in there, you will go where I tell you, and touch only what I tell you. There are dangerous potions, ingredients, and tools in that room. If you touch anything I don't say you can, you will never so much as look in that room again, is that clear?"
Harry nodded, solemnly enough that Severus didn't ask a verbal promise from him. The boy was remarkably expressive, and while sometimes it reminded him of Lily, sometimes it reminded him of his own parents. Eileen had been cold with Tobias, but always open with Severus, and Tobias had never made efforts to hide his (usually negative) feelings.
He suddenly wondered what Harry would be like if he got really mad. Tobias was usually the one shouting in Spinner's End, but Eileen could put his moods to shame if she lost her own temper, and Severus knew how much he struggled to control his. Lily had never tried, often described as a firecracker, outspoken, or a bitch, depending on who said it. Severus was curious to see how that had all manifested in Harry.
But not now. He took Harry through to the lab, sat him on a stool, and ordered him not to touch anything while he collected a cauldron and the necessary ingredients. He set them up in front of Harry, pulled up a stool of his own, and gestured.
"Go. Do it exactly as you did before."
Harry looked at him, at the cauldron and ingredients, then set his chin and got to work.
His methodology wasn't perfect – he was hasty putting things in the cauldron, wasn't careful about cutting evenly, and his stirring was inefficient – but he followed the instructions, and there was nothing in his work that would cause problems. The final product was a weak, slightly off-colour but perfectly functional Bubble Burp Brew.
Severus ran it through the basic tests then took a risk and downed a mouthful himself. He grimaced at the feel of gas building in his stomach, rising up his chest, and then burped it out. A fist-sized bubble left his mouth, leaving behind a minty aftertaste, and floated up to pop against the bottom of his balcony.
Feeling another begin to grow, he went to collect the ingredients for the antidote.
"Tell me your –" he burped again "– your sister's symptoms."
"When she drank it?" Harry asked. Severus was kept from make a sarcastic comment by another burp. "She didn't burp at all. She touched her chest and fell off the chair and her lips were blue – that's cyanosis, 'cause she couldn't breathe properly – and her eyes rolled back." Severus returned to the work bench, seeing Harry frown. "She didn't go into anaphylaxis right then. That must have happened later."
Severus brewed the antidote quickly – it was a simple, general antidote that he could make in his sleep – and was glad to finally stop burping. It still left a minty taste in his mouth.
"So it stopped her breathing first," he said, absently tapping his fingers to his mouth.
Harry nodded. "Can I try it?"
"Hm?"
"Can I drink the potion?"
Severus lowered his hand, frowning at the boy. "Why?"
Harry shrugged. "I want to try it. And maybe it only makes kids get sick, not adults."
"So you want to put yourself in a coma," Severus said dryly. "I'm glad to see you have such a strong sense of self-preservation."
"It might help us figure out what happened."
"Except I have no idea what could cause a coma, or any of the other symptoms."
Harry frowned deeply, brow furrowing, and then quicker than Severus could stop him, he snatched the vial Severus had drank from and downed a mouthful.
"Idiot!"
Harry set the vial down and burped, a bubble leaving his mouth. Severus watched him, eyes scanning close for any sign of difficulty breathing or any other problems.
"How do you feel?" he asked. Harry was frowning, and burped again before answering.
"I'm okay. It tastes like mint."
"Of course it does," Severus said sharply, "you put peppermint leaves in it."
"But there's no cherry taste. Calla said it tasted like cherries."
Cherries? There was absolutely nothing in this potion that could cause that taste.
Harry burped again, then yawned widely. Severus scooped up another dose of the antidote and passed it to him. "Drink that and go to bed."
Harry took the antidote, but didn't move. "But I'm not tired." He punctuated the lie with another yawn. "Why did the one I made before taste like cherries?"
"I don't know," Severus said, already mentally indexing which books in his library might have the answer, "but I'll find out."
"I can help," Harry said, yawning again. "You might need my medical stuff."
"I don't need anything from you right now," Severus told him, nudging him off the stool and towards the door. They passed through the library and living room, Harry making only a token objection, but when they reached his bedroom, Severus watched him climb into bed then perched on the edge.
"There's one thing I need from you actually," he said severely, and Harry perked up slightly, battling the pull of sleep.
