The Gulag

Chapter 3 The Gulag

Harry laid Todd on the first cot he came across. He did a quick scan of the boy before he poured a potion down his throat. The child had a bad case of diphtheria and was dehydrated to the point of death. The potion he had given the boy immediately took care of the dehydration but the diphtheria was a different matter. Some strong magic could cure the boy but would more than likely alert the ministry and send them to their deaths.

With a wave of his wand, all of the supplies that Draco and Severus carried were transformed to their original size.

“There,” Harry pointed to a pile of bottled medicine, “give me the one that has Cleocin written on it.”

Neither Severus nor Draco moved from their spot and stood with their arms folded over their chests, staring at the Chosen One.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Harry sidestepped around the two Slytherin and went searching for the antibiotic. “You two haven’t changed in seven years… you’re both still arseholes,” he muttered as he went back to attend his patient.

“Mr. Potter, you have given us no reason to trust you,” stated Severus. The bitterness dripped from his deep voice.

“We’ve changed Potter,” Draco added.

“Anyone who has lived in squalor as we have, seen our love ones die from lack of food and disease…” Draco sadly shook his head. “Yes, Potter we’ve changed.”

The young wizard started to hack. He covered his mouth with a worn out handkerchief. Harry took a step forward with intention of helping when Draco put his hand up to stop him. Severus put his arms around Draco’s waist, preventing the younger Slytherin from falling to his knees. Harry kept his distance till he saw the grungy kerchief turn blood read.

“That’s it!” Harry barely gave his old professor a shove out of the way.

He lifted a weakened Draco and laid him on a cot opposite of Todd. When he turned back to Severus he saw the older wizard on his hands and knees, struggling to get up. Harry went over to Severus and helped him from the floor, wondering if he’d gotten himself in over his head.

After regaining his footing the proud Potions Master jerked his arm away from Harry. Severus’s face had turned red from the exertion of standing, leaving Harry wondering if he was about to have a stroke.

“Sit,” he ordered Severus.

Severus was bound and determined not to take a seat. Instead he clasped his hand behind his back, puffed out his chest and lifted his chin in defiance. It was a wrong move on the Professor’s behalf. The little strength he possessed seemed to pour from his body, sending him once again to the floor. This time he remained unconscious.

“Why is it that Slytherins are so pigheaded?” Harry said to no one in particular.

“It what keeps us alive Potter. Without our cunning and stubbornness the Ministry would have wiped us out a very long time ago, not that they haven’t tried,” Draco explained.

Tired from his exertion, Draco dropped his head back onto the cot only to start coughing up blood once again. Harry suspected that Draco suffered from tuberculosis. He had a potion that, if taken for a few days, should clear up Draco’s lungs but first he had to get the most irritating, sarcastic, and ornery son-of-a-bitch he’d ever met off the floor and onto a cot. He gasped as he lifted his former Professor. Even though Severus had a good five inches on Draco, he weighed even less and he was surprised at how light Draco was.

“He doesn’t eat much,” Draco noticed Harry’s reaction to Severus’s condition. “He eats after everyone else has eaten. He walks the halls at night and count heads. After he is satisfied that everyone is safe, he will finally let himself rest. And when he looses one of us, he is the one that digs the graves, many times with his bare hands, and tears wash his face as he says the words that send the dead to the afterlife.”

Harry held Severus in a loving embrace. He kissed Severus’s matted hair before gently lying him on a mat on the floor. With his back to Draco, Harry took the opportunity to brush the back of his fingers over the sleeping man’s cheek.

“There has never been a man like him…not even Dumbledore himself,” Harry said as he stared at Severus.

“Dumbledore was a self-serving bastard,” Draco said bitterly. “He was always looking at the ‘bigger picture’ and lost sight of the individual. Snape never has. For being an all around arsehole he is the most caring and loving person that I know.”

Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Draco had seven years with this man. Seven years lost to Severus and him because Severus pushed him away. Perhaps he should have stayed and tried harder.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference if you stayed,” Draco seemed to be reading his mind. “He has a lot of issues that he has never worked out.”

“What issues?” Harry questioned, as he turned back to his other two patients.

“Not for me to say,” Draco replied. “But for your information you weren’t the first person Severus fell in love with.”

“What?” Harry startled.

“Crap, must be weaker than I thought,” Draco muttered.

“Are you saying that bastard over there was in love with me?” Harry questioned.

“Everyone knew it but you. I would really appreciate it if you don’t say a word of this conversation to Severus. I really don’t want to be murdered by Snape after all of these years,” Draco said.

“I don’t know if I can promise you that. He and I have a lot to ‘talk’ about,” Harry practically snarled.

“Yeah, all I ask is that you keep my name out of it,” Draco whined.

“I will try not to mention your name but no promises,” Harry stated.

