Author's Notes:
Please note that I am not a herbologist, nor trained in any way in herbal healing. I did do some research on the Net, however. The most helpful site I found (which is, admittedly, a commercial site) was , at www. mothernature. com/ Library/ Ency/ Index.cfm/ ID/ 2420007/ L/ ALL (as usual, remove spaces) - one I recommend for anyone interested in what is known, scientifically speaking, about herbal healing.
Author's Note July 12, 2004: Minor changes (a few words here and there) have been made for clarification purposes.
Disclaimer in Prologue.
CHAPTER 10: Death and Distraction
Snape was prowling through the dungeons, unable to sleep. The Dark Mark was stinging, and he couldn't seem to block the sensation out, something he could usually do unless it was a Summoning; which bothered him quite a bit, as he didn't know why it was happening.
Abruptly the Bloody Baron drifted out of the wall in front of him. Hiding his surprise at the ghost's sudden appearance with the ease of long experience, Snape nodded to him in acknowledgment.
"Severus," the Baron greeted him.
"Baron... Is there something I can do for you?" Snape asked, curious. The Baron rarely spoke to anyone - even the Head of Slytherin House - unless it was an emergency.
"That Gryffindor student of yours is by the Potions classroom," the Slytherin ghost informed him coolly - the disinterested tone indicating to Snape that the ghost was curious, but not about to ask any questions about the matter - and drifted away again.
Potter? At this hour? Frowning, Snape lengthened his stride, hurrying down the corridor. What in Merlin's name was Potter doing down here - and now, of all times?
Just as the Baron had said, Potter was standing in the corridor between the entrances to the classroom and to his office. His expression was difficult to identify, but his face was pale and his hair mussed more than usual, making him look lost. The impression was accentuated by the fact that the boy was in pyjamas and a dressing robe.
"Potter!" Snape said sharply. "What are you doing down here at this hour?!"
Potter turned to face him, and Snape was astonished to see an expression of utter relief cross the boy's face for a moment. It vanished a second later, leaving Potter's face disturbingly blank. There was something about that blankness that resonated in Snape's memory...
Then Potter exclaimed, "Voldemort killed her!" and Snape remembered the last time he'd seen the boy like this - a little over a month ago, in the aftermath of the Third Task, Cedric Diggory's death and Voldemort's resurrection. His eyes were wide, dilated, and his hands were shaking - shock and possibly the effects of Cruciatus, Snape judged with an expert eye.
Grabbing Potter's hands to keep them still - and not-so-incidently do a quick scan - Snape tried to focus the boy's attention on him. "Calm down, Potter," he said, doing his best to make his tone reassuring. "What happened?"
"Vision," Potter managed to say. He was starting to shiver, and Snape could feel the partially-eased effects of Cruciatus - he'd definitely taken a dose of Levatio already. Unfortunately, the vision had undoubtedly been quite unpleasant, because there was still a fair amount of damage. Almost as much as had been caused last Friday night, Snape reflected grimly, remembering how bad that meeting had been. What had happened in this latest one - to which he hadn't been Summoned - to equal that?
Damn... it's a good thing that all the damage from last month has already been healed, Snape thought, as he tried to figure out which would be best: get Potter up to the hospital wing first, or bring him into his office so that he could get another dose of Levatio faster? If there had still been damage left... He didn't like to think of what could have happened to Potter in that case.
"Voldemort... he..." Potter continued, stuttering, as Snape weighed his options, "h-he killed... M-Mrs. F-Figg!"
Oh, Blessed Merlin!
Arabella had been assisting Weasley and Moody in co-ordinating the raids on the caches. If she was dead, Dumbledore had to be told immediately - which at least helped him make the decision of what to do next.
Placing his hands on Potter's shoulders, Snape steered the shivering boy into his office. He quickly transfigured one of the student chairs into a cozy armchair, and sat Potter down before walking over to the fireplace. Tapping the Slytherin Head of House crest on the mantle with his wand, Snape summoned the Bloody Baron.
"Wake Headmaster Dumbledore and tell him to get down here, now," Snape ordered the ghost, as he opened his storage cabinet and took out a phial of Levatio. He regularly divided his own set of doses between his office and his rooms.
"Certainly, Severus," the Baron replied quickly, understanding the urgency of the situation from his tone, and took off through the ceiling.
Satisfied that Dumbledore would be showing up soon, Snape returned to Potter. "Drink this," he ordered, handing the phial to the boy.
Potter blinked. "Had some," he mumbled.
Well, at least he wasn't completely oblivious to what was going on - a good sign, considering he was in shock. "I know, Potter. You need another dose."
"Thought I might," Potter said, still mumbling. "Why I came down."
"You're babbling, Potter," Snape said curtly. "Shut up and drink it."
The boy obeyed immediately - I only wish I was able to get this sort of obedience out of him in class, Snape reflected distantly, though not for this reason... - and his shivering eased. Not completely - but then, part of it was due to shock.
