Title:
The boy that forgot to die
Author:
evil minded
Date:
November, 19th 2011
Timeframe:
Second year at Hogwarts
Summary:
AU / Harry Potter comes back for his second year at Hogwarts, but something is not the way it should be, and Severus Snape seems the only one able to help the boy that forgot to die … will he manage to really help the Gryffindor before it is too late?
Disclaimer:
I don't really care about Lockhart, Quirrel or Umbridge, nor about most of the other characters in HP … I, however, would like to own one particular Severus Snape – regrettably I do not, Rowling does … but well – I'm borrowing him for a while … just to torture him a bit … I am evil minded after all …
Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16
Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …
Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …
Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine
Previously in "The boy that forgot to die"
"In other words – I need the two of you together for this as I won't be able hurrying to and fro between the infirmary and your room here. I do not even understand how this blasted and incompetent imbecile that is your defence teacher, could have you running through the castle instead of bringing you to the infirmary immediately!"
Noticing that again he started losing his composure, he closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down again.
"Come now." He said, extending his hand but not even trying to touch the boy and take his arm, knowing that he wouldn't be able to right now. Harry clearly was completely a ghost at the present time, untouchable, while he worried about his son's body, seeing that Zilly had not come back yet to inform him of the condition of his son who was in the infirmary.
The boy that forgot to die
Chapter nineteen
I cannot lose him now again
Or How considerate of you
The way to the infirmary had been anything than fun.
The child had started swaying halfway up the stairs from the dungeons and still he hadn't been able to touch Harry – so the only thing he had been able to do had been, well, telling the boy to take a seat at the stairs and to rest every now and then, seeing that he had been unable to steady him, let alone carrying him, and in the end it had nearly taken them an hour to reach the infirmary, Poppy already looking up at him worriedly the moment they entered.
"Sit down on this bed, Harry." He said, pointing at the boy's bed. He definitely would add a sign to it one day, declaring it as his son's! "How is Harry's body?" He then asked of Poppy, wondering why Zilly had not come back to inform him of anything.
"I do not know." Poppy said. "I have sent Zilly to St. Mungos to get a healer, Severus, and we can just hope that they will send one soon."
He quickly nodded his head while casting a quick glance at his son's ghost form, making sure that the boy was alright before he concentrated onto the still form that was his son's body.
The small and thin form still was not moving except for a slight trembling that had overtaken the body, but the pale face had gone as white as was the face from his son's ghost form and he could clearly see that the boy's breathing was irregular and too quick. He looked over at the monitoring and frowned at the much too quick heartbeat.
"I have already given him a calming draught." Poppy whispered.
"Add a pain reliever." He calmly said. "Harry has told me that he was in pain after the spell had been cast. Are you still dizzy, Harry?" He then asked, turning back to the boy, but he didn't get an answer and sighing he watched his son's scared face for a few seconds before getting a calming draught and reaching it towards the ghost – who took it and downed it without even questioning what it was he was ingesting, a fact that told him enough.
"Lay down and try to sleep." He said, gently trying to push the ghost form down before pulling back his hand when he wouldn't succeed, and then taking off the boy's shoes and Jeans before he took the blanket from the foot of the bed and spread it over his son. Or over one of his sons, practically.
What a mess, really!
A moment later the ghost slept already, and he extended his hand, gently trying to touch the pale and clammy forehead, noticing with some sort of relief that finally, he could. This had definitely been the longest time Harry had stayed in this untouchable form and he was more than just a little bit worried. Would it always be like this when he was upset and scared? What would happen if the boy next time decided to stay in this form? How could he keep him safe, then, if he couldn't touch him? Looking over at his son's body he noticed that this form was calming down as well, his level of unconsciousness becoming deeper and his heartbeat becoming slower.
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"Professor Snape?" A deep and calm voice came from the doorway, accompanied by a soft knock on the doorframe.
"Yes?" He asked, turning and looking over at the newcomer, a man in his mid-ages, short white-blond hair, bright blue eyes, a pale face – he could have been mistaken for a Malfoy on first sight if it weren't for his knowledge that there was no such man in the Malfoy family.
"Andrew Weed." The man answered, slowly entering the room. "I'm from St. Mungos."
"You have experiences with ghosts having left their bodies?" He asked, sarcastically, scowling at the man who smiled.
