WEDNESDAY, 4 MAY

Harry was awoken the next morning by Ron shaking him.

"C'mon Harry, time to get up! Mum and Dad have come back to fetch us all, Ginny's with them too."

It took a moment for Harry to remember where he was and he was getting tired of the sensation already. He looked over at Ron, who had a slightly stricken look.

But of course, Ron said his parents had returned to Hogwarts to get him. To get them. He didn't have to ask what for.

Harry dragged himself out of the same bed he'd slept in the previous two nights. Its owner had still not returned. He wondered what would happen to the trunk and the poster if their owner indeed never came back for them. The house elves would take them away, maybe, over the summer holidays before September. Harry had a terrible thought that they might belong to Colin Creevey but he couldn't recall if the younger boy had come to favor a particular professional Quidditch team.

Harry shivered slightly but made himself move as Ron, already dressed, waited impatiently for him to shift. Harry jammed his crooked glasses onto his face and followed his friend down the stairs to the common room. He noticed a few stray students scattered about on the arm chairs and there was, indeed, now a small fire burning brightly in the fireplace.

This morning, though, he did not skip the shower, although he made short work of it. He kept his eyes on the tiles in the shower stall, trying not to notice changes in his form that went beyond just his facial features. He mistakenly glanced down as he rinsed his hair, though, and choked slightly. Well, perhaps not every change was a negative...

Afterward, a freshening charm on his clothes was a dissatisfying solution but would have to do, as he still had nothing else to change into. Most of his belongings had been left at the Burrow, months ago, and the few essentials he'd carried had been lost somewhere along the way. He had no idea what had happened to his old school trunk after the Weasleys had been obliged to abandon their home and go into hiding. He wondered if they'd returned yet, or if they were still staying at Aunt Muriel's home or Shell Cottage.

It suddenly struck Harry that he literally had only his wand and the clothes on his back at the moment, clothes which no longer fit him quite properly. He was no taller or shorter than before, but among everything else, his weight had sort of re-distributed itself. He was much slimmer about the hips than before and had to tighten his belt a couple notches just to keep his trousers up, while his shirt was uncomfortably tight across his shoulders but almost too loose everywhere else now. The sensation was odd, to say the least, like he'd suddenly been poured into someone else's skin. In a way, he had, although whose, precisely, he could not say. He wondered with no slight trepidation how the rest of the Weasley clan would react.

Ron appeared at the door and looked at him quizzically, fidgeting as he watched Harry studying his reflection.

"Don't worry about it, Harry, I've already warned them you look different now. They won't care, I promise. Come on, we need to get back. Dad's got us all a portkey ready."

Ron waited for Harry to stop fussing with his damp hair in front of the mirror and follow him out into the hallway, where Hermione was waiting for them.

"You're absolutely sure you don't want to go fetch your parents back now, Hermione?"

"Ron, I've already told you, it's alright. It'll be better if I wait til everything settles down and I'm not so, er... distracted. I can undo the memory charms but it will be tricky and I'll have a lot to explain. Better if I have the time... but never mind that right now. Come on, we shouldn't keep everyone waiting all morning."

Ron took the lead this time as they walked back toward the Great Hall. As they stepped through they doors they saw Ginny nibbling at a bit of toast surrounded by a few other students at end of the Hufflepuff table. The Weasley parents were standing in front of the staff table, however, looking to be in the midst of a serious discussion with Professor McGonagall, who appeared to be the only Hogwarts teacher eating breakfast in the Great Hall that morning. Only Argus Filch sat at the far end, removed from everyone else and slowly feeding tidbits to his cat.

Harry, Ron and Hermione headed toward Ginny, but Mr. Weasley caught sight of them, beckoning at Harry to come over. He was greeted with an almost too bright smile on Mrs. Weasley's face. Ron and Hermione joined him, but they were waved off, and sent to go sit with Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley immediately pulled Harry into a firm hug, not letting him go for several moments. Harry found himself hugging her back nearly as tightly, feeling strangely relieved at their arrival. Their presence anchored something within him that he had not been aware had been adrift.

"Harry, dear, I hope you are holding up here. I trust they've been looking after you?"

