"I will try my best..." Severus murmured, pushing his children forward to introduce themselves. They were neither shy but seemed to be stunned into silence.
"Hello Mr Tipper, Mrs Tipper..." Summer whispered, "It's a pleasure to meet you...I'm Summer Snape, this is my brother Lupus and my father Severus.." Everyone knew of Severus Snape the story was legend, but it was strange how no one linked Summer Snape and Lupus Snape to Severus Snape unless they mentioned it.

The Tippers greeted the small family, but Dermot's face gained a sad look.

"Aye, we know who ye are, Severus Snape, but we 'ave a problem. We won't be able to afford wha'ever treatment ye wanna giv 'im."

"I have a family of my own... Mr Tipper... I won't ask for anything..." Severus nodded calmly. "family is all I have, it's what I live for..." with a hand gesture he added, "Lead the way." Summer and Lupus nodded along with their father's statement.

Deirdre and Dermot's faces lit up wide, wide disbelieving smiles, and they - with their daughter - ran up to the house, darted inside, through the kitchen, down a corridor, up two flights of stairs and burst into what was obviously Tyrone and Tullia's shared bedroom.

Tullia held back a cry at the sight of her brother's unconsious form.

His brown hair, so like Tullia's, was flat against his head. He was deathly pale, almost as white as snow, making his freckles stand out unnaturally. The only colour on his skin was the gash that started at his scalp, went down his face, over his neck, and further under his shirt. It could be seen that the gash went right down his chest, visible through his nightshirt. The gash was a vivid, sickly purple, with a light tinge of pale green.

An Opaleye Dragon was dangerous at the best of times, but its claws were lethal. The poison in their claws broke down the victim's immune system rapidly, but also caused immense pain in the victim. It was by sheer chance that Tyrone was still alive.

"Ty..." The word came from Tullia's throat encased in a sob. She reached out, and gently touched his pale, unscarred cheek. He was ice cold. His breathing was shallow.

The ex-potions master waltzed into the children's bedroom, layed out his potion kit, lighting a fire and all that stuff, he set to work on his anti-dote. His own children hanging about waiting for when they would be needed.