Chapter Five of 'Wolf's Choice'- Flight
Chapter Four.
Title: Wolf’s Choice (5/60)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Main story is gen, a few GoF canon pairings mentioned
Content Notes: AU of GoF, angst, gore, violence, torture, present tense, minor character death
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU of GoF. Harry begins his summer with horrific visions that come true much faster than he was expecting. He’ll have to rely on his circle of friends, both his guardians, and all his allies to cope with the results.
Author’s Notes: This is a long fic that is a sequel to my fic Other People’s Choices. Make sure you read that first before you start this one.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Five-Flight
Severus narrows his eyes as the fireplace in his lab opens. He gave Harry the red-tinted Floo powder that would grant him access before he went to Black’s house this last time, but he also knows that Harry would never use it.
It is not impossible that someone else found the powder and managed to locate his magical signature on it, meaning that he could be facing an enemy now. Severus turns to the fireplace, his hand on his wand.
But no one comes through. Instead, the wolf’s face appears in the flames. Before Severus can even deal with the abrupt pounding of his heart, Lupin says, “Severus, Harry was attacked by Fenrir Greyback. No infection, but he’ll have scars. Sirius is already taking him to St. Mungo’s. I thought you’d want to be there.”
Then the fireplace goes dark, and it’s as though no one has ever opened it.
Severus is still for long moments. Then he turns and moves.
Mr. Zabini starts as Severus sweeps past him a moment later, his pockets full of healing potions. “Sir? Where are you going?”
“St. Mungo’s. Harry has been injured. I want you to stay in this house and open the wards to no one, even if they appear to be wearing my face or Harry’s. If I return and am in my right mind, then I will be able to open the wards on my own.” And with the protections that Severus has in place around the house, he will have to be in his right mind to open them. There is no way to command him or anyone else keyed into the wards to open them because of the Imperius Curse or if they are under any variant of the Confundus Charm.
“But-what? He’s been attacked? Sir, I don’t understand what is going on!”
“You have as much information as I have now, Mr. Zabini.” With the lack that the attack had come from Fenrir, but Severus is not going to dispense that particular piece of information until he has no choice. “Stay here. I would take you with me, but I presume I will have enough problems dealing with Black and Lupin.”
Zabini draws back as if Severus has hurt his feelings, but at the moment, Severus does not particularly care. He steps outside the wards and Apparates to the front entrance of St. Mungo’s.
His fingers hurt, he realizes a moment after he arrives. He looks down and sees how strongly he is gripping his wand, so strongly that the grooves on the wood are digging into his palm.
Severus looses his hold and forces himself to slide Occlumency like a dark cloud over his mind. He knows the Healers, and they will not let him into Harry’s room if he is radiating pain and fury and intent to kill.
The cloud does its work. A moment later, Severus opens his eyes and strides into hospital, his mind already forming the deadly, necessary words that mean he will be directed without losing a bit of time to internal politics.
*
Blaise sits still as long as he can make himself. Then he gets up and goes to fetch the Floo powder for a fireplace that will open to an ordinary destination, unlike the warded one that he knows Professor Snape has in his quarters.
“Nott Manor, Theodore Nott’s haven!” he calls out, as he flings the powder into the flames.
The special address is the one for Theo’s bedroom; Theo asked him never to Floo the main manor unless he’s running from enemies and has nowhere else to go, because his feud with his father has become worse. Blaise holds his breath now, wondering if he’ll have to wait for Theo to answer.
Luckily, Theo sticks his head through in the next instant. “Blaise? What’s going on?” He studies Blaise’s shaking hands for a second, and then adds softly, “Does it have something to do with your mum? Or Harry?”
“Harry’s been attacked. He’s at St. Mungo’s. Professor Snape went to tend to him. He got injured somehow while he was with Black and Lupin. Professor Snape wouldn’t take me with him, but-” Blaise realizes that he’s babbling. He calms down and takes a huge gulp of air, big enough that he starts coughing a second later. Theo is patient, and waits. Blaise finally manages to go on. “I know that Harry’s been having nightmares, those sorts of dreams that aren’t really dreams, about Voldemort.”
Theo nods. “And you think Voldemort is the one who attacked him?” Only because Blaise has known Theo for years does he know how nervous he is. Theo’s hands aren’t shaking, or his voice. It’s just his face that’s too still and drawn. “It seems strange that he’d move this soon.”
“No. I don’t think so. I think-Harry keeps talking about how in those dreams, Voldemort only ever has one Death Eater with him. Fenrir Greyback. I can’t-Theo, what if Harry’s a werewolf now?”
Theo stares at him long enough that Blaise feels like screaming. Then he says slowly, “Blaise, the full moon is a fortnight away. He can’t possibly be a werewolf.”
Blaise closes his eyes and waits for the sting of humiliation to fade. Yes, that was pretty stupid of him to forget. And at least Theo is going on briskly now instead of rubbing it in. “It’s possible that Harry will have scars or pain, though. But not that he’s actually infected. Not that there are some people who won’t treat him that way once they see the scars.”
“They would know even if Black and Lupin and Professor Snape don’t say anything?”