“You’re too much of a Gryffindor to open your mouth,” Draco yawned before sleep took over. Harry thought it was just as well. It would be much easier to treat his patients without being interrupted.

He looked after Todd first. He did a minor spell to start killing the bacterial infection that ravaged the boy’s body. Harry hoped that the spell combined with a heavy dose of antibiotic would set him on his way to recovery. He woke Draco enough to give him the first of many potions to rid him of the tuberculosis. By the time he woke he would be feeling much better, even if he wouldn’t be totally cured for a couple of weeks.

Harry gave Severus a thorough examination. Besides being extremely underweight and dehydrated, he wasn’t in too bad of shape. There were early signs of rickets and scurvy but he would be surprised if not everyone in the gulag didn’t show some sign of malnutrition.

He gave a huge sigh while he contemplated on how he could feed all of these prisoners. Food and the basic necessities of life would take care of their biggest health problems.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Harry gazed at Severus. The years hadn’t been kind to him. His hair was matted with filth and streaked with gray. Severus had more worry lines than Harry remembered. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the deep indentations on Severus forehead. Harry grimaced when lice crawled from the Slytherin’s forehead onto his fingers. He decided to let his trio of patients sleep and go talk to Ron. There had to be away to get food and basic hygiene for these people.

Taking a quick survey around the camp, Harry found neither running water nor bathroom facilities. There was a small stream that cut through the estate grounds, but further inspection showed it was polluted with human waste. He was harassed good-naturally by some of his Slytherin year mates. Harry wondered, if the situation were reversed, if he could be as outgoing as these Slytherins. He did spy a few Death Eaters but they seemed to separate themselves from the rest. He almost felt sorry for them. They were pariahs among their own, unwelcome and shunned.

Harry worked his way back to Ron’s office. Ron was looking out of his window when Harry knocked and asked if he could come in. With a smile, Ron waved him into the room.

“What you smiling about?” Harry asked as he walked over to see what Ron was looking at. There was a group of children playing with the soccer ball that Harry had brought.

“You have no idea how long it has been since I’ve seen any of the children play. It’s amazing how much joy a ball can bring the children,” Ron muttered, staring at the children.

Harry watched the children play for a minutes before replying, “They’re in bad shape, Ron.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Ron’s words were bitter.

“We have to help them,” Harry placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder as he spoke.

“How?” Ron sounded defeated. “Everything is so closely watched, every bit of food monitored. How do you suggest we help them when the Ministry is breathing down my neck?”

“I want to resume the Order of the Phoenix. What we are watching out there is as evil as Voldemort ever was. This has to stop.”

“Do you have a plan?” Ron asked, with what sounded like hope in his voice.

“Yes, but it’s not much of one. I was hoping that once the Order gathers, they may have a few ideas, too,” Harry admitted.

Ron thought for a moment before answering Harry. “Meetings are frowned upon. Maybe we can get around the ‘no public gatherings’ rule by giving you a welcome home party. The ministry wouldn’t dare say anything to the Chosen One.”

“Merlin,” Harry rolled his eyes, “they aren’t still calling me that are they?”

“You could become the next Voldemort and no one would say a word to you.” Ron teased.

“What?” Harry asked.

“I said you could do anything you want, even become the next Dark Lord,” Ron repeated slowly.

“That’s it!” Harry beamed.

“That’s what?” Ron was confused.

“I’ll tell you this evening. Can you get the Order together by this evening?” questioned Harry.

“Yeah, I think so, at least most of them. Harry should I be nervous?” Ron wondered. He well remembered the harebrained schemes Harry had during their time at Hogwarts.

Harry giggled, “You should be afraid…very afraid.”

Ron smiled shyly, “I feel like were back at Hogwarts, working side by side for the better of the Wizarding World.”

“I hope you feel the same way after I tell you my plan,” Harry plopped his arse on a near by chair.

“I trust you, always have. I’m sorry how I treated you yesterday. I think things would have been different if you had stayed. Where were you Harry? Where did you go? You must have heard about what was happening here.” Ron’s voice was chocked with sorrow.

“I went to study with one of the best Healers in the world. He happened to live in the Himalayan Mountains. I studied with a Tibetan monk who had absolutely no contact with the outside world.”

“For seven years?”

“Four of the seven, the next three years I studied, with a voodoo doctor in the depth of Africa. I’m truly sorry Ron. I would have been here if I knew what happened. You do believe me don’t you?” Harry pleaded.

“Yeah,” Ron hesitated, “you would have never deserted us if you knew. But you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

“I give you my solemn promise that I’m here to stay and that I will do everything within my power to correct this injustice, even if I have to become the next Dark Lord,” vowed Harry.

Ron gazed open mouthed at the Savior of the Wizarding World. Things were definitely about to change.


a/n if you can take a moment a write a review it would be greatly apprciated.