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Chapter IV "I didn't know about this until last night," Severus said defensively, taking a step backwards as Madame Pomfrey walked towards him, her eyes blazing. "How could you not notice?" she hissed, waving her arm in the general direction of her newest patient. Draco was lying on a hospital bed, his body jerking slightly, muttering to himself. "This is one of the most advanced cases of severe exhaustion I've ever seen! Don't you know it can cause brain damage?" "You're right, okay?" he replied loudly, then lowered his voice at the nurse's warning glance. "I should have noticed," Severus continued softly, regretfully. "I've been so distracted lately, I haven't been paying close enough attention to what was happening in my own House. But you have to understand, Madame, he so good at hiding these things!" "And now you're telling me I can't even give him something to help him sleep?" she asked, her voice filled with apprehension. Severus shook his head. "Not until I figure out what's causing his nightmares. They could have a more disastrous effect on his body than the exhaustion." Stepping around the nurse, he walked over to where his student fitfully rested, reaching his hand down to stroke the boy's sweaty forehead. Madame Pomfrey's harsh expression softened at the look of caring etched onto the usually bitter man's face. She walked by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Do you think you can figure it out?" Severus looked up, his face twisting into an expression she was more familiar with, a fierce determination and a touch of cruelty lighting in his eyes. "Oh, I'll figure it out," he sneered, "and woe to those I find responsible." He turned quickly and stalked out of the hospital wing, his robes billowing behind him, his mood black as a moonless night. Pomfrey watched his exit, only mildly startled. She looked around her and sighed. "Better prepare more beds," she muttered, walking over to the linen closet for clean sheets. * * * * * * Harry left Care of Magical Creatures, Ron and Hermione by his side, feeling worried and uneasy. His mind was racing, ignoring the conversations going on around him. Was Draco okay? Why wasn't he in class? Dreaming about somebody's death was one thing - Draco not coming to class after he witnessed his death up close and personal was something else, even if it did only occur in a dream. It felt too strange to be a coincidence and the lack of sleep he'd suffered the night before wasn't helping. "Harry!" Harry nearly stumbled at the sound of his name being shouted, turning to see a bewildered Ron staring at him. Apparently, he'd been trying to get his attention for some time. "Sorry?" Harry asked his friend. "I wasn't listening." "Obviously," Ron said, sounding somewhat concerned and a little irritated. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past five bloody minutes!" Harry blinked and looked around, realizing they were now off the grounds and walking through the halls towards the Charms classroom. "I'm sorry," Harry apologized again, giving his friend a sheepish grim. "My mind was wandering. What was it you said?" Ron huffed. "I said, what's the plan for Quidditch practice tonight?" Quidditch... practice? Harry cast his mind about, trying to bring it back to where it belonged. "Um..." Harry finally managed, "practice drills?" "And?" Ron prodded. "Er... I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I thought maybe I could talk to..." Harry paused, trying to recall breakfast and who'd said something about the Ravenclaws. "Seamus!" he remembered, feeling a bit triumphant. "Yeah, ask Seamus for what he thinks about the Ravenclaw strategy and work from there, if he'll tell us." Ron nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Harry breathed a mental sigh of relief. He'd bought it. "Well, I do want to remind you two that we have NEWTs coming up in less than six months," Hermione chimed in. "Don't you think you should be studying? I can help you set up some schedules, if you want." Ron rolled his eyes. "Please, 'Mione, we have plenty of time!" he said, exasperated. Harry took a step back and watched as the two of them started snipping at each other, a small smile on his face. The summer had been long and lonely and it felt good to hear his friends flirting with each other, even if they'd never admit it. Harry let his thoughts drift back to Draco, not noticing when his two best friends stopped suddenly after turning a corner, Harry slamming into Ron's back. "Ginny, what's wrong?" Ron asked, alarmed. Harry looked over his shoulder to see a teary-eyed Ginny, crouching in the corner, along with a number of other equally upset fourth-years. "It was potions class," Colin Creevy said, shaking a little. "It was horrible!" "Snape was in such a fowl mood," Ginny added, snuffling. "I've never seen him so angry!" Ron leaned down, wrapping an arm around his sister. "Snape is a slimy git!" he told her. "Don't let him get to you." "He was worse than usual, though," Colin said. "You should have seen what the first-years were like after first period," said another fourth-year whose name Harry couldn't remember. Ron helped his sister to his feet, giving her a brief hug. "He probably got a good look at himself in the mirror this morning, that's all." "Ron!" Hermione admonished, but smiled a little as the fourth-years all gave small chuckles. "Don't insult teachers." "Ah, he deserves it," Ron said, giving Hermione a wink, then turned to the fourth-years. "You all should go to your next class." They nodded and moved down the hall in a cluster, seeming uneasy being apart. Ron shook his head, letting out a small growl. "Glad we don't have potions today," he said to Harry. