Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!
Thanks to the reviewers! Wow, 25!
Exhausted and grimy, a convict by the name of Sirius Black collapsed in front of the gate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, no one who saw him recognized him as the mass murderer of thirteen, and the betrayer of his best friends. All passerby only knew of a grungy black stray, that seemed quite determined to go to an unknown place.
Sirius had a rough journey; Swimming through rivers, hiking his way through numerous valleys, and getting lost too many times to count. Hogwarts was meant for wizards, people were intended to take a train or apparate close by, not walk there. But he was known as a lunatic in society, so it wasn't like he could jump on the Hogwarts Express, and he couldn't risk his magic being tracked by apparating.
But it was worth the trip. Sirius knew that his godson was here. He had been watching Harry while the boy was in Diagon Alley, and when Snape had ran outside with Harry unconscious in his arms, blood dripping from his lips. And Sirius knew that when Snivellus had apparated away, the man went to Hogwarts. Or at least, he hoped. If Snape was a Death Eater who was going to kill Harry, then he would march up to Dumbledore and scream at the old coot for allowing the Greasy Git near his godson.
The mutt struggled up, panting heavily. The doors of Hogwarts only opened for a wizard, not a pet. It would look mighty suspicious if they allowed a mangy dog entrance, and someone would quickly figure out he was an animagus.
Sirius sat upright, trying to look adorable, and waited, hoping that someone would take pity on him and let him inside.
Harry was brought to by urgent voices, tinged with a taste of fear.
"You're sure that he was coughing up blood, Severus?" Dumbledore's voice, though still as soothing as ever, was laced with panic.
"Of course I am, Albus. It's not something that you mistake easily." The snarky reply was undoubtedly Snape, though Harry's mind must of imagined the worry interwoven in his voice.
Harry knew it was terribly rude to eavesdrop, and made a sleepy "ugh", trying to announce that he was awake. Harry also tried to sit up, but his body didn't want to work for him.
Dumbledore must of heard his proclamation, since the headmaster was now in Harry's line of vision, bereft of the ever-present twinkles in the old man's glassy blue eyes. "Harry!" The cheerfulness was hollow sounding. "Nice to see you awake, my boy! Professor Snape had told me that you weren't feeling well." Well, that was the understatement of the year.
"Yeah, Headmaster." Harry couldn't really say anything else. What was he supposed to say? I think I'm dying? That was a bit melodramatic, even for Harry's tastes.
Though his reply seemed okay for Harry, Snape obviously disagreed, if the sneer was anything to go by. "Really, Potter. You coughed out blood, and the best you can say is 'Yeah, Headmaster.' Explain your symptoms immediately, so Madame Pomfrey can heal you and we all can go back to our lives."
Glaring a bit at Snape, Harry grumbled out his symptoms. "Well… My lungs have been hurting a lot- kinda felt like they were burning, I guess, but I've never lit my chest on fire so it's really just a guess- and it's been hard to breath at times. My arms ache a lot, and I sometimes go in these kinds of fits when they pulse and shake like mad, and for the past few days my throat's been sore, and when I touch it I get bruises… Oh, and I've had terrible nightmares… And before Snape took me here, I had a fever- and of course, was coughing up blood. That's all, really."
Both faces paled at the explanation. Snape quickly recovered a few seconds later and grounded out- "How long?"
Harry contemplated that for a few moments. "About a week and a half, I guess. When it started, it wasn't as bad…"
Dumbledore and Snape both searched through their memories for a sickness that fit. "It sounds somewhat like Belladonna Syndrome, but it's improbable that you contracted that, Potter… Perhaps a poison of some type?"
Dumbledore shook his head at the thought. "There is no way that Harry was poisoned at his relatives, Severus. He is safe from wizards there."
Harry couldn't see how, it wasn't like Vernon was going to stand up to wizards trying to harm Harry-hell, he would probably help them- but he didn't bother to ask.
Snape directed his questioning at Harry. "Potter. Have you recently drank or eaten an unknown substance?"
"No, sir." Harry answered, deciding that saying 'I'm not retarded, Snape, unlike you' wasn't the smartest thing to say to a guy who was trying to heal you.
Snape frowned. "Have you been bitten by anything possible venomous, then?"
Harry shook his head. He hadn't been attacked by an animal since last- Ohhh… wait. Shit. "Wait, I was bitten by the Basilisk last year, but Fawkes healed it…"
This was met with stunned shock.
"A… Basilisk… bit you?" Snape seemed to choke out the words. "And you're still alive?!"
Harry nodded. "Fawkes healed me with his tears."
It didn't seem to relieve Snape's surprise, (or was it horror?), if the stunned expression on his face had anything to do with it. Snape, not lifting his stare from Harry, called out, "Poppy!"
The bustling nurse had come out of her office at the call without delay, suggesting that she was waiting for it anyway. "What has Mr. Potter managed to get himself into this time, Severus?" She asked the man, while bending over Harry to check his temperature with a hand on his forehead.
"We're not sure yet, Poppy." He admitted, then retold her the symptoms that Harry was suffering. "Could you check Potter's system for traces of poison?"
