This story is complete on the Archive of Our Own website. It contains unedited adult scenes and 41 pieces of chapter title artwork. If you would like to read this story in its entirety now, please head to Archive of Our Own and search this story.
So it was confirmed: coming back to Hogwarts made you sick. 14 students were rumored to be in the hospital wing, 9 more spent the day just for sickness and general forgetfulness. Hermione came back to school in a very good mood and Harry should have asked how Christmas went, but he didn't. Ginny also came back to school looking absolutely normal, Harry running into her the very first day by accident.
"Hey!" Harry breathed. "You… I… you look better!" She gave him a knowing smile, like someone told her he cried in the hospital wing.
"Oh, look who it is, The Slyffin-puff Captain."
"-Come off it, not you too."
"Harry, I can't believe it. I'm being hailed as one of the best female Seekers at Hogwarts and I can't get an invite?"
"I don't know why you'd want one, but it is an inclusive placements for the team yet. Haven't had try outs."
"Well, you'll let me know, won't you?" and she winked.
And she left looking absolutely beautiful and wicked. A 1000 kilo weight eased and lifted as she walked away, smiling back at him.
More good news for the start of term, McGonagall, not Trelawney, would be teaching the 4-hour Advanced Transfiguration workshop for seventh years. This news was spectacular because according to Hermione, it used to be run by none other than Dumbledore himself before he passed, a class to behold.
And that Wednesday they excitedly entered the Great Hall, waiting anxiously for this exclusive lesson by the headmaster herself.
McGonagall, looking slightly more well rested, stood in front of them in the empty hall, tables leaning against the wall.
"You are going to leave Hogwarts fully fledged witches and wizards. This Transfiguration workshop is for advanced students but all seventh years are welcome to this workshop, regardless of skill. Many students concerned by grades and careers forget the wonders and possibilities of magic." She waved her wand and the stone floor disassembled and rebuilt itself into an enormous giant block stone man- a walking crude statue without a face.
"Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration-" she said, allowing her stone giant to straighten and leer down at the students impressively. "With this type of magic, you can breathe life into objects. By creating objects with intelligence, purpose, and motivation, the enchanted object can perform tasks, minor to the complex, moving and thinking as you have created it."
"Many of you were here last year to witness the castle guardians come alive. Hogwarts can protect itself against an outside threat even if the students and teachers found themselves incapacitated. Here you are exposed to this type of magic on the regular. Out in the world, this scope of advanced magic is rare. You will find any number of objects performing simple tasks for their owners, but rarely will you find intelligent objects or beings, capable of conversing with you or… outsmarting you. Now… a demonstration!"
The headmaster raised her wand against the students, who did not even consider her attacking as a possibility.
"Protect the students," she commanded.
Light flashed. Mouths opened, some raised their hands, others just stood there.
The headmaster fired shots directly into them- spells too quick for most of them to defend themselves. Hermione and Harry were a couple of the few to perform quick Shield Charms.
But their stone guardian dived in front of them and took every hit- jumping, stretching, landing several spectacular saves, making the floor vibrate with its weight. Grabbing the spells- each finger destroyed in order, then hands blasted off, spinning in front of the danger. A stone exploded where its heart should be. And as their stone guardian dived and weaved like a goal keeper, it disintegrated brick by brick, until only a few blocks remained. Each stone separated itself and spun in the air to catch a spell just in time before it hit a student.
Their guardian was made from hundreds of stone bricks and hundreds of spells later, it lay in pieces. Five minutes had not even passed.
Harry and Hermione were in such awe they forgot to remove their Shield Charms.
"At Hogwarts, powerful magic is not rare. Most students do not reach the point where they can perform Advanced Intelligent Motivational Transfiguration. That is, transfigure or create a magical object that has its own purpose- its own mind. Even deeper, is to create the feelings and preferences that guide its actions. There are wizards who can create magical objects that seem as intelligent as humans, if not cleverer. This is the magic you will be learning today. It is an art, and mastery of this skill largely depends on the cunning of the wizard. You can easily give your transfigured object a task, but to give it intelligence, wit, or feelings is something else entirely. Gather close. We have little time."