"No one has, I fear." The healer answered. "There has been one only, whose son has split spirit and body before actual death after all, Nathaniel Detmold, and his son has been killed by his brother before he could find a solution. Yes, I have read the book and yes, I have concentrated my work on ghosts generally."
"Zilly has told you about the spell, healer Weed?" He asked, frowning.
"Yes, he has mentioned it." Weed answered. "But I doubt that the boy's body has been affected by it. To affect a body, a spell has to hit it and it has not been hit."
"His ghost form has been hit." Severus growled.
"Yes, but as he is a ghost, he could not be killed by the spell." The healer said. "I guess he has been affected in form of feeling the spell?"
"He said he went green and was in pain." The Potions Master said, his voice sounding strangely hollow and for a moment the implication of the situation hit him full force. "What made me believe that it was the avada he has been hit with."
"That would be a correct belief." Weed said, reaching a vial at him. "I suggest you sit down, Professor Snape, and take a calming potion, it is one of your own you have supplied St. Mungos with."
"He's been dizzy and threw up the moment he laid down." He said after he had taken the potion and actually felt better. "He said he fell, and he had a bleeding cut on his forehead."
"I doubt that this had been caused by the spell but rather by hitting his head when he fell." Weed said. "Did you check for a concussion?"
"Not yet." The Potions Master said, drawing his wand and turning to the boy ghost. "It has taken us nearly an hour to get here as Harry didn't feel well. But all the way to the infirmary, I have been unable to touch and steady or carry him."
"You normally are able touching him?" Weed asked, with a frown while drawing his own wand and casting some of his own diagnostics at both boys – and him!
"If he so allows." Snape answered, glaring at the blasted healer and then frowning in thought. "Yes, there is a concussion. He does not allow me to touch him, however, whenever he feels unsure, scared or disappointed in one way or another, and Lockhart, the – teacher – for defence against the dark arts, telling the class that he'd already had dealings with ghosts before, and therefore knowing that a spell wouldn't work – implying that Harry could be a dark creature with his words, and then even using an unforgivable to prove it, I guess that does fall under at least one of these categories if not all."
"Yes, I am sure it does." Weed said, narrowing his eyes on him. "The child has been abused." He then accused.
"Yes." Severus answered, knowing what the healer was saying. "Harry has been living with his aunt and uncle until November first this year when he came back to Hogwarts – as a ghost. I have gone to Privet Drive to get his body and then Madam Pomfrey and I did what was possible for him to survive."
"He won't survive much longer without his ghost back in his body." Weed said, following his eyes towards the boy ghost. "And without his body here, the ghost will have no anchor – anything could happen then."
"Nathaniel Detmold has been planning on trying a combination of a potion and a spell, and he has been sure that it would have worked if his brother had not killed his son's body." He softly said.
"This boy is your son?" The healer asked.
"Yes." He simply said.
"Are you really ready to risk what is left of your son's life?" The healer asked, looking at him seriously and he sighed.
"No." He answered. "But what other choice do I have? There won't be much time left. A few days perhaps, a few weeks at the best, and then his body will be gone, dead. And with it his spirit will die – or go insane without his anchor, because he has left his body before the actual death. I have lost him ten years ago – I cannot lose him now again."
"If he won't survive the spell and the potion, then you will lose him." The blasted man softly said, reminding him of the risk, the idiot!
As if he wouldn't know!
"I do know that!" He hissed, turning at the man sharply. "Do you not think that I know the risks? Do you not think that I lay awake during the nights and consider all the risks, and do you not think that I would do anything else if there were anything else left to be done? I would give my own life if I …" Turning back to the window sharply he stopped mid-sentence.
How had those words come over his lips?
Would he really be ready to give his life if he could save the boy's life in his actions?
Immediately he knew that the answer to this was – yes.
Yes, he would give his life without thinking over it twice if he could safe his son's life with it. He would do anything to keep the child alive and yes, he had not lied – he couldn't lose the child a second time. He didn't even question his strange thoughts and emotions anymore, because he knew that it just was that way. Since his memories had come back, he had slowly but surely started bonding with the child anew, and now – he was back where he had been ten years ago just with the exception that right now, he had been thrown into it from one day to the other. And suddenly he knew why Harry allowed him to touch his ghost form from the beginning on, while he allowed it no one else, knew it without a spark of doubt – Harry had bonded with him already before he, Snape, had known who he was, he had already bonded with him in his first year, despite him being mean and ill spirited towards the child, because the boy had known that he was his father.
