All the Plot Bunnies

Severus had found a rare moment to slip away from the rest of the Order in order to explore the Black library. It was famous for having ancient and rare tomes. Many witch or wizard had tried to love potion the Black family into marrying them solely for its content but each had found out the hard way what happened to those who dared try. Severus huffed in amused irony as he thought of Molly Weasley's attempt to 'clean' the house and how far the Black family had fallen from its proud name.

Severus, though, was secretly thankful when Kreacher had done something to all of the magical objects, books, scrolls, and ingredients to make them unable to be banished or discarded. When Molly had gotten Black and he eventually wrung out of Kreacher what he had exactly done to make them that way, it was to find out that it was a binding ritual that contained ingredients only a Potions Master would be able to procure without looking like they were going to commit a human sacrifice ritual that included turning the person inside out while still alive.

Black had looked at Severus for a moment, then had sneered as he dropped the elf from his vise grip and kicked him. He'd turned to Molly and said, "It isn't worth my time."

Severus had wanted to scoff in derision. The man had plenty of time, essentially locked up in his own house but from the smell of booze wafting off him, he figured he spent it plastered. Definitely not with his godson, who seemed to be secluding himself further and further each day and no one seemed to notice. Well, except for him, but the last few years had involved keeping a close eye on the brat and, by Merlin, the boy couldn't seem to stay out of trouble. He was just the same as his father - arrogant, spoilt, and let off the hook at every turn.

He shook himself from his thoughts and let his hand wander gently over the spines of the books on the shelf in front of him. He was several bookcases in with the potion books and some of them were ones that people today only heard of. The anticipation to sit and read long-forgotten knowledge made him almost dizzy. Just as he reached out to grab one off the shelf, he heard the opening and closing of the library door. It was done so quietly that Severus was on alert. Whoever was here did not want to be found. Perhaps it was the twins - they would try to get their hands on tomes for their experiments - however foolish it was to do so. He let his wand slide into his hand and he gripped it with practiced ease. He disillusioned himself and quietly crept several bookcases closer to the sitting area until he could view it without actually stepping into it.

It was Potter. The boy sat heavily on the overstuffed armchair, a hand going through his already messy hair causing it to stick up in several places. His expression wasn't one he had seen on the boy before and he had seen many, ranging from an arrogant smirk to an outright belligerent frown. No, this expression spoke of something far deeper going on in the boy's head and it made him feel uneasy.

Potter suddenly seemed to go rigid in the chair and for a moment, Severus thought his disillusionment had slipped. But no, the boy wasn't looking at him - his eyes had gone glassy and far-away. When Severus had decided after several minutes of him not moving from the position that he was going to rush over to make sure he was well, Potter stirred and blinked his eyes several times. Severus relaxed his stance and kept himself still, looking for any clues on what had happened.

Potter breathed a harsh sigh and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. A sharp intake of breath left him after a moment and he pressed a hand to his forehead. He mumbled, "Fuck each and every one of these god-awful headaches."

Severus almost choked from the foul language. Apparently, Potter had quite a mouth on him. He suddenly envisioned Minevra overhearing such language and barely refrained from making an amused noise. He turned his thoughts to the symptoms Potter was experiencing - momentary paralysis, vacant and glassy eyes, and seemingly intense headaches. He'd have to narrow down the list, considering there were a lot of things that could possibly be afflicting him. Many of them were not pleasant.

After a moment, Potter gritted his teeth, put his glasses back on, and mumbled out, "Dobby."

Severus slipped further into the shadows of the library, Potter still in his sight. An elf could reveal his location if they were really looking at the magic around them but if it was only a cursory glance, the magical books surrounding him would obscure his magic, mingling with them. What could Potter possibly need with the elf? The better question was how Potter expected the elf to get through the wards and the Fidelius Charm?

There was the familiar sound of an elf popping in and the sudden appearance of a rather oddly dressed elf. He was terribly mismatched and wore several socks - a long one as a scarf, another as some sort of odd hat - but none on his feet. Severus was a bit too stunned from an elf popping through a Fidelius that he didn't even curl his lips in derision at their outfit choice.

They spoke in their squeaky voice, "What's Master Harry be needing from Dobby?"

Potter seemed to shove his pain to the side at the question - Severus wouldn't admit to being impressed at the low-level natural occlusion he was doing - and replied, "I need you to find a spell that heals deep wounds, unless you already know one."

"Is Master needing healing?"

"No, Dobby. But somebody else does."

Severus was curious as to who could possibly be injured, considering anyone Potter seemed to care about was at Grimmauld and certainly healthy.

Dobby seemed in thought for a moment and then said, "I knows one! I shows you."

Severus watched the elf take a memory from the side of his head with a finger and toss it across from Potter. What appeared was his younger self crouching over a critically injured Lucius. He hadn't known elves could show memories without a pensive; he hoped most wizarding kind did not know or this coming war was going to go rather badly for them considering Kreacher's distaste of the last Black.

