I don't really have a set schedule for this story. I figured I could pound together some words and post a chapter a week. I mean, I could, but last week was a blur and I didn't stick to my vague nonset schedule. Time is an illusion and summer doubly so.
The original character Auror in this chapter is definitely a reused character from a previous story, "A Series of Events". Is it an Easter egg? Is it outright laziness?
Chapter 3
Just Your Imagination
The wind blew Harry's hair back as he clenched his teeth against the pain in his guts and urged the old broom faster.
Professor McGonagall's words rang through his mind like an alarm bell. He's alive! He's alive! He gripped the broom handle, rubbing the phantom sensation of Snape's blood on his palms into the wood. The image of Snape's wide, unseeing eyes flickered through his mind.
Relief, disbelief, and fear curdled inside him. He wanted to sink into the joy of knowing at least one more person survived, but he had felt Snape's breath as he exhaled (what Harry thought was) his last. If they had brought Snape's body back to the castle last night… If Snape died because he hadn't gotten him to a healer in time… Harry curled up and pressed a hand against his middle, pushing the pain and the thoughts down.
Harry flew through the open doors of the castle and over the marble stairs to the Hospital Wing, ignoring the shouts of indignation and alarm below him.
The Hospital Wing's doors were propped open by rubble on the left and a broken desk on the right. Inside the room, a soft hush reigned. Nearly every bed was occupied. People shuffled between the beds, sharing a few quiet words or tending to wounds. One or two of the visitors seemed to be from St Mungo's; their lime-green robes were hard to miss against the white of the hospital bedsheets.
Harry barely started looking for Madam Pomfrey when she spotted him hovering at the entrance. "Harry Potter," she hissed as she stormed towards him, her robes flaring out behind her, "you get down from there this instant! This is not the Quidditch pitch, young man!"
Harry dropped to the floor, his knees buckling underneath him. Only when his feet touched the ground did he realize how hard he had pushed himself to get to the matron. His entire body were shaking.
Madam Pomfrey stopped, whatever she was about to say left unsaid, and took hold of Harry's wrist. "How long have you been awake?" she said, the admonishment still in her tone even as she gently lifted Harry's hand off the broom handle and felt his heartbeat.
Harry couldn't remember, but that was not as important as— "Professor McGonagall sent me to get you," he said in a rushed whisper. "He's alive. Snape's alive." He slid his wrist out of Pomfrey's lax grip, grabbed her forearm, and pulled. "You have to come."
"Severus's alive?" she whispered back in disbelief.
"Please."
The poor school broom underneath them rattled and shook as it valiantly flew three feet off the ground. Little splinters and twigs broke off, leaving detritus in their wake. Harry pressed himself closer to the handle, urging it to stay together by sheer force of will.
Madam Pomfrey's arms tightened around Harry's upset stomach. He winced against the pain. "Do you know what happened to him?" she said over the rush of the wind.
"Tom's snake bit him in the neck."
"And he's still alive?!"
Harry's guts twisted. "McGonagall said he was."
They were within sight of the Shack when they spotted people on brooms flying towards them. Professor McGonagall gestured to them; between her and Madam Hooch's brooms, lying down on a plank and tied down with ropes, was Severus Snape.
They landed as gently as possible on the grass, taking care to not tilt or jostle Snape as they lowered the plank. Harry barely got his own feet on the ground before Madam Pomfrey launched herself towards her latest patient.
"He was still bleeding," Professor McGonagall said as Madam Pomfrey dropped to her knees by Snape's side and whipped out her wand. The air around Snape began to glow as the matron cast spell after spell, searching for signs of life. "We couldn't feel his breath, but—"
"HIs heartbeat is much too slow," Madam Pomfrey said. "We need to get some Blood Replenishing Potion inside him."
Harry edged closer. In the bright morning sun, Snape looked pale and small. Caked blood covered one side of Snape from his ear down to his waist. His half-opened eyes stared unseeing up at the sky, his whitened lips parted and dry. Blood seeped through and blackened the torn strip of tartan wrapped around his neck.
Look… at… me…, he gurgled as his hand fell away.
Just your imagination… His black eyes were soft with unspoken regret.
Harry pressed his hand against his forehead, the sight of Snape's body and the sun in his eyes making his head ache. Sharp pain tore through his stomach. In the distance, people are shouting and racing towards them. Snape's eyes stared right at Harry, the void in the empty irises pulling Harry in.
"Ah," Harry exhaled as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed onto the ground.