The damaged stone mended itself, stone tumbling back into the floor, squeezing itself into its designated spot. The seventh years gathered close around her, some shoving themselves to the front for the best spot for the lesson, Malfoy shouldering several Ravenclaws out of the way for a spot right in front.
The spell was complicated, the wand movements worse. Inserting intelligence was nonverbal and difficult, requiring an intense impossible level of focus. It reminded Harry of clearing his mind for Occlumency.
For this basic introductory lesson to bridge them into the complex, they had to remove a stone brick from the floor, give it little legs, and then instill a self-preservation instinct. Or… make it fear death. Finally, it must be given its deepest desire: to get to the ceiling. Most people were able to extract the brick and give it little legs but the real trouble started with the wand movements. McGonagall only had eyes for Hermione as she did the wand flicks and said the incantations with perfect inflection, but her brick did not come alive. Despite several more attempts and her extreme concentration, her little stone remained pathetically un-alive on the floor with its little legs sprawled out. Just when Harry thought Hermione finally failed at something, her brick sprung to life and wobbled around on its own, quite happy to be alive.
In fact, the spells required so much concentration, soon the room filled up with students closing their eyes and straining like they needed to use the bathroom rather badly. But it wasn't too long with McGonagall's close instruction several people's bricks were walking around on their little wobbly legs, quite afraid of wands. The students were instructed to attempt to blast their own bricks, preventing them from getting to the ceiling. Hermione's was rather antsy and quick, jumping about like a rabbit. Harry's brick was rather slow and he could've easily blasted it, so he only gave half-hearted attempts to destroy it, giving it a chance to get to the ceiling. But Hermione again was the only one who applied a Sticking Charm to her brick's little feet, and hers alone climbed and made it up to the ceiling (where it celebrated with a dance) while other bricks pathetically clawed at the wall in their desperate desire to go up.
Ginny and Draco were quite good at this new lesson, copying Hermione's technique, others soon following. This left Harry feeling rather thick to see the other eighth years' succeeding while his didn't. However, he was easily doing better than most of the real seventh years, and besides, the lesson was so difficult no one was paying him or his thick brick much attention.
At the very end of the lesson the suits of armor from the castle rattled into the Great Hall, lining up. After McGonagall took them out of their hibernation, they allowed themselves to be interviewed by the students. And now that they had a proper conversation, they seemed just as smart as any human, uncanny, as if a real person were trapped inside. Many of them knew the founders personally as they were created by them.
They left the Great Hall positively amazed.
"THAT lesson… Incredible! The possibilities. The possibilities Harry! I finally know how Mrs. Weasley's laundry sorts itself. She doesn't make up a rule, her laundry literally thinks for itself. Brilliant."
"It was good." It was long. After the four-hour workshop he was starving. "Worth it to get out of Trelawney's class today."
"I wish there was a second one," she moaned. "There's a real Defense Against the Dark Arts undertone to it, isn't there? Implied- all the dark objects that can be made. Clothes to strangle, statues to kill. Still though…"
"Yeah…"
"Some potion makers create their own assistants for regimented potions. So they don't have to be up at night to add timed ingredients. The transfigured object is smart as the wizard can make it. But that part about if you make it too smart it gets bored… Interesting story about Dorey the Destructor, who created a protective night watch that ended up destroying the town because they had nothing to do. Went against their own purpose- destroying the town out of boredom. Fascinating."
"Right, oh yeah," Harry humored her while he was busy thinking about the poor performance of his brick. Harry had to go out of his way not to kill it to give it a fighting chance. As his brick blended in with all the other bricks no one seemed to notice his brick only made it halfway up the wall before sliding down to the bottom where it resigned itself to death.
"Truly outstanding magic with limitless possibilities. I can see why they'd wait until seventh year. A really clever student could have their homework do itself or… or… wreak real havoc with prank objects using Motivational Transfiguration spells. Perhaps we're lucky George left when he did."
His first week with the students back felt like a fresh start. Harry felt better, truly better, for real this time. Ginny joined them daily now with Neville, Luna, Dean, and Justin. They all studied in the library together, loudly sometimes, getting cold disapproving stares from Madam Pince. Harry noticed a solitary Draco often trying to study in the library too, flashing angry looks at the group like they were making too much noise.
