Replica - Chapter III

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Severus and Harry are completely mine. So are the easterbunny, Santa Claus, Pippi Langstrumpf, Mickey Mouse...
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A/N: Thanks to dragonquills! *hugs*

III. The wounded lion

With a short flick of his wand a large white blanket unfurled itself over his ancient desk, and Severus placed the box he had fetched from his store room upon the now perfectly covered surface.

The last time he had used the treasures that the box held had been in the field during the war, and he felt his growing anticipation as he reached for them. As soon as his finger closed around the steely handle of one of his instruments, he remembered every move, every knack. It was like slipping into well-worn shoes or his favourite robe.

God, he had loved to work with them!

He lined the instruments in a row on his desk so that he would have easy access to them. Then he took out a pair of magical glasses, which would gave him a microscopic view into any wound; a set of tinctures and salves, a bottle of his strongest disinfectant, self-adjusting bandages, and a high jar filled with a golden liquid.
In the middle of the fluid swam a large fleshy sphere which parted into two eyelids, revealing a huge, purple eyeball. The eye blinked angrily at its exposition to the light in Snape’s quarter.

During the whole procedure of setting his desk for the examination of Potter’s arm Severus hadn’t wondered if Potter would be waiting in front of his office or if he would have walked away – he already knew that the broken figure that was Potter would patiently wait for him as long as the badly injured man would be able to stand on his feet without collapsing from exhaustion.

With a last look over his office Severus went for the door. It was time to retrieve the poor sod.

The corridor leading to his office seemed to be completely empty. Although it was mid-term there were no students anyway near his rooms. The students and even most of the staff eschewed his part of the old castle, avoiding him and his bad temper like the plague.

He nodded towards the empty space in front of him, and then stepped aside to let Potter in. A soft silky rustling told him, what he had already supposed: Potter was still there, waiting for his help.

The door closed with a barely audible thud as Severus turned around to his apparently empty office.

“Since I can smell your unspeakable odour in my rooms, I take it that you agree to my terms?”

“Yes…” the black haired head appeared out of nothing. “We have a deal.”

“Very well, Mr Potter. Take a seat then, I want to examine your injury first.”

The young man sat down in front of Snape’s desk, eyeing the various instruments and vials suspiciously.

Severus watched the expression of Potter’s face turning from fear to nervousness and then to curiosity.

“What are all these things for?” the young man asked in a husky voice. His amazement perfectly audible.

“Far be it from me to stop your vivid interest for a subject I could teach you, but I thought you came here for help and not for a lesson in Magical Medicine.”

Potter nodded and slowly stretched his wounded arm out, so that he could rest it on the armrest.

“Your instruments…uhm…they look quite professional. I didn’t know that you are –“

“I am not a trained medi-wizard, if that’s what you are asking for. At least I was not trained in the usual way.” A smile spread across Severus’ thin lips. “Although their technique is rather astounding the medical knowledge and the impressive medical developments of the Dark side are neither widely-used, nor commonly accepted.”

“Oh…you were trained by Death Eaters?” Potter’s surprise was obvious.

“Even the Dark Lord needs someone to look after his war-shattered body – and as you have mentioned before, Potions Master and medi-wizard likewise need an extensive knowledge about the human body and body functions, and the reactions if one is exposed to certain substances. So it was the obvious choice for the Dark Lord to provide an additional training for those, who already had one or the other proficiency.”

With pale fingertips Severus lifted the muddy robe from Potter’s arm to have a look at Potter’s self-made bond.

The improvisational bandage was completely soaked with a mixture of blood and dirt, and a sickening smell was streaming off the hackneyed piece of cloth.

“Merlin! When was the last time you have cleaned the wound?” Severus frowned staring into Potter’s nervously blinking green eyes. Without answering his question, Potter broke the eye-contact and looked down.

“Potter, the disgusting odour surrounding your emaciated body is the distinct indication for a thoroughly infected wound. Do not tell me you have not realised it!”

Snape eyed the mangy sleeve again, then reached for the cloth and unfolded it, trying to avoid sharp tugs as he ripped the sticky bandage from the wound. His bad temper insisted to simply pull the bandage off without caring for Potter’s anguished face – the disastrous state of his injury was his own fault after all, but despite his bad mood Snape’s fingers worked nearly gently.

