Harry's silent Saviour
by Healer Pomfrey
All recognizable characters belong to J. K. Rowling, and I am not earning anything by writing this story.
I am not a native speaker of English. Please excuse my mistakes.
One day Harry dragged himself back into his room after spending a whole day doing chores in the Dursleys' garden under the hot summer sun and noticed that an owl was sitting next to Hedwig in her cage. Harry was sure that he had never seen the owl before due to its extraordinary colours, which he would certainly have remembered. Its whole body was black apart from the face, which was as white as Hedwig's.
"Oh, are you having a visitor, Hedwig? That's nice," Harry spoke to the bird, glad that she had company for a while. Looking at the bars in front of his window he thought, 'Thank Merlin that at least owls are able to get through.'
He sat down at his desk in order to munch whatever Petunia had left on a tray for him. However, when he looked at the tray expecting another cold can of soup he nearly jumped startled. The tray held a complete meal of Shepherd's pie together with a huge glass of water and an apple. Hardly able to believe his luck, he devoured the delicious meal with gusto, saving a few bites for Hedwig and her guest, and motioned the owls over, before he lay down on his bed.
Hedwig jumped on the table and greedily ate what Harry had left for her, before she motioned her friend to tuck in. However, the black and white owl hopped over to the window sill and made its way up into the still light sky.
During the following weeks, Harry noticed that the same owl often visited Hedwig. 'Strange, it doesn't even bring a letter for me; it seems just to come to talk with Hedwig. Perhaps she has found herself a boyfriend,' Harry mused, feeling very happy for his loyal familiar.
'These holidays are strange anyway,' he realized. 'Aunt Petunia never gave me so much food to eat like this summer. It's the first time in all these years that I'm not hungry during the holidays. Maybe it's because of what the people of the Order have told the Dursleys at the beginning of the holidays right after Sirius died,' he mused.
"Is he your boyfriend?" Harry asked Hedwig one day, nearly feeling sad for her when she shook her head.
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One day, Harry woke up in the morning feeling ill. He could hardly swallow because his throat was swollen and sore, he had a terrible headache, and he felt hot and cold at the same time. 'Oh just let me sleep,' he thought when his aunt hammered against the door to make him do his chores, but knowing that there was no way he could remain in bed he dragged himself out of the room and did what his family expected him to do.
However, during the day he developed a harsh cough, and Petunia sent him back to his room, afraid that her precious boy would catch whatever the freak was trying to spread around the house.
'Thank Merlin,' Harry thought and lay down on his bed in relief, shivering violently under the thin covers. 'It's so cold,' he mused, noticing that his teeth began to chatter, and once more dragged himself out of his bed to pull a warm Weasley sweater over his T-shirt, before he nestled deep under his covers. He closed his achy eyes, hoping that sleep would be able to heal whatever it was that he had caught. 'Pity that I don't have my broom; otherwise I could fly to Hogwarts to ask Madam Pomfrey for help,' he thought sadly.
All of a sudden, he heard a faint noise right next to him and lazily opened his eyes again only to notice that Hedwig and her visitor were sitting on the edge of his bed. The black-white owl seemed to watch him piercingly, before it all of a sudden took off and flew out of the window. 'The way it looked at me was strange,' Harry mused, before a voice at the back of his mind told him, 'I'm probably delirious and only imagined that it looked at me as if it wanted to check on me.'
When the owl returned in the early evening it held two phials in its beak, which it dropped on the table right next to Harry's glasses.
'Am I imagining things, or did that owl just bring a potion for me?' Harry mused in confusion and dragged himself over to the table, noticing that the owl had brought a Pepper-up potion and a fever reducer for him. He gulped down both potions, noticing that they only helped so much. Seeing that the owl was tilting its head giving him a strange look again, he painfully cleared his throat and said, "Thanks a lot. That's much better, although I think that it's not a cold, but nevertheless the potions helped. Please tell whoever gave them to you that I appreciate it very much."