She quickly glanced back at McGonagall with a latent, unspoken accusation. The older witch merely quirked any eyebrow but did not respond. Mrs. Weasley stood back and looked him up and down. He did not feel like something pinned to a board this time, though.

"They certainly haven't been overfeeding you."

She sighed and stepped back, content, apparently, to let McGonagall say whatever it was she needed to.

"Harry, you and I still have a few things to discuss, when you have time. I know you were not pleased with me the day before yesterday but I've discovered a bit more about your... situation. It can wait, but not forever. I realize there are things which need to be done, of course. I merely request that you contact me when you have the time. Please, for your own sake do not put this off for too long."

Harry bit back the sharp retort that immediately sprang to his tongue, aware of the Weasley parents standing nearby as well as a vague notion that some bridges maybe ought not be torched in a fit of pique. Harry surprised himself somewhat; a few years ago he would not have been able to hold his tongue. I guess that means I'm growing up or something, he thought, but wasn't sure how he felt about it. He'd felt ancient in the moments after Voldemort's fall, but now on the other side of it, there was a strange sense of unreality, some terrible nightmare he might've just woken from, and after all, seventeen is not all that different from sixteen.

Or perhaps the nightmare had just changed into a different one. Despite Luna's assurances a couple days ago, he did not, in fact, feel much better about what Professor McGonagall had said to him in that spare classroom after she'd dismissed Professor Flitwick and his friends.

He glanced at Mr and Mrs. Weasley, who stood watching him patiently but offered no advice. Harry wondered what McGonagall had said to them before he'd arrived, but part of him almost preferred not to know. What did they think, he wondered.

Harry settled for simply nodding at McGonagall, acknowledging her request but not making any actual promises. She looked at him for a moment but that seemed to be the end of the conversation. He turned back toward his friends at the Hufflepuff table and Mrs. Weasley wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

"Well, Harry, if you'd like to grab a bite to eat, I think we can spare a bit of time. Charlie, Bill and Fleur have been busy for the last couple of days going over the Burrow and making sure it is safe again. It will be nice to be able to go home, finally."

Harry's mood lightened just a little at that thought. The Burrow was still standing. His friends had a home to return to, at least. They were putting on a brave face, he knew. Fred was gone.

Harry sat down next to Ron at the end of the row of students. Ginny leaned forward and looked at him across her brother's plate. Harry shrugged at her and she lifted an eyebrow. She gave him a small smile before her brother leaned over in front of her to grab a saltshaker, ending the moment. Well, at least nothing dampened Ron's appetite.

Harry's appetite, however... He pulled a couple slices of buttered toast onto his plate and added a bit of jam. After Mrs. Weasley's comment earlier about them not overfeeding him, he knew she'd be unimpressed if skipped breakfast entirely. He felt an odd need to not disappoint her. Not today.

Hermione leaned back and glanced at him past Ginny and Ron. Harry had the weird sensation that he was being checked up on by everyone. Normally it would bother him, making him feel like he was being babied, but at the moment he felt sort of warm all over at the thought.

Maybe it was okay to be babied every once in a while, even if you didn't really need it, just to remind you that someone cared enough to do so, and were still around to care.

Professor McGonagall watched as the Weasleys, along with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, finished up and took their leave, walking out of the castle to take the portkey that Arthur had brought to carry them all back to their home.

She should have said something to Harry much earlier, but had hesitated and now the matter was, for the moment, out of her hands. She'd explained, at least in brief terms, to Arthur and Molly what had transpired to cause such a dramatic change in Harry Potter's appearance. Including Severus Snape's startling confession. She had known they would have questions about his appearance the moment they saw him and felt there was no point in trying to avoid the matter. They were, in fact, the closest thing that Harry had ever had to actual parents since he was a year old.

The arrival of Harry himself had ended their tense conversation before she could ask whether or not they'd be willing, eventually, to talk to him about it, but she hoped they would, as Harry might be more accepting of the truth coming from people he trusted more fully.

It felt oddly freeing to get it all off of her chest, but she felt she still had an obligation to speak to Harry himself. Sooner or later he'd have to face the truth. But if the Weasleys could soften the blow somewhat for Harry, she could take up the task of dealing with Severus. She felt that she'd gotten the harder end of the bargain, but probably deserved as much.