"What?"
"I want you to promise me, on your magic, that you'll never again drink a potion that I've not said you can drink."
Not that promising on one's magic actually meant anything, but Harry clearly still believed the myth that breaking such a promise would turn someone into a squib, and Severus was more than willing to take advantage of it.
"But it helped you figure out the problem," Harry objected, only to slouch when Severus shook his head.
"That's besides the point. Anything could have happened, and I brew a lot of potions that are extremely dangerous. So promise."
"I promise, on my magic," Harry said reluctantly but earnestly. It would do.
"Good. Now go to sleep."
Harry woke up to a hand roughly shaking him. Bright winter sunlight already backlit his curtains, suggesting he'd slept later than usual. He still wasn't fully rested, and he looked up blearily as Snape thrust a book in front of him.
"My medical texts are lacking," he said. "Do you know what effect this has on the human body?"
Harry sat up, yawning, and rubbed his eyes before peering at the book. Snape pointed impatiently to the subheading.
"My…a lot…"
"Mya-lota toxin," Snape read out for him.
"Oh, that," Harry said, and then gasped, scrambling up to stand on the bed. "That's it! It stops you breathing and it has to be treated with a special made anti-toxin 'cause all the other treatments only put it off and then it copies anaphylactic shock. This is what's wrong with Calla!"
Snape pulled the book back to himself, smiling smugly. "A toxin found exclusively on the shells of chizpurfles that have interacted with Muggle electrical equipment, and which interacts with bamboo leaves to create a taste of cherries so strong it can even overwhelm mint."
Harry bounced on the mattress, unable to keep still in his excitement. "That's it, now we can save her! You can make the antitoxin and we'll go to the hospital and James won't even mind 'cause…"
But Snape was shaking his head, frowning now at the book. "There's no recipe here, but an antitoxin like this will be difficult to brew and I haven't slept yet. It also mentions that it has to be brewed with the same chizpurfle shells from which the original toxin came."
Harry's bouncing stopped. "So? What does that mean?"
Snape closed the book with a snap. "It means we would need some of the shells you used to brew the potion, from Potter's house. Assuming you didn't use all of them?"
Harry shook his head. "There were loads in the jar. We only needed some. We need to go now then, we have to save Calla."
Snape frowned down at him, opened his mouth to speak, then stopped and shut it again. He thought for a moment, then his expression brightened. "Fawcett is coming to take you to fetch the rest of your belongings from Potter's house today."
"Oh yeah." After the hospital visit and last night's activities, Harry had completely forgotten about it.
"I need sleep," Snape said. "When Fawcett takes you, get some of the chizpurfle shells. A handful, at least. I can brew it afterwards. Don't tell your godmother about it."
"Why not?"
"Because she will insist on having someone else brew it."
Harry frowned. "What's wrong with that? If they can start sooner than you then that's better."
Snape looked down his nose at him. "I can assure you that I am a better potion maker than any imbecile at St Mungo's, the Ministry, or wherever else they might outsource to. Besides," he added with a sly look, "don't you want the honour of saving Calla yourself?"
"Yeah," Harry said hesitantly, "but as long as she gets better…"
"Do you want to see her again?" Snape asked.
"Of course!"
"Then we need to be the ones who make and administer the antitoxin. Nothing else will convince Potter to let you see your sister again."
There may have been some small part of Harry that knew curing Calla as soon as possible was what mattered most, but his desire to get back in James' good graces, even now, and his fear of never getting to see Calla again overwhelmed it.
"Alright. But you'll make it as soon as me and Mary come back? And we can give it to Calla straight away?"
"As soon as it's finished brewing," Snape promised.
"Okay," Harry agreed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. Finally he was going to get his sister back.
Severus had his own reasons for wanting to brew the myalota antitoxin. There was the self-satisfaction in brewing a complex potion – which he confirmed it would be when he woke, finding the instructions in a book he'd picked up on a whim the day before Harry moved in and hadn't got around to reading yet.
Then there was the obvious glee in one-upping Potter in any way, but more than that, he still owed a life debt to Potter after the incident in their fifth year. Saving the man's daughter would pay that off.
