The Accident
Harry looked out the window with a sigh. This day couldn’t possibly become any worse and even the weather seemed to reflect it. The stormy grey clouds loomed over the Forbidden Forest and threatened a very cold and wet quidditch practice that evening. That is, if he managed to survive double potions with the Slytherins. One would think that since he was nearly at the end of his sixth year that he’d have become used to it, but no. Every double potions class was just as horrible as the next. Ron nudged his elbow and he snapped out of his morose thoughts. History of Magic was at least finally over and it was time for lunch. Yet another trial for today.
As Ron and Hermione walked ahead, bickering about how useful History of Magic really was, Harry trailed behind with his head down and eyes on his shoes. He wasn’t very hungry, however, so when Hermione and Ron stopped at the entrance to the Great Hall, he made the excuse of forgetting something in his dorm for Potions Class and hurried off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Maybe he’d be able to sleep for a couple minutes or at least just close his eyes. The tower was deserted, everyone else enjoying the midday meal, so he ran up to his room, flopped on his bed, and cast an alarm charm to wake him up ten minutes before he had to be in the dungeons. And naturally, Harry woke up late, and had to sprint down to the dungeons with his bag nearly spilling out, hair rumpled, and tie crooked. What a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
He arrived out of breath and Snape sneered at him as Harry slipped in the door right as he was about to close it. He inwardly groaned as he realised that all the seats on the Gryffindor side were taken and the only one available on the Slytherin side was right in front of Malfoy, and in the very first row. He slid onto the stool and dropped his bag on the table. As he pulled out his potions making textbook (which he’d very nearly forgotten but had remembered to stuff in his bag at the very last second) he heard Malfoy snickering behind him and he turned around to glare.
“You’re quite the mess, Potter. Bad day for the Boy who Lived?”
Before Harry could reply, Professor Snape smacked the top of his head with a roll of parchment and Harry spun back around, chastised. Malfoy snickered again and Harry looked down at his workstation bitterly. He felt stupidly close to tears and he willed them to stop. He needed to pay attention to Snape otherwise he’d botch another portion and his grade would drop even further.
“Today you will be brewing an Edurus Potion. You will find ingredients and directions on the board.” Professor Snape instructed as he tapped the chalkboard and his spidery scrawl appeared. “You are working in pairs with whoever is seated beside you. Potter, you will be with Malfoy. Now get to it.”
Harry groaned out loud this time and even Draco was none too pleased. Harry very grudgingly turned on his stool to face Malfoy’s workstation and they glared at each other for a moment.
“You go fetch the ingredients, Potter. I’ll prepare the tools. I’ve seen your idea of organisation and it's pathetic.”
Harry didn’t argue. He was glad for a chance to get away from the sour boy. He made his way to the supply room and stood in line, waiting his turn to collect the ingredients. He didn’t have to wait long, though, because Hermione popped out a moment later with a second set of everything and handed half to Harry, but not before giving him a concerned look, heavy with disappointment in him missing lunch. He simply thanked her, ignored her meaningful gaze, and hurried back to his table with Malfoy. The blonde barely looked up in acknowledgement of Harry, merely waving his hand to one side of the table that had obviously been cleared for such a purpose. Harry set everything down and organised it to the best of his ability. Hermione might have organised it by step but Harry didn’t want to try to read Snape’s spidery scrawl on the chalkboard across the room so he opted to simply organise it in alphabetical order by name. No sooner had he finished than Draco walked over to see what Harry was doing. He sneered and pushed Harry out of the way.
“What did I say, you’re rubbish at organising anything. No wonder Granger has to do everything for you. Don’t you know you’re supposed to set things out by the order they are needed in the potion? This is a mess.”
Harry didn’t say anything but inside he was fuming. It wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t been able to get a new prescription in over ten years. Draco smirked at Harry’s red face.
“How about I hand you the ingredients and you put them in. All you have to do is just do what I tell you. Surely even you can do that, right Potter?”