"Healer Weed?" Came another voice from the doorway and looking up he could see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there, the auror frowning at them.
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"That is me." The healer said, turning towards the auror.
"You have called an Auror?" The Potions Master asked in confusion.
"An unforgivable has been cast." Weed said, frowning at him and Severus took a deep breath, knowing that the healer was right. He would not have acted differently. "It is my duty to call the aurors upon an unforgivable having been cast, especially as it has been the avada cast at a child no less and during a school lesson held by a teacher."
"My apologies." He said, sighing, knowing what would come. "I wouldn't have acted differently – however, I do request that my son is not to be questioned. He has had enough on his shoulders lately."
"I heard there was an unforgivable cast at Hogwarts, the killing curse?" Shacklebolt carefully asked, clearly not ready to make a clear statement and accidentally accuse someone of something now, before he didn't have more information, and it was clear to Severus why the auror acted that way.
Any other auror maybe would have immediately accused him, Severus Snape, for having done that particular deed, for having killed a student, would have even arrested him already without questions, but Shacklebolt knew that he was a spy for the order and so, for now – well, he was careful, even if he might not trust him completely.
"Yes." He said, taking a step towards the other man before Weed could say something, his dark eyes cold and hard like solid steel while he watched the auror. He wouldn't allow Weed to take the upper hand, because Harry was his son, his responsibility, and he would handle the situation, not Weed. "Yes, the avada has been cast at Harry Potter, during defence against the dark arts and by the resident defence teacher."
"Which is not you." Shacklebolt chuckled at him, and he lifted his eyebrow but immediately understood the auror's intention, namely, to lighten the situation in stating that he knew it hadn't been him, Snape. "Where is Lockhart right now?"
"Still in the defence classroom, I guess, as I did not have the time to report him to the headmaster. My first priority has been to bring my son here and that was already difficult enough."
There was a pause during which Shacklebolt looked at him startled, his face a blank mask, but then the man inclined his head towards him, and he had not only the impression that the man wanted to show him – he accepted his words – but that he also wanted to show him – as strange as it was – respect.
"What exactly happened?" The man then asked, clearly addressing him.
"According to Harry, Lockhart boasted himself with having had to deal with ghosts before and knowing that an unforgivable wouldn't harm a ghost." He told the auror what he knew. "And to prove it, he cast the killing curse at him. It didn't kill him of course, seeing that he is a ghost, but he definitely is affected. It has weakened his already dying form and it has caused him pain. It could have killed him even, no one knows what could happen when it comes to ghosts! This man is just incapable and the spell he used is still an unforgivable."
"I know, Snape, and don't worry, I'll take him to the ministry to question him." Shacklebolt said, casting a long glance at both children, the ghost and the body before he looked back at him. "And don't worry, Snape, for now I won't need the boy to give a statement – I'll examine Lockhart's wand and I'll have a look at his memories. However, the boy might have to answer questions the moment the trials open."
And with those words Shacklebolt already stormed off.
Well, for once there would be justice and Lockhart would pay for his mistake.
How could he have been so idiotic and to cast an unforgivable of all curses at someone, even if a ghost! It was forbidden and it was forbidden for a reason after all!
Turning back to the child in bed he cursed the idiot chickenhawk, the situation and the headmaster while he hoped, for the first time since a long time, hoped, that everything would go well and that his son somehow would survive.
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It was in the middle of the night when the double winged door opened and none other than Albus Dumbledore came in, causing him to scowl at the old headmaster.
"How is the boy?" The man asked and his scowl deepened.
"It has taken you remarkably long until you have a look at the student that has been hit with an unforgivable in your school and by one of your teachers, Dumbledore." He growled darkly, unimpressed by the man's displayed worry. "What kept you? Another artefact from a friend of yours which you have to hide in the castle? Or is it the fact that Harry is a ghost now and cannot fulfil your prophecy anymore? Or perhaps it is the little fact that the child happens to be my son and has been sorted into Slytherin, thwarting all of your plans and schemes for him?"
"Severus, you are angry, and rightfully so, as you're the boy's –"
"You are right, headmaster." He growled, getting off the chair he was sitting in, so that he could show the headmaster the exit. He didn't wish to have the boy being awakened by their quarrelling, that wasn't worth it, the child needed its rest. "I am Harry's father, and so the boy has already someone looking after him, he doesn't need your false care anymore, and I suggest you leave. If you wish for any information, then you either wait until I have written my report, or you go to the ministry where the auror office has already questioned Lockhart."