Doing another quick scan, Snape found that there was only a bit of twisted magic left in Potter's system; not enough to do any additional damage, and not enough to risk a third dose of Levatio unnecessarily.
He heard the door open behind him, and Dumbledore's voice said, "You wanted to see me, Severus?"
"Yes," Snape replied, turning, and was surprised to see that the headmaster was still in his day robes. He'd thought Dumbledore would have been asleep by now.
"I just finished speaking to Minerva," Dumbledore continued, obviously having noticed the question in Snape's expression. "What seems to be the problem?"
Silently, Snape moved out of the way, allowing Dumbledore to see Potter curled up in the armchair. The boy had pulled his legs up on the chair and was hugging his knees to his chest.
"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded.
Potter shivered violently at the question, his eyes wide; he opened his mouth, apparently trying to speak, but seemed to be unable to say anything. His expression grew distressed, and he looked pleadingly at Snape.
How - and when - did I get to be the answer to Potter's problems?!
"Severus?" Dumbledore prompted. Despite the concern in his voice, Snape could see a definite hint of a twinkle in the headmaster's eyes. Well, the explanation would take care of that.
"He had a vision," Snape explained grimly. "Apparently... he saw Voldemort kill Arabella."
Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock, the twinkle disappearing as though it had never been. "Arabella Figg?"
Potter, his face pale, gave a silent nod; and Dumbledore stepped forward to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I will need to contact Arthur and Alastor," he said, turning to Snape, but keeping his hand where it was, providing Potter with the support he obviously needed. "Arabella was acting as part of one of the cache retrieval teams - we'll need to find out where they were and what happened to the rest of her team--"
"D-dead," Potter managed to get out, stuttering again. "A-Avery, Nott, a-and Crabbe... t-told V-Voldemort... others w-were d-dead."
"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. "Thank you for telling us, Harry. Severus, perhaps you could fetch some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"
"W-wait!" Potter objected, and Snape looked at him carefully. He was still paler than he should be, his eyes were still dilated... but already he was starting to look a bit better. "V-Voldemort said... w-with t-this cache, phase one of h-his plans w-was complete. H-had t-to be last cache."
Gryffindor courage, Snape thought ruefully. At least it seems to be helping him get through the shock.
Or perhaps it's the determination that is a trait of both Gryffindor and Slytherin...
And 'phase one'? That sounds... ominous. I haven't heard anything about phases, or long-term plans. He frowned to himself. Have any of the others? I'll have to check...
"A-also looking f-for Karkaroff," Potter continued. "Cursed M-Malfoy for not finding h-him already. Told h-him it w-was now a priority."
Snape and Dumbledore exchanged glances at that. Snape didn't know where Karkaroff was - he didn't want to know - but he had a feeling that Dumbledore had not only been the one to help Karkaroff slip away from Hogwarts during the Third Task, when the Summoning had begun, but also knew exactly where he was - and had most likely provided the ex-headmaster of Durmstrang with his current hiding place.
And why would finding him be a priority now? Voldemort hasn't made it seem that urgent over the past month...
"Is that everything, Harry?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"M-Malfoy h-had given h-him a bag," Potter said, the stuttering almost gone. "H-had a piece of grey leather in it... couldn't look at it."
Most likely the Charmed Dementor skin, Snape figured, remembering the stomach-twisting nausea just the fading remnants of the taint from the skin had caused. Even considering the fact that Potter had no idea how to use his sensitivity, his inability to look at the thing was only to be expected. Snape didn't mention that out loud, although he shot a quick glance at Dumbledore, wondering if the headmaster had caught it.
"T-told h-him h-he wasn't seen; knew you w-were away, H-Headmaster."
What?! Snape swung back around and stared at Potter. How did Lucius know Albus was gone? I thought only the rest of the staff and the immediate contacts in the Order knew... He firmly pushed the thought away. It was something he could discuss with Dumbledore later; right now, he was more concerned about the boy in front of them.
"V-Voldemort was pleased about it... T-that was when h-he said about t-the first phase," Potter finished. He shivered again, and pressed himself a bit farther into the chair. "T-that's all."
Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Very well. Severus, could you please fetch the Dreamless Sleep Potion and then escort Mr. Potter back up to his dormitory? Harry, when you wake up in the morning, please come and see me.
"Now, I'm afraid I have to go pass on the news," he finished, and - letting go of Potter's shoulder - hurried out of the office.
Snape re-opened his storage cabinet and pulled out a phial of Dreamless Sleep. "Would you prefer to go to the hospital wing or your dormitory, Potter?" he demanded. Dumbledore might have told him to take the boy back up to Gryffindor Tower, but he would much prefer that Potter spend the rest of the night in the hospital wing. It was layered with wards and monitoring spells that were both more powerful and more discerning than those on the House Towers. Nonetheless, considering what had just happened, the most important thing was that Potter be comfortable where he spent the rest of the night.
"The dormitory," the boy said, sounding surprisingly definite considering his current condition, as his eyes met Snape's. Then he looked away again. "I... don't like the h-hospital wing."