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger." The three turned around, startled to see Professor Snape looming over them, his expression unreadable. "Follow me," he said darkly. "Um... Professor?" Hermione said meekly, unusually intimidated by Snape's mannerisms. "We have class right now." The professor narrowed his eyes to dark slits and Hermione cowered back. "Follow. Me. Now." Snape turned and stalked off and the three Gryffindors had no choice but to follow. * * * * * * Harry fidgeted in the surprisingly comfortable armchair set out before his least favorite professor's desk. He'd never been in Snape's private office before and it was nothing like he expected. For some reason, he'd always guessed it would be dark and creepy, not warm and inviting. There were a ton of books and everything was neat and organized, but Harry, for all of his imaginings, felt there should be some cobwebs and nasty things floating in jars on his desk at the very least. "I wonder where he keeps his coffin," Ron muttered under his breath, sitting in an identical chair to the left of his own, obviously thinking much along the same lines. Hermione, sitting in a straight-backed wooden chair to Harry's left, didn't hear Ron's comment so didn't snap at him, her eyes fixated on the ancient tomes surrounding her. "He's got quite a collection," she whispered, temporarily forgetting her apprehension in the amazement of Snape's library. Harry didn't reply, looking worriedly at the door in the back of the room that the professor had disappeared behind right after curtly instructing the three Gryffindors to sit down, shut up, and if so much as one dust mite was out of place when he got back, he'd use them for potion components. Harry believed him. Ten minutes later, Severus Snape swooped back into the room, closing the door firmly behind him so they couldn't see what it hid. He sat down in his chair, staring coldly at them, silent as death. After a moment, he leaned forward and steeped his fingers on the desk. Harry noticed that he, Hermione, and Ron all leaned back as one. Snape was that unnerving. "Now," he began softly, his voice filled with a soft fury that sent shivers down Harry's spine, "I am going to speak and you are going to listen. When I ask you a question, you will answer truthfully." The "or else" hung heavily in the air at the end of his sentence. Ron swallowed audibly. "You assaulted several students on the train ride home from Hogwarts at the end of last term," he continued. "That alone is reason enough for me to take steps to have the three of you permanently expelled." Hermione went white as a sheet and opened her mouth to protest, but Professor Snape silenced her with a sharp glance. She sank down into her chair and remained silent. "You are going to give me an account of exactly what happened on the train ride and which curses you had the gall to cast on Mr. Goyle, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Malfoy." He sat back and nodded at Hermione, who took a deep breath, her arms shaking. "They came to our compartment," she began, her voice wavering a bit. "They were saying things... horrible things... I don't really remember..." "It was about Cedric," Harry interjected softly. "What about Mr. Diggory?" Snape asked, his voice still holding that creepy, even, unemotional tone. "He said that Cedric was the first," Harry said, "that mudbloods and muggle-lovers would be next, now that Voldemort was back." Ron cringed when Harry said the infamous name, but Snape didn't even blink. "He said I chose the losing side and that he'd cautioned me about what kind of friends I should make back in first year," Harry continued, then trailed off as Professor Snape leaned forward again. "And you somehow interpreted this as a threat?" he asked, his rising in volume, eyes flashing with anger. "It was the way he said it," Harry replied feebly. "It really sounded like a threat, not at all like a..." Harry paused, replaying what Draco had said to him that day, his jaw dropping open, a hand going to his mouth, his heart jumping into his throat. "A warning." Harry closed his eyes, feeling sick. "It was a warning." Ron flashed Harry an odd look but remained silent. "So," Snape went on, his hands clenching into fists, "the three of you, along with Mr. Weasley's brothers, decided it was necessary to curse him, all at once?" "We didn't plan it." Harry opened his eyes and looked over at Hermione, who was wringing her hands nervously. "It just sort of happened." Professor Snape closed his eyes briefly and ground his teeth. He looked back at them, his expression carefully controlled. "You will tell me which curses you cast on the three of them," he said. "I used a Confundus Charm on Malfoy," Hermione began, wanting to get this all over with as quickly as possible. "I cast a fur-growing charm on Goyle," Ron added, "and Fred used Stupefy on him as well. George hit Crabbe with Jelly-Legs, I think." Harry nodded. "I cast Furnunculus," he said softly. "I was aiming for Draco, but it hit Crabbe for some reason." Professor Snape got very still, his