The few students remaining dispersed as they finished their breakfast and the Great Hall was nearly empty by the time she abandoned her cooling tea and rose to face the day. Several of the school's instructors had been called to the Ministry that morning to give statements on the events of the last year leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts, as it was now being called. She'd been questioned herself, already.

She dreaded the coming hearing that Severus would have to endure, as soon as he was recovered enough to stand for it. The charges against Severus for the murder of Albus Dumbledore had never been officially dropped. The Death Eater takeover of the Ministry had resulted in the matter being pushed aside and temporarily buried, but now that Kingsly Shacklebolt had restored some manner of order, he apparently wished the matter to be resolved through the standard procedure as swiftly as possible.

Albus Dumbledore had brought all his cunning and influence to bear the first time Severus's loyalty had been in question; she had no such weight herself. The memories he had given to Potter with what he had no doubt believed to be his dying breaths would have to speak for him. They'd been enough to convince the Aurors to at least let him convalesce under guard at Hogwarts, rather than moving him directly to the prison hospital at Azkaban, which gave Minerva hope.

Minerva made her way toward the Headmaster's office, intending to check in on him for a moment, although she held no particular hope that his condition had changed. With no classes for the rest of the week and only O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students returning after, there wasn't actually very much for her to do at the moment.

The gargoyle leapt aside at her approach. A new password would need to be set soon, she thought, as the last one had been broken when Severus had fled the castle during their confrontation.

She felt a pang of something at the memory of their duel that night. He'd made a grand show of it but in truth had done little but defend himself against all of her and Filius's attacks, doing nothing in return which could have genuinely harmed either of them. She knew in reality he was easily a match for her in combat, if not more. She'd called him a coward.

She heard muffled speech as the staircase rose to the office door, recognizing Poppy Pomfrey's voice as she responded to a man's that she did not. Entering, finally, she was greeted by a wizard in robes she recognized from St. Mungo's. The Auror Savage nodded at her from his usual perch near the window overlooking the Quidditch pitch.

"Good news, Minerva. Smethwyck and his healers at St. Mungo's think they've finally got something for poor Severus now."

The man from St. Mungos must be Hippocrates Smethwyck, then. Minerva had not met the man before, but knew he'd been the one to develop the first antidote for Arthur Weasley.

"I'm glad to hear it. How soon can you have it here?"

The man pulled a small phial from a pocket and held it out. The contents looked somewhat foreboding, a viscous, brown liquid like crude oil oozing inside the glass as the healer tilted it slightly to one side.

"It is not precisely an antidote, I'm afraid. At least not in the ordinary sense. I had to find a more... active approach. It does contain the antidote we used in the Weasley case, along with some other components, but it has been altered specifically to seek out and bind up the venom itself, as simply neutralizing it does not seem possible. It will then have to be physically removed from the patient."

"Removed? How, exactly?"

"With what amounts to a modified summoning charm, essentially."

"A summoning charm. Really? How, exactly is that meant to work?"

Minerva looked over at the sleeping form of Severus Snape, not sure at all that the "cure" the healer had brought was much better than the disease. Smethwyk apparently noted her alarm, stashing the phial back into his pocket for the moment.

"I'm afraid it is indeed likely to be painful, but he cannot be left in his current state much longer and any additional potions or spells that might lessen the ordeal are likely to interfere with the process and I do not wish to try it repeatedly. He cannot begin heal while the venom is still present in his wounds. It carries a curse as well as natural toxins. There may already be permanent damage as it is; this new version of the snake's venom has a neurotoxic component that had not been present before. I admit I would prefer to do this at St. Mungo's but the Ministry has informed me that I am not to permitted to remove the patient from this room."

"Oh did they? I will have to have words with Shacklebolt."

Smethwyk shook his head slightly.

"That is your own business, of course, but this needs to be done as soon as possible. Poppy is prepared to assist me and if you would like to stay, I have no objections. Indeed, we may need another pair of hands."

Minerva sighed and dragged the armchair back several feet from Severus's bed, leaving the healers room to work around him while she sat and resigned herself.

Without further comment, Smethwyck took the phial out again, uncorking it and upending it over a cup of water. The contents slid out slowly but surely, falling into the water with a small "plop" and dissolving immediately.