The bandage was more than amateurish and the closer Severus got to the wound the stronger grew the nauseating smell, until he could barely stand it. Severus was used to injuries, even to bad infected ones, but one thing he had never been able to deal with was the pungent malodour of a decaying body.

He felt the common heat throbbing in his stomach, and he had the disturbing feeling that the heavy, tangy cloud that seemed to drip of every single pore of Potter’s arm was suffocating him, bereaving him of every inch of air that was in his lungs.

When he finally removed the last sticky layer of bandage his gaze felt on a swollen and deformed forearm. The wound proceeded in a snake-like way from the wrist up to the middle of Harry’s upper arm, and the whole lesion was cankerous and coated with a greenish fluid.

“For heaven’s sake, Potter!” Snape pressed himself not to show his discomfort. The last thing he would do was vomiting in front of Potter of all people, although the situation was actually challenging his stomach.

“No wonder that your arm hurts. Considering the state of infection it is miraculous that you haven’t died the painful death of a septicaemia yet. The yellow substance is purulence…Merlin…”

Severus took a white cotton ball from his desk and reached for a shiny collecting pan, so that he would have a place to drop the used pieces of cotton wool.

“I will start to clean your wound now, Potter, which will most certainly hurt to an objectionable degree.”

“It will be ok. I won’t feel it. -- I suppose you could cut my whole wrist off and I would even recognise the pain. I’ve been in a constant pain for so long now…and the way the wound is aching is stronger than any pain I had before…”

With another dark glaze at Potter’s mess of an arm Severus dropped the dabber and took a small vial from the box.

“This” he showed Potter the small vial, “contains a very competent analgesic, which might possibly be strong enough to alleviate your pain.”

Severus waited until Potter’s hoarse voice broke the silence.

“Uhm…well, am I not supposed to drink it?”

“Of course, you have to ingest it. But first…What had caused the wound? It doesn’t look like a cut…” Severus asked, a sneer on his thin lips underlining his question and his fingers playing with the stopper of the vial.

“It was…uhm…some sort of cord. A cord that was wound around my arm…”

“To shackle you?” Severus raised a black eyebrow as he tried to catch Potter’s nervous gaze.

“Yes, to bind me. I was captured for one or two days…” Potter swallowed visibly.

“I see, - though I can’t say that your explanation makes sense to me.” Severus opened the small vial and pressed the tip of it to Potter’s dry lips.

“Drink.” He commanded and tipped the bottle so that it’s thick liquid run into the younger man’s mouth.

Severus watched Potter’s face twist in discomfort as the distasteful medicine hit his tongue. There was no way to compensate the foul taste of dire bear blood which was an essential ingredient in this potent mixture.

“How long does it take this analgesic to work?” Potter asked, whipping his mouth with the back of his left hand.

“Don’t you feel any better?”

“No…nothing different.” The green eyes watered slightly. “Maybe there’s nothing that’ll make it go away…”

“That’s ridiculous, Potter. I haven’t even started a proper examination of your injury, so stop fretting about what might be!” Severus barked. He took a piece of the cotton wool and eyed the badly cankerous arm again.

Although he didn’t mention it to Potter Severus took it as a rather bad sign that the analgesic had had no effect on Potter. It was, after all, a very powerful potion brewed with the finest ingredients, and it should have eased Potter’s pain away within a blink of an eye.

Definitely not a good sign.

Severus started the cleaning at the rim of the wound. Slowly wiping away the viscous pus and waiting for any sign of discomfort from Harry. As the young man remained silent Severus looked up at him while placing the used cotton into the collecting pan.

He had seen grown men crying madly about injuries that were not even half as bad as Potter’s was, so he wondered how much pain this young man could take, how long he’d suffer until he would loose his mind. This was hardly comparable to a curse, though the Cruciatus would surely be more painful; pain from an actual wound, stinking and throbbing, was much more frightening than any after effect a curse can provoke.

Snape saw the dirty fingers of the younger wizards left hand grab at the armrest of his chair until the knuckles stood out white against his usual bronze taint.