I suppose I can't really blame him for that, Snape admitted to himself. He didn't care that much for the hospital wing either, and taking into consideration the amount of time Potter generally spent there, he wasn't terribly surprised by the sentiment. I suppose I will simply have to set up temporary monitoring spells in his dormitory.
"Very well," he said out loud. He held his hand out, and Potter blinked in obvious surprise before carefully reaching out with his own hand and grasping it. Snape pulled him out of the chair, and then placed his hand back on Potter's shoulder to support him as he stumbled. "Let's go, then."
The trip up to Gryffindor Tower took longer than the usual five minutes, as Potter was rather unsteady. Snape spent the entire time trying to figure out how to handle the effects on the boy from this latest vision.
The only answer he came up with during the fifteen-minute walk was to talk to Dumbledore again in the morning, and see how Potter tried to cope himself. If the visions wouldn't end until Voldemort was completely dead, this - Potter seeing the death of someone he knew - would not be a one-time - or even rare - occurrence. Dreamless Sleep would help for a day or two, but all it could do was postpone nightmares and let his body rest, hopefully recovering enough to deal with this. More than three nights of Dreamless Sleep in a row would start causing more problems than it solved, by depriving the boy's mind of the necessary release dreaming provided.
Not that I need to start worrying about that right now, Snape told himself firmly as they started up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Not when I have so many other things to think about... Worry about tomorrow first.
By the time they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the Gryffindor dormitories, Potter was practically staggering, and had begun shivering again.
"Godric's Sword," Snape said curtly, putting his hand back on Potter's shoulder to keep him from falling over - he'd be damned if he let the boy fall and split his head open at this point. As soon as the door opened, he ushered Potter in, through the common room, and up the stairs to the boys' dorms. Opening the door to the one that already said 'Fifth Years', Snape got him in and lying down on the only unmade bed.
"Here," he ordered, handing Potter the phial of Dreamless Sleep. "Drink the entire contents."
Potter simply nodded - which made Snape realize that the boy hadn't actually said a word since asking to be brought to his dormitory rather than the hospital wing - took the phial, and obediently drank, much as he had the Levatio potion earlier.
Within a minute, Potter's eyes had closed and his breathing had fallen into the rhythm of deep sleep.
Leaving his wand in his robes, Snape focused his attention on the flows of magic swirling throughout the room. Grabbing a strand that connected to the wards over the school grounds, he wove another ward around Potter's bed - one that would alert him should anything serious happen to the boy while he slept.
Not that he expected anything to happen tonight, not after the dose of Dreamless Sleep the boy had just drunk; but this was Potter, after all. The laws of chance and probability seemed to function rather erratically when it came to this particular boy.
Besides, this ward would last until he took it down himself, and he'd wait until he knew that Potter was coping adequately with what the visions showed him.
After a quick test satisfied him that the ward was well-woven and true to his intent, Snape left the boy to sleep and headed back down to the dungeons. Hopefully, now that Potter had been settled and that irritating prickling from the Dark Mark had stopped, he would be able to get to sleep as well.
"...Shacklebolt will be in St. Mungo's for the next several weeks," Dumbledore heard Alastor Moody say as he Apparated into the living room at the Burrow.
Arthur Weasley and Alastor were both standing over by the fireplace, speaking quietly. Both of them looked up in surprise when Dumbledore appeared.
"Albus! We were just about to call you," Alastor said. "The team we sent to Grosvenor Square in Muggle London ran into problems. Matilda Diggle and Sturgis Podmore were killed, Kingsley Shacklebolt was gravely injured, and Arabella Figg is missing."
"I'm afraid that Arabella is also dead, by Voldemort's hand," Dumbledore replied quietly. "I had thought all of them dead, however, so it is a relief that Shacklebolt is still alive."
Arthur blinked in surprise. Alastor frowned as he sat down in the chair closest to the fireplace. "Snape or the boy?" he demanded.
"His name is Harry, Moody," Arthur snapped curtly.
Dumbledore ignored the tension. "Harry had another vision," he replied. "Apparently Avery, Nott and Crabbe are under the impression that they killed all of them save Arabella, and they brought her back for Voldemort to deal with himself - I assume you are both aware of why." He gave them a pointed look. "I don't have all the details yet - I'm afraid Harry was in no condition to give them to me when I spoke with him - but I do know that Voldemort killed her directly.
"As well, it was strongly implied that this cache was the last one he needed... and that taking the contents of the caches was only the first phase of his current plan."
"What do you mean, 'Harry was in no condition to give details'?" Arthur demanded. Alastor simply sat back in the chair, his expression thoughtful.
"He knew Arabella reasonably well, Arthur, and just saw her murdered," Dumbledore replied, projecting calmness as much as he could. Arthur would be worried, he knew, but there was little that could be done about that. "He was given a dose of Dreamless Sleep," he added, when it appeared Arthur was about to blurt something out, "and I will be speaking to him first thing in the morning."
"Molly or I would be more than happy to come and talk with him," Arthur offered quietly, after a moment. "Molly was able to help him after Cedric Diggory died, after all."