Meanwhile, Poppy had gently roused Severus, as much as it was possible at least, and lifted him to sit up. She had seated herself on the bed behind him, holding him loosely in her arms with his head falling limply back onto her shoulder, the coverlet slipping down to his waist to reveal a pale torso criss-crossed with numerous scars where it was not covered still with bandages.

Smethwyck placed one supporting hand at his patient's neck while the other held the cup to his lips until Severus finally swallowed the dubious contents to the last drop.

Severus began to shiver, subtly at first but with growing intensity. Poppy re-adjusted her grip on him to hold him more firmly. Smethwyck pulled his wand from his sleeve and cut through the bandages with a spell, tossing them to the floor.

Minerva swallowed a gasp as the raw, ragged wounds were exposed. The St. Mungo's healer probed at the discolored edges with a finger and watching for some sort of change. Fresh blood began to trickle in thin rivulets across Severus's body.

The shivering stopped then, only to be replaced by an intermittent full-body spasm as his eyes rolled back in his head. Poppy nearly lost hold of him twice before it subsided.

Minerva gripped the armrests of the chair, willing herself to remain seated and not interfere. Smethwyck did not seem unduly alarmed by what was happening, standing calmly while waiting for his "antidote" to have whatever effect he was expecting.

Finally Severus lay still and limp in Poppy's arms, although the oozing blood had increased to a steadier flow. Neither healer paid the slightest mind to the growing puddle of blood now dripping from the bed to pool on the stone floor below.

Smethwyck stood watching Severus for another moment, then pushed against his wounds again, pressing at them through the slickness of warm blood. He brought a crimson fingertip up, looking at it intently for a moment, then, to Minerva's horror, briefly tasting of it.

"I think we're ready for the second part, Poppy. Do keep a good grip on him, I can't risk an Immobulus or anything else of the sort, I'm afraid, might stop things from moving along correctly..."

He suddenly turned to where Minerva was seated, regarding her as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"If you don't mind, she may require some help to hold him still."

Minerva nodded dumbly, rising from her seat. She noticed that most of the portraits along the wall were staring down at them now with rapt attention, a particularly intent gleam in the eye of image of Albus. Proudfoot was seated in the window across the room watching the proceedings while looking slightly green. How an Auror could afford to be squeamish...

Minerva pushed the thought of their audience from her mind and moved around the bed, standing nearby, but unsure of what to do, precisely.

"Stand to the side there and take hold of his legs, if you will. Do try not to get kicked, although I doubt he has the strength at this moment..."

Minerva did as she was told, leaning forward to take hold of his shins just below his knees through the blanket, bearing down with her weight. He did not move under her grasp, or even seem to notice. Poppy had also readjusted her grip, now wrapping him in a sort of bear-hug, pinning his arms to his sides as well as she could considering his much greater stature.

Smethwick nodded at the two witches and lifted his wand, beginning a long incantation that bore absolutely no resemblance whatever to the familiar Accio. The words were not Latin, but sounded vaguely Celtic, repeating as he moved the tip of his wand over several points of Severus's body.

Minerva nearly lost her grasp when Severus had another spasm, suddenly. Poppy struggled against his flailing as well. Minerva bit back a cry as she saw something dark begin moving underneath his skin.

The dark points became threads, winding their way up his arms and appearing from beneath the coverlet still concealing his lower half, gathering together into thicker ropes as they rose, at least where they could be seen underneath the blood now flowing freely, painting Poppy's hands a vivid red where they held onto him. The bound venom began to coalesce at a point over his solar plexus, where the tip of Smethwyck's wand hovered.

Severus's eyes suddenly snapped open as he let out a piercing shriek that Minerva would not have thought any human being capable of. He struggled against the two witches' grasp upon him with a strength that he should not currently possess. Minerva threw herself down bodily across his legs, pinning them under herself while she craned her head to the side to watch the healer's terrifying progress.

The burst of energy halted and the scream tapered off to a soft keening as a thick, green-brown semi-clotted mass suddenly ripped free from his skin, rising like some sort of amorphous deep-sea creature into the air at the direction of Smethwyck's wand.