Harry glared at Draco but just as he opened his mouth to say something Professor Snapewalked over.
“Getting along, I hope. It would be a shame if I had to take points from Gryffindor.” He drawled and fixed his eyes on Harry.
Harry shut his mouth with a snap and turned to face the cauldron, ignoring Draco’s snickers and Snapes soft tsk. He lit the flame beneath the cauldron and waited for Draco to tell him what to do. If he was honest, it was probably best this way seeing as he couldn’t read the instructions on the board. He just disliked how much of a git Draco was about it.
“First, boil six drops of manticore blood with a cauldron of water.” Draco instructed.
Harry filled the cauldron with water from his wand then took the bottle of Manticore blood and carefully and slowly added the required amount. He then carefully added and stirred as Draco instructed and was a little surprised at how well the potion was going. Snape didn’t even find a fault with it when he passed by, towering over Harry and looking down his long nose at the bubbling liquid. He should have known things were going too well.
Draco was actually the one to make the mistake, and Harry paid for it. Harry had placed Poison Hemlock before Yarrow, seeing as P came before Y. Draco hadn’t noticed Harry’s system and didn’t look very closely when he handed him the Hemlock first when it was supposed to be placed in last so it didn’t react with the manticore blood before a neutralizer was mixed in. As soon as Harry dropped the hemlock flowers into the potion, it exploded with surprising vigour and doused Harry who immediately dropped to the ground clutching his face. The rest of the class was frozen, staring at Harry and Draco in shock. Snape moved with alacrity and spelled away the potion before scooping Harry up and striding towards the door.
“Clean your cauldrons and pack your bags. Class dismissed. Draco, follow me.” He barked.
Draco scrambled to follow Snape as the rest of the class silently did as instructed. Draco didn’t think he’d ever seen his professor move so fast. He was practically running to catch up to the billowing figure. Harry was nearly silent except for the occasional strangled whimper of pain that he was trying so hard to keep inside. His eyes burned and the rest of his body felt like it was covered in thousands of angry fire ants. Everywhere that Snape touched him felt especially painful.
The doors to the hospital wing were flung open by Snape’s magic and Madame Pomfrey immediately started in their direction. Before she could even ask, Snape was relaying what had happened and she rushed to prepare a bed. Harry actually cried out as he was transferred from Snape’s arms to the crisp white bed and Pomfrey clucked sympathetically. Once he was relieved of his burden, Snape turned on Draco.
“What did you hand him to put in the cauldron? What did you give him?” he asked harshly.
Draco blanched and shook his head. “I gave him yarrow! I was following the instructions on the board!”
“Are you sure it was yarrow? And not the Hemlock?”
“I- I don’t know! I just grabbed the first thing that looked like Yarrow. Potter’s attempt to organise was a disaster and things were out of order.”
Harry managed to speak up despite his excruciating pain.
“It was organised! I just did it alphabetically.”
“You idiot.” Snape growled but not at Harry.
Draco cowered but Snape just pointed to a chair across the room and then whipped the curtain closed. Pomfrey spelled away Harry’s potion soaked clothing and then spelled away any remaining potion into a vial to be examined later. His skin had already broken out into angry red rashes all over, punctuated by mild burns on what exposed skin had gotten doused in the initial explosion. Most of those were on his face, hands, and forearms.
“With this specific botch, it's important that we cleanse his skin of any remaining vestige of the potion. It's going to be incredibly painful but we have to scrub him down. Do you have anything that’ll knock him out or completely numb the pain?” Snape asked.
Harry looked nearly unconscious as it was but a potion certainly wouldn’t hurt. It would at least block out the pain. Pomfrey summoned both and Snape easily tipped them into Harry’s mouth, tipping his head back with one hand covering his mouth so that he couldn’t accidentally spit them out and then massaging his throat in order to make the boy swallow. The effects of the sleeping potion were instantaneous and his previously tense body went limp.