Yes, she was, Dumbledore acknowledged silently to himself, but not as much as I believe Harry needs. And I don't think Molly will be able to help him that much with the ultimate problem - dealing with all the deaths that his visions will show him. No, for that he will need someone who understands exactly how it feels: to watch, and to be helpless to prevent what happens. "Thank you for the offer, Arthur; I know how much you and Molly care for Harry. Nonetheless, I do not believe it will be necessary to impose upon you in that fashion. I will let Harry know that you offered, however, and if I think he does need you, I will not hesitate to call on you.
"Now--" he started to continue, but was interrupted by Alastor.
"These constant visions - the Potter boy needs to be trained, Albus. Get a real Seer to come in and teach him how to control them. He needs guidance - competent guidance, not that flake Trelawney - or he'll start floundering; and that's one thing we cannot risk."
"An excellent idea, Alastor," Dumbledore agreed calmly, despite his immediate reaction. He disliked lying - even if it was just by implication - no matter how necessary it was; which, in this case, was 'very', because they could not afford to have Harry - or Severus - revealed as being a Sensitive. "I'll see if I can arrange anything." Not precisely a direct lie, at least - Severus seems to have things well in hand.
"Now, as I was saying - or about to say, rather... After I speak to Harry tomorrow morning, I will contact you with new orders for Mundungus, Remus and Sirius. You can relay them - along with the latest unfortunate news - when their Floo opens for your afternoon contact."
Arthur frowned. "To be frank, Headmaster, unless you have something specific in mind, I'd prefer that they continue to search for Dark caches," he commented. "While it may be likely that the one in Grosvenor Square was the last one You-Know-Who needed, we may still be able to bring in some of the Death Eaters through connections with other caches."
It was Dumbledore's turn to frown. Arthur had a very good point, but... "I don't know, Arthur," he said out loud. "While I agree that we need to work on reducing the number of Death Eaters Voldemort has available to do his work, there are other things that need to be taken into consideration. It may be necessary to establish that we know he has finished with the caches." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I will find out what details I can from Harry, and then make my decision," Dumbledore said finally. "However, you have made a very good point, Arthur. Even if we do stop going after the caches just at the moment, I think we can safely resume once Voldemort has had a chance to realize that we know."
Both Arthur and Alastor nodded, hopefully understanding what Dumbledore didn't think wise to say out loud.
"Now, I think we had all better get some sleep. Alastor, please keep me updated on Shacklebolt's condition," he continued.
"Of course, Albus," the ex-Auror replied gruffly.
Dumbledore gave them both a smile, and Apparated back to the edge of the Hogwarts wards.
"Good morning, Severus!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, as Snape walked into his office.
Snape gave the headmaster an uncertain look. "Albus?" he questioned. "You do recall what happened last night, do you not?"
Dumbledore nodded, most of the cheer disappearing. "Yes, I do. However, I have a bit of good news to offset the bad - there was a survivor from Arabella's team. Kingsley Shacklebolt is still alive, although he's in St. Mungo's at the moment."
Well, that was good news, Snape had to admit. Not that it offset the deaths, but at least not all of them had died. And when dealing with Voldemort, that was always a good thing.
"Now, I presume you wanted to speak with me about something?" Dumbledore continued.
"Yes," Snape replied, sitting down in one of the chairs facing Dumbledore's desk. "Potter's visions," he added.
Dumbledore looked almost amused at that, and Snape scowled at him. "It's a serious issue, Albus," he snapped. "It's nothing to smile at!"
"Oh, I know that, Severus." Dumbledore's expression grew stern for a moment, then eased. "What precisely about his visions is concerning you now?"
Snape glared at him. "You saw him last night, Albus," he said curtly. "He was in shock because of seeing Arabella's death; and perhaps the manner of her death - understandably, he didn't give me any details on how it had occurred. I suspect a great deal of it had to do with the fact that he knew her - his reactions when I found him were very similar to how he reacted after his return from the Riddle House, after Diggory's death.
"No matter how 'resilient' he may be," Snape continued, "it's going to cause problems. It was bad enough when he was seeing the results of Voldemort's raids and the 'entertainment' the Death Eaters enjoy - as I already told you - but at least those were strangers. Assuming you're right about his resilience, he must have been able to put a certain amount of distance between what was happening to them and himself. But when it comes to people he knows - like Arabella, and Diggory - he doesn't seem to be able to establish that distance."
Snape shook his head. "If he doesn't find a way to cope with them, Albus, the visions will break him. Sooner rather than later, if Voldemort starts going after people that Potter knows - which is only too possible. It would be all too like him, in fact." He leaned back in the chair, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're going to have to talk to him, get him to talk to you," the Potions master continued. "See if you can help him... Maybe bring in Arthur or Molly Weasley."
Dumbledore looked mildly surprised at that.
"You were the one who pointed out that Molly helped him after the results of the Third Task," Snape said in response. For once, he couldn't feel pleased about having surprised the usually unflappable headmaster - not with the topic being what it was.