He wasn't thinking too much about afterwards. With his debt paid, he'd gladly cut all further ties with Potter, but the fact remained their respective children were half-siblings, and Harry at least wanted to remain close to the Potter girl. Left up to him, Severus wouldn't have it, but that would upset Harry to no end. Severus didn't have it in him to do that to the boy. Letting them see each other, however, would mean dealing with Potter.
And if Severus half hoped the girl wouldn't want to see Harry, or that Potter would be an arse about it and refuse… well, no one had to know that.
It was mid-afternoon when he got to brewing. Harry had brought back the entire jar of chizpurfle shells from Potter's home, rather than just a sample, but that suited Severus fine. Perhaps at some point he could experiment with what other effects could be caused by the infected shells, or figure out a way to determine the presence of myalota toxin
Initially he left Harry in the main house, the boy seemingly content to sort out the toys and things he'd brought back from Godric's Hollow, but before long he began knocking at the library door, demanding updates on the potion. Deciding it would be easier, Severus permitted him into the lab, situated at a far work bench under strict orders to not touch anything or leave his stool.
But it was a long and complex brewing that he expected to last well into the night. Before long, presumably once he was satisfied that Severus was as good as he claimed, Harry began to get restless. Twice he tried to leave his stool, so when there was a ten minute window where the potion had to sit and simmer, Severus made a floo call to Regulus to see if he was free, then packed a bag and delivered Harry to Grimmauld Place in London.
It was almost one in the morning by the time the potion was done. Severus set it aside to cool then went to the bathroom and kitchen, satisfying bodily functions he'd had to ignore for the last six hours. As he ate a simple tuna sandwich, he wondered what to do next. It was extremely tempting to go straight to St Mungo's to administer the potion; Potter would be absent at this time of the night, and on the off chance something did go wrong then Severus could leave with no one any the wiser he'd been involved.
But he knew Harry would want to be there when it was done. He was tempted to go fetch the boy from Grimmauld Place right then, but realised it would more prudent to wait until morning. There was just the issue of getting into the Potter girl's room without being caught by either the healers or Potter himself.
He finished eating, returned to bottle the antitoxin, then headed to bed himself. He hadn't slept nearly enough in the last week and it was beginning to catch up with him. He was still trying to adjust to the change of schedule that Harry's presence had created.
He was woken the next morning by a banging on his front door, when the sun was barely up. Swearing under his breath, he crawled out of bed and peered through his curtains onto the street below. Regulus and Harry stood on the doorstep, Harry looking like he hadn't seen a hairbrush and Regulus yawning widely behind his hand. At least Severus wasn't the only one pulled out of bed early.
He pulled on a dressing gown and went down to answer the door. He'd barely laid eyes on the pair before Harry was pushing forwards and demanding to know, "Is it done? Did you finish?"
Regulus glared tiredly at Severus. "Whatever this potion you're brewing is, it better be something special. He's been up since five, demanding to come back."
Harry tugged on Severus' gown. "Well? Is it ready?"
Gesturing Regulus inside with a jerk of his head, Severus answered Harry in the affirmative. Harry yelled with delight, making Severus wince.
"Come on, then! Get dressed and we can go to the hospital!"
Regulus raised a questioning eyebrow at that. Severus sighed, but things were going to come out eventually. Whether or not he managed to provide the cure without getting caught, questions would be asked and Severus had a sneaking suspicion Harry would not be able to hold his tongue on the matter. Eventually it would come out that they'd provided the antitoxin that saved her.
"I'll explain later," he told Regulus, then to Harry: "Let me get dressed and we can go.
"Hurry!"
Shaking his head, Severus went. He dressed, retrieved a dose of the antitoxin from the lab, and within five minutes of Regulus and Harry's arrival, Severus and Harry were in St Mungo's. Regulus didn't come, realising that whatever they were doing he was better off uninvolved, but he expected an explanation from Severus later.
Despite the early hour, Severus was annoyed to reach the third floor in time to see Potter entering Calla's room. Whether he'd spent the night or merely come in early, it was an obstacle.
"But we've got a cure," Harry said as Severus held him back, trying to figure out how to get Potter from the room. "James won't stop us from curing her."
Severus snorted softly. "James Potter will never believe I bring a cure for his daughter; he'll think I'm trying to poison her."