“Bearable?” Though his interest in Harry’s well-being was completely of professional nature as he didn’t want to have to deal with an unconscious Potter who’d passed out during his first aid, Severus felt silly asking this question. Potter would have most certainly complained if he couldn’t bear this treatment.

“It’s…it’s alright. I barely feel it.”

With a short nod Severus took the next cotton patch cleaning off more and more purulent fluid from the wound, revealing a red mouth-like gap along Potter’s arm.

He had to repeat the action four or five times until the wound looked clean and free off the greenish substances.
Placing the collecting pan aside he reached for his magical glasses. Tossing his lanky hair back in a swift movement he put the pair of glasses on, twinkling a few times to adjust to the new way of viewing.

The glasses focussed like normal eyes would, magically zooming in and out on everything Severus looked at. In a second Severus had a microscopic view into the red abyss that was Potter’s wound.

Every single cell Severus saw seemed to be infected and leaking the badly stinking fluid into the gap where the flesh was actually torn apart. The colour of the cells was also alarming him. This was neither the fresh pink of healthy flesh nor the usual feverish red of an infection. The cells were practically burning in the most violent red Severus had ever seen.

Similarly unusual was the wound itself. The rims of the gaping mouth of flesh weren’t straight so they weren’t produced by a knife or something similar sharp. But also the rims weren’t burned or torn as they would be if they were the result of a magical hit. The flesh wasn’t mangled like after an animal attack, nor were there hints of bruises which would underline Potter’s story of the shackling.

Snape eyed the wound for another minute just to make sure that he hadn’t overlooked something. He was convinced that Potter had lied to him. There was no possible way that the injury was caused by shackles. Moreover it looked like Potter’s flesh had burst under a thorough beating.

But why for Merlin’s sake should Potter lie about that?

Still lost in his thoughts Severus looked up from Potter’s arm, scanning the table for the antiseptic lotion he had placed there when he heard a low chuckling beneath him.

“You look like the bad tempered brother of Professor Trelawney with those glasses.” Potter grinned at him. “Or a fly…yes, a man-sized, angry fly!” Another chuckle.

“You won’t believe how happy I am to amuse, Mr. Potter.” Severus frowned at the young man in front of him, his brows furrowing over his magically enlarged eyes.

“I think I would laugh my ass off if my arm wouldn’t be hurting like it was burning from the inside.” The young man snickered.

“Yes, you must find jokes about spectacles absolutely funny.” Severus sneered as Harry’s face blushed in light embarrassment and his unharmed hand reached absentmindedly for his own pair of glasses.

“Far be it from me to question your Gryffindor honesty, but these spectacles – as ridiculous as you may find them – tell me that your wound can not be the result of a shackling.”

“Are you telling me that I’m lying?” Potter looked flushed.

“No.” Snape’s thin lips parted into a grin. “Your wound is telling me that you are. Maybe your often praised cleverness had suffered during the war and you might not see the necessity to inform me, but I do not intend to waste my time on guessing what might ail our beloved boy-who-lived-until-he-died-by-a-mysterious-infection.”

“I…ok, ok…Fine. If you’re such a genius, why don’t you tell me how all this happened?” Potter looked anywhere but at his former Professor.

“So, you admit that the shackling was a lie?”

The young man sat quiet in his chair, looking up at Snape every now and then, without saying a word.

It felt like a flashback to a time, when Potter had still been his student. Severus couldn’t count all the times he had held Potter after class, both of them sitting or standing in front of each other, arguing over Potter’s fault, misbehaviour or insolence (or the combination of all three); both unwilling to offer a compromise or admit a fault.

Potter had always been as stubborn as his loathsome father, and Severus had never moved an inch for a Potter-typical show of insolence – neither for James, nor for his son. And Merlin knew that he wouldn’t start now.

With an annoyed sigh Severus heaved the heavy jar from the desk and held it with pale fingers in front of Potter.

“Potter, your wound is the result of a thorough beating or of a shackle? Answer my question!”

“Shackling, god damn!” Potter hissed, and as his eyes felt on the jar holding the eyeball he gave a low shriek of surprise.

“God, that’s disgusting!”

One of his black eyebrows arched up as and he couldn’t hide a dismissive smile, knowing to well what Potter was referring to.

