Poison Rationality by StaceyLC
Chapter Notes: Snape goes to Romania to help Charlie innoculate dragons for the TriWizard tournament; Charlie is attacked by one of the dragons; Snape learns that there is a new strain of Dragon Pox; Snape makes the decision to take Charlie to St. Mungos.
Takes place during the summer between Harry's third and fourth years.
Chapter One
All Albus' Fault
How did I get myself into this?
It’s bad enough, is it not, that I’m to subject myself to the stupidity of the so-called “next generation of witches and wizards” every day? For the past thirteen years? Pact with Dumbledore be damned. I should have taken Azkaban. No, I take that back... I should have just done the Avada Kedavra on myself and been done with it.
How is it that I find myself in this predicament? Two words: Albus Dumbledore. As if I don’t already do enough for that infernal man. He must do these things on purpose. Like those bloody passwords of his. I swear to Merlin he picks the most obtuse things just to drive me insane. Earlier during the term, for instance, when he changed it to Snicker doodles, for crying out loud! What the hell? And if he offers me another one of those damn lemon drops at the next start of term staff meeting...
If I ever make it to the next start of term staff meeting.
This is all Albus’ fault.
What a brilliant idea, sending me to Romania. Romania! Oh, no, not out of my way at all! I suppose, really, I should be blaming myself. I just can’t say no to the man! It’s infuriating! What I wouldn’t give to go back to not giving a damn about honor. Well done, Severus. Out of service from one master, right into the service of another.
This is all Albus’ fault.
I should have known what was in store when he showed up on my doorstep a week after term had ended. I never should have told him where I stay during the holidays. Of course, it probably wouldn’t have mattered if I didn’t, because he’s Albus, and would have somehow found out anyway.
“I have a job for you, Severus,” he had said, cheerfully.
I proceeded to quirk my eyebrow. “Oh? Odd. I had rather thought my ‘job’ ended in June, and I was free of my idiot infested prison until September.”
He popped a lemon drop and twinkled his eyes at me.
Damn him.
The “job” was brewing a potion. How extraordinary. It’s not like I don’t do that everyday. However, this potion consisted of specific instructions. Like traveling to Romania. And being in the company of one Charlie Weasley. Merlin! As if I don’t get enough dosage of Weasley at school! Five at one time. Five. All in the same day! How I would love to kill their parents for their uncontrollable reproductive urges.
“It’s just for a few weeks, Severus,” Albus had said, completely unsympathetic.
“One hour would be too much,” I sneered, as per usual.
Albus informed me that the beginning stages of bringing the TriWizard Tournament to Hogwarts were in effect. Bloody hell. One more thing to look forward to next year. Apparently, one of the tasks was going to include dragons. My heart sank upon hearing they were putting an age limit on the Tournament. Unfortunately, Potter would not be able to be mauled. What a shame. They would be bringing in dragons from the reserve in Romania, and that every dragon would have to be inoculated with an immunity potion for Dragon Pox. And, apparently, I was the only one in the entire wizarding world who would be able to do brew said immunity potion.
Lucky me.
Albus then further informed me that due to an outbreak of Doxy Flu, the handlers at the Dragomirna Preserve were very short staffed, and that I would probably also be called in for help in creating the increasing number of Doxy antidotes. Do these people not have healers? Or immune systems?
“The dragon handlers are spread very thin, only two instead of four,” Albus had explained.
“How horrid,” I said as sarcastically as possible. But then the looming dread became apparent. “And who, may I ask, is Charlie Weasley’s partner?”
Albus’ eyes twinkled merrily. “You.”
Ah, yes, of course. I, who know absolutely nothing about dragons or how to handle one, except that their blood and scales are very useful in potion making. I’m undoubtedly the perfect man for the job. Albus informed me that I would be responsible for creating the potion, and then I was to trek along with Weasley Offspring Number Two to help him administer it to the overgrown lizards, as his partner had fallen ill, and there was no one else with my expertise at potion making available. I was expected the following day.
Will my nightmare of a life never end?
So, I arrived at the Dragomirna Preserve, spent the next week doing nothing but brewing Doxy Flu remedies and Dragon Pox vaccines, and doing my damndest to avoid that insufferably cheerful Charlie Weasley. I have no idea what he and Albus have to smile about all the time. Thankfully, things were going very smoothly, and I received nothing but the utmost cooperation from the Dragomirna Handlers.