“A werewolf’s scars are pretty distinctive. Yes, they’re going to know. That’s probably why the Dark Lord did it in the first place. Some people will distrust and hate Harry now, and think that he could transform even if we publicize the attack date all over the place.”
Blaise feels something in him relax. That was why he came to Theo in the first place. He knew Theo would be able to think of something to do. “So we’re going to be on his side after this?”
Theo gives him a look that-it’s really polite, but Blaise still flushes once he realizes what it is.
“I certainly don’t intend to abandon him,” Theo says coolly. “Do you? Let me know so that I can tell Harry and Professor Snape. And he might not want you living in his house around his ward, either.”
“I never intended-I just recall that someone started befriending Harry to try and get some more power in Slytherin House at one point!” Blaise hisses. He swallows back some of the things he wants to say, because they’ll only damage his friendship with Theo, too. “Harry might lose that standing now. I wondered if we should distance ourselves in public and continue to support him in private.”
“Even if we could do that with any degree of skill,” Theo says, and his voice is gentler now, “we wouldn’t convince a lot of people. They would see the public distance and decide that meant we distrusted him just like lots of other people will.”
“You’re right,” Blaise mutters, and wonders what it means that he went straight to Theo, of all of them. It’s not like Harry doesn’t have a lot of friends he could contact, and some of them have parents who might take Blaise to St. Mungo’s, too. But no, he went to Theo. As if Theo’s Harry lieutenant or something.
Blaise puts it aside to think about later. “So are you going to tell the others, or am I?”
“We’re not going to tell them anything right now,” Theo says fiercely. “Not unless the news gets out in the papers or Harry has to spend so long in hospital that he’s missing holiday visits he set up with them. We have to wait, and trust in-”
“The Healers? Black? Lupin?”
“Professor Snape, I was going to say.”
Blaise bites the inside of his cheek and tells himself to be still. In the end, he nods and says, “Yes, all right. But I’m still going to want to talk to you about this if Professor Snape stays away for a while and no one is telling us anything. We’re his friends. We have just as much right to know as his guardians do.”
Theo nods. “And when they won’t tell us the truth because of stupid reasons, I agree with you. Now, please get out of my Floo. My father knows when it activates, if he’s paying attention, and I’d rather not give him a chance to question me.”
Blaise hesitates. “Are you-doing all right with him?”
Theo smiles. It’s a nasty smile that Blaise recoils from before he can stop himself. “I believe you should ask him that question.”
And Blaise blinks at the fire as Theo disappears from it, grateful, for a moment, to have a distraction that takes his mind from Harry’s fate.
*
His face just won’t stop hurting.
Harry can usually cope with pain just fine. He learned when he was young and stuffed into the cupboard under the stairs that no one was going to come and let him out or comfort him. But this doesn’t end. It’s as sharp and fiery now as it was at the moment when Greyback’s claws sliced down his cheek.
At least Sirius hasn’t moved away from him since he brought Harry to hospital. Sometimes the Healers sound as if they’re issuing orders or commands, but Sirius only answers with a single word and then doesn’t let go of Harry’s hand. Harry turns his head towards that source of comfort and closes his eyes, but then flares them open again. Closing the eye that Greyback’s nails tore too close to hurts as much as keeping it open.
“Step away from him, Black.”
Harry raises a weak cry of protest as someone shoulders Sirius away, but it turns out to be Snape, who examines Harry for a moment with burning intensity before he takes out a flask of some kind from his robe pocket. “This salve will help with the pain,” he murmurs, uncapping it and spreading it along the scars.
“Professor Snape! You can’t do that, we have him on certain healing potions, the salve might react badly with them-”
“You think I would use such an ointment when it might react badly with any painkilling potion? This is one of my own design, not that you would recognize it-Mr. Bartlett, was it? He of the Troll on his Potions NEWT?”
The Healer steps back and says something else, but Harry can’t make it out, because the pain is finally calming down. He takes a long, deep breath, and feels as if something is rattling in his chest. He leans against Snape and closed his eyes with a tired whimper. Now, at last, they feel like he could keep them closed and he could sleep.
But Snape’s gentle hand on his shoulder keeps him awake. “How did this happen?” he breathes.
Harry is afraid that he might blame Sirius when it’s not really his fault at all, so he speaks up hastily first. “Fenrir Greyback got through the wards. There was-Sirius didn’t know-there was an exemption in the wards for someone with a Dark Mark-”
“Greyback carried no Mark the last I knew.”
“He didn’t in the first war,” Remus says softly from somewhere off to the side. Harry feels Snape turn around, probably to glare, but Harry clings to him and keeps him there. He doesn’t want Professor Snape chasing off Remus, who’s honestly been pretty great. “But I think that Voldemort probably doesn’t have enough followers to be picky about who he Marks now.”
The Healers are all gasping at the name Voldemort. Harry doesn’t care. He wants to curl up and go to sleep, but Professor Snape is still gently nudging at him. “Harry, I need to know more of what happened.”
Harry sighs. It no longer hurts to talk with the scars pulling at the edge of his mouth, at least. “Greyback came straight for me. He must have known that he couldn’t infect me, what with the full moon not being until two weeks from now, but he did it anyway. Remus thinks that he did it to make me less popular. To make other people think I’m a werewolf and I’m a horrible person.”