The healer summoned an empty bottle from his bag, dropping his specimen into it and sealing it without comment. Another flick of his wand summoned his entire satchel from the floor near the fireplace. He stooped and rummaged inside, pulling out what Minerva recognized as a very ordinary blood-replenishing potion. He tipped the entire volume down Severus's throat, then a second, then a third.

Smethwyck looked at the two women, both pale and shaking slightly themselves now. Minerva had never considered herself easily rattled by a bit of blood, but felt somewhat mollified that Poppy had been shaken up as well, experienced healer that she was.

"You can release him now. The worst of it is over, I believe."

Minerva stood slowly, releasing her iron grip on the man's legs and making her way somewhat haphazardly back to the armchair, flopping down into it in an uncharacteristically undignified manner, leaning her head back against the cushioning.

Poppy hesitated longer, reticent to let go of her grip on Severus, as though he might disappear should she let go. Finally, she slowly unwound herself, setting him gently down and arranging his unresisting limbs on the bloodied bed before pulling the dislodged cover back up over his legs and hips. Minerva blushed slightly at the younger man's total state of undress now, not having noticed before in her preoccupation with simply holding on for dear life. She pushed her embarrassment aside, feeling somewhat childish.

After a few moments, Poppy pulled out her wand and vanished most of Severus's spilled blood with repeated incantations of Evanesco. He was still bleeding, somewhat, but the flow had slowed to a mere oozing trickle.

She leaned over him, watching him closely while Smethwyck turned and busied himself packing away his potion bottles and making notes in a small, leather-bound book. Finally he picked up the glass jar he'd placed on the floor, holding it up to the sunlight streaming in from the window and turning it about, watching the vile liquid inside slide around in the glass.

"Hm, you know, I might get a decent paper out of this."

Minerva shot him a withering look. How could he stand there and act like nothing terribly much had happened? Poppy, at least, paid him no mind as she stood over Severus, a hand laying gently on his stomach just below his ribcage, perhaps to feel his breathing, while the other was smoothing back the sweat-soaked hair plastered against his forehead. He appeared to be unconscious again, thank Merlin.

Smethwyck stashed the jar into his satchel along with everything else and picked it up, hoisting it over his shoulder.

"Keep up the blood-replenishing potions for a few days, I should think. You shouldn't have any further trouble closing his wounds in an ordinary fashion, at any rate. Otherwise he should be on the mend nicely. Do get in touch if he takes a bad turn."

With that, the healer turned on his heel and walked to the Headmaster's fireplace, tossing in a handful of floo powder and disappearing with a shout of "St. Mungo's Hospital" and a flash of green.

"Well, Poppy, I can't say I think much of your friend's bedside manner."

Poppy was still standing over Severus, her left hand still lightly against his diaphragm, the other now moving her wand over his wounds, repeating a soft, vaguely musical incantation. Minerva recognized it as Vulnera Sanentur, a powerful and beautiful healing spell that, ironically, was one of Severus's own creations.

Minerva wondered, then, just how many spells this man had created before he'd even left Hogwarts as a student. She knew of at least one other, much less benevolent in purpose. It was a mystery, in a way, how such powerful destruction and such powerful healing could spring from the very same mind. Should I live longer than Nicholas Flamel, Severus, I do not think I could even begin to understand you , she thought.

Poppy pulled a jar of some sort of salve from a pocket and rubbed the ointment it contained over the now closed wounds, her fingers moving over the still-vivid marks in slow, firm circles. Tincture of dittany, Minerva supposed, although it seemed a lost cause to think he'd be spared extensive scarring. More extensive scarring, she mentally corrected herself, her eyes trailing again over the numerous older marks already there. Finally satisfied with her work, Poppy stood back and took hold of the edge of the coverlet to pull it all the way up to Severus's chin, shaking her head slightly.

"I don't know that I'd call Smethwyck a friend, exactly. He's very good at what he does."

Poppy watched Severus for another minute, then turned away.

"I have a few things to attend to, do you mind staying for a while, Minerva? He will sleep for a few hours, I think. I don't expect any further trouble, but if his wounds should re-open I need to know immediately."

Minerva nodded, settling herself in the armchair for what she expected to be a long wait, wishing she'd thought to bring along a novel.