But Harry had a new problem: in exactly 24 hours he was going to meet Snape at his office for healing instructions. As the hours ticked by he almost wished Snape would cancel… but at the end of Defense Against the Dark Arts Snape gave him a small subtle nod, the only indication they still had a lesson tomorrow.
For some reason he didn't want to tell Hermione. She would ask too many questions, questions he didn't have answers for. Harry, are you finally going to talk to him? Thank him for giving us the sword? Or maybe: …Snape? Harry, why didn't you ask Madam Pomfrey? Is this about your mum?
She already questioned him about not living in Gryffindor Tower anymore which was getting annoying: "Harry, where are you living? You aren't… going to Hogsmeade are you? Renting a room?"
"Where does it matter where I sleep? I still hang out in the common room- I'm there for hours."
"Harry, you're a terrible liar. Where are you going?"
"I told you… McGonagall gave me my own room," he lied. "You know, so I don't disturb anyone."
"I feel like you're lying to me though. I thought you were going to the Room of Requirement again, but I feel like you'd tell me if you were. Neville says no one's been able to get in there all year."
"Yeah… must have… burned from the inside or something."
"That's what I thought too…"
As eight o clock rolled around on Thursday he said goodnight to Hermione and headed out of Gryffindor tower with a bag of several medical books he didn't even crack.
Going to Snape's office for private lessons before curfew still felt like a suspicious thing to do, even though he wasn't breaking any school rules. So why did it feel that way? For good measure, he wore his Invisibility Cloak on the way down, he just felt like he should. Taking a shortcut, he passed through several closed off corridors marked with danger signs.
What if Snape deliberately sabotaged his lessons? What if he just assigned book work? What if he forced Harry to clean his office or do detention-like tasks in exchange for his instruction? He then thought of several even worse scenarios, all the way down to getting poisoned, until he was standing in front of the classroom door. He didn't go in.
This was not third year, not fourth, not even fifth. Things would be different this time. Nothing bad was going to happen. If things got tumultuous, he would just leave. He didn't have to continue to be provoked and prodded if that's what Snape rolled out. He was not some student anymore. He had agency. If Snape was still bent on making his life difficult, he would simply leave.
He knocked. The door opened by itself and he reluctantly entered.
"You're late."
"Just a few minutes. Ran into Peeves. Didn't want him to follow me down here." Apparently this lie was good enough.
Harry watched apprehensively as Snape warded the classroom door with several concerning spells. Their eyes met. What did he need to ward the door for?
"My, my, second thoughts already? To think you can't trust a teacher…"
Harry opened his mouth and closed it.
"Through the door, Potter." Snape held out a gracious arm, gesturing for Harry to lead the way, not to his office, but the other way, daring him to go through to the next room. Harry kept his eyes on Snape's, trying to read him… but it was pointless.
Illuminated by candles on his second visit, nothing looked dangerous inside Snape's private quarters. In fact, everything looked as expected: bare furnishings for comfort but a practical workstation on the left bursting with bottles and supplies, elaborate and huge like a large industrious kitchen. Shelving without an inch to spare, packed with thousands of ingredients. In the middle of the room, the leather couch with the coffee table in front, near the fireplace. In the back, a heavy barren writing desk. There were no walls to spare, only bookcases, and in a corner, a doorway leading to sleeping chambers or possibly a bathroom.
"Sit down," Snape demanded, leaving Harry in the middle of the room while he went behind the long island counter that could hold six separate cauldrons, possibly 12 if doubled up. But this potion making station did double as a kitchen after all, because he came back with a kettle.
Harry sat down in front of the empty coffee table, setting aside his bag of books on the floor. Was he supposed to bring his own supplies? He didn't think about this. …Maybe they would just do an introduction today. Looking back at Snape waiving for cups, he caught his eye again and neither of them looked away. Despite this uncomfortable amount of eye contact, he didn't look like he had anything horrible planned. Their Occlumency lessons were full of hatred, tension, and mistrust. This felt different, like a lesson with an intimidating professor he didn't know well, like Moody.
Snape's eyes never left him. Walking over and setting down the tray of tea, he joined him on the couch. They looked at each other, silence stretching.
"I… didn't bring anything. My Books, but I didn't bring any practice material. Should I… have brought some?"