"Hmm... Arthur made the same suggestion last night, actually," Dumbledore commented.
"Then I presume Molly will be here sometime today?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No," the headmaster replied. "I thanked him, but told him that it would probably be unnecessary."
Snape stared at him. "Why, in Merlin's name, did you say that?" he demanded.
"Because I believe it," came the calm response.
"Albus, Potter needs help! A fifteen year old boy - no matter how many times he's actually faced Voldemort - simply won't be able to cope with this himself!" Something Snape had realized almost the very moment he'd woken up this morning, which had led him to the conclusion that something had to be done. He wouldn't have even thought of suggesting Molly Weasley come to Hogwarts otherwise - he didn't care overly much for her - but as far as he knew, she was the closest thing Potter had to a mother. Certainly the boy's aunt didn't qualify, not after what he'd seen of the Dursleys...
"Perhaps," Dumbledore replied, as Snape firmly pushed away thoughts of Potter's Muggle family. "However, I suggest that we give young Harry a chance, and wait to see how he handles it himself."
The exact plan he'd come up with last night on the way to Gryffindor Tower, Snape reflected. Unfortunately, after his realizations this morning, he no longer considered it such a good idea. "Albus..."
"I will speak to him, dear boy," Dumbledore assured him. "However, I have the feeling that Harry may surprise us both in how he deals with this."
As long as it's a good surprise. He may be a brat, but - much as I hate to admit it - he is needed. And he is my student; I have no desire to see him go insane. Well, he would just keep an even closer eye on the boy in that case. "Fine," he said evenly. "As long as you are certain..." He gave Dumbledore a pointed look. "Let it be on your own head, Albus. Just remember that I warned you - and be prepared to pick up the pieces should he fall apart."
"Oh, I am, dear boy," Dumbledore replied confidently. "And I believe you may be underestimating him. Now, is there anything else?"
Snape paused for a moment, then nodded, frowning. "How did Lucius know you weren't here, Albus?" he demanded. "You didn't tell anyone other than the staff, Weasley and Moody, did you?"
"And Harry, of course," Dumbledore replied, echoing Snape's frown with one of his own. "But no, no one else. Not even the Board of Governors." He leaned back in his chair and met Snape's gaze. "I hate to ask this of you, Severus, in addition to all the rest, but could you attempt to find out?"
Snape sighed. Wonderful... just what I need. More conversations with Lucius, trying to get him to spill information... "Very well," he replied with another sigh. "Now, if you will excuse me, Albus, I need to get some work done." He would work on those Healing Draughts Pomfrey had been bothering him about at the beginning of July. Her already depleted store of them had been completely exhausted by what he had needed for Potter last week, and she would need it refilled for September first.
And I need a distraction, Snape admitted to himself as he stood up.
"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said, as he headed out of the room. "Just remember, you are expected to show up for dinner..."
Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the canopy covering his bed.
He didn't even have to think to remember what had happened last night; it was there, behind his eyes, in living colour, as soon as he woke up. Or perhaps that should be in dying colour... and that wasn't even the slightest bit funny.
He sat up and pushed the curtains back, and then froze. For a moment, he thought he'd felt/seen... something... just beyond the bed curtains, but now it was gone. Maybe it was one of the house-elves, he thought distantly - everything except the memory of last night felt distant just at the moment. Well, last night and the memory of Cedric, just lying there...
No! I can't think about this now!
Dumbledore wants to talk about something; focus on getting dressed and going to see him. Don't think about anything else; just getting dressed, talking to Dumbledore, and... that book. The one Snape wanted copied yesterday. Yes, think about the book, and the copying...
Somehow - Harry wasn't entirely certain how, and had no desire to question it - thinking about the copying Snape had set him to doing yesterday, and the details of what he'd been copying, got him through getting dressed and walking to Dumbledore's office. He was about to start rattling off sweets, when the gargoyle moved aside to reveal Dumbledore standing there.
"Ah, Harry! I'm glad to see you're up and around - I'm afraid I was beginning to get a bit worried. It's almost noon, you know."
Harry blinked, surprised. "Almost noon?" he repeated, as he followed Dumbledore up to the headmaster's office.
"Indeed. I assume Professor Snape gave you a stronger dose of Dreamless Sleep than I had realized. Now," he continued, gesturing for Harry to sit down, "I need you to tell me the details of what happened last night, Harry."
Harry paled. Oh, he'd known that Dumbledore would need to know - what he recalled telling them last night hadn't been terribly coherent - but he really didn't want to think about it anymore.
"Harry." Dumbledore sat down, not in his chair behind the desk, but in the chair next to Harry's, and put one hand on Harry's shoulder, just as he'd done last night. "I know you don't want to remember it, much less make it more real by talking about it... but that's one of the things that will help you deal with what happened.
"Before you begin, however, I do have some good news for you," the headmaster added.
Harry sat up a bit straighter at that. At the moment, any news that could be qualified as 'good' would be welcome. Besides, it would let him put off the telling for a few minutes longer... "What is it, Professor?" he asked eagerly.
