The First Day - Part 3
The door to the infirmary was wide open but the room was almost completely dark. In the light from the hall Harry could see Lavender, heavily bandaged from her encounter with Fenrir Greyback, sitting in a chair and talking quietly with her parents. At the far end a few candles illuminated a single bed, whose occupant was surrounded by several shadowy figures, including the unmistakable girth of Horace Slughorn, Madam Pomfrey in her white uniform, Madam Sprout, and Neville, holding what looked like a large potted plant.
"Thanks to Professor Sprout and Neville here, I have finally assembled all the ingredients for the Potion of Life: saffron, red rose-leaves, sandal-wood, aloes, and amber, liquefied in oil of roses and the finest white wax," Slughorn said, handing a small golden container to Madam Pomfrey. "You must take this mixture and apply it to the wound as a poultice every night for three nights. That should heal the cut and purge your system of the poison, Hermione. It is unfortunate that you did not come to me sooner, before the effects could take hold."
"We were in hiding, Professor," Hermione replied quietly. "And the wound did not reopen until this morning."
Harry strode across the room. To his surprise, he saw Professor McGonagall was part of the group surrounding Hermione. "What's going on?" he asked. "What's wrong with Hermione?"
Professors McGonagall looked over at the Potions Master and nodded for him to answer.
"When you were at Malfoy Manor, Harry, Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. She withstood the indescribable pain of the Cruciatus Curse over and over, and without permanent harm. However, when you and the others escaped from the cellar and tried to rescue her, Bellatrix threatened to cut Hermione's throat and actually pricked her neck with a knife."
"Yes, yes, I know all that. I saw the blood." Harry said impatiently. "But that was weeks ago. She's been fine for ages now."
"That's true. However, after the battle was over this morning, the wound reopened and began suppurating a most unpleasant substance. We assume the knife was cursed or poisoned-we don't know with what. Hermione told us you buried the knife with Dobby."
"But why was she fine until today?" Harry asked, pushing Neville aside so he could stand next to the head of the bed. "Hermione, you've been OK, right? You never complained to me of feeling ill. How are you feeling now?"
"Not bad at all, really. Don't worry, Harry. I'm sure the poultice will work," Hermione said reassuringly, laying her hand on his.
Slughorn cleared his throat. "As to what happened this morning? We're not sure, but it's possible that Bellatrix' death somehow activated the venom of the poison. We're also wondering whether Hermione Polyjuicing as Bellatrix inadvertently counteracted the effect of the poison for a time. Without knowing what poison Bellatrix actually used, we can't know for sure."
"But what's this treatment, then?"
Slughorn gave Harry a confident smile. "The Potion of Life is the universal medicine. Some have called it the Panacea. It can combat all the Dark Potions ever known. The ingredients are hard to assemble: saffron from Asia, amber from the Baltic, roses from Cornwall. The proportions and steps are known to very few. One may brew the Potion of Life only once in a lifetime. Professor McGonagall instructed me to make it for Hermione, and there is no one else I would have been happier to serve in this way." Slughorn inclined his head toward Hermione, the closest he could manage to a formal bow.
Harry could barely speak through the lump that had risen in his throat. "Yes. Hermione deserves it. Hermione deserves everything," he said fiercely, glowering at the professors for not already having effected a cure.
Neville quietly placed the plant he was holding on the table next to the bed. He turned to Harry. "This is a cutting from the thousand-year-old oak across the lake, Harry."
"Is that the oak you were sitting under last night, Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Yes, that's the one. It has healing properties. Neville was researching trees and plants all year while we were gone," Hermione said.
"I'm sure the Potion will work fine," Neville said nervously. "But I thought-why not try this too? Maybe it'll speed things up, you know? No stone left unturned and all that."
"Indeed, Neville. We need to use every bit of knowledge and skill we have," Slughorn replied. "If we just had that knife…."
"I can get it," Harry said eagerly, relieved that there was something that he could do. "Just give me a few hours. I can go to Shell Cottage and dig it up. I know exactly where it is."
"That would be very helpful, Harry," Professor McGonagall said. "But you can't go now. You must not disturb a grave at night. Go get some rest. You can leave at dawn."
"Could I speak to Hermione for a bit?" Harry asked.
"Of course," the Headmistress replied, motioning to the others to follow her and leave the room.
"But not too long, Harry. You may have slept all day, but the rest of us didn't." McGonagall's fond smile took the sting out of her words. She squeezed Harry's arm and led the others away from the bed and out of the room.
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