expression growing ever blacker. He gave Harry a shrewd look for using Draco's first name so informally, but decided to ignore it for now. He gave one slow nod, then rose to his feet, placing both hands flat on his desk. "You three disgust me," he said, voice dangerously low. "Your behavior is nothing short of reprehensible. Gryffindors are supposed to have some sort of honor," he spat, furious, "but you throw around magic to cause pain to others like the darkest of dark wizards I know! Now stand up." The three students did as they were told, rising shakily from their chairs to face the Potion Master's rage. "I am taking 150 points each from Gryffindor for your lack of judgement," Snape growled. "You will each be serving a detention each day for the next sixty days with Mr. Filch. Ms. Granger, I'm certain your Prefect status will be re-evaluated after I take this situation up with the Headmaster. As for you two," he said, turning his attention to Ron and Harry, Hermione looking like she was about to faint, "I do not believe you will be playing Quidditch for the rest of this year." Snape turned away from them, putting his hands on his hips, gazing at the fire burning in the large fireplace in the room. "If the world were in a different state, don't think for a moment I wouldn't have you three expelled." He turned and looked back at them. "Now, get the hell out of my office," he finished, turning back to the fire. Hermione and Ron fled the room, but Harry stayed. "Professor..." he began. "I said get out, Mr. Potter," Snape snapped, not looking up. Harry almost moved to the door, but held his ground. "I just want to know if Draco is okay," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. Professor Snape turned and looked at him, his face once again a blank mask. "I mean, he wasn't in class this morning and he was acting kind of strange the other day and..." Harry stopped. Professor Snape hadn't so much as blinked. "It's none of your concern, Mr. Potter," he said evenly. "Get out." Harry did as he told. Severus sighed and turned back to the fire, staring at it for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to a bookshelf. He pulled down a few heavy volumes, then dropped them on his desk and sat down, picking up one and starting to read. * * * * * * Draco stared at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, watching the bricks above him with great interest. They seemed to be doing a little dance, just for him. He hummed softly along with the moves, as was appropriate. A face suddenly jumped in front of his field of vision, blocking his view of the dancing bricks. "Dancing bricks," he protested, lifting a weak hand to brush the face away. "Not now, Mr. Malfoy," said the face, which apparently had arms as it was forcing him to sit up. "Drink this," said the face and a hand put a phial to his lips. Draco drank the liquid, finding the taste not too horrid. Instantly, the fuzziness in his brain cleared and his temples began to pound. "Ow..." he moaned, rubbing his head. The face shifted into a person Draco instantly recognized as Madame Pomfrey, looking at him in such a way that he felt like a bug in a jar. Or perhaps a frog on a dissection tray. He couldn't decide which. "It's a temporary fix," she said testily, helping him lay back down, brushing a hand over his hair, "but at least some of the confusion is gone." "I feel much better," Draco told her, nodding his head, then winced, "except for my headache." The nurse frowned. "Anything I could give you for that would just make you drowsy," she said, "and Professor Snape said you couldn't sleep." Draco started to nod again, but checked himself. "I understand that," he replied. "Wouldn't want my dreams to kill me." Madame Pomfrey looked confused, but didn't comment. Obviously, Severus had not told her the whole story. "Well," she said, "lay back and, well, don't relax. I'll be at my desk, so call if you need anything." Draco gave her a thumbs up and she walked away. He looked up at the ceiling again and frowned. The bricks weren't dancing anymore. Draco cursed silently. Now he was really bored. * * * * * * In an unspoken decision, instead of going to their Charms class currently in progress, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sacked out in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was crying softly on one of the large sofas, her legs pulled up underneath her. Ron sat by her side with a comforting arm around her shoulders, his face shadowed in thought. Harry sat alone on a recliner next to the couch, staring down at the floor. "He's going... to ruin... our lives," Hermione finally said between muffled sobs. "I can't... believe... this is happening." "It's a ferret-boy's fault," Ron said angrily. "He probably ran crying to Snape to get a little pay back for us making fun of him the other day, the two-faced, scheming, little bas-" "It's not Draco's fault," Harry interrupted him, looking up at his friends. "It's ours and ours alone. No matter what he said to us, we never should have cursed him and his friends on the train that day. Professor Snape was, as much as I hate to say it, right. We really could have hurt them." "Yeah, and that would have been a tragedy," Ron said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Harry, after all the crap he's put us through, I wouldn't care if he dropped dead tomorrow!" Harry blanched and stood up, feeling