“The first one who says that to you shall have to answer to me.”
“Then go talk to that Healer on the first floor who refused to treat Harry, Snape,” Sirius says, his voice almost a dog’s growl. “He said he was already half a werewolf, he must be because he’s been living with a werewolf, and he flinched when I told him to just get me some potions.”
Snape’s arms freeze for a moment. Then he says, “I will deal with him later. Harry is more important.”
Harry sighs softly when he hears that. He’s glad, because he doesn’t think he could move from the warm position he’s currently occupying. His eyes wouldn’t open on their own, now. His hands are resting motionless in Snape’s robe.
But somehow, he can still move his mouth, and he needs to. “They’re going to scar, aren’t they?”
“Of course they are,” snaps some Healer that Harry doesn’t bother opening his eyes to see. “Werewolf wounds always scar. I don’t know how substandard Hogwarts has become since I attended, that you wouldn’t know that.”
Harry tenses for a second. Snape tightens his grip and says, “Someone get that idiot out of here.”
“Professor Snape-”
But there’s the sound of someone almost being lifted off their feet, and then a door opening and closing. Harry smiles drowsily in spite of the way it makes his face hurt. He bets that was Remus. Remus is pretty strong when he wants to use his werewolf strength instead of pretend that it isn’t there.
And that reminds him of something else he hasn’t told Snape, and he didn’t hear anyone else tell him, either. “Remus attacked Greyback to save me,” he whispers. “That’s the only reason that I’m not more scarred. Remus interfered.”
“Is that true, wolf?”
“You could be a little less gruff with him when he saved Harry’s life, Snape.”
“Yes, I interfered. I tried to yank Greyback’s spine through his skin. I regret to say that I didn’t succeed. He’ll bear my marks, though.”
Remus’s voice is deeper than Harry’s ever heard it, and he feels a fine tremor run through Snape, one that Harry really hopes Sirius and Remus can’t see. He reaches out and grips Snape’s arm. It’s the only comfort he can think to offer. After a second, it seems that it works, because Snape stops shaking, and he says, “Then I will owe you a debt. In the meantime, Harry, lie back.”
Harry doesn’t want to shift away from the comfortable, warm embrace around him, but Snape steps back and he doesn’t have a choice. He whimpers a little as he lands on the bed. Snape’s hands are steady as he takes out a potions vial, from the sound, and nudges the cool glass against Harry’s lips. “Swallow this.”
Harry does. If there’s one thing he has complete faith in at the moment, it’s Snape’s potions. He sighs as the heat that seems to burn inside his body recedes. “I didn’t know anything could take care of that fever,” he murmurs, still not opening his eyes as Snape turns him gently on his side. “The Healers said it would burn for hours.”
“I find myself disinclined to leave Harry in St. Mungo’s when there are so many idiots here,” Snape says, and now he does seem to be over his temper if he’s talking to both Sirius and Remus. “Do you not agree?”
“Yes,” Sirius says at once. “Let’s take him home, and-”
“I will take him home.”
There’s silence for a second, and Harry would laugh if he had the strength. Sirius and Remus really thought that Snape would let them take Harry back to the house where he was hurt? Really? Harry’s only known the professor for a year, as opposed to just knowing about him, and he realized better.
“I’m sure there aren’t more exceptions in the wards, Snape,” Sirius says after a second. “I didn’t know about this one, but I already fixed it. I’m sure there aren’t any others.”
“Are you? I am not .”
There’s a moment of breathless silence when it sounds as though people are going to erupt at each other. Harry doesn’t want that to happen. He manages to roll over on his back and open his eyes, and of course they look at him. People who are the victims of werewolf attacks aren’t supposed to be moving this well after them, Harry knows.
But those people don’t usually have the benefit of Snape’s potions.
“Don’t,” Harry croaks. “Don’t fight over me. I was already so tired, and I-really can’t take this right now.”
Snape bows his head, his hair swishing around his face until Harry can’t see his eyes. “Then we shall abide by your decision. Where do you wish to recover? Even-here would be an option.” He looks disgusted as he says it.
Harry thinks of what Healer Lyndell would probably say. Not that he should balance people or that he should worry about what the papers will say if he doesn’t choose to stay in St. Mungo’s.
What he wants.
So Harry swallows something that he won’t let be tears and says, “I want to recover in Professor Snape’s house.”
He doesn’t look at Sirius and Remus, because he can’t. He doesn’t even really see triumph on Snape’s face, because of that hair. Instead, Snape just nods and steps forwards and casts a Lightening Charm on him, lifting Harry from the bed.
Part of Harry is screaming about how this will make him look weak and he doesn’t want it to happen, but it’s such a small part, and he shuts it up so easily. Harry droops his head on Snape’s shoulder again, and the warmth he was missing settles around him.
He lets go of worries about the future, and what Sirius will think, and whether Remus will be hurt, and what his friends will be worrying about, and he lets himself be conscious of only the strong arms around him. He sleeps
Chapter Six.
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