"You told Professor Snape and I that the Death Eaters involved claimed the rest of Mrs. Figg's team were dead, correct?"
Harry nodded, less eager now. He might have known the 'good news' would have something to do with his vision...
"As it happens, although two of the other team members are dead, there was a survivor. He was injured, and is currently in St. Mungo's, but he is alive."
Although that information didn't change the horror of what he'd seen in his vision, it did make Harry feel somewhat better, for some reason. Maybe it was simply the fact that someone Voldemort thought was dead was actually alive, but it left him able to breathe a little easier - not that he'd noticed how heavy his chest had felt before, but... "Thank you, sir."
"That's quite all right, Harry - good news is always welcome, especially when one is in a highly unpleasant situation," Dumbledore replied knowingly. "Professor Snape was also much relieved to know that Mr. Shacklebolt was alive."
Why would he be telling me how Snape feels about it? Harry wondered.
"Now," the headmaster continued, "could you please tell me what happened, Harry?"
Taking a deep breath, and willing himself very firmly to keep calm, Harry recited the details of the Death Eater meeting, the comments about the caches, and what had happened to Mrs. Figg.
By the time he finished, he felt... drained. He supposed Dumbledore was right about talking being helpful, though the memory was still there behind his eyelids, too vivid, of the dark green flame of the Killing Curse striking Mrs. Figg, the look of horror on her face...
"Harry." Dumbledore's voice interrupted the nightmarish memory.
Relieved, Harry focused on the headmaster. "Yes, Professor?"
"Now that you've told me what happened, is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"
Harry blinked in surprise again at that, wondering what Dumbledore was expecting. Was there anything he wanted to ask?
Well, yes, there were a lot of things: about his father, his mother, Voldemort... But those were all big questions, and Harry had the feeling that Dumbledore still had no intention of telling him the answers to those, because they all centred around the one question Harry had asked at the end of his first year - why Voldemort had wanted to kill him.
I wonder when I'll be old enough for him to finally tell me?
On the other hand, there were also those questions Snape had refused to answer...
"What's so important about the caches, Professor?"
Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid we don't know, Harry. Based on the things we know were taken, Professor Snape has been doing some research, but nothing has been found as of yet. At the moment, I'm afraid I don't even have vague ideas, much less anything as solid as suspicions. All we know - and that from yourself and Professor Snape - has been that Voldemort needs whatever was in those caches - not even why or how they are needed. Based on the information Professor Snape has been able to gather, not even the inner circle Death Eaters know any more than we do."
Harry sighed. He really had been hoping that Dumbledore knew more about what was going on, but he should have known better. Why else would the headmaster need Snape to act as a spy, especially considering how dangerous a position it placed the Potions master in?
"Was there anything else, Harry?"
Harry shook his head. "Not at the moment, sir," he replied.
"Very well. I shall be working in here this afternoon if you need me - the password is 'ice mice' - please feel free to just come up," Dumbledore said, studying him for a moment. "Otherwise, I shall see you at dinner tonight." He glanced up at a clock on one wall. "The house-elves should have lunch ready in the kitchens," he added. "I suggest you go and get something to eat."
Harry nodded, though he had no intention of eating anything at the moment - the very thought of food made him want to gag, and since he was accustomed to going without, thanks to the Dursleys, it shouldn't be a problem to wait until dinner - and headed out the door.
Once he was in the hall outside Dumbledore's office, however, he found he had no idea what to do next. If he went to the kitchens, the house-elves would try to feed him, and they'd probably alert Dumbledore if he refused any food. He didn't think he had enough concentration to spare for doing either Charms or Potions homework, and the thought of what he would have to write for Divination just brought back the memories of Cedric and Mrs. Figg, which he didn't need - which also eliminated writing down the details in his vision journal...
"Should you find yourself... 'looking for something to do' tomorrow, I will expect you down here to finish."
Harry stopped just outside the Great Hall - he hadn't even realized he'd started walking - as the memory of what Snape had said to him last night just before he'd left to get ready for dinner came to him.
He wasn't bored, exactly - but remembering the book and what he'd been copying had helped earlier, before he'd gone to see Dumbledore. Maybe it would help even more if he was actually doing the copying? And Snape had practically issued him an invitation...
His decision made, Harry turned around and started for the dungeons.
Snape looked up from his cauldron at the tentative knock on his office door. I wonder... "Come in, Potter," he said calmly.
The door opened, and Potter walked in, giving him a wide-eyed look. "How did you know it was--" the boy started.
"Neither Dumbledore nor Filch knock, and Trelawney wouldn't come down here," Snape replied curtly. "Besides, you still have copying to do."
He'd guessed correctly; a bit of Potter's tension eased as the boy walked over to the student chairs and sat down - in the same one Snape had transfigured into the armchair last night. The Head of Slytherin couldn't help but wonder if there was a reason for that, considering the fact that it was the chair farthest from the door - and if there was, whether it was a conscious or unconscious decision.
"Yes, sir - I was hoping to get some more done today," Potter said quietly.
