After Christmas, things grew substantially worse. Snape found himself gazing at graffiti painted on the wall of the dining room that read, "Dumbledore's Army, Still Recruiting!" and was gnashing his teeth. Any faculty that saw him would assume that he was angry about the newest graffiti, but in reality he was angry that Neville was taking such a risk. He was beginning to think the youth might deserve a few of the whacks with a cane he was sure to receive due to this recent escapade.
"Headmaster," he heard a polite but slightly panicked greeting from behind him. He turned to see Michael Corner, one of Longbottom's confederates. Snape winced slightly at seeing a bruise on the child's face, but schooled his features to appear harsh and uncaring. It would not do for him to turn into a Hufflepuff.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Corner?" Snape asked with a hint of malice in his words.
"Sir, I don't know what to do . . ." he said nearly crying.
"Don't waste my time, foolish child," he told him sharply. "What is the problem?"
"It's Neville, sir," the boy said, tears now streaming down his face. "He's hurt."
"Where is he?" Snape demanded, hiding his sudden worry with anger.
"In the Room of Requirement," the boy admitted, shaking. "I'm not supposed to tell you, but Luna said if something real bad happened that I should get you. Are you going to cane me now, sir?"
"I'm not going to cane you you silly child," Snape barked. "You are acting as my informant; take me to the Room of Requirement. I believe that Neville is overdue for his detention with me."
Michael hopped to obey, and soon they were outside of the entrance to the room.
"We need to find Neville," the boy spoke softly, and the door opened. Inside they found Neville lying on a soft cushion, his leg at a funny angle and clutching his forearm with some soft cotton, trying to stop the blood flow.
Snape assessed the boy rapidly, looking at his color and pulse, and decided he wasn't in immediate danger of shock. But he obviously had injuries to tend to.
"I am quite disappointed that you are late for your detention with me," Snape told Neville harshly. "If you think being injured is any excuse for that, I would hope to disabuse you of the notion now."
"Yes, sir," Neville replied, wincing at the pain. "Sorry sir."
"I suppose I will let you make it up for double the detentions," Snape told him grumpily. "Now let's get you to Madame Pomfrey."
"I can't walk," Neville admitted. "I had to crawl in here."
"I believe the bone to be broken," Snape told him soberly. "But it doesn't look like it has separated."
"It hurts a lot more than when I sprained my wrist as a first year," Neville told him, smiling briefly remembering his first broom ride.
"I could either transport you by stretcher or I can heal you enough to get there on your own," Snape told him.
"Please heal me, sir," Neville asked, his voice tight with pain. "I don't think it would do either of us any good for you to be levitating me throughout Hogwarts."
"I will," Snape told him. "What was the spell used?"
"I didn't catch it all, and it's not one I know," Neville admitted. "It started as 'Septosim' something."
"Sectumsempra?" Snape asked neutrally, though his stomach sank within himself. How much damage was that one damned spell going to cause?
"That was it!" Neville agreed. "Do you know it?"
"Indeed," Snape answered, expressionless. "It is a very damaging spell. It hit your arm?"
"I blocked a lot of it," Neville told him. "It only hit here on my arm. But I was by the stairs, and the force of it knocked me backwards, and I tumbled down the stairs. The Carrow just laughed at me and walked away."
"You are fortunate, then," Snape told him. "It could be a lot worse. I'm going to heal the wound on your arm first. This spell is difficult to counter, but luckily I know it."
"Thank you, sir," Neville thanked him, trying to remain calm despite the dizzying pain. "Do you want me to let go?"
"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, I have it," Snape told him, taking the bloody cloth and then readying his wand. He peeled back the cloth, showing an angry gash that was showing no signs of clotting. Murmuring the song-like incantation, he waved his wand over the wound, and Neville's skin closed with a cloud of black smoke leaving the flesh.
"What spell is that?" Neville asked.
"It's a healing spell and the best counter for that curse," Snape explained. "It's called Vulnera Sanentur."
Neville repeated that spell on his tongue, mimicking how Snape had pronounced and almost sang the words.
"For maximum effect you say it three times," Snape instructed the two boys. "The first time, it slows the flow of blood so the person doesn't bleed to death. The second time clears the wound of whatever's there; be it curse, poison or dirt. And then third, to fully knit the wounds together."
"That's wicked!" the Corner boy commented, completely forgetting to be afraid of the Headmaster.
"You will still need Madame Pomfrey to give you Dittany in order not to scar," Snape told him. "But you're out of danger now."
"Will this work for the blood quill?" Corner asked.
"Not as well," Snape told him. "You really need salve for that. This really only works for bleeding wounds, especially ones caused by magic. The blood quill cuts you, but seals it too."