Snape smiled maliciously. "You didn't bring anything?"
"No… should… should I have asked Hagrid for… some… dead creatures… or… maybe live ones?"
"No need."
Snape unclasped his day cloak, revealing his robes underneath, settling in to start. "Did you bring your wand, or did you forget that too?"
"No sir." Harry pulled out his wand.
The moment lingered, Snape considering him.
"I will start by saying this: you learning healing would be ill-advised if not required. If I had any say at the Ministry, I would remind them that healing is an art, and not all wizards are equal in this talent. Requiring the Healing C.H.A.R.M.S. for every high-level Ministry position is not only foolish, but dangerous. Some wizards are not meant to heal. Do you understand?"
"Kingsley says my wandwork is fine."
"Subtlety, Potter. …Softness. Precision. Timing. A gentle hand. You will find that it has many overlapping qualities with Potions. You do not need a wand in either."
"Well, it's a good thing you're teaching me then, isn't it?" Harry wasn't going to allow him to dissuade him. Snape's eyes narrowed, deciding his determination was enough for them to at least start.
Snape stretched out his arms, starting the lesson, brandishing his wand.
"You will use your wand to learn- it will be easier. The most common healing spells are deceptively simple. To practice, you will use a normal cutting spell. To perfect depth and control, you will perform these a thousand times to the point you can perform them effortlessly without thinking." His voice was low, soft. Snape moved closer and grabbed Harry's wand wrist lightly. He was touching him. This alone made him panic. More concerning, he was expecting a firm grip but instead his touch felt surprisingly delicate.
"A cutting spell is just a cutting spell. Use Diffindo. But when working with wounds, inflection matters as well as the flow of magic into the wand. Diffindo can cut softly, or deeply, or you can kill with it. THAT'S why we don't teach medical spells to anyone below seventh year." And Snape, demonstrating by holding Harry's own wrist, mimicked the very subtle precise movements he would need to make a small cut with the tip of his wand using an ease-in ease-out method.
"Yes, sir," Harry followed, being completely and utterly respectful as if he could make up for the past seven years.
"Mediwizards are made by subtlety, not by strength of magic. Many Mediwizards have trained to be so directly under other Mediwizards- ones who could not obtain a single O.W.L. To manipulate a wound or heal complex injuries takes patience, focus, and a delicate ebb and flow of magic. If you can believe it Potter, there are not many Gryffindor healers." Snape was whispering softly but there was no need to talk any louder. Harry was right next to him. "Any wizard can make a cut, but the cut needs to be impossibly sharp and accurate to heal without a scar."
"Yes, sir. And the healing spell?"
"There are several. Episkey is a catch-all band-aid used by non-healers. The equivalent of Reparo for the human body. Do. Not. Use. mends flesh back together but will not heal it, leaving the body to do the majority of the work. Mediwizards use Sarcio. Episkey is glue. Sarcio is Medicine."
"Sarcio," Harry echoed.
"Sarcio…" Snape said in a soft delicate voice and his wand tip glowed with a faint beautiful yellow light.
"Sarcio," Harry mimicked the tone softly and his hand became warm, wand tip glowing.
"Wandless healing is reserved for the talented -so do not try." Snape handed him a thick piece of leather from a pocket. "Practice."
Harry took the leather, leaning over it. "Diffindo." The fabric split completely.
"Don't cut it in half!" Snape's whisper turned into a snarl, looking at him like this was exactly what he expected. "Small cuts. The healing spell won't work if you cut it in half. Reparo."
Harry tried again, bending over the fabric and attempted to make smaller cuts. "Sarcio."
"Go slower. Gentler. Again…" Snape's voice turned back into a whisper.
"Diffindo… Sarcio…"
"Sloppy," came the criticism.
Harry performed the spell several times, cutting softly so the leather split apart and mended itself again. It didn't look like bad work to him...
Snape snatched the fabric and inspected it up close, trying to find something wrong with it. The piece of leather lowered and Snape's eyes met Harry's, suspicious, like he could have cheated somehow.
"Not terrible… BUT… the mark of a good healer is… performing nonverbally. Patients do not want to hear what's happening to their body during a medical visit. They just want to be healed and their pain to go away." Snape handed back the fabric. "Again- silently."
