Swine Flu
Hermione felt wretched. She had not felt right since the students had returned from the winter break.
The room swam as dizziness overcame her. The thought of food, particularly the fried bacon and sausage, being served in the Great Hall, made her nauseous. She would just go down and have some tea. If she did not feel better by noon a visit to Madame Pomfrey may be in order.
Entering the Great Hall she took her seat next to the Potions master; intending to bid him good morning she turned to him, “Oink, squeak, squeal…oink.” Then the room turned black.
Professor Snape looked down at the collapsed form of Professor Granger. She was always chastising him about his panache for bacon in the morning, but this did not make sense.
Just then Poppy rushed over already casting diagnostic spells at the speed of light.
Severus was a fair hand at healing, but even he was shocked to see the final spell’s results. Hovering above, the crumpled form of, Professor Granger was a frolicking pig. What could this mean?
She was beginning to stir, “Squeak, squeal… snuffle, oink.”
“Hush now Hermione,” Poppy soothed, “It seems you have contracted the Swine Flu.”
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“You want me to brew what?” Professor Snape thundered when he heard the mediwitch’s request.
“I want you to brew a pot of chicken soup.” Poppy reiterated.
“Madame, I am a Potions master not a house elf.” Severus huffed, “Have them make your bloody soup.”
Patiently she tried to explain, “I am well aware of your credentials, but no magic can touch this brew.” She continued, “You know as well as I do the elves cannot cook without magic. For that matter neither can anyone else in the castle. You and Hermione are the only two with any Muggle background.”
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After a trip to Muggle London, to procure the necessary ingredients, Severus returned to Spinner’s End. If no magic could touch the brew then it would be best not to prepare it within Hogwarts.
As he sliced, diced and simmered the Potions master thought of the predicament the Charms mistress was in. In the Muggle world Swine Flu was bad, but for a Muggleborn or Half-blood witch or wizard it was even worse. The afflicted witch or wizard would transform into the animal the bloody virus was named for.
The only antidote… chicken soup just like mom used to make.
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“You ask too much Madame! Is it not enough that I made the cursed soup?” Severus stormed about the mediwitch’s office.
“Severus, do you want to risk one of the student’s contracting the virus?” Madame Pomfrey asked. “They could spread it throughout the castle and we would have an epidemic on our hands.”
While the Potions master had sliced, diced and stirred the Charms mistress had continued to be affected by the virus in her system. She now had cloven hooves instead of hands.
Apparently, the brew also had to be administered by one with at least some Muggle heritage.
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Two Weeks Later
“Open up Severus,” Hermione chided. “You know this is the only way.”
“Squee!” replied the rather obstinate Potions master; his black eyes glittered with fever.
“Quit being a piglet and take your medicine,” Hermione chuckled spooning up another bite of soup.
Fortunately, the Potions master had made plenty of soup for just this morning he had appeared in the Great Hall and squeaked instead of providing his usual brisk greeting.
Hermione looked upon his indignant visage with affection; she knew just how he felt, but he was just so cute with his piggy ears and little snout.
The room swam as dizziness overcame her. The thought of food, particularly the fried bacon and sausage, being served in the Great Hall, made her nauseous. She would just go down and have some tea. If she did not feel better by noon a visit to Madame Pomfrey may be in order.
Entering the Great Hall she took her seat next to the Potions master; intending to bid him good morning she turned to him, “Oink, squeak, squeal…oink.” Then the room turned black.
Professor Snape looked down at the collapsed form of Professor Granger. She was always chastising him about his panache for bacon in the morning, but this did not make sense.
Just then Poppy rushed over already casting diagnostic spells at the speed of light.
Severus was a fair hand at healing, but even he was shocked to see the final spell’s results. Hovering above, the crumpled form of, Professor Granger was a frolicking pig. What could this mean?
She was beginning to stir, “Squeak, squeal… snuffle, oink.”
“Hush now Hermione,” Poppy soothed, “It seems you have contracted the Swine Flu.”
--------------------
“You want me to brew what?” Professor Snape thundered when he heard the mediwitch’s request.
“I want you to brew a pot of chicken soup.” Poppy reiterated.
“Madame, I am a Potions master not a house elf.” Severus huffed, “Have them make your bloody soup.”
Patiently she tried to explain, “I am well aware of your credentials, but no magic can touch this brew.” She continued, “You know as well as I do the elves cannot cook without magic. For that matter neither can anyone else in the castle. You and Hermione are the only two with any Muggle background.”
-------------------------------
After a trip to Muggle London, to procure the necessary ingredients, Severus returned to Spinner’s End. If no magic could touch the brew then it would be best not to prepare it within Hogwarts.
As he sliced, diced and simmered the Potions master thought of the predicament the Charms mistress was in. In the Muggle world Swine Flu was bad, but for a Muggleborn or Half-blood witch or wizard it was even worse. The afflicted witch or wizard would transform into the animal the bloody virus was named for.
The only antidote… chicken soup just like mom used to make.
-----------------------------
“You ask too much Madame! Is it not enough that I made the cursed soup?” Severus stormed about the mediwitch’s office.
“Severus, do you want to risk one of the student’s contracting the virus?” Madame Pomfrey asked. “They could spread it throughout the castle and we would have an epidemic on our hands.”
While the Potions master had sliced, diced and stirred the Charms mistress had continued to be affected by the virus in her system. She now had cloven hooves instead of hands.
Apparently, the brew also had to be administered by one with at least some Muggle heritage.
--------------------------------
Two Weeks Later
“Open up Severus,” Hermione chided. “You know this is the only way.”
“Squee!” replied the rather obstinate Potions master; his black eyes glittered with fever.
“Quit being a piglet and take your medicine,” Hermione chuckled spooning up another bite of soup.
Fortunately, the Potions master had made plenty of soup for just this morning he had appeared in the Great Hall and squeaked instead of providing his usual brisk greeting.
Hermione looked upon his indignant visage with affection; she knew just how he felt, but he was just so cute with his piggy ears and little snout.