Harry Potter and the Deep Freeze

Secrets Begin to Unfold

The next morning, Harry made his way back to the hospital, eager to learn more about Snape's survival and what he had endured. The sanctuary was already stirring to life, the air filled with the sounds of people starting their day. Harry stepped through the pristine white doors of the medical building, nodding to a healer as he passed.

Hanna Abbott was waiting for him near the entrance, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

"He's awake," she said, motioning toward Snape's room. "And already in rare form. Keeps calling the Arabian Oasis 'Scorching Hell.' He's refusing the water I gave him because, and I quote, it 'tastes like boiled cauldron rinse.'"

Harry chuckled. "Sounds like he's on the mend. Thanks, Hanna."

She shook her head with a small smile. "Good luck, Harry. You'll need it."

A Meeting After Years

Harry pushed open the door to Snape's room, finding the man sitting upright in the bed, his pale hands folded on the blanket. Though gaunt and clearly exhausted, Snape's dark eyes were sharp, scanning the room as if cataloging every detail.

"Potter," Snape greeted, his voice low and dry. "I'd like to say it's a pleasure, but I've been through too much to lie."

Harry grinned as he pulled up a chair. "Good to see you too, Professor. Or should I call you 'Scorching Hell Survivor'?"

Snape's lips twitched faintly, though he didn't quite smile. "A fitting title. Have you come to interrogate me, or are you simply here to gawk?"

"I thought I'd start by finding out where you've been all these years," Harry replied, his tone serious now. "And how you ended up here."

Snape's gaze turned distant, his voice soft but steady as he began to speak.

The Freeze, the Burn, and the Desert

"I remember the venom coursing through my veins," Snape began, his tone even but laced with an undercurrent of pain. "The sting of Nagini's bite was sharp, but the cold that followed was worse. It wasn't physical—it was as though my very essence was being frozen. I didn't pass into death; I was... suspended."

Harry remained silent, letting Snape's words hang in the air.

"For an eternity, or perhaps mere moments, I felt nothing. Then the ice shattered, and fire consumed me. Every nerve in my body screamed as though I had been thrust into the core of a blazing inferno." Snape's fingers tightened on the blanket, the memory clearly fresh in his mind. "I thought it was Hell itself."

"And then?" Harry prompted gently.

Snape's lips curled into a faint sneer. "And then, I woke in a desert. A barren wasteland of endless sand and oppressive heat. At first, I thought it was another layer of torment. But no—this was real."

"What did you do?"

"I walked," Snape said simply. "Crawled when I couldn't walk anymore. The sun was merciless, and I was alone. Occasionally, I stumbled upon oases—brief respites from the inferno—but they were few and far between. My only thought was survival. And then I saw it."

The Gate

Snape's voice lowered, his dark eyes flicking to Harry. "A gate appeared on the horizon. At first, I thought it was a mirage. But as I approached, I realized it was... solid. Real. And strangest of all, it seemed to move toward me as I moved toward it."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'move toward you'?"

"It wasn't stationary," Snape said, his voice tinged with frustration. "The gate was... responding to me. I can't explain it better than that."

"What happened when you reached it?"

Snape exhaled slowly. "I pushed it open, and the moment I did, a cool breeze washed over me. The first relief I'd felt since... since I woke in that cursed desert." He paused, his expression darkening. "And then, I fainted. I woke here, in this hospital, with a sour-faced healer staring down at me."

Harry laughed softly. "That would've been Hanna Abbott."

"Whoever she is, her bedside manner leaves much to be desired," Snape muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone.

A Revelation Yet to Come

Harry leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. Snape's story confirmed that the Arabian Oasis—or Scorching Hell, as Snape had named it—was far more than just a desert. But Snape's lack of awareness about the sanctuary itself raised more questions.

"How long have I been here?" Snape asked abruptly, his gaze sharp.

"About five weeks," Harry replied.

"And where is 'here,' exactly?"

Harry hesitated, considering his words carefully. "You're in a sanctuary, Professor. A place designed to protect people from the freeze."

Snape's brow furrowed. "The freeze? Explain."

"It's a long story," Harry said. "But I promise you, you're safe now. Once you're feeling up to it, I'll show you around."

Snape regarded him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. "Very well, Potter. But if this turns out to be another form of torment, I'll hold you personally responsible."

Harry grinned. "I'd expect nothing less."

As Harry left the hospital room, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Snape was here, alive, and still as sharp as ever. But the former Potions Master didn't yet understand the scope of where he was—or the role he might play in the sanctuary's future.

For now, Harry decided to let him rest. The truth could wait.