All Harry's progress flew out the window. Nonverbal spells always made things instantly difficult. He could feel Snape's eyes on him as he butchered the leather fabric. "Focus!" he snapped again.
Harry ended up destroying the leather with sloppy nonverbal spells. He had to repair it many times, starting from scratch just to mess it up again. AND it was difficult performing the spell with Snape eyeing his every move right next to him.
"Your poor patients," he goaded. "The Boy Who Killed."
"A little encouragement, yeah?" Harry said, annoyed.
"Oh, is THAT what you want?" and Snape scooted closer to him. "Whatever your mind is thinking right now- shut it. You cannot be distracted while healing others. Your Occlumency was poor, but I've noticed you can do for others what you WILL NOT do for yourself. Your friend Granger is dying: her head got so big it severed itself from the weight. You have to heal her. Close your mind…" Snape whispered, close to him, imploring him. "Let the only words in your mind be that of the spell and the magic flowing to your wand. I know you can close your mind if the stakes are high. Now… do it."
And Harry did do it. He remembered Ron splinching himself, the fear of that moment, seeing the open wound and him in agony, feeling helpless to do anything. He harnessed that fear, pretended he was there and talked to that wound. If he only could have helped that time. Diffindo… Sarcio...
"Better," Snape whispered too closely... and then he retreated to his side of the couch for Harry to practice.
Now that Harry knew he could do it, he did it easily- cutting and repairing the fabric slowly and cleanly. Not perfect, but for nonverbal spells he thought he did quite good.
And he kept at it. Slicing... healing… slicing… healing… He must have done... 50 sets of cuts and healing spells all together. "So, 950 to go," Harry looked up with a small smile, stupidly expecting praise, forgetting who he was with.
"Those don't count." Snape actually looked disappointed by his success.
"Why not?"
"That's a piece of leather. Dead. Not living skin."
"Oh…" That made sense but…
"Are you ready?"
What did that mean? NO, he was NOT ready. If there was a dead body or something gross in here ready to be worked on… "Yes…" Harry lied.
Snape started unbuttoning his robes by hand. They maintained eye contact and with each little button freed, Harry's mouth dropped just a little lower... and the robes had many buttons. Snape tossed it off, revealing a clean… white… shirt… that also had many buttons. He undid his cuff, made the sleeve elastic, and folded it up past the remnants of his dark mark… all the way up, exposing his bicep.
Snape waited.
"… Sir?" was all that Harry could get out.
"What… Potter?" he dared.
"Uhhh, so, I… don't we use… creatures for this?"
"Healers learn by doing, Potter. That's why the other students are at St. Mungo's and not with Hagrid."
"Right…."
"You learn with actual patients."
"… Yes… I just thought..." Harry stared at him, unwilling to believe Snape would ask him to do this. "Is this a test?" It had to be. He was having a go.
"Is this a test?" Snape mocked back at him. "Does this make you uncomfortable? Do you want to leave?"
"No!" his voice said without his permission. Harry knew Snape was lying. Students had to perform on creatures or deceased bodies first- they just had to. Right?
So… this was it… he had to make a decision. Snape was offering his own arm to practice on… was he actually going to accept these terms?
"I know what you're thinking…" Snape whispered mellifluously. "But to learn properly, it must be done with a living body. Dead things do not bleed. Dead things do not move. Dead things do not show fear… or panic. They are still- lifeless, and make for terrible practice with very low stakes." He smiled. "At St. Mungo's you will practice on real patients. A slower build up perhaps, and with a Mediwizard giving you an insufferable amount of hand holding you are not used to and will not appreciate. Not to mention- you are months behind. And again, if you would like to leave… NO ONE… is forcing you… to be here."
"No!" Harry said again. "This… this is fine." Harry shuffled closer, reaching for and taking Snape's arm, who looked absolutely triumphant. Harry couldn't shake the feeling he was making a horrible mistake. No, he KNEW this was a horrible mistake. Snape was obviously manipulating him- but why? He couldn't think of how to bargain his way out of making these lessons into something less… dangerous and weird.