While Snape was feeding Harry the potions, Pomfrey had gone out to fetch basins of soapy water and cloths. She and Snape each took a side and began methodically scrubbing every inch of Harry’s body down. As Snape worked, he began to be a tad disturbed by Harry’s incredible thinness and the sheer number of scars on his body. Pomfrey didn’t seem to be bothered at all, however. Snape glanced at her several times as they worked and she seemed concerned by the burns and rash but nothing more. Normally, he wouldn’t dare, but in this specific circumstance he decided to peek into her mind and nudge around.
Nothing. Not a single inward worry about his weight, or his protruding ribs and knobby elbows and knees. Not even a concern or surprise over the amount of scars on his back and chest and legs. Just a surface level worry for the immediate situation. Then, for a split second, he even saw Harry through her eyes and was mystified by the difference. Her picture of Harry was a considerably healthier boy. He looked lean but not starved, and his skin was nearly unmarred by old scars. He shook his head and the picture disappeared and he withdrew from her mind.
Soon, they had finished scrubbing the boy and Pomfrey summoned a spare set of clothes for him. Already, the rash was lessening. She put cream over his burns and then cold compresses where she could. Another student came in sick, and she bustled over to care for them now that the initial crisis had been averted. Snape elected to stay by the boy's bed, troubled with his thoughts.
He’d been there for a few minutes when he realised that he’d forgotten about Draco, whom he’d essentially put in time out. He flicked open the curtain and beckoned Draco over. The blond hurried over and stood before Snape, looking more like a boy of twelve rather than sixteen. He studied his shoes, the tiles, the wall, Harry, anything but Severus’ eyes.
“When I have a better idea of how Potter is doing, you and I will be having a conversation. This sort of behaviour is something I expect from my third years, not my sixth years and you of all people should know better than to put something in a potion without checking to make sure you have the right ingredient. I know I taught you better than that. For now, you are dismissed to go about your day. I’ll summon you when I need you.”
Draco swallowed and nodded before taking his leave rather hurriedly. Snape resumed watching Harry, his fingers on his temple and his brain far away. In his mind he categorised again the scars that covered the boy. Some were, no doubt, the result of Harry’s ordeal in his first, second, and fourth years. Others, however, looked much older or much newer. And most looked as if they’d been intentionally inflicted but not by the boy himself. Severus felt his anger growing as well as his concern.
Harry was supposed to be Severus’ godson. If his parents had survived just one more month, they would have had the rite done to make it magically binding. Severus had saved only a single letter, for fear that if any of his possessions fell in the wrong hands, Harry would be found and Severus’ own position as spy compromised. Now he regretted more than ever, not having more letters. One was too easy to have forged, as Dumbledore had all but accused him of. Severus shouldn’t have let that slide, shouldn’t let Dumbledore decide where to place Harry. He didn’t know where the boy had ended up but it was clear that he’d been abused and Severus wouldn’t allow it any longer. He was about to storm Dumbledore’s office when Harry started to stir. Snape sat back down quickly and leaned in closer to Harry.
Harry gradually became aware of his body. It felt heavy and sensitive. The sheets he was under chaffed and his clothing itched and felt prickly. He opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did. Everything was still black though so he rubbed them and tried again. When that didn’t work he frowned, wincing as it pulled at a burn on his cheek and felt his eyes. They were definitely open but he couldn’t see a thing. Not even light. He began to genuinely panic as he remembered everything that had happened in potions and added it to this new information. He rubbed harder and harder at his eyes, trying to will them to see again but to no avail. As he was hyperventilating and rubbing at his face, hands circled his wrists and pried them away. He panicked even more and began blindly fighting to get free of whoever was touching him. It wasn’t until he heard his professor's familiar harsh voice that he froze. He was still struggling to breathe, however, and Snape’s voice demanded that he breathe in as he counted to three and then out again as he counted to three. From sheer force of habit, he complied and gradually his breathing evened out enough for Snape to be satisfied.