Harry awoke to the sounds of muffled shouts and the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing ceiling, disoriented and in pain. For a moment, he couldn't remember just what had sent him to hospital this time. Judging from the pain in his stomach, a batch of Hagrid's rock cakes? Or was it a rogue Bludger to the head, leaving him with this headache?
He breathed in slowly as the memories of the last two days slotted themselves into place. The muffled shouts gradually shifted from incomprehensible noise to understandable mush. He turned his head to the side and watched shadowed figures pace and argue on the other side of the white privacy screen.
He sat up slowly; the unwanted nap left him feeling soft and weak. They had laid him down on one of the beds farthest from the entrance. A row of privacy screens cut across the width of the room, separating Harry from the rest of the Hospital Wing.
In the bed across from Harry was Snape, tucked in the white bedsheets. They had cleaned off the blood and changed him out of his dirty robes. The bandages around his neck were clean and some color had returned to his cheeks, but there was no sense of life in the man's face.
An Auror, his broad shoulders slumped and his head bowed, stood at Snape's bedside. Harry shuffled out of bed to take a closer look.
"This is not the place for this," Madam Pomfrey said, cutting off the yelling. "You are disturbing my patients, and unless you need medical attention, I demand you leave at once!"
The Auror sneered and cast a charm on the partitions, cutting the sound off. "Vultures," he spat before noticing Harry at the foot of Snape's bed. "Um." He looked away, but not quickly enough for Harry to notice his red-rimmed eyes and the shiny, jagged scar that cut across his face.
"Unbelievable," Madam Pomfrey said as she slid between the partitions. "Mr. Potter, get right back into bed this instant."
"I just wanted to see if Snape is alright," Harry said in protest as the matron started to shoo him back. She stopped for a moment, unease flickering across her face. "He… he is alright, right?"
"He—" She looked back at the Auror, who only frowned and looked away. "His body will recover."
Pain throbbed through him. "What do you mean, his body?"
"He has no soul," the Auror said. Harry felt a surge of anger that must have shown on his face because the Auror quickly put his hands up defensively. "I don't mean it that way!"
"What he means is, Professor Snape's soul is missing," Madam Pomfrey said, shooting the Auror a look.
A shiver ran through Harry. "How do you know?"
"The signs are there," the Auror said softly, ignoring Madam Pomfrey as she gestured to him to hush. "Completely lax body, cold hands and feet." He paused. "If you look into his eyes, you get the feeling that there's a black hole in there, trying to suck you in." He blinked rapidly and look away. "It's not a pleasant feeling."
"We won't know for certain until an expert comes by to check," Madam Pomfrey added hastily.
Harry leaned against the foot of Snape's bed. Up close, the professor looked unnaturally peaceful. "What will happen to him?"
"That's up to the Headmistress and the Minister of Magic to decide," Madam Pomfrey said.
"Can I sit with him?" Harry said. "For a while?"
"You need to rest yourself," Madam Pomfrey said. "Don't think I have forgotten how you fainted an hour ago."
"I can rest while sitting down," Harry argued.
Madam Pomfrey frowned before shaking her head. "At the very least, drink some water. You're clearly dehydrated. Auror Hutton, you're here to keep nuisances out, not to cry over your former Head of House."
"I wasn't crying, Madam Pomfrey," the Auror said, roughly rubbing his eyes before taking a fortifying breath and stepping through the gap in the partitions.
"If you're going to sit, sit," Madam Pomfrey said, pushing Harry towards the chair by Snape's bed. She pushed a glass of water into his hands. "Five minutes, and then right back to bed with you, understood?" Harry nodded. "Now, drink."
Once he did as instructed and drained the glass, Madam Pomfrey nodded her head and with a huff, followed the Auror out, leaving Harry in the magically silent space with Snape's body.
Whoever cleaned Snape up and healed his wound had been kind enough to brush the man's hair back and close his eyes. Snape's chest rose and fell with every slow, tempered breath. Snape's hands lay at his sides, the stains and callouses on the fingers oddly familiar.
Harry cradled the hand closest to him. It was as icy cold as the Auror said, but in Harry's grasp, it quickly grew warm.
You don't feel dead.
That's just your imagination.
Another wave of sharp pain rolled through Harry. He pressed their joined hands against his stomach to push the unbearable pain down. The warmth radiating from Snape's hand seeped through Harry's clothes, gently soothing his upset stomach and melting the pain away.
Harry sighed and a feeling of relief washed over him.
Next time: Harry takes custody of Snape's body.
Thank you for reading.