"Very well." Snape gestured with his wand, and a pile of parchment, accompanied by a quill and ink bottle, floated out of the top drawer of his desk and arranged themselves in front of Potter. A moment later, the book drifted off the bookshelf and joined the parchment on the desk. "I believe you were working on chapter three?"
"Just finished chapter three," Potter answered.
Snape nodded. "Make sure you work quietly," he ordered, then turned his attention back to the cauldron.
The concentration needed for such a simple concoction as a basic Healing Draught - especially the one that he'd been making for his entire career at Hogwarts - was minimal, which meant that Snape found it trivial to think about something else while he worked on the current batch. And, considering everything that had been happening over the past week and a half, it was only typical that Potter would be at the forefront of his mind. Potter, and what had happened last night, and his conversation with Dumbledore this morning.
The dose of Dreamless Sleep he'd given Potter, based on his best estimate of the boy's weight - which was on the low side for an adolescent of fifteen, most likely due to those blasted Muggles - would have kept the boy asleep until close to noon. It was only coming up to one o'clock now, which meant that Potter must have come straight down here as soon as he'd finished his own talk with Dumbledore; a talk that Snape knew would have included the details of what had happened in Potter's vision last night, and - he hoped, despite the contents of his own conversation with Dumbledore - some suggestions on how Potter could deal with them.
Which reminds me... I must ask Albus for those details, he thought, as he tossed a pinch of crumbled vervain leaves into the cauldron. Waiting until it had spread out across the surface of the potion, he stirred it - once clockwise, once counter-clockwise - and then lowered the flame underneath until it was at a level that would maintain the potion at a simmer.
And speaking of details... "Potter."
The boy looked up from his copying, a surprised expression on his face. "Sir?"
"Who else was present at the meeting last night, aside from Malfoy, Nott, Avery, and Crabbe?"
For a second, he saw a hint of pain on the boy's face, but it vanished swiftly. Well, at least he can occasionally control his emotions and expressions once he has already started feeling them; the problem will be to teach him not to reveal them at all, under any circumstances - unless he wishes to.
"Umm..." Potter put down his quill, and frowned. "I... don't know who all of them are, sir, and... well... with everyone wearing those... masks..."
"But you can recognize some, can you not?" Snape prodded. The reports Potter had written for Dumbledore on the previous two meetings he'd seen had included several names, aside from those he'd just mentioned.
"Some," the boy agreed, his frown deepening. "You, of course... Lucius Malfoy and Wormtail... Avery, Crabbe and Goyle... Parkinson, Nott, Greene, Tallum, and Beaker by their voices... There are some others I recognize - I've seen them fairly often - but I don't know their names."
'Of course'? Snape wondered. Why me, 'of course'? However, the answer to that wasn't important now. "Very well - of the ones you recognize and know, who else was there?"
"Wormtail... Parkinson, Goyle, and Beaker," Potter said slowly. "Why, sir?"
"That is something you have no need to know, Potter," Snape replied curtly. Hmm... I will have to ask Albus what he plans to do about the rest of the caches in Great Britain and Ireland, of course, but if I'm right... He thought for a long moment. Goyle and Crabbe are useless; not even the mutt would believe they have the brains to pull it off, and I know full well that lack is not an act. Lucius and Avery - impossible. The Dark Lord would never believe that of them without overwhelming proof, no matter how suspicious he is of Lucius's ambition. Parkinson is a definite possibility. Nott? Perhaps... As for Beaker... I'll have to do a bit of checking into him, but it may be possible. "I suggest you get back to your copying."
Potter's expression made it quite clear he wanted to demand an answer, but Snape gave him a sharp glare, and the boy looked back down at the desk.
Snape returned his gaze to the cauldron. The potion was simmering nicely, and the colour had gone from the pale yellow it had been just after he'd lowered the flame to a warm, light golden colour. Excellent...
Picking up a bottle of dried yarrow flowers, he took out three, slipped them in, and stirred vigourously for forty seconds. Then, using an eyedropper, he took a single drop of phoenix tears from the bottle Fawkes kept well-filled for him, and dropped it into the precise centre of the cauldron. The potion turned a shimmering, pearlescent white for a moment, and then changed to a calm green.
A wave of Snape's wand banished the flame underneath the cauldron, and he started to set up another as the first draught began cooling. As he poured the half-litre of distilled water that formed the base of the Healing Draught into his second cauldron and started a flame under it, his eyes flicked to Potter, who appeared to be thoroughly absorbed in his work again.
Keeping his expression absolutely neutral, Snape began speaking. Quietly, but since the only noises in the office were the scratches of Potter's quill on parchment and the sounds of his own preparations, he knew Potter could hear him perfectly well.
"All basic Healing Draughts - which fall under the Medicamenta class of potions - have a base of pure distilled water and are brewed in iron cauldrons over a low flame, with iron implements."
Out of the corner of his eyes, Snape saw Potter stiffen slightly. He's listening. Good.