Severus stared down the corridor, thinking hard. What kind of distraction would draw Potter out? A simple ruckus, or would that only make him look out to see what the noise was? A false fire alarm? Except he was likely to take the girl with him as he fled. Perhaps he should send Harry out; Potter would surely come out to ensure Harry was kept away from the girl's room…
"You'll need to provide a distraction," he said softly to Harry. "You need to lure Potter out so I can go in and administer the potion."
"But I want to do it!" Harry objected, rather more loudly than Snape liked. He glanced down the hall, ensuring the ward orderly hadn't heard, then glared at the boy.
"This is not the time for arguing."
"But it has to be me. It was my fault so –"
Severus growled. "How many times have I told you –"
"I need to give the cure," Harry finished, raising his voice again to speak over Severus. At Severus' glare, he lowered his voice, but his expression was still obstinate as he stared up at him. "She's my sister. Even if it's not my fault, I want to do it."
"This is not up for –"
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Severus stiffened at the voice. The Black brothers were similar enough in looks that they could be mistaken for one another at first glance, but their voices couldn't be more different. Sirius had discarded all the etiquette and refinery that his parents had taught him, imitating every uncouth Muggle accent that he could – the exact opposite of what Severus had done when he reached Hogwarts.
He turned, his already fraying temper stretching to breaking point at the mere sight of his hated enemy, and hearing every bit of it in the single, snarled greeting of, "Black."
Harry had never been very fond of Sirius. He liked to play pranks, but Harry didn't find it particularly funny to have a Hair-Loss Potion slipped into his juice. James hadn't even told him off for that like he had when Sirius jinxed Calla's shoes to make her dance wildly.
But he didn't dislike him as much as Snape obviously did. Snape didn't even talk to Mr. Lupin like that.
And Sirius clearly felt the same. He'd barely even glanced at Harry before laying into Snape, spitting insults, saying things that Harry didn't entirely understand but could easily read the tone of.
Then, to make things worse, James turned up. Snape and Sirius made no efforts to keep their voices down, drawing attention from everyone on the children's ward. The ward orderly came out first, bustling up to the arguing men and loudly clearing her throat.
"Gentlemen, if you don't break this up, I'll have to call security."
"Call them anyway," James said, stepping out from behind her. "This man is not allowed anywhere near my daughter."
"You heard him," Sirius said, shoving Snape. Harry had to step back to avoid getting knocked over in turn, but no one noticed. They all seemed to have forgotten about him.
That wasn't a bad thing, he decided as Snape lifted his wand, the tip glowing already, because peeking out of Snape's pocket was the antidote.
Harry glanced up. Snape's imminent spell had completely drawn all attention away from him. Without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the vial from Snape's pocket, darted around the adults, and slipped into the ward. One other parent and a few sick kids were looking out at the noise, but no one stopped Harry as he opened the door of Calla's room.
She lay in bed, just like before, as if Harry had only left the room for minutes instead of days. But up closer he could see further signs of deterioration; her normally bright red hair was starting to look colourless, her skin was ashen. When he checked her chart, he found she'd stopped breathing twice since his last visit. The second time, the healers barely got her breathing again.
He pulled over a chair to steady himself as he knelt one knee on the edge of the bed, bending over Calla's face. He popped the cork from the vial of antidote, focused on keeping his hand steady, and carefully poured it into the tube.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Harry's hand jerked, spilling some of the potion over the sides and onto Calla's face. He quickly steadied himself, not looking around at James.
"I'm saving – "
"Get away from her!"
He heard footsteps and tipped the vial further, pouring it out quicker, wanting to get it all out before James pulled him away.
He almost managed it. Hands grabbed him about the waist and jerked him back, spilling potion over Calla's face and the side of the bed.
"Healer!" James yelled, carrying Harry away from the bed, hands gripping painfully at his waist. "Healer!"
The room was suddenly full of people and noise. A healer bent over Calla, Snape was yelling at James to let Harry go, Sirius was yelling at Snape, James was demanding to know if Calla was alright, a security witch was telling everyone to get out –
But amidst it all, Calla's voice still came through loud and clear.
"Wha's goin' on?"