“What is it, Mr. Potter that makes you so uncomfortable?”

“The eyeball is blinking at me…”

“Yes, of course, it is. That is why I brought it here. “

“To blink at me?” Potter frowned at the huge jar on the desk. “Why?”

“That, Mr Potter, is ‘the Eye of Trusk’”, Snape started his little lecture, smiling inwardly. Oh, he was curious how Potter would take this delicate piece of information.

“Trusk, as you must know, was a very powerful and intelligent wizard who lived in the 17th century. In those years the wizarding Britain was not ruled by a government as you know it, but it was a Kingdom led by a royal family of pure bloods. It was the year of Queen Rolanda when Trusk was ordered to her castle to help the Queen with an ancient spellbook she had bought from a wizard from China. Queen Rolanda was not able to decipher the Chinese charms, but Trusk was trained in seven languages and one was, of course, Chinese. Unfortunately the intelligent wizard was also a notorious liar. Instead of translating the spellbook for the Queen, he had copied the charms and spells for himself, and handed a list of ordinary spells to Rolanda. He told her that the spellbook was more or less useless, but his nervously blinking eyes betrayed his words, telling Rolanda that Trusk was lying.”

During his story Snape watched how the last bit of colour left Potter’s cheeks. Obviously the young man already had an idea what the Eye of Trusk was for.

“Well, Potter, you can imagine that the dear Queen was not amused. As a punishment Trusk was blinded and his eyes were kept by the Queen, stored in a jar and cursed to blink for her, whenever a lie was spoken in front of them.”

With his long pale fingers he took the jar from is desk, and showed it to the young wizard again.

“A marvellous idea, don’t you think? – I am Albus Dumbledore.”

The eyeball blinked.

Severus smiled and looked down at Potter’s frozen face, the eyes of the young wizard wide in shock an embarrassment. Enjoying the pitiful picture in front of him, Severus waited a moment to let his speech sink into Potter’s brain, before he would reveal the last joker.

“Now, Mr Potter, I will show you the last surprising ability this twinkling eye has. A talent one would not suspect a soulless and brainless object like this would have. The eye of Trusk has a memory; it can remember lies once heard. – Harry Potter was kept for one or two days.”

The eyeball blinked.

“Well, that’s a surprise, isn’t it? – Harry Potter does not know if Voldemort is still alive.”

The two leathery lids closed shut.

A feral grin spread over Severus’ pale face as Harry lowered his head shamefully. It was definitely a sight he would never forget in his entire life. The proud of noble and trustworthy Gryffindor a convicted liar.

And furthermore, the information he was getting seemed to be worth all the stress of helping Potter.

“Now, Mr Potter. May we start once again?” Severus placed the Eye of Trusk back on his desk, and took a small vial instead. “You may start telling me the truth about your little adventure while I disinfect your wound.”

Snape didn’t wait for Potter’s response. He opened the small bottle, and let the orange fluid sink into a fresh piece of cotton wool. When the cotton wool was completely soaked, he rubbed the antiseptic liquid gently into the wound flesh.

He felt the green eyes of Potter follow his movements, and he silently wondered how much pain this ministration caused. The antiseptic he had chosen was one of his finest. Since it was brewed completely without Iodine, it didn’t inflict the usual burn other disinfectants caused, but Severus was quite sure that the mere contact of the woolly pad must sent waves of sharp pain through Potter’s nerves.

For a few seconds Potter remained absolutely silent, and when he finally spoke, Severus was impressed that he didn’t whine about the pain, but answered the question he had asked before.

“I…I don’t apologise that I lied to you. There definitely are things I rather you’d not know and I’m not going to tell you about them. But I promise that everything I’ll tell you from now on will be absolutely true.”

“As I have told you, Mr Potter, it is essential that I –“

“You will get all the information you need to take care of my injury. I will tell you also everything I know about Voldemort, so that you’ll be able to get an idea of Voldemort’s strength.”

“You may continue.” Severus took the vial and wetted the woolly pad again.

“Ok…the wound…I don’t know what caused –“

“Potter!” the movement of Severus’ hand stopped abruptly, and he glared at the pale face in front of him. If Potter was really thinking that he could fool him again…

“No, Professor! I really don’t know. I can’t remember…I’ve been unconscious for a few days. So, your blinking Eyeball is right, I’ve been captured for more than a few days.”

