Chapter 5: Visions

Chapter 5

Visions

The last week chock full of detention had caused him to get so far behind on his work. The only time that he had to work on it was between classes, during meals, and after he came back from detention at night. He never came back from detention with Professor Snape before eleven.

Sleep deprivation was beginning to set in, and his work just became more and more difficult to complete in time. Some nights he didn't even really sleep, falling asleep on top of his books. Being sentenced to spend from 7-9 being tutored and 9-11 in detention had left him with no time to himself, which was a commodity he was used to in abundance.

He was so keyed up, but yet so tired, that he felt that physical weakness and sickness come over him. His mind seemed to move so slow. He couldn't focus for the life of him.

Now it was 3 am and he was trying to finish a Potions assignment for the next morning. He wished that the next day was a Monday and he wouldn't have potions until after lunch, but no, it was a Thursday. Double potions on Thursdays starting at 9 am.

Sage was certain his essay would make no sense, and he would get a bad grade. Then, as always, Professor Snape would make him do it again, even though he wouldn't think of changing the initial grade. Another benefit to being Sage… Torture by Potions master was a daily event in his life. Sage refocused on the work in front of him. Asphodel, what is that… a root, a plant, a bug he couldn't remember for the life of him. I know it's easy, why is it so hard right now. He had a migraine. Perfect timing for that. He'd had loads of those the last few days. Or, was it just one that wouldn't go away?

Hermione looked towards the door in Potions that morning. The spot next to her was empty. Class started in a minute and Sage wasn't there. He hadn't been at breakfast either. She looked down. He was already in trouble with Professor Snape, being late to class would be really, really bad. Professor Snape might just kick him out of class if Sage pushed any further, at least, that was what Hermione feared. She held her breath as she looked at the door, hoping that he would walk in before the Potions master. He seemed to be even more critical of Sage than the rest of Gryffindor house, Neville included.

The sound of footsteps made her turn around to the door. Instead of Sage, Professor Snape flew in, carrying a thick book. Hermione cringed and snapped her gaze back forward. They would be losing more house points today.

The Professor stalked to the front of the room and stood in front of the class. She watched as his brow furrowed. Mentally, he began to take attendance. His gaze froze on the spot next to Hermione, he shook his head slightly. His face darkened, and he bore a look which was worse than any look he had ever had in reaction to Harry, Ron, or Neville, and that was saying something.

About ten minutes into the lesson, Professor Snape was lecturing them on the safety of making a cooling potion. He paid special attention to direct most of his instructions to Neville Longbottom. The boy was a Potions menace. He was never able to complete one without causing serious harm to either equipment, himself, or classmates.

Right in the middle of his speech, Sage came in looking as if he had run a marathon to get there.

"S-so-sorry I'm l-late, sir," he panted. His face was rather pale, his eyes were red, and his forehead was moist. His chest was heaving to get air.

"Take your seat! This class started 10 minutes ago. 20 poin-." Snape stopped midsentence.

Everyone looked from Professor Snape to Sage, wondering what had made the man stop midsentence and suddenly look, concerned? The anger on his face was utterly gone – far more shocking than anything the professor usually would do.

Sage grabbed a table with one hand for support, his other hand went to his forehead slowly. His hand was visibly trembling. He let out some barely audible noise. His face screwed up and contorted.

"Un-." He took in a painful gasp of air.

Professor Snape jumped forward towards the dark-haired boy, nearly knocking two Slytherins out of their seats. Sage leaned forward towards the table, trying not to fall over, the sweat suddenly dripping from his hairline. He let out another low moan and began to fall sideways, losing his grip on the table, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"Un-cle," his voice moaned in a whisper.

Sage's body collapsed lifelessly beneath him. His eyes wrenched shut.

Professor Snape caught his shoulders before he went down completely and slammed his head against the stone floor, kneeling down next to the collapsed form.

The Potions master heard the surprised whispers going around the class. A multitude of different ones.

"He finally cursed a student!"

"Uncle? Is that what he said? Snape's his uncle?"