suddenly ill. "Don't say that," he whispered. "Please, Ron, don't ever say that." "Sorry," came the mumbled reply, thinking that Harry was still sensitive over Cedric's death. Hermione rubbed her red eyes, still snuffling a little. "Do you really think they'll take away my Prefect status?" she asked worriedly. "Do you think that you two won't be allowed to play Quidditch for the rest of the year?" "Snape can't make those decisions on his own," Ron told her consolingly. "I'm sure he's just blowing this all out of proportion." "The House is going to be furious with us, losing 750 points," she said, looking as though she were about to start crying again. "I don't think we even have that many points yet!" "After Snape talks to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall, we'll worry about what's going to happen. Until then, we need to just relax and go on like normal, right Harry? Harry?" Ron looked around the common room. Harry had disappeared. * * * * * * It was late in the evening before Severus could make it to the Hospital Wing. After teaching his afternoon classes, tending the Wolfsbane, coupled with his research on Draco's condition, he barely had the time to do anything else, forgoing dinner in the Great Hall and just grabbing something out of his private stores on his way out of the dungeons. The Wing was brightly lit, unusual because Madame Pomfrey normally kept is somewhat dark for her patients. The extra lights were no doubt present to assist Draco in his attempt to keep awake. He walked and saw his Godson sitting up on the bed, playing a game of cards with the nurse, both appearing a little frazzled. They both looked up as he approached. "Tell me you weren't the one to teach this boy how to play poker, Severus," Madame Pomfrey asked him, giving a slight disapproving frown. "He's far too good at it." "I plead the fifth," came the Potion Master's sardonic reply, though he felt incredibly pleased to see Draco looking better. Bringing him to the nurse had been a fantastic idea. "Any luck?" Draco asked him, looking down at the small pile of parchments clutched in Severus' hands. The older man nodded and sat down in a chair next to the bed. "It appears you were hit by two curses on that day on the train," he began, shuffling his notes. "One of them was a Confundus curse, courtesy of Ms. Granger. That one hit you directly. The second was Furnunculus, cast by Mr. Potter." He looked down at the pages and frowned before continuing. "Because five separate curses were cast at the same time, the quotient of magical energy in the air was very, very high. As a result, Mr. Potter's curse fractured, the reflected portion hitting you, while a weaker version of the pure form hit Mr. Crabbe." "A reflected Furnunculus?" Madame Pomfrey repeated, alarmed. "Oh, dear..." Severus nodded sagely. "Sorry, what?" Draco asked. The two adults turned to look at him and he gave a sheepish smile. "I'm crap at charms," he explained. Severus smirked a little and shook his head, then grew more serious. "Reflected curses are those that, for various reasons, do not directly hit their targets and, in fact, bounce off. The killing curse used on Mr. Potter as a child by The Dark Lord actually reflected off of him. Thus, when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was hit by the reflection, it transformed him into a kind of energy, or so I understand. The original curse gets altered, perverted into something else, usually the primitive form of the spell which is no longer used." "So," Draco said slowly, trying to understand all this information through his pounding head, "a primitive version of the killing curse left you mostly dead, but slightly alive, and that's what hit The Dark Lord because of the reflection off of Potter." "Correct," Severus said, proud of his student. "Very good, Draco." "But my reflection was caused by the high magical quotient in the area." Severus nodded. "What I don't understand is, if I got hit by a Furnunculus curse, which causes boils, why didn't I just break out in hives or something," Draco asked. "Why would I be getting these weird dreams?" "You really are crap at charms, Draco," said Severus. Draco grinned. "I'm too busy studying for potions," he said. Severus smiled. "The primitive version of the Furnunculus curse didn't cause skin conditions," Madame Pomfrey explained. "It used to be called a 'Thief Charm,' I believe." Draco decided he didn't like the sound of that. He vaguely remembered a trip with his father to Knockturn alley where it was made very clear to him that he would not be permitted to pursue a career in petty theft. "I'm going to turn into a kleptomaniac?" he asked, worriedly. "Not like a thief who steals objects," Severus hastened to explain. "It's more like you're stealing magical power." "I'm stealing magic from people?" Draco really didn't like the sound of that. "Not at all," Madame Pomfrey said, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Rather, you're probably tapping into the latent magical power around you. You'll probably find that spells are easier for you to cast and the power behind your spells will be stronger." She gave him a small knowing grin and winked. "You may even bring up your Charms grade." Draco allowed himself a small chuckle, though he was still worried. "So I have a power-up," Draco said, trying to grasp everything. "I still don't understand what this has to do with my