That was until tonight.
You know, for all his annoying smiling, I had rather thought Charlie Weasley to be one of the more intelligent of the bunch. Why he had decided to go on with the immunization without me is beyond my comprehension. I had given him the very simple instruction of “Wait for me” while I went back to the compound to retrieve more doses. Apparently, that was just too hard of a concept. No sooner had I landed back at my tent when my wand started to vibrate and turn a brilliant shade of red, which was the warning spell the handlers used to indicate someone was in danger. Or being ripped to pieces.
If this had been anyone else, I would have called for help and gone to the rescue with a slew of wizards at my command, only to arrive too late to have anything be done. However, this was Charlie Weasley; a son of a very old pure-blood family, a family that Albus was very fond of, and a family of which half of it’s members were in my Potions classes. And I knew that if Charlie Weasley died, supposedly in my care, not only would Albus never forgive me, but Fred, George, Ronald, and Ginevra Weasley would never let me forget it.
This is all Albus’ fault.
Against my better judgment, I grabbed the extra doses, straddled the old Cleansweep that had been administered to me, and set off to save that blasted dunderhead.
Chapter Two
A Different Sort of Pox
It took me only ten minutes to locate said dunderhead, who was dancing around like a lunatic trying to avoid the dragon’s fireballs. Charlie Weasley yelped upon seeing me overhead, waving his arms about, yelling, “Over here!”
Really? I would never have guessed.
Unfortunately, his screaming out the obvious brought me to the dragon’s attention. I made a note to thank him later, and then take a resounding fifty points from Gryffindor at the first available opportunity when I returned to Hogwarts, as recompense for their alumni’s big mouth.
Now, I have never been much of a flyer, something which Potter’s father use to delight in reminding me at least twenty times a day. However, upon seeing that I would soon be fried to a crisp, I decided that now would be a good a time as any to learn how to execute... “evasive maneuvers.” I dove out of the way, pulled out of a spin which I honestly did not mean to put myself into, and swung around behind the dragon. From this angle I could identify the dragon as a Norwegian Ridgeback.
At least it wasn’t a Horntail.
I immediately began running through appropriate curses and jinxes to throw at the dragon. Some of my own, not so nice curses, came to mind. Some of which would undoubtedly either never penetrate the dragon’s hide, or either go completely the other way and damage the dragon irrevocably. Neither would do. Conjunctivitis was my next thought, but that would involve having to get Weasley out of the way, lest he be trampled instead of fried and shredded. And it would also involve me coming around to the front of the Ridgeback and getting very close. Unfortunately, it was also my best option to keep both Weasley and the dragon only minimally injured.
Damn it to hell.
I pulled the handle of the Cleansweep around and zoomed back toward Weasley again. I used a nonverbal Lumos and waved my wand around to gain the dragon’s attention. Hopefully Weasley would figure out what I was up to, and would get himself out of the way as soon as the Ridgeback started coming after me. The Ridgeback seemed unable to make up it’s mind about who to go after, so I sped it along by sending a slicing hex at it. The dragon’s hide prevented the hex from doing any sort of damage, but it was enough for the Ridgeback to understand that I had just made to hurt it. Which made the Ridgeback very angry. It narrowed it’s eyes and blew a long stream of fire out at me, which gave Weasley an opportunity to run and find shelter.
I now had the Ridgeback’s full attention, and it followed me to a tee as I dodged about. It was at this moment that I realized how much I abhor flying and Quidditch. How those idiots could do this for hours on end is beyond me. The dragon roared angrily as I flew out of it’s range. Before it could come to it’s senses and realize that it had wings, I did a quick spin and rushed at it. This change of tactics startled the Ridgeback, and it was it’s momentary lapse that gave me the chance that I needed.
“Conjunctivitis!” I yelled, pointing my wand directly at the Ridgeback’s eyes. It howled in pain and fury, shaking it’s snouted head and clawing at the ground.
I’ll admit that for a moment I was stunned that it actually worked. But then I was soaring toward where I saw Weasley run to hide. I landed behind some boulders near a small overhang. Charlie Weasley was huddled on the ground, very white and very dirty. His hair was slightly singed and he had a burn on his arm.
“Be very thankful you are no longer my student, Weasley!” I snarled at him, picking him up off the ground. “What the bloody hell did you think you were doing?”
Weasley said nothing and only leaned against me, emitting a low groan. I realized that all was not entirely right. Perhaps Weasley had gotten inured after all?