James dropped Harry, moving to the bedside so fast it was a wonder he hadn't Apparated. Harry scurried to the other side, staring at his sister's face as she looked around in confusion. Everyone else went silent, except the healer who withdrew the feeding tube before continuing to chant diagnostic spells, muttering to herself as the results wrote themselves onto the clipboard.
"Calla? Pumpkin, look at me."
She blinked and looked at James. "Da'?"
A smile spread across James' face. "Yeah, baby, it's me. Are you okay? How do you feel?"
Calla looked around again, bewildered gaze passing over the crowded room, brow furrowing slightly at the sight of strangers, and eventually came around to settle on Harry. He smiled, just a little one because she still looked weak and sick and he was afraid she'd blame him for what happened, and relaxed only when Calla gave a weak smile back.
"Hi, Harry."
"Hi, Calla. Are you okay?"
"'M tired. And sore. What… the potion!" Her eyes widened and she looked back to James, her lip wobbling. "Daddy, I'm sorry, we – "
James shook his head, smiling, stroking her hair with one hand. "It's alright. You're alright now, that's all that matters. "
"Yes," Snape said smugly. "I believe you have my address, Potter, so you know where to send your thanks. Harry, let's go."
The looks James and Sirius gave Snape were far from thankful – James looked sick and Sirius looked ready to punch him – but Calla was awake and she squeezed Harry's hand when he touched her, and so he didn't care one bit what the adults were thinking.
"I'll come see you later," he promised her, "and I'll tell you all about my new dad, but you're still my sister, okay?"
She looked thoroughly confused, but nodded, so Harry squeezed her hand once more and left the room with a grin.
Epilogue: Seven Years Later
Severus stood stiffly on platform nine and three-quarters, arms folded over his chest, scowling as he watched the Hogwarts Express pull into the station. He didn't move as it came to a stop, doors opening and children pouring out, just grimaced at the noise. The beginning and end of the year was always the worst.
He didn't try locating Harry among the mass of students. His dark hair didn't stand out from the crowd like the offensive orange of the Weasley brood or Draco Malfoy's platinum blond. Harry knew Severus would be loitering at the back of the crowd of parents, and usually spent a while saying goodbye to all his friends anyway.
Severus only begrudged him slightly for it. He didn't like waiting around any longer than he had to, but he was glad Harry had friends to say goodbye to. Growing up with him, Severus often feared his son would be as unliked and lonely as he himself had been as a teenager. But then Harry wasn't as… unfortunate looking as Severus had been, and he had better social skills, whether learnt at the Lily Primary School or naturally inherited from his mother.
Not that Harry could ever be thought of as anything other than his own person. Severus caught glimpses in Harry that reminded him of himself or Lily, but never as much as he saw similarities between Draco and the elder Malfoys. Where Draco emulated his parents as much as he could, Harry seemed to have taken every good thing he inherited from Lily or learnt from Severus and melded it all into a wholly new person.
Maybe that was how he'd ended up in Hufflepuff.
When Severus first heard the news five years ago, he'd been stunned silent. He would've bet good money on his son entering Ravenclaw, but even if not then figured he'd end up in either Slytherin or Gryffindor. He hadn't even considered Hufflepuff, but as the shock faded he realised that there was really nowhere else Harry possibly could have gone.
After all, what showed more loyalty than a child who bargained with a demon for information to save his dying sister?
The Potter brat herself had ended up in Gryffindor, of course.
Well, alright, she wasn't actually a brat. Her father was still a wanker, but Calla was appropriately grateful to the man who'd saved her life. Severus didn't even mind having her over for playdates.
She also knew about Harry's deal. Harry insisted on telling her, but agreed to do so under a Secretus Charm which guaranteed Calla couldn't repeat the information to anyone else. Besides her, the only other person that knew was an Italian healer whom Harry trained with during the school holidays, and corresponded with during term time. It meant Harry could share some of his medical knowledge without suspicion, and the healer was gradually introducing Harry as a healing prodigy so he could enter the profession as soon as he finished school.
To Severus' surprise, Harry sought him out quickly that day, appearing through the crowd as the first families were leaving the platform; usually Severus would have to wait at least until half the crowd was gone before Harry came to him, but perhaps he missed his father after ten months without seeing each other. Normally he and Harry spent the holidays in Italy, but this year Hogwarts had hosted the newly resumed Triwizard Tournament, and Harry had spent the winter holiday at the castle for the Yule Ball, then also elected to stay over Easter.