dreams." Severus sighed. "As I mentioned earlier, reflected spells are easily altered by outside magic. From what I can guess, the Confundus curse used on you my Ms. Granger changed it further. Confundus curse has the effect of opening up your mind, making you more aware of things you may not otherwise notice. That's what causes the confusion that results. Too many things are hitting you at once and your brain can't cope with all of it." "That much, at least, I remember from class," Draco mused. "The sum of it is, I believe the combination of the two curses resulted in you becoming more sensitive to the world around you," Severus said. "Things you may not have considered before are attacking you with stunning clarity and it's reflected in your dreams as a result. The remnants of the pure Confundus curse have remained, making it more difficult for you to recover from one of these nightmares." "Okay..." Draco replied. He looked straight at his teacher. "How do we fix this?" Severus and Madame Pomfrey exchanged a quick glance, something Draco really, really didn't like. "We don't," Severus said bluntly. At Draco's distressed expression, he added, "At least, I don't think we can. I may be just a matter of control, Draco. Your mind has been forced open and is still trying to adjust. As time goes by, you should get better at blocking out things you don't like or need. I have some contacts in Bulgaria who know more about this. I'll have to get in touch with them." "But I don't feel any different, aside from the obvious," Draco protested. "I don't feel like I'm taking in more than usual." "You wouldn't feel it, dear," Madame Pomfrey said gently. "Your mind is filtering it to protect you when you're awake. It's when you're asleep that everything starts coming at you." Draco angrily shook his head. "I can't wait for my mind to 'adjust,'" he said. "I need to sleep now!" "That's why I brought you this." Severus reached into his robes and retrieved a small phial filled with a greenish, thin liquid. "It will make it so the sleep that you do manage to get will be more beneficial. I use it myself when I'm working on a long-term potion project. As your body gets more rest, you should be able to throw off the rest of the Confundus curse and then focus on dealing with your new abilities." He handed the phial to Draco, who uncorked it with a 'pop' and swallowed it down without hesitation. "Yuck," he grimaced, licking his lips and handing the empty container back to his teacher. "Do I even want to know what this is made of?" "Oh, believe me, Draco, you'll know," said Severus, a wicked smile on his face. "The effects should last at least a week. That's plenty of time for me to teach you to brew it yourself. I certainly don't have time to do it for you when I have so many other projects up in the air at once." "Great," Draco replied wryly, though inside, he was thrilled at the prospect at learning a new potion. "So I can sleep now?" he asked, looking from teacher to nurse, hopeful. "I should say so," Severus said, standing up. "The dreams are the result of your perceptions and shouldn't cause you any injury, physically at least. Mentally..." The Potion Master shrugged. "You're on your own." "Thanks," Draco said dryly. "You're concern is touching." "You're welcome," Severus replied in kind. He looked down at his watch and frowned. "I have to go tend the Wolfsbane again," he said, muttering something bad about werewolves under his breath. Draco smiled and settled down in bed, Madame Pomfrey standing up as well and gathering the playing cards that were still scattered there. "We're just lucky there wasn't any transfer," remarked the nurse. Draco stiffened and sat up, looking back at the adults. "Transfer?" he asked. "Yes," Madame Pomfrey said with a frown. "Sometimes, reflected spells result in a transfer, or a kind of mental connection, forming between caster and the one who is afflicted with the reflected spell. This is because reflected spells are a kind of wild magic, not very well understood. I know it happened to Mr. Potter and The Dark Lord." She shook her head. "Causes him no end of trouble, the poor dear." "Luckily, from what you've told me, this doesn't seem to have occurred in your case," Severus remarked, overlooking Madame Pomfrey's use of the phrase "poor dear" in respect to Mr. Potter. He chuckled darkly. "Imagine having to share a mental connection with that boy." "Yeah," Draco said, giving a weak, forced laugh, "imagine that." "Goodnight, Draco," Severus said, reaching down to pat his head. "I look forward to seeing you bright-eyed and alert tomorrow." "Right, Severus," Draco replied, lying back down, trying to force the knot in his stomach to untie. "Goodnight." Severus gave him a quick nod, then turned and left the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey patted his cheek once, then cast a quick spell to dim the lights in the room before walking over to her desk to finish up some additional work. Draco lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the nurse's quill scratch across a piece of parchment, having a whole new reason not to want to go to sleep. Neither he nor the nurse heard the door to the Hospital Wing quietly open and close, apparently of its own accord. A/N: *I had to go web surfing to come up with some cute phobias for the beginning of this chapter: prologue, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve back? |