The matron nodded, and whipped out her wand, doing a complicated looking charm over Harry. A green glow began to seep out of him, and a gasp of dismay escaped her. "The… tests show positive…"
Dumbledore seemed to sag at the words, his eyes depressed and dull. "What type of poison?" The words were reluctant, as he already knew.
The woman was struggling to stay indifferent, but even so her words were dampened with pain. "Strong venom from an animal, Albus. It's most likely a type of snake… the poison has spread through his veins already extensively…"
Harry's mind stopped at the words. The only thing that passed through the haze was the sentiment of implied death from liquid damnation.
"It was supposed to be healed." The silence was cut through by Dumbledore's forlorn whisper.
The woman shook her head in distress. "It's most likely that the residue of the poison remained near the bite. For some reason, it started to spread to the cells in his skin, causing the trembling of his arms. The cells caused more venom to form, which then seeped into his blood stream, spreading to lungs and throat. The pressure on his body resulted in fever and internal bleeding, and that's why when Mr. Potter coughed too much he spat up blood…"
Harry only asked, "Am I going to die?"
Snape snarled at the boy. "Don't be a drama queen, Potter! I will compose a cure." He glared at Harry, as daring him to die. "There is precious few writings on Basilisks, and no one has invented a cure, but that is simply because most people die a few seconds after the venom in injected in their body, and Potion Masters don't have enough time to test out new potions. But since you, once again, are an exception to the rules, I'll have time to make a cure."
Dumbledore gave Harry a small smile, seeing that Harry was far from reassured. "If anyone can find a cure, Professor Snape would be the one."
The room was silent once more, everyone lost in their own thoughts.
Snape was mentally going through ingredients for the potion.
Poppy was trying to figure out long they would have until… the poison killed the poor boy.
Albus was simply putting all his faith in Severus. He would not allow himself think of the alternative if Snape couldn't find the cure.
Harry didn't know what to think. Even if Snape could find the remedy, it wasn't like Snape was going to lose any sleep over him dying, so why would he waste him time finding a cure for Harry?
Black newt eyes would react well with boiled salamander blood, which would counteract the problems in the throat, but it only would mask the pain… Severus headed out of the infirmary a few minutes later. Concocting potions in his head, Severus tried to avoid the few threads of concern for the brat that he felt.
Maybe this near death experience will stop Potter from rule-breaking any longer, Snape mused. He concentrated on his negative feelings for the boy, not letting himself stop and think what if he dies?!
No. If that thought passed his mind, it would imply that he cared. Which he didn't.
So what if the boy's home life wasn't ideal, that he was ill, that he could possibly die? Why would that make Snape care? The boy was the same, arrogant and self-centered. But why did the boy's symptoms cause him to be frozen in fear and desperation?
Snape, so caught up in his inner conflict, didn't notice the large black shape he ran into.
Looking down at the mutt, He snarled. Why was a stray in Hogwarts? The dog seemed to snarl back, it's fangs bared and eyes narrowed.
"Oh! Severus!" Minerva McGonagall smile at the glare shot her way, and strolled over to Snape. "I see you've met this charming fellow." She said to the dog, snickering at the dog's growl.
"Is this flea bag yours, Minerva?" Snape hadn't pictured Minerva as a dog person- the woman's animagus form was a cat for god's sake!
McGonagall shook her head no. "I found him outside, the poor thing. He seemed so hungry and cold, I just had to bring him in." She frowned in thought. "Why are you here anyway? Didn't Albus send you to watch Harry?"
"Potter has been ill, Minerva, and has been hiding it from me." Snape was still sour at the thought that a thirteen year old boy could hide a life threatening sickness from him, a trained spy.
"Oh, no!" She gasped, paling at the thought of one of her Gryffindors being sick. "Will he be okay?"
Snape didn't know how to phrase 'he's going to die unless I find a cure' without making Minerva panic, and so he answered, "Most likely."
McGonagall nodded her head, and mussed up the dog's fur, trying to alleviate her fears. "I see." She said, even though she really didn't.
Snape sneered at the woman's obvious concern, even though it wasn't unwarranted, he thought grudgingly.
"Well, if that is all." Snape said, already turning to leave. Minerva waved her hand in dismissal, not having anything else to say. "Good-bye, Minerva." And Snape left the woman and dog, both worried for Harry's safety, and went to his dungeons.
Walking down the damp hallway of the dungeons, Snape made his way to his quarters, hidden behind a painting of a bloodthirsty black wolf. Saying the password 'essence of murtlog' Snape entered his home.
His rooms were small, but it wasn't like he needed them bigger. His den was fitted with dark green carpet and wooden paneling on the walls. On the south side of the room were numerous bookcases, filled to the brim with rare texts and ancient manuscripts. In the middle of the room was a small black couch, which was flanked with a coffee table and a small cabinet. The door next to the entrance led to his bedroom, and a modest sized bathroom. All in all, it was his sanctuary.
Taking out a few decent sized books from the shelves, Snape spread the materials out on the coffee table. He was going to save Potter, dammit, and that meant he would have to do some research. It was going to be a long night.
AN: I'm going to add Snape as the second character for the story... It'll develop into a close teacher/student relationship, kinda like Lupin and Harry...
Review please!