"I thought Malfoy was his uncle?"

"A Malfoy, a Potter, and related to Professor Snape…"

"How is that even possible."

"What's going on?" said Neville, of course.

"Would he curse his own nephew?"

"It can't be."

Professor Snape looked up for a moment, unable to stomach the commentary. "GET OUT OF HERE, ALL OF YOU!"

The immature comments were not something that he could easily stand normally, but he was in no mood for it at this moment.

Sage sucked air in as if he were having an asthma attack. His mind slipped right out from under him. Though nothing actually physically happened, the pain was as if it had.

The bones in his body stressed, as if ready to splinter, a burning went through his nose and down into his lungs. He knew what would come soon.

Vaguely he felt the professor grab him and slip his arm under his own to keep him from escaping the professor's hold, so that he couldn't hurt himself further flailing around. He thanked God he wasn't alone again like he had been in London. That was his last thought before his muscles were pierced all over by what seemed like thousands, millions of pointy, thick needles.

The splintered bones began to stick into and through his muscles mercilessly. He clenched his hand around the hand on his chest. His body started jerking, he kicked his legs. His body tried to move from side to side, but it was restricted. He couldn't see. His skin was boiling, sounds were screeching in his ears. In the distance of his mind, he felt the liquid go down his throat. The convulsions left, but the pain stayed with him. Then it happened.

A black blob blurred before his eyes, contrasting against a background of grey and beige walls. Whisps of smoke. A big black thing was running through the school, clouded by smoke. The scene blurred and changed quickly. A green rat was laying on some red or purple sheets. There was a sound of fabric being slashed. Students were screaming, running. Flash. The school changed to the woods, but not familiar woods. The dead animals were around again and the same snake he had seen before. Only this time there was a stout old man, a man carrying a bundle in black. A baby perhaps. Fog set in around him. Coldness. Emptyness. Then the red orbs floating again. Yelling, screaming. A woman, like torture. Flash. The rat again, just the green rat, scurrying. Then a great heap of yellow streaked past. Flash. His father writhing on the floor of their old house. His mother screaming, his cries piercing. The flash of green light. Cackling.

Then it left. The attack worsened for a time. His limbs were being pulled and twisted. He heard a voice, talking to him, saying his name. Air was cutting down his throat and into his lungs as he tried to gasp for air. The voice again. He clenched his hand tighter around the other hand. His eyes felt much too large. The needles continued to ransack his body and seemed to be getting bigger and wider. The voice said his name again. He strained. There were more words. He focused on the voice. Then another voice. Voices.

Severus felt Sage grab his hand and hold onto it like he would fall off a cliff without it. He held onto the boy as the convulsions lessened with the administration of the potion. Soon, the tremors turned into quaking, then into quivering and twitching. The boy had his teeth clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. Every once and awhile a low painful groan would come from him. He looked down at Sage with pain filling his own body in empathy.

Severus had likely felt something similar to what the boy went through a few times himself, thanks to the Dark Lord. But never for such a long time.

He looked down at the head that was rested up against him, its face contorted with pain. All his anger had faded, everything that had disappointed him about Sage dissipated. As he always did when Sage had the attacks, Severus started talking to him. That he was strong. Saying that he would be fine. He told him to focus on the sound of his voice. He felt Sage's forehead, it was burning up. There was sweat all over his face.

These attacks were a reminder of many things, many misdeeds of his own past, and they felt just as much a constant penance. More of a penance than keeping an eye on Prince Potter's safety. For all the times he had hurt someone in the worst of ways, now he had to watch his own nephew tortured and there was no torturer to blame or stop and no revenge to be had.

Suddenly Dumbledore came flying in with a Miss Hermione Granger and a Professor McGonagall right behind him. The two women stopped on a dime and stared in complete horror at the sight. Minerva grabbing a desk, suddenly feeling wobbly.

"Severus, is it-." The headmaster asked, approaching slowly.

"Yes," the man replied tersely.

"Gods, you were right, it does look like the Cruciatus. How long has it been?" Dumbledore asked, his hand touching Severus's shoulder, almost paternally.