The dragon’s roars were getting more frequent, and I quickly straddled the Cleansweep again, pulling Weasley on in front of me so I could hang on to both him and the handle. I took off, flying both as gently and as fast as I could back to camp. I landed at the medic tent, which was already half full with patients who had been affected by the Doxy Flu, as well as various dragon related injuries.
“Snape!” the head medic exclaimed in a thick Irish accent, as I dragged Weasley into the tent and laid him on one of the beds. “What the devil-”
“He went off by himself. I only just managed to escape from the dragon with both of our lives,” I explained. “He is injured. See to him.”
And with that I stalked out of the tent.
********
The next morning I went to check on the second oldest Weasley only to find his condition worsened. This made me very irritated. The boy only had a few burns which could have been taken care of in less than an hour, let alone overnight. I was about to call for the medic when Weasley began to cough up something thick and red.
Blood.
Something was very, very wrong.
Weasley began to shake uncontrollably as if having some sort of epileptic fit. I ran for the head medic, who had been introduced to me as Ian Andrews the day I arrived. He managed to dose Weasley with a calming potion, which sent him back to sleep. I demanded to know what the hell was wrong with the boy.
Andrews shook his head sadly. “As if we don’ have enough goin’ on. Dragon Pox on top o’ e’rything else.”
“Dragon Pox,” I repeated. “I may be mistaken, but wasn’t my purpose for coming to Dragomirna and sacrificing my summer vacation to create the vaccine for Dragon Pox?”
“Aye, for the dragons,” Andrews nodded. “All the handlers ‘ere have already been inoculated against it. There must be a new strain... somethin’ that our vaccines canna’ take care of.” He looked at Weasley with concern. “Charlie ‘ere is only the second case. It’s only jus’ been brought to our attention, Professor. We thought we’d all be safe since nothin’s popped up.”
“It seems that you were wrong,” I sneered. “Where is the other patient affected?”
Andrews shifted uncomfortably. “Well, see, we didn’t know what it was at the time...”
I glared at him and he shrank back under my gaze. “Where?”
The look on Andrews’ face told me all I needed to know.
“You don’t have the capabilities here to care for those infected?” I asked, glancing at Weasley. I noticed that his skin had started getting a greenish tinge, a telltale sign of Dragon Pox.
Andrews shook his head. “We’re a small reserve, Professor. We do what we can.”
“Was Charlie Weasley in contact with the other infected person?”
Andrews actually gulped. “He was Charlie’s partner.”
I resisted the urge to throttle the man.
“We thought it was jus’ another case o’ Doxy Flu!” Andrews explained. “Charlie’s had the vaccination. We thought he was fine. Kozlov went on last night, while you an’ Charlie were out takin’ care o’ that Ridgeback. It must take a while to take effect. I dunno, to be honest, Professor. This is all very new.”
“What other symptoms did Kozlov show?” I asked.
Andrews thought for a moment. “He had been tired a lot. Feverish, cold sweats... the same as any other illness.”
“Weasley exhibited none of these symptoms. Was Kozlov placed in a quarantine when you discovered what the sickness was?”
“O’ course! But... he was ‘ere, in the medic tent first. And Charlie bein’ injured and e’rything, plus, havin’ contact with ‘em so much, bein’ his partner... It made him more susceptible is all I’m sayin’.”
I looked around the medic tent. Weasley had not been placed in quarantine, and there was a half a dozen other patients in the tent with him. “Why has Weasley not been moved into the quarantine area?”
Andrews remained silent. “We’ve sent for help,” was all he said.
I took a menacing step forward. “You will either tell me what is going on, or you will be in a patients bed yourself, do I make myself clear, Mr. Andrews?”
Andrews nodded. “The whole place is quarantined now, Professor. E’ryone tha’s been in contact with anyone ‘ere will have to be examined. You say that Charlie didn’t have the same symptoms as Kozlov?”
“No. He did not. He did look increasingly tired, but I’ll admit that I dismissed it as simply stress,” I said. “He looks as though he’s had the Pox for weeks now, however. His encounter with the dragon and the increased stress that it created must have lowered his immune system somehow.” I began pacing. “You said you’ve sent for help?”
“Yes, sir,” Andrews answered, sadly. “But... they won’t arrive in enough time to help Charlie, I fear.”
That, of course, would not do.