The owl merely inclined its head, before it pointed it towards the bed as if to say, "Go back to bed," before it left through the open window.
When Harry woke up the next morning he didn't even make an attempt to get up. He was shaking uncontrollably due to what felt like a very high fever, and not only his head and throat were sore but his entire body. He sighed in relief when he saw the black-white owl land right next to him holding a phial in its beak. Harry painfully brought himself in a half sitting position and gratefully took the phial from the bird, greedily gulping it down. 'Feels good; what was that?' he mused, looking interestedly at the words 'fever reducer' that looked somehow familiar but were extremely blurry. 'That tasted a bit different from the normal fever reducer though,' he mused aloud, not noticing that the owl gave him a short nod as if it was able to understand him.
Soon he noticed that he couldn't keep his achy eyes open anymore and drifted off into fever induced dreams. In front of his eyes, the small owl suddenly turned into a tall, dark wizard, who was carrying a tray with a huge bowl of chicken broth or some other soup, which he gently put down on the table. Afterwards the wizard approached Harry and waved his wand casting several diagnostic spells at him, before he turned back into an owl.
When Harry woke up several hours later, he felt much better, just as if someone had spelled a bunch of healing potions straight into his stomach. To his surprise, someone had obviously adjusted a cold cloth on his forehead, which seemed to be charmed to remain cool to soothe his feverish skin.
Seeing that Hedwig was sitting on the table, nipping from a bowl of soup, Harry slowly dragged himself to the table and ate a few spoons full of the liquid that felt soothing against his sore throat. Feeling incredibly tired again, he lay down again only to be captured in more fevered dreams of owls turning into wizards that checked on him, spelled potions into his stomach, and left a tray with food on the table.
'Was that really a dream?' Harry mused when he sat down at the table to eat some of the food that would last for the whole day.
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At the same time, a few hundred kilometres further in the north, a tall black figure entered his colleague's office, politely declining the offered ginger nut.
"How is he, my boy?" the older witch asked in obvious concern, giving him an enquiring look.
"He is much better," the younger teacher replied. "His fever came down nicely, and his throat infection is nearly healed. He'll probably have to remain another day in bed, and then he'll be completely fine again. He didn't eat much of his soup yesterday, probably because his throat was still too sore, but Dobby gave me an assortment of all his favourite dishes today, so that he'll probably eat more. I'll continue to supply him with food until the end of the holidays."
"Thanks a lot, Severus," Minerva said gratefully. "I don't know what we'd do without you."
"I can't understand what Albus is thinking to leave Potter with these relatives. Can you believe that his aunt didn't even once enter his room, although her nephew was ill with a fever of more than forty degrees? If you hadn't sent me to check on him, I'm sure it would have turned into pneumonia, which he wouldn't have survived at that place."
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'This food is warm,' Harry suddenly realized, 'just as the cloth that was on my forehead is charmed to remain cool. There must be a wizard, who healed me and brought me food. But who would do such a thing? And how would they be able to enter my room?'
Suddenly, he remembered the dream he had seen when he was delirious. 'But the person in my dream looked like Snape; that can't be. On the other hand,' he mused, 'only an owl or a wizard would be able to get in here.'
Making up his mind, he quickly wrote a letter fastening it to Hedwig's leg. "Can you urgently take this to Hermione and wait for an answer please?" he asked his familiar, who playfully gave him a peck and disappeared through the bars.
A few hours later, Harry woke up seeing Hedwig sitting next to his head with a reply from Hermione.
'Dear Harry, I hope you're well. I checked the list and there is only one owl Animagus, who is registered with the Ministry, and that's Professor Snape. It says he's a black owl with a white face. I hope I could help you, and I'm looking forward to see you on the train in ten days. Love Hermione.'
'It's really strange to believe that Professor Snape would do such things for me; but it's great to have someone who cares for me,' Harry thought gratefully as he absentmindedly stroked Hedwig's and her black-white friend's feathers.