Corner rubbed the back of his hand and grimaced. Snape sighed, he had bigger fish to fry than the back of this boy's hand.
"Bones being mended are better for a potion," Snape explained, fishing around his numerous pockets. "I happen to have some Skele-gro in my robe. Here, Mr. Longbottom, drink this."
"That tastes terrible!" Neville protested after he quaffed the vial. "Yuck!"
"You will lay here and let that potion work," Snape told him. "In a few minutes, you should be able to walk."
"Thank you, headmaster," Neville nodded politely.
"Is there any other major injuries?" he asked, looking the boy over critically. He didn't seem to have lost too much blood, but could still likely use a blood replenisher. He had been smart to staunch the wound.
"Just bumps and bruises," Neville replied. "My tailbone is pretty sore."
"If you broke it, the potion will help that too," Snape told him. "You have a few scrapes, but those I can leave for Poppy. Are you dizzy?"
"A bit," Neville admitted.
"You must have lost a lot of blood," Snape told him. "I wish I had a way to get you to Poppy."
Just then, a fireplace roared to life in the corner of the room.
"What's that?" Snape asked suspiciously, restraining himself from reaching for his wand.
"The room gives you what you need," Neville tried to explain.
"Is this that place that you foolishly formed that silly club?" Snape asked.
"Yes, sir," Neville admitted.
"Pity that you didn't tell it you needed somewhere that Umbridge couldn't break into," Snape told him.
"That's a great idea!" Neville told him. "I'll do that."
"Gryffindors!" Snape grumbled. "So will that fireplace floo us to the infirmary?"
"My guess is that it will," Neville answered. "The room does best with specific requests."
Snape went over to the fireplace and took the pot of floo powder helpfully left on the mantle for them. Throwing the powder in, he called, "Madame Pomfrey?"
"Yes?" he heard her reply.
"Ready yourself for a patient," he told her firmly, and then returned to Neville.
"Here you go," he told the boy as he helped him up, wrapping the youth's arm around his own neck to support him. "Hold on."
Neville paled as he stood, and leaned heavily on the Headmaster. Corner watched in surprise as Snape deftly and gently handled the boy.
"We'll have you laying down in the infirmary in a few minutes," Snape told him. "Come on."
"Me too?" Corner asked.
"Don't you have class?" the Headmaster asked.
"Yes, sir," the boy admitted.
"Then go to it!" Snape snapped. "I have caned children for less."
The boy scrambled off, and Snape was somewhat mollified by instilling some fear in the boy before he went. These Gryffindors became overly-familiar far too quickly.
"It seems like this room could make a nice sanctuary for children being hunted," Snape told Neville as they stepped into the fireplace.
With a rush, they were in the infirmary and Poppy was catching Neville with deft hands and a ready wand. She had his clothes transfigured into a hospital gown and tucked into a cot before Snape could hardly blink.
"What happened to him?"
"Damaged by a hex," Snape told her smoothly. "He took an accidental fall down the stairs after. I stopped the bleeding from the hex, but I'm afraid he may have lost a lot of blood. His leg was broken and I gave him Skele-gro."
"Have you given him pain medication?" she asked coldly. "Or is the pain he's suffering from your abuse part of the punishment he deserves?"
"This is not a caning, you may deliver pain medication," Snape told her, not denying the charges. When he saw Neville attempt to correct her impression, he glared at the boy until he nodded in obedience. He would keep Snape's secret.
"Thank you for allowing me to do my job!" she snapped at the Headmaster.
Neville winced in concern, was pain medication and salve after a caning forbidden? Were the house elves that delivered it breaking the rules? He vowed never to tell anyone about his jar of salve.
"May I remind you, Madame, that your employment here is at my whim," he told her carefully, hoping to Merlin that the woman would curb her tongue and see sense. The last thing he wanted to do was fire one of the best protectors of the children. "I would hate for you to have . . . employment problems at a time when the children clearly need you here."
"Why?" she demanded. "So I can patch them up when you and your cronies cut them up? Maybe without me here you'll think twice!"
"Do you really believe that to be true?" he asked silkily. In reality, the woman's anger made his stomach twist in grief. He had always admired Poppy, and saw her as a strict and determined Matron. To have her think such ill of him was as bad as having to do it to McGonagall. There are days he really hated Dumbledore and all of his machinations, but he knew it was his part in bringing down Voldemort. It just made him feel so desperately tired.
"No," she admitted, pursing her lips.
"I'm glad we have an understanding," he told her calmly. "Please let me know if your examination of Mr. Longbottom reveals anything I need to know about."
"Why?" she asked defiantly. She knew she would curb her tongue enough to avoid sacking, but was determined not to let the betrayer Severus Snape off easy.
"He has additional detentions assigned," Snape replied smoothly. "I would hate for him to miss them."