I began wondering about my own safety. I had not begun feeling or showing any symptoms of any kind. However, Charlie Weasley’s condition demonstrated that this virus acted in a very peculiar manner, and that one could not rule themselves out of infection. Dragomirna obviously did not have the necessary people, capabilities, or knowledge to care for those infected with his new strain of Dragon Pox. Yes, someone with all three of the aforementioned things would be arriving to take care of the problem, but Andrews already said that Weasley probably would not last to partake of their abilities. Dragomirna was in a very isolated location, and it would take days, if not weeks, for the extra healers to get here.
Charlie Weasley needed serious medical attention, and he needed it now.
There was only one course to be taken, and the thought of it made me want to be ill myself. Albus was going to pay for this.
I took a deep breath and said, firmly, “Weasley will need to be moved to St. Mungo’s.”
Andrews’ eyes widened considerably. “Mungo’s? Are you insane? Tha’s all the way back in London!”
“Yes, I am well aware of that, Mr. Andrews.”
“It’ll take you jus’ as long to get him back to London then if you waited here for help! Charlie canna Apparate in his condition-”
“Yes, Andrews, I am well aware of that also,” I said, irritably. “And, no; it will not take as long, because I assume that more than one healer is coming to Dragomirna to see to the problem. Therefore, due to their number, they will have to travel carefully and slowly. Charlie Weasley and I are only two.”
“The reserve is under quarantine, Professor. I’m afraid I canna let you leave.”
I glared. “I see. So you are going try and stop me, then?”
Andrews said nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” I sneered.
After a moment, Andrews spoke again. “The healers can Apparate,” he pointed out. “You’ll have to travel on foot.”
“Unless you let me borrow your broom.” Before Andrews had a chance to state the obvious once again, I added, “I will ensure his safety, and we will only travel by broom when absolutely necessary. If his condition worsens, I will have to abandon the broom all together. Trust me, Andrews, I understand implicitly.” There was also the possibility of a Portkey, but that may also be out of the question if Weasley wouldn’t be able to stand the strain of Side-Long Apparition. I did not mention this possibility to Andrews, lest he have some kind of heart attack.
“This is the best and only course of action,” I continued. “You do understand that Charlie Weasley has unspokenly been placed in my care. Albus Dumbledore, as well as his family, is counting on me to ensure his safety.” Damn. His family would probably have to be notified. I resolved to worry about that later. “I will leave you the remaining Doxy Flu and Dragon Pox vaccinations that I have created, as well as the recipe should you need more. But I must get Weasley the medical attention that he requires. What you do with the rest of your people that become infected is your problem. Weasley is mine.”
Andrews looked for a moment like he was going to debate the rationality of this decision yet again, but instead looked down at the now slightly green Charlie Weasley, who moaned painfully in his sleep.
“Do what ye can, then,” he nodded.
“I always do,” I answered, and swept out of the tent to make the proper arrangements with two thoughts in mind:
One... Charlie Weasley must survive the journey. Every precaution must be taken.
Two... I was going to kill Albus Dumbledore.
Chapter Three
Polaris
Weasley and I left that night, after I had packed what I assumed would be enough to feed and water the both of us on our journey. I also packed my potions kit; no doubt Weasley would be in need of Dreamless Sleep Potions and Calming Draughts. I charmed our bags onto the Cleansweep that Andrews had lent me, and then bewitched it to fly beside us as I put one of Weasley’s arms over my shoulders and lugged him away from Dragomirna.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t until we reached the end of the mountain trail that I remembered that I had Apparated here myself, and I had no idea how to get from Romania to England on foot or broom. Merlin, I barely knew how to get from Scotland to London without Flooing!
I remembered reading that Muggle travelers of old had used the stars to navigate by. I’m not much of an astronomer, and I would gladly have slit my wrists rather than taken Divination, but I did have a very efficient memory. Granted, it had been near twenty years that I had taken Astronomy at Hogwarts. However, as long as I had my direction, I could find my way decently enough. Weasley was in no state to help me, so I nudged him anyway and pointed to the sky.
“We need to get to London. We’re in Romania. Your father likes Muggles and no doubt has told you countless tales of how they used to sail in ships using the stars.”
“Centaurs use them, too,” Weasley grunted.
That cheeky whelp! At least I knew he was well enough to manage sarcasm. I still glowered at him relentlessly.
“Polaris,” he answered, groggily. “The Plough.”