“How do you know that?”

“They told me…” the young man looked down, fumbling nervously at his fingers. “They asked me if I couldn’t bear those few curses, how I’d survive the Dark Lords playtime.”

“So your injury is the result of magical or physical torture?” Snape shot a quick glance at the Eye of Trusk as Potter answered his question.

“Yes, of both…a combination, I guess. “

Severus was pleased to see that the eye didn’t blink at Potter’s answer, so the young man was apparently telling the truth. And if Potter had been captured by Death Eaters, Severus had a vivid idea why the young man insisted on not telling the details of his imprisonment, and Severus decided to stay silent as Potter continued his explanation.

Apparently, Potter had been kept at an unknown Manor near Britain’s coast. Neither did he know how long they kept him, nor could he remember all the things Lucius Malfoy and his henchmen had done to him given that he had passed out time and again.

However, the young man was sure that besides Lucius Malfoy and Peter Pettigrew, the only Death Eaters he could actually name, there had been at least three more Death Eaters at the Manor. He had overheard a conversation between three or four men and Malfoy Sr. while they had believed him unconscious, and despite of the language which had been foreign to Harry, he had been able to notice at least three different voices.

The Dark Lord himself had never been down in the dungeons, and Harry had taken it as a proof that his last fight with Voldemort had affected his magical power as much as his own.

Responsible for his magical torture had been solely Lucius Malfoy. Although Potter refused to give Severus details on the curses or torture devices, he told Severus that Lucius had been very different to the haughty and handsome man he had been before the war.

While Potter went on with his explanation, Severus disinfected the enormous wound thoroughly. His hands working mechanically on Potter’s raw flesh, while his brain was catching and preserving every bit of information the young wizard gave him.

The fact that Lucius had obviously lost the last bit of his depraved brain sent a smile to Severus thin lips. They have never truly been friends, after all.

Not recognising Severus’ smile Potter didn’t stop in his story, and continued telling Severus as much as he remembered.

For the whole time Harry had been caged in the huge dungeon of the house, so his description of the rest of the building was very sketchy.
Although Potter didn’t know if the ancient house belonged to the Malfoys or to other Death Eaters, he remembered the route he took on his journey back to Hogwarts quite well, and considering the details Potter gave him Severus was absolutely sure which place the Dark Lord had chosen as the new Headquarter.

“Bartoldy Manor. I suppose the dungeon you were imprisoned in had a white marble floor.”

Potter looked completely startled, green eyes wide.

“Yes, indeed…it was quite unusual, though I’m not absolutely sure if it was marble – the whole dungeon was quite dirty and dusty. The whole floor looked out of place. I mean, who’d choose white marble for a dungeon?”

“Someone, who spends most of his time in the dungeon and likes his rooms less gloomy,” Severus hissed. He had absolutely no interest in discussing eccentric interior decoration of Death Eater hiding-places with Harry Potter.

Either Potter didn’t realise his rising anger, or he was willing to risk his life for nosing into details that was nothing to him.

“How comes that you know the Manor, Professor?”

Severus salve-coated fingers stopped in mid-motion.

“Merlin. I’ve worked for the Dark Lord half my life; the other half of my life I spied on him. What do you think?” Scowling at the blushing man, Severus continued his ministrations to Potter’s arm. When he was finally pleased with his work, and the whole wound was covered with a thick layer of healing salve, Severus wiped his fingers on a towel.

“The Bartoldy Manor is a stronghold. The wards and ancient spells granting its safety are most powerful and nearly as strong as the wards protecting Hogwarts.” Severus stated matter-of-factly. Certainly, it won’t hurt to give Potter that bit of information.

“Lucius Malfoy had always a …special interest into the Manor. He was obsessed with its powerful wards, and always wanted this house as a safe place for his family. So, I think he has most certainly chosen it as his hiding place. But what strikes me is that as weak as you obviously are, you must have found a way to overcome all the legendary safeguards.”

The young wizard looked taken aback as he heard the hidden question of his former Professor: “Oh…I didn’t. Overcome them, I mean.”