"I am not sure, almost ten minutes?" The dark man, answered, looking like a different man than Hermione had ever seen.

"Does this always happen? And for this long?" McGonagall finally asked in a whisper.

"Yes to the first, and no to the second." His eyes did not leave Sage.

Hermione stepped forward with tears in her eyes, "Professor, is he going to be okay?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, I'm sure he will. Now, all of you be quiet."

Snape wiped the sweat off the boy's forehead with his free hand. Again he started to talk to him, his deep voice sounding smooth instead of sharp. Hermione was in shock. She had never seen Professor Snape act this way. It was so weirdly protective. McGonagall was gaping just the same. Dumbledore sat down and let go of a heavy sigh.

"Sage, listen to my voice. It's almost over. Focus on my voice," Snape said.

Sage felt the pain begin to end. The needles were still there as was the burning. He kept hearing the voice. He focused in on it harder. He opened his eyes. They wouldn't focus yet. He saw something black.

"Sage, can you hear me?"

Sage squinted his eyes, "Uncle?" he whispered.

"Yes, are you okay?"

Sage looked up wincing, "C-cold."

Professor Snape made a move for his wand in his pocket so he could conjure a blanket, but he stopped mid-move when he heard Sage groan. The boy's hand clamped down on his harder. He figured he had at least one broken finger, but it hardly mattered.

"Donmove, d-donmove," the voice pleaded urgently.

He stayed still. "Does it still hurt?"

Dumbledore conjured the blanket.

"C-cc-course," Sage stammered with what might have been anger.

Severus frowned, he should know better than to think that the pain just left right away. If it was like the Cruciatus, or was the Cruciatus, the pain would take a long time to subside, and the headache and nausea even longer.

Sage just laid there half on the ground, half on the ground, struggling to breathe through the pain. His uncle's movement had caused a new wave of burning and piercing to go through his body. He felt a keen desire to just scream, but he kept it to himself. Screaming was weak and it was the only little bit of control he had in a very uncontrolled situation. The professor's hand squeezed his shoulder. Vaguely he remembered calling him uncle before he fell over.

Well, I fell short on that expectation. So much for our relation being kept a secret. At least I don't have do go around being someone I'm not anymore.

He stopped his train of thought immediately, not wanting to dwell on his parents. Their death was a pain he vigilantly avoided.

He looked up at his uncle. The man was pale, his forehead wet. Sage closed his eyes. Why did it have to hurt so much? Why did this have to happen to him? His arm itched, he moved to scratch it, but didn't move an inch before he stopped. The pain to move was just too much, the itching was better. He was freezing, but he knew he was still sweating. Nausea came over him. He was used to the after-effects of the attacks by now. He would feel sick, feel like he was an ice cube, and then have a migraine for the next day or so.

Severus let out a sigh of relief, at least the worst part was over. Now all he had to do was stay with his nephew until they could move him. It could be awhile. He couldn't imagine the attack Sage had in London, had it been this bad? He felt the pressure on his hand let up a little, thankfully. He squeezed the boy's shoulder. He felt sick inside. Seeing that happen to someone so young, someone so undeserving, and someone he shared blood with wasn't a good feeling.

It was reliving a similar feeling to the feeling he had twelve years ago and again eleven years ago, when something horrible had happened to someone he cared about. He had been powerless to stop it. He hadn't even known or suspected, his own half-brother, killed. Then Lily.

It wasn't supposed to happen. He had been assured that it wasn't supposed to happen. But he should have known she wouldn't just let Voldemort kill her only son. Lily was simply not that kind of a woman. Now, he felt the same way about Sage, fairly powerless.

This time, he was sure, he wasn't going to let anything bad happen to his nephew as he had to his brother and the only other person he had ever truly cared about. That's why he worked so hard with the boy, that's why he demanded so much. Severus only knew how badly Voldemort would want to get a hold of Sage, because of what he was. Thirteen years prior what he was had saved him from the Dark Lord's death wrath. Now both sides would want Sage when he was of age.