“Now that you’re not going to suffocate, what is wrong? Why are you so agitated? Is there still extreme pain somewhere?” Snape asked, still holding Harry’s wrists but more loosely now.
“I can’t see anything!” Harry cried. “Not even light! It’s all just black!”
“I was afraid this might happen.” Snape said quietly. “It's rare but not completely undocumented. This is a common mistake made with this potion and so there have been several studies done after botches on the effects. Good news is, however, that the longest it's ever been heard to last is two months before sight was fully restored. There is a counter potion but it takes five weeks to brew and I do not currently have any on hand. I will proceed with brewing the potion but there’s a high probability that you will have your full sight- or at least what sight you had before the accident- back before it is finished.”
“A month?” Harry whispered in shock. “How am I supposed to manage for a month completely blind? School ends in less than two weeks and I can’t go-”
Harry cut himself off and began to panic anew, confirming Severus’ previous suspicions that Harry was being abused were confirmed. Harry curled in on himself and pushed his hands into his hair, grasping it tightly, and struggled to breath, though he was doing his best to control it. Severus tried to pull Harry’s hands from his scalp gently but the boy wouldn’t release his grip on his hair.
“Potter, I need you to stop that, you’ll tear your hair out.” he commanded but Harry didn’t seem to be able to hear him.
He tried once more to get Harry to release his hair of his own volition but his request fell upon deaf ears. Snape climbed up onto Harry’s bed and sat behind the boy who had initially flailed his way down to the middle of the bed. He gently but firmly grabbed the boy and pulled him up so that his back was to Severus’ chest and grabbed the boy’s right wrist first, using his other hand to extract Harry’s fingers from the hair. He then pushed Harry’s hand down to his side and pinned it there with his arm. He then did the same thing on the other side, albeit with more difficulty since he also now had to make sure he didn’t let Harry reach up again with his pinned hand.
Finally, he managed to get both of Harry’s hands out of his hair. Severus then wrapped the black haired boy in a bear hug, hoping the deep pressure would allow him to regulate himself better. He hushed Harry softly and slowly swayed side to side, taking deep breaths for Harry to copy. Eventually his efforts were successful and Harry lay exhausted and boneless in his professor's arms.
“I think we ought to have a conversation, Harry, about a few things.”
Harry didn’t have enough energy to react but he definitely noticed the use of his first name rather than his last. He was barely able to nod as a sign that he had heard what Snape said.
“When you are in a slightly more well rested state, and a bit less anxious perhaps, we’ll have that conversation. For now, I will bring you down to my chambers so I can keep an eye on you and so that you can recover without the disturbance of students coming and going. I’m sure the bed sheets and your hospital clothes must be incredibly irritating on your skin as of right now, we’ll quickly remedy that as well.”
Harry couldn’t find it in himself to object. He didn’t like the hospital wing much to begin with, and not being able to see was terrifying to him. He didn’t like the idea of his peers being able to come in and see him or wander about without him being able to see them. And Snape was spot on with his guess about the materials against his skin. Harry might not like his professor but he did trust him. He nodded again and did his best to sit forward so Snape could stand. His professor didn’t seem to need the assistance, however. He just rearranged Harry's limbs to be slightly more convenient for carrying and then stood from the bed. Harry heard a curtain open and was then greeted by a draft of slightly cooler air that felt good on his burned patches of skin.
Severus strode out of the Hospital wing with his bundle of bony limbs and messy black hair. He merely had to nod at Madame Pomfrey and she shooed him out. No doubt she’d heard the entirety of his very one sided conversation with the boy already and felt no need to interfere, for which Snape was grateful. As he walked through the halls of Hogwarts he cast a disillusionment spell upon himself and Harry. No need for anyone to ask any unnecessary questions. Snape noticed that Harry’s eyes darted toward every new sound. At least the boy wasn’t unaware of his surroundings. He might adjust fairly well to his temporary lack of sight.