Unforgivable Umbridge

Chapter 4

As the hours rolled into night, the fortress of Hogwarts lay cloaked in the ethereal beauty of moonlight. A shimmering silver glow painted the castle and its grounds, the tranquil darkness punctuated by the delicate dance of fireflies. Outside Harry's window, the moon was a stunning masterpiece in the sky, its radiant aura casting long, serene shadows across the room.

Despite the tranquillity, a storm was brewing within Harry. He woke with a start, his breath ragged and heart pounding as an unbearable pain coursed through his joints. His hand clutched his chest, tears of agony welled up in his eyes as he curled into a ball, trying to contain the screams that threatened to escape his lips. He whimpered, his soft cries echoing through the quiet room.

Across the corridor, Severus was drawn from his study by the faint sounds of distress. A furrowed brow marked his concern as he silently moved towards Harry's room. Pausing for a moment, he placed his ear against the door, confirming his suspicions before quietly pushing the door open.

Under the ethereal glow of the moonlight, Harry lay curled up in his bed. His face was twisted in pain, his body curled protectively. Severus stood at the doorway, lines of confusion creasing his typically impassive features. The enduring effects of the Cruciatus curse weren't aligning with his understanding of the spell's typical progression.

"Potter," he ventured, his voice barely louder than the hushed whispers of the wind outside. The young wizard flinched slightly at the sound, his pain-laden emerald eyes blinking open facing the wall away from Severus.

Harry merely nodded, wincing as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. "Professor Snape..." His voice was strained, a mere thread of sound in the silent room.

Severus moved closer, his own discomfort with the situation buried deep beneath years of practiced stoicism. "Hold on, Potter," he instructed, his hand coming to rest briefly on the boy's back, before he retreated to retrieve a pain potion.

Having secured the vial, Severus moved gently back to where Harry was. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he sat down on the edge of Harry's bed. His movements were careful, the usual hardness in his demeanor softened as he extended a hand to help Harry.

"Roll over, Potter," he directed in a quiet tone, aiding the boy in shifting his position so he was now facing Severus. The normally stark lines of Severus's face appeared softer, shadowed in the dimly lit room. The silence in the space between them was only filled with the soft rustling of the sheets as Harry repositioned himself.

"Drink," Severus commanded, his voice disciplined yet subtly hinting at concealed worry. He extended the vial, its contents casting a faint glow in the dim light. Harry hesitated, his gaze fixed on the glowing vial as if mesmerized. After a pause, his shaking hand reached out, the icy touch of the glass contrasting sharply with the warmth that seemed to emanate from Severus's hand. The wordless question in Harry's bright green eyes made him look up at the stoic professor.

In response to the unasked question, Harry pressed his lips tightly together and bravely swallowed the liquid. The taste had him wincing, but its effect was astonishingly swift. His body, previously stiff with tension, began to relax, and the pain that had haunted his eyes started to retreat, replaced by a glazed relief.

"Thanks..." he managed to utter, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyelids fluttered, fighting against the sudden wave of sleepiness that washed over him. Ultimately, his exhaustion prevailed, pulling him gently into the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Severus merely watched as the young wizard drifted off, his mind racing with unanswered questions. The lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse were abnormal, and he wondered if Umbridge had cast something along with the Cruciatus that could be causing this effect.