Oh, that was a lot of help.
I knew the “the Plough” was a generic name for the constellation, Ursa Major. It was only a coupling of stars within the constellation itself. I assumed he meant I need to use the Plough to find Polaris.
I suddenly felt like I was back in the classroom, nervously awaiting Professor Sinistra to duel out the exam. Sighing, I searched the sky for Ursa Major and located the Plough at the tail end of the constellation. The Plough had seven stars, and, if my memory was correct, the stars were named Dubhe, Merak, Phecda, Megrez, Alioth, Mizar, and Alkaid. To find Polaris, I would need to use the pointer stars, Dubhe and Merak.
Now came the hard part of trying to remember which blasted star was which. If Dubhe and Merak were pointer stars, then they would probably have to be two of the four stars that made up the square portion of the Plough. Using the pointer stars, I was to draw a line to Polaris. So I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting us totally and completely lost. Polaris was supposedly the brightest star in the sky. So, I chose the first star on the bottom of the Plough as Merak, mentally drew a line through what I assumed was Dubhe, and then mentally drew another line from there until I found a large, bright star that I hoped was Polaris. Feeling rather foolish, I checked the other nearby stars and came to the conclusion that “brightest star in the sky” fit the star that Dubhe and Merak had pointed me to.
Voila. Polaris.
Now that I had my heading, I heaved Charlie Weasley once more and headed toward it, the Cleansweep in tow.
Chapter Four
Bundimuns
We had been walking for a near day and a half when Weasley’s condition began to worsen. The greenish tinge of his skin was becoming more pronounced, and his fever was pitching higher. If this continued, Weasley would soon be dead, and I would more than likely become infected myself, if I wasn’t already. We desperately needed a place to rest; somewhere I could set up my potions kit and perhaps relieve some of Weasley’s pain, and maybe try and create some kind of potion that would relieve him of his symptoms until we arrived at St. Mungo’s. Unfortunately, as this was a new strain, the success of creating such a potion was highly unlikely. Potions Master I may be, but Healer I most certainly am not. My bedside manner alone would prevent me from entering the career, if I ever had an inclination to do so.
I dragged Weasley on for a bit more, looking for clearings with a flat enough surface to lay Weasley and do my work, when luck would have it I spotted an old, wooden house in one of the clearings I was inspecting. I had obviously pleased Fortune in some way, and did not dare pass up the opportunity. If it was occupied, I would kindly stun them before they noticed Weasley’s condition and refused us entry. If it was abandoned, then more the better for me.
Thankfully, it was the latter, which was something I soon noticed upon our approach. It was a run-down, old wooden shack that looked like it hadn’t seen habitation in quite sometime, and it reeked of decay. But it would do.
I hauled Weasley toward the door, the broom trailing behind us, when I felt a familiar prickly feeling on the back of my neck that only meant one thing.
We were being watched.
I quickly took out my wand, adjusting Weasley on my shoulders as I did so, scanning the area for the spy. It was then that I noticed that there was a pair of small eyes staring at me from one of the cracks in the foundation on the side of the house. Coming a bit closer, I discovered that it was a green sort of fungus. It blinked its eyes at me and promptly scuttled back inside the crack. I suddenly knew where the smell of decay and the house’s dilapidated state were coming from.
Bundimuns. Probably an infestation, but something that could easily be remedied. At least it wasn’t something like Doxies. I had dealt with Bundimuns enough over the years at my own home when I was younger, seeing as my father was useless, and my mother was never any good at cleaning spells. I laid Weasley down on the ground to peek inside one of the grimy windows. Sure enough, I saw several more Bundimuns on the walls, and others inhabited more cracks in the foundation inside, but nowhere near as many as I had thought. I used a well placed Scourgify on the crack on the outside foundation, where the Bundimun that had run off before had come back to reclaim. I found three more cracks and did the same. I then heaved Weasley and instructed the broom to follow us into the house. Once inside, I did a Scourging charm on a ratty old sofa, ridding it of dust and moths, before laying Weasley down upon it. I then did a thorough search of the house, using Scourging charms on the remaining Bundimuns. Once I was sure the house was clear, I magically repaired a chair and old wooden table and set to work on the potions that would hopefully reduce Weasley’s pain and slow the infection long enough to get us to London and the aide that he desperately required.
A/N: For those who were unaware, The Plough is the British name for the Big Dipper