He could feel Sage's temperature going down from the boy's hand and the head that rested against him. His thoughts slowed down and he looked down again. Sage was watching him. The boy was breathing easier.

"I'm s-sorry, Uncle," Sage said.

Severus arched his brow. The professor had little idea what his nephew was talking about. Sorry about letting it slip that we are related? Sorry for having an attack? That just seemed stupid. "For what?"

"Fu-for what I s-said, last week."

Snape stared down at the face, quiet. The boy is in excruciating pain, and he is thinking about what he said to me last week. He must be delirious. "Don't think about it."

Sage put his hand on his uncle's other arm, the one that was on his shoulder. "No, it w-was wro-ong. With-without you I'd b-be a-lone." His grip was furiously strong for someone who had just been through what he had.

"I'm not angry anymore. Just think next time."

"A-and, I-I'm sorry I hit y-you. I'm sorry you ha-have to d-deal with this."

Severus sighed. "It's all right. Now just rest." Severus couldn't handle this, it was just too frighteningly unselfish on Sage's part. The little concern he had for himself when he was in pain was enough to tap away at Professor Snape's emotional barrier. A barrier he had put up to protect himself, a barrier that was part an act because he was pretending to yet be a Death Eater.

Sage closed his eyes. Now Severus didn't have to look at them weak and bloodshot.

Severus looked up, sure that Sage was close to either passing out or falling asleep. Dumbledore was still sitting down watching them. McGonagall was holding on to a table for support, and Miss Granger was standing behind the headmaster, her eyes still red and watery, her cheeks glistening wet.

"He'll be all right. We just won't be able to move him right away," he said to reassure the onlookers, so that they would not ask him more questions.

Dumbledore stood up and walked over to them. He knelt down too and put his hand onto Sage's forehead. His eyes met with Severus'.

"His body can hardly support what is inside of him. His power is so advanced, it makes his body sick. And these visions, Severus, what are they? The future?"

Severus looked down at Sage and then up again. He remembered the time that Sage had told him about the worst of his visions. Sometimes Sage saw what had happened when his father was tortured and murdered. His mother's screams, his cries as a baby.

Severus had only seen Sage cry two or three times since he met him when the boy was seven. Once when he told Severus about what had happened when his father was killed, and once when he thought that he wasn't going to have anywhere to live.

As absurd as it was, when Severus' mother had died, Sage was afraid that Severus wouldn't want him and would leave him since he was always at Hogwarts and never stayed at home. The boy had been ten at the time. He had cried because everyone that ever cared for him died and just left him. Or, like Lucius, scared him and cast him aside.

"Severus?" Dumbledore said to get his attention again.

"Sorry?"

"The visions, what are they?"

"As far as I can tell, headmaster, not one thing…past, present, and future. This was the worst I've ever seen him. They are getting much stronger."

Hermione took a tentative step forward. "Sir, what do you mean it makes his body sick? Could it really hurt him, umm, permanently?"

Dumbledore turned to look at her. For once, Dumbledore wasn't really sure what he should say to her. He had forgotten she was still there.

He was thus forced to explain. "Miss Granger, the way things usually work is that the magical ability grows with the wizard, and usually every wizard only has a certain capacity for the magic. Once the wizard has reached this, the powers will not grow any longer. Sage is very different from this. The way he was born, the powers that are inside of him are tremendous. Indeed, I believe they are getting even stronger. His magical power is stronger than his young body is able to handle, and he doesn't fully understand how to use or control it. We don't truly know what will happen."

Hermione looked to Professor Snape. Her eyes asked him the same question.

"He's never sustained any lasting injury, Miss Granger. His kind has never been hurt by their magical powers. But, the Headmaster is right, there have not been many like him so we do not know for sure."

"What do you mean his kind and like him? Why do you talk about him like he's a thing and not a person?"

Professor McGonagall finally stepped forward, interjecting. "I think that is enough questions, Miss Granger. Thank you for getting us and telling us what was going on, but I believe these are questions that are up to Sage to answer. When he wants to and if he is ready."