"Next, a small quantity of crushed unicorn horn - freely given, only, and in an amount between five and ten grams depending on the potion and the quantity being brewed - is added slowly, a pinch at a time, while stirring gently clockwise. Each pinch must be completely dissolved in the heated water before the next is added." Suiting his actions to the words, he began stirring in the crushed unicorn horn from the phial to his right as he continued, "It is the distilled water and the horn being added as the second step that classifies these as Medicamenta potions, as opposed to any of the other classes of healing potions."
Potter was still holding his quill - Thinking I will expect him to write this down? Snape wondered absently as he stirred - but had stopped copying, and was paying rapt attention to what he was saying.
Once the last of the crushed unicorn horn had dissolved, Snape picked up a jar of mature comfrey leaves, extracted two of them, and placed them in a small bowl. Adding a single billywig sting from the bottle next to the phial of crushed horn, he began to grind the combination slowly, still speaking.
"After the unicorn horn is dissolved, the potion can be left at a low simmer for up to two hours. Some Medicamenta potions require a specific length of time, but the basic Healing Draught variations - of which this is one - do not.
"The next ingredient added serves as a stabilizer for the subsequent ones, and determines which variation of the Healing Draught is being used," the Potions master continued. "Fresh, mature comfrey leaves, ground together with a billywig sting, results in a draught that strengthens bones and greatly speeds the healing of various childhood and adolescent ailments; as a result, Madam Pomfrey generally requires large stores of this particular potion.
"The addition of the billywig sting - before adding the comfrey to the draught - serves to prevent the comfrey from fusing the bones in one's feet, hands, spine, and head. Adding it after the comfrey would result in both the occurrence of bone-fusing, and the reduction of the effects of the next ingredient.
"If this was to be the Osseus variation of the Healing Draught, to assist with broken bones, a porcupine quill would be substituted for the billywig sting. It would generally be used for when the larger bones - such as arms, legs, or ribs - are broken."
Once the combination of comfrey leaves and billywig sting was ground finely enough, Snape emptied the bowl into the cauldron and proceeded to stir it twice counter-clockwise, and once clockwise. He then repeated the stirring motions twice more. As he stirred, the potion turned from a silver-tinged clear liquid to a dark blue. He mentioned the colour change - since Potter obviously couldn't see it from where he was sitting - and explained that it was due to the interaction between the billywig sting and the dissolved unicorn's horn.
Harry listened with reluctant fascination as Snape explained what he was doing to make the Healing Draught.
He knew full well that, despite the fact Snape seemed to be ignoring him completely, the Potions master's monologue was entirely for his benefit. After all, Snape was explaining things in great detail - something he certainly didn't need to do for himself, and never did in class.
And while part of Harry's mind was wondering why Snape was suddenly being so... generous with information, in a way that not even the past week had prepared him for, he was - for the most part - glad of the additional distraction. Doing the copying had helped somewhat, but didn't serve to completely obscure the memory of last night. Listening to Snape explain how to create the Healing Draught, however...
Harry had never really had much of an interest in potions - not since his first class with Snape, at least. But after having read about healing potions in 101 Useful Potions, he'd decided that it might just be a good idea to know how to make them - especially considering the 'adventures' he tended to have. So this odd... instruction... from Snape was welcome in more ways than one.
Before he knew it, Snape was putting in the last ingredient - the drop of phoenix tears - and banishing the flame underneath the cauldron he'd been working on. Then the Potions master walked over to one of the cabinets on the far wall of his office, opened it, and drew out a case of large bottles.
"Potter."
Harry was surprised - this was the first time Snape had addressed him directly since he'd answered the question about the other Death Eaters who were... He shoved the memory away hastily, and focused his attention on Snape. "Yes, sir?"
Snape put the case down on the table next to the cauldron he'd been working with when Harry had first entered, and gestured for him to come over. "This draught is now cooled enough to be bottled," he explained, as Harry obeyed. "Use this ladle," he handed Harry the iron ladle he'd been using to stir, "and fill each of these bottles up to where the neck starts to narrow." The Potions master then put a strip of sealing wax down next to the case. "Once each bottle is full, put the top back on, and seal it with this."
Harry nodded in agreement, and began working as Snape began setting up a third cauldron.
He had just finished filling up the last bottle - it had taken a while, because he'd done his best to be precise - when the office door opened and Dumbledore entered, looking mildly put out; an expression which vanished when he saw the two of them both working.
"Hello, Professor," Harry greeted him, as he finished sealing the bottle.
"Harry," Dumbledore nodded. Then he looked at Snape. "Severus. I should have known that the two of you would have found something to keep you busy. However..." He glanced pointedly at the wall just next to Snape's desk.
Harry, following the direction of his gaze, was surprised to see a wizarding clock there. He'd never noticed it before... The single hand was pointing toward Time For Dinner.
"Headmaster..." Snape said, his tone irritated.
"It's already past seven o'clock," Dumbledore said calmly. "The house-elves have been ready to serve dinner for the past five minutes, and will be rather upset if they have to wait much longer. I expect you both in the lounge in ten minutes." With that, he turned around and swept back out.