Severus had received several panicked letters in the run-up to the Yule Ball as Harry begged for advice on which of his female friends to ask as his date without offending the rest. Severus told him to take whichever one he fancied; Harry replied that he didn't fancy any of them. Severus told him to take a girl he did fancy, and Harry said he didn't fancy any girls. A little annoyed by then over what seemed a stupid issue, Severus nevertheless penned a short but supportive letter that if Harry wanted to take a boy, that was perfectly fine and anyone who said otherwise ought to be hexed (but not when his teachers would catch him).
Harry replied that he didn't fancy anyone and was worried there was something wrong with him, including an extensive list of injuries, illness, and other ailments that could cause problems in sexual development. Severus pointed out that if Harry was ill, he was the first person who'd realise, given his knowledge, and said he probably just hadn't found anyone likeable amidst all the idiots that no doubt made up the student body of Hogwarts. As expected, that distracted Harry into a rant about how his friends weren't idiots while Severus made a few enquiries into normal teenage development.
By the time of his next letter, he could honestly reassure Harry that there really was nothing wrong with not fancying anyone, that he may just be a late developer, or else asexual, something else which Severus discovered in his enquiries. Harry had seemed satisfied with that, or at least had dropped the subject. Severus supposed he'd have to broach the topic at some point during the summer, just to make sure Harry wasn't worrying himself about it.
Perhaps soon, he thought, as he ran a gaze over Harry's form. The boy was obviously concerned about something; his green eyes were shadowed and his mouth was tight. Even when some other student called his name and waved goodbye, Harry only gave them a thin smile before turning to Severus, and saying tersely, "Let's go."
Not about to linger if he didn't have to, Severus straightened up and helped Harry carry his trunk to the Apparition departure point. Neither spoke as they waited their turn; when they arrived in Cokeworth, Severus asked how school had been, only to get a terse, "Fine," in reply before Harry grabbed his trunk and stalked off in the direction of Spinner's End.
Severus watched him go with a raised eyebrow. This, presumably, was the grumpy, difficult stage of teenage development. Fair enough, he'd knew it was coming and a curt response to a simple question wasn't worth bitching about, but if Harry got worse and expected Severus not to put him in his place, he was in for a rude awakening.
When they reached the house, he expected Harry to stalk off to his room – it was what Severus used to do every summer, eager to spend as little time in Tobias' presence as possible – but to his surprise Harry dropped his trunk in the middle of the living room, turned to Severus as soon as the front door was shut, and demanded, "What did you do?"
Severus folded his arms and looked down his nose at the boy. "I beg your pardon?"
Harry crouched, threw open his trunk, and dug through it for a book, which he brandished in front of him as he rose to face Severus again. "This."
"This what?" Severus snapped, snatching the book away before Harry smacked him across the nose with it. A glance at the cover showed faded letters reading Dire Demonic Deals; his rising anger abruptly cooled, doused with fear. Harry had never asked much about his deal and its consequences; he'd always accepted Severus' assurances that the matter was handled and his soul wouldn't be going to hell.
He was familiar with the book he now held, one he'd read himself years ago when researching more into demons and demonic deals. Useful as an entry text, not one of the more informative books, however with just enough information that Severus could guess where the book came from. He'd had a letter from Ponoma Sprout in February saying Harry had been given several detentions for misadventures in the Hogwarts library.
He tossed it onto an armchair. "So not only did your break into the restricted section, you stole from it."
"Who cares?!" Harry yelled, startling Severus, but before he could snap at the boy not to yell at him, fear once again doused his anger as he saw tears brewing in Harry's green eyes. Harry hadn't cried in years, and even then only from a broken arm after falling out of a tree. "You said I wasn't going to h-hell!"
His voice broke on the last word, tears spilling down his face, staring at Severus with anger and fear and betrayal.
"Y-you said you sorted it."
"I did," Severus assured him, reaching awkwardly for his shoulder. Harry had declared himself too old for hugs last summer – and refused hugs in front of his friends a year before that – but Severus wasn't sure if that extended to moments of emotional upset.
But Harry stepped away from him, still staring with the hurt-filled green eyes. It made Severus want to kill whoever caused that pain, but unfortunately the 'whoever' right now was himself.