“What do -- How did you escape then?”

“I had help…from a friend.”

“A friend? At the Manor?” Snape frowned at his former student. How unlikely was it, that there was actually an ally among the few Death Eaters, who had survived the Final Battle?

There was only one person Severus would dare to betray the Dark Lord. Although he had always assumed that Draco’s fascination for the Dark Lord was pure façade, the young Slytherin had never told him if he truly favoured the dark side. It must have been Draco.

“Draco Malfoy?

“…yes. Of course. Who else would have helped me?”

“Was he also the one who tried to help you in a magical sort of way? To heal your wounded arm?”

“Yes. He tried some healing charms and a spell to clean my wounds, but nothing worked. And he gave me the healing potion. – But please, Professor, you mustn’t tell anyone that Draco freed me. They will kill him if they know…”

Severus nodded his head. The young Malfoy was in a constant danger as long as he was at Malfoy Manor – especially after saving the-Boy-who-lived from whatever Lucius had afflicted on Potter.

But another fact was disturbing his thoughts. Draco was an extraordinary talented wizard whose spells were nearly as effective as his own, although he had several years more of practise. If Draco’s spells have been useless, his own spells would surely not provide more help.

“Draco had also insisted to contact you. He said that you would most certainly know how to handle my injury.”

Severus placed the first layer of cotton over the now cleaned wound, and held Potter’s arm as the bandage adjusted itself around it magically.

“Draco is a clever boy.” Snape paused for a short moment, staring at the young man. “Who else besides Draco knows that you are still alive?”

“Voldemort does, and Lucius Malfoy… Some other Death Eaters, too. But I don’t think they’re searching for me.”

“The fact that you can’t see them, does not mean that they are not following you.” Eyeing the perfect, white bandage at Potter’s arm one last time, Severus reached for the small box on his desk.

“But I suppose I have to trust you not to risk your life in a gryffindorish attempt on kamikaze.”

“I have a place to sleep. They won’t find me there. It is safe. “

With a short nod Severus handed two vials to the young man.

“The green one contains a very potent sleep potion. If you drink it, you will sleep for at least twenty-four hours – probably longer, considering your state of health. The second vial is a dreamless sleep potion. Both of them taken as a combination will help to recover most efficiently. But make sure that you are definitely safe, because your sleep will be unnaturally deep, and you would be an easy target for the Dark Lord’s bloodhounds.”

“I’ll make sure that they won’t find me.” Potter took the two vials with his left hand, and put them into an inner pocket of his ragged robe. “Thank you, Professor. For your help with my arm, and…well, for the potions. I --”

“We will meet in forty-eight hours. That will give you enough time to sleep and recover. You will come back to my quarters on Sunday evening, 8 p.m. sharp, so that I can examine your wound again.” Severus waited until Potter hesitantly nodded his head.

“You may leave now.”

“Sunday. Ok.” Potter rose from his chair, smiling shyly as he swayed, nearly losing his balance as he pulled his invisibility cloak over his head. “Thanks for your help, Sir.”

With a short flick of his wand Severus opened the heavy door to let his former student out. As the door closed after a few seconds he sat back in his old leather chair, releasing a deep sigh.

Obviously, some things never change. The-Man-Who-Lived-To-Be-Rescued-By-Severus-Snape was back, and back with him came the annoying feeling of responsibility for this arrogant brat.

No, some things never change.

****************

Grunting as he picked up the dirty collecting pan and the empty vials to place them into the box Severus cleaned his desk until only the Eye of Trusk was left. Carefully he took the precious device into his strong hands.

“Well done, my little friend. You have been utterly helpful as always.”

The purple eye stared unimpressed into Severus black ones.

“And I think the information we gathered today will be a great advantage to us if I use them in the right way...but I need time and a well thought plan. - Hopefully Potter will spare me his presence for some days since he has a safe place to hide.”

The huge eye twinkled.

“What the heck…” Severus eyes widened as realisation dawned on him. “Potter has a safe place for the night.”

Trusk’s eye blinked vividly.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake…” Severus stared at the jelly eyeball. “I am not his babysitter!”


************* TBC **************

The other chapters can be found here:
Chapter one
Chapter two