But even now a small voice in his head spoke up reminding him of something… and Harry started to listen to it because the little voice sounded correct: it's not like this was his first grossly inappropriate lesson with a teacher. Private lessons with Lupin… hearing his mum scream. And the fake-Moody's imperious… and weren't those extremely useful?
Check with Pomfrey first- his brain said. Make an excuse, come back next week. But Harry and his wand already made up his mind- poised to start.
"So… uh…" He was touching Snape's skin.
"I am going to cut -you're going to heal," Snape directed.
"Yes, sir," and Harry's hair prickled at his neck but thankfully his voice sounded steady.
"And… do it silently..." Snape added in his whisper.
"Yes, sir." Harry close, Snape lifted his wand to his bicep and cut soft and slow- a thin light emitting from his wand, piercing the skin, separating with a soft sound.
"Heal it," Snape demanded.
Harry steadied himself. Grabbing back of the arm tighter, he wordlessly performed the healing spell, dragging his wand over the cut slowly, feeling Snape's eyes piercing him.
"Again-" and Snape opened four more cuts on his own arm, giving no reaction to any pain he may or may not feel. Slowly… slowly… forcing the cuts and starting a new line. It must not hurt that much. With a shuddering breath Harry healed them… one by one…
As he healed, Snape gave away nothing.
This could have been Dumbledore, or Lupin, or any teacher he received private lessons from, learning secretly behind closed doors. Getting closer than he should, learning one-on-one unconventionally with a highly skilled mentor. And although he particularly didn't like Snape, he did respect him now …but… healing Snape's cuts in his quarters, Harry's leg trembling, was far more intimate than he was prepared for. The room was silent except for the sound of opening skin.
"Again."
Harry's wand was steady but his hand shook after every set of five. After about 20 Snape put his wand down.
"Now you do it."
"What?" Harry asked, terrified.
"You heard me. Open it, and close the wound."
"Sir…"
"Potter. Start here- where I did mine." Snape directed his index finger at his bicep, tracing the length of the cut he should perform. "Do five and heal them. Make them clean and it won't matter if you go deep- they will heal."
"I… okay…." Harry was petrified to cut someone open on purpose. Steadying his hand, he performed the cutting spell wordlessly. Snape's eyes flickered to his, watching him cut his body open and slowly seal it closed.
The cuts separated, splitting the skin, hint of red appearing- the threat of bleeding. The cuts themselves looked clean but he still felt terrified doing it. Cutting someone open was against all his other magical training.
"Okay…" Harry did a successful set.
"Deeper this time."
Harry swallowed. He wanted to argue, but didn't.
He cut deeper and blood trickled out. The discomfort must have shown on his face because… "Ignore it. As long as it's clean, it can be deep. They will heal." And they did heal, but the blood did not disappear after the wound was sealed.
"Vanishing Spell- for all fluids."
He vanished the blood. …And started again.
Harry was there for over an hour. They didn't speak much. After a full hundred sets they stopped. Nervous and thirsty, he drank the cold tea. Harry thanked Snape for the lesson, who looked at him strangely for thanking him, and left.
He walked back to the seventh floor like an Inferius.
Something felt very wrong about what they just did.
No, it WAS wrong.
That's not true. This is just what you do, isn't it? Just another complicated relationship with another teacher. You've seen too much behind the curtain and this is what you get.
It was an excellent lesson, felt like he could perform the cuts with his eyes closed now. There was no doubt he would use these spells with increased accuracy for the rest of his life. But… it still felt… wrong. And Harry knew if he went to the headmaster or Pomfrey, or even Hermione, they would be very surprised to know what was happening behind those doors.
He should be ending the lessons immediately... but… this was history repeating itself. Lupin, Moody, Dumbledore… even Sirius. Gone. It was just Snape's turn, wasn't it? Another mentor to show him magic in an unconventional way. Besides… no one was being cut open in his Occlumency lessons and those were so much worse on so many levels.
Harry laid awake for a long time looking up at the blank ceiling in the Room of Requirement, his wand going over Snape's skin over and over in his mind… listening closely to how he felt about it. Yes, he was being manipulated. So why did he not feel compelled to end the lessons? As hard as he perused his mind to reject the dangerous euphoric feeling that lingered, he could not find the emotional objection he was looking for. This level of danger felt familiar. He swallowed and closed his eyes.