"I read all about d-deals," Harry said, taking a shaky breath and wiping angrily at his eyes. "No one's ever broken a demon deal. They all go to hell. They all –" he choked again, then forced out in a miserable, terrified wail, "they get killed by hellhounds."
Severus wasn't awkward this time and Harry didn't step away as Severus wrapped both arms around him and held him close. Harry was almost as tall as Severus himself now, with a hint of patchy hair growth along his upper lip, but it didn't stop him burying his face in Severus' shoulder and sobbing, hand coming up to clutch the back of Severus' robes.
Severus said nothing at first, just held him and let Harry cry, patting the boy's back. Only when Harry's sobs lessened slightly did Severus turn his face to Harry's ear and say quietly, "You will not die like that, and you will never go to the hell dimensions, I promise you that. I told you I dealt with this when you were younger, and I meant it."
Harry sniffed and Severus restrained a grimace, but did pull a handkerchief from his pocket when Harry pulled back and thrust it at him. Harry took it and blew his nose before looking at him like a lost puppy.
"But how? What did you actually do?"
Severus hesitated, remembering three dead children in an old abandoned hospital. He'd never felt guilty for their deaths, especially as he hadn't actually been the one to kill them, not even when the news reported their mother's suicide less than a week later, but it was still something he was hesitant to admit to his son.
But Harry needed something more than just his words now, and while Severus never gave the details, he'd never lied about his dark past. As long as Severus never hurt anyone now, Harry forgave him his past transgressions. He even accepted, if disapprovingly, Severus' illegal potions trade, under the condition Severus also donated free potions to addiction aid centres.
Sighing, he guided Harry to the sofa and sat beside him. "I summoned the demon you made your deal with, and it made me an offer."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, but Severus held up a hand to forestall any words.
"It said your soul would be freed from the contract if I performed a piece of very dark magic that would ensure my own soul goes to a hell dimension when I die. However –"
"No!" Harry burst out of his seat. "No, oh my god, why would you do that?! Dad, you can't – we'll summon him back – you're not going to hell in my place – Merlin's bollocks, why would you – look we'll find something, some way to save you, hopefully without damning me too, but I'm not letting you die by those hellhounds, the book said –"
"Stop."
Harry froze, staring at Severus wide-eyed. Severus rose from his seat, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at Harry.
"What have I told you about interrupting when I'm talking?"
"But –"
"But nothing. It is rude, so unless your backside is on fire, keep –"
"Keep your mouth shut until you've finished speaking," Harry recited, eyes on the floor now. "Sorry."
"I should hope so, because if you'd let me finish you'd have heard that I never had to perform that dark magic."
Harry's head snapped up, face white. "But that means I'm…"
"No, you're not," Severus said, and dropped back into his seat with a sigh. "I didn't perform the dark magic because Nemo did it for me."
"Nemo?" Harry's brow furrowed with confusion, then straightened out in astonishment. "That junkie that used to live across from us?"
Severus nodded.
"But why?"
"I've been asking myself that for years," Severus told him. "I was preparing to do the magic when he Stunned me and completed it himself. He refused to explain why, and then the bastard went and killed himself."
Severus didn't doubt that, but he could never be sure if it was intentional or accidental.
Harry dropped onto the sofa beside him, stunned. "But that was when I'd barely moved here. I didn't know him, why would he damn himself for me?"
Severus had no answer for that, so said nothing, but he looked up at Harry's next, worried question.
"Are you sure it worked?" He looked at Severus was unbridled fear in his gaze, fingers fiddling with the front of his robe, eyes flicking briefly to Dire Demon Deals. Severus couldn't recall how much detail it'd had on hell dimensions or the hellhounds that hunted people down when their contract was up, but clearly it was enough to scare Harry.
Severus straightened up, holding Harry's gaze firmly. "I'm sure. I was afraid Nemo performing the magic wouldn't count, but I summoned the demon again and it assured me your soul was freed. You'll live a long, long life."
"Really?"
"Absolutely," Severus said, then shrugged. "Unless you interrupt me when I'm talking again. Then I might have to kill you myself."
"Ha ha," Harry said dryly, but he was smiling, and that was enough for Severus.