Well – if this was no heave-ho, and if the blasted old coot didn't understand, then he didn't know what would make the old man understand, honestly! But well, why should he be the lucky one for once? Of course, he wouldn't have such a luck! It was Dumbledore, he was dealing with, after all, and Dumbledore never knew when to leave the field.
"Severus, I'm sure that you are overestimating." The old man said the moment they had reached the doors. "Surely you wouldn't go as far as accusing me of knowingly harming a student in –"
"I already did, headmaster, and you would know if you had listened to what I've said just a moment ago." He growled. "I simply expect you to leave my son alone. Neither will you have any say in his future, nor will you have to look after him ever again."
"As you wish, Severus." The headmaster said, making a sad face and he wondered how a Gryffindor could be such a good actor – but well, it was Albus Dumbledore after all, the greatest wizard of all times – of course he was such a good actor. "I just wished –"
"If Harry dies, then you have been responsible for his death in more than one way. You have killed him by placing him with the Dursleys and you have killed him by neglecting to look after him for ten years. You have killed him by appointing an imbecile like Lockhart of all people the defence against the dark arts teacher, and you have also attempted to kill him by having him, a student, a child, going after that blasted stone last year."
"Severus! Surely you –"
"As Harry's father I enjoin you to mess with him ever again." He hissed angrily. "Good night, headmaster." He then said, turning and not even looking back at the old man to make sure that he had left – he simply would ward the area where his son lay.
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It was barely an hour later when the door to the hospital wing opened a second time and he lifted his head, his eyes narrowed at the double winged wooden doors and ready to insult the blasted old man for even more crimes he had done during the past years. He'd had enough time to think over it since he was sitting here beside Harry's bed after all.
It wasn't however Dumbledore this time, but two identical faces, the Weasley twins, and he scowled. What was it with those blasted Gryffindors always roaming the castle during night times?
"What are the two of you doing here in the middle of the night?" He asked, trying to keep his voice soft enough so that he wouldn't wake his son but at the same time having his scolding tone so that the Weasley twins knew – he was not impressed by their actions.
"Sorry, didn't want to disturb you." One of them said, also keeping his voice soft.
"But we'd like visiting Harry." The other one added, shrugging his shoulders.
"I take it you are aware of the little fact that it is in the middle of the night, Gentlemen?" He drawled, his dark eyes going from one to the other, noticing the armful of sweets in George Weasley's arms and the toilet seat in Frederic Weasley's arms.
"Sure." George said, also shrugging his shoulders and nearly losing a box with chocolate frogs in the progress. "But we thought that he might have slept at first, after the spell, and after he had fallen too."
"He'd hit his head very badly after all."
"Draco had sneaked out of Lockhart's class as soon as possible."
"To go to your office and to inform you."
"But he came back and said you'd already left for the infirmary."
"And so, we thought that you've brought Harry here."
"And knowing Pomfrey, that he'd been asleep shortly after."
"And so, we thought we'd come later."
"To bring him sweets and a toilet seat, how considerate of you that you bring him something he can use when being ill after he has devoured all those sweets."
"Thank you, sir." Both of them said, clearly proud of his words that they – foolishly – took as praise.
But well – they were Gryffindors, but they were still on Harry's side, seeing that they took the risk of sneaking through the castle – even if he wasn't so sure that they took the risk as seriously as did he, seeing that they were Gryffindors to begin with – and they had brought sweets – and a toilet seat – for his son.
"I won't allow the toilet seat." He growled at them. "But I'll allow the sweets. Come here then, seeing that you are already here anyway." He then added while at the same time drawing his wand and banishing the toilet seat where it belonged to, ignoring the startled and disappointed look from Frederic.
"So – his body is really here." George Weasley said after he had stepped closer and could see the child's body laying in the bed beside his ghost form.
"I told you so." Frederic shrugged his shoulders. "Anything else wouldn't make sense."
"What will happen now?" They both asked at the same time, both Weasleys looking up at him, not mischief in their eyes like there normally would be, but concern and perhaps it was this concern that showed the Potions Master – those two meant it, they still were Harry's friends, never mind what.
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To be continued
Next time in "The boy that forgot to die"
I take if, this is your essay?
Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter too … thank you …
House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:
42 Points - Slytherin
07 Points - Gryffindor
27 Points - Ravenclaw
07 Points - Hufflepuff