He barely refrained from flinching as he watched Lucius bleeding out before him. The second time around wasn't any better than the first time he had seen it. The Dark Lord had used the cruciatus curse and had followed up with a cutting curse that had cut deeply into him. What had been the problem was that Lucius was losing blood far quicker than normal from the cuts due to the after effects of the cruciatus causing involuntary muscle spasms.

His younger self said a monotonal chant three times - "Vulnera Sanentur" - as he traced his wand over the wounds - the first to slow the blood flow, the second to clear residue, and the third to knit the wounds back together. Once the wounds had knitted back together, the memory stopped. Severus turned his attention to Potter who was looking at the frozen memory intensely and muttering the incantation to himself in order to pronounce it correctly.

"Again, Dobby," he said. The memory replayed but Severus did not look at it; he was completely entranced as he watched Potter mimic his younger self's lack of intonation in the chant. This spell took great concentration and will to master, not to mention how different it was to cast compared to the spells of the current day. It had taken Severus a month to master and he was quite good at spellwork. So watching Potter go through the memory a third, then a fourth time until he seemed to say it perfectly made him wonder who in Merlin's name was so important that Potter's concentration and will were this intense in order to master it so quickly.

"That's enough, Dobby," Potter finally said and the memory vanished back into, Severus assumed, the elf.

"Master Harry needs anything else?"

Potter had a thoughtful look on his face and but said, "No. Thank you, Dobby."

The elf's ears wiggled in pleasure at the compliment and he popped away, most likely back to Hogwarts, if Severus remembered correctly. Potter cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders before he stood up and said to himself, "Alright, let's hope this works. Not like everything is riding on this."

Now that was a cryptic remark Severus wasn't sure what to do with and decided to file it for later. Severus followed Potter out of the library and to wherever his next destination lay. The walk in the halls was silent and whenever someone came near, the boy easily found a way around them. After what seemed an impossibly long time climbing stairs, Potter stopped just outside a door that had the initials R.A.B. on them.

Grief overwhelmed Severus for a moment as he saw those initials - a young life cut too short, another close friend that had been dead for almost two decades. He dug his nails into the heel of his hand to refocus on Potter who had opened the door. Severus slipped in behind him before he closed the door.

The room was decorated in Slytherin emerald and silver, which wasn't a surprise to Severus. There was no dust in sight and looked as if its occupant had just stepped out rather than been dead for more than a decade.

Potter looked around for a moment, then his face seemed to soften as he quietly said, "Oh. I think I understand."

Severus wished he understood whatever was going on in Potter's mind - he wasn't sure he could take much more mystery without wanting to shake the boy for answers.

"Kreacher," the boy called. Nothing happened and Severus was certain the elf had ignored the directive. However, Potter did not seem to come to this conclusion and waited patiently. He wished he showed that amount of patience at Hogwarts - life for Severus would have been at least a bit easier without having to run after a hotheaded Potter.

If the sound of a house elf popping in could be called sluggish, this one would have qualified. Severus knew he had been terribly wrong when Kreacher popped in while lying on the floor. He was covered in bruises and cuts but what was most concerning were the three deep gouges that went from the left collarbone diagonally to the right hip.

At the sight, Potter moved. He knelt beside the elf while swiftly sliding his wand out of his sleeve. He took a slow breath to steady himself and gently held his wand at the beginning of the gouges.

He began to chant as he traced the wounds, "Vulnera Sanentur." The blood slowed down to a trickle from the gouges.

"Vulnera Sanentur." Dirt and residue disappeared from the wounds and began to heal.

"Vulnera Sanentur." They fully knitted back together as he traced the last bit of the wound with his wand.

Potter put away his wand and reached for a string around his neck. Underneath his shirt, he pulled out a small bag. It was a mokeskin pouch, Severus realized, a small bag that had an extension charm attached to it and only the owner could retrieve the items it stored. Severus hadn't noticed anything around his neck before, which most likely meant it was under a concealment spell. The boy stuck his hand in and rummaged for a second before pulling out a potion vial. Severus immediately recognized it as blood replenisher as Potter uncorked it and slowly fed it to the elf.

Severus was having a bit of trouble processing what had just occurred. Potter had displayed mastery at a spellwork that took a powerful magical core to cast. Not only that but he had mastered it in less than an hour. This indicated that Potter was highly intelligent and quick to learn which was the opposite of what he believed of the boy. Severus was also puzzled at how Potter knew he would need that spell, since if he knew beforehand that Kreacher was injured, he would have already succumbed to his wounds long before Potter had learned the spell.

Kreacher's pallor began to return to normal, though he still sported some nasty bruises. The elf struggled to its feet on its own. Potter did not help him but Severus noted that was probably because Kreacher might take offense to it.