Checkmate by Phoenix Sworn
Past Featured StorySummary: Partial AU. With the World turning against him, and everything going horribly wrong, Harry is stuck. He has to keep fighting, but he may have to do it all alone.
Categories: Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: 6th summer
Warnings: Alcohol Use, Torture
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 36 Completed: No Word count: 77077 Read: 168708 Published: 29 Jan 2005 Updated: 12 Jun 2006
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Willow by Phoenix Sworn
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: I do not own JK Rowling’s world or plotlines. I do own my own plotlines and since this is being written about things JK has not yet published, most of the plotline is mine. However, my brilliant sister inspired the story, and I lovingly thank her for her contribution.

He never wanted to be what he was. He would never relish his title. He would fight it to the end. But, there was a reason why he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and on occasion, that fact was obvious.

-from The Boy-Who-Lived, A Biography by George Fiddler

“Lupin you fool, the bicorn isn’t added until the potion is at a boil. Did you ever have a brain or was it a recent loss?” Severus snapped, snatching the ingredient from the hand of his co-conspirator.

The man just shook his head and went into the next room, retrieving an old text.

“Rapidly,” he quoted, “Add the bicorn root, just before the previous mixture boils.” Lupin snapped the book shut once more and smirked. “Did you become senile and not bother to tell me? Pour it in now, and stir, we need to finish this.”

Severus growled under his breath, but completed the potion. With a silver ladle, he filled a vial, walking across his chamber with it at arm’s length. Lupin was waiting beside the stone tablet. The marble was originally white, but now was coated with a rotting layer of blackish brown filth. Remus held a second vial, and they nodded. Simultaneously, they drizzled the two liquids together. Severus’s was perfectly clear and smooth as it left the glass and splattered on the stone. Remus’ flowed crimson, thickly slipping over the lip of the cup.

Potion mixed with blood letting up a cloud of smoky mist that smelt worse than Wolfsbane potion.

“My office will reek for days.” Severus complained.

Lupin was obscured by the haze, but his voice declared his smile. “Ah, but we wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t been captured and tortured. We had to reaffirm it. You’ve brought this upon yourself you know.”

“Lupin?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any reason to still be here?”

“No.”

“Then why are you still here?”

>=====<

Harry James Potter, having recovered from his collapse, and having caught up on a months of newspaper articles, was more than ready to return to class. Draco, however, insisted that he wait until lunch to make his triumphant return.

His school uniform had been replaced with more practical, more comfortable and much more dangerous raiment. His previous outfit had been burned by a frightened house elf; the stains had been permanent.

Without any ado, he walked into the great hall and held up a hand, waiting for silence like a great prince of old. At first the room grew louder while screams echoed against the ceiling. He was cursed and insulted, but gave no response until the mass grew fearful, and dropped one by one into frightened silence. The Slytherins were the first to taper off.

The teachers were the last.

Harry waited calmly with a small sadistic smile on his face. By the time the room was to his satisfaction, his eyes had become feral.

“One month ago, I stood in this room and duel a fellow student. Immediately after, I left, and have not been seen since. I wonder now, why no one attempted to find me? Perhaps is it because you consider me to be a murderer and traitor? I’m not, but I know that you all seem to believe it. It doesn’t matter though. Most of you want to see me behind the bars of Azkaban, Kissed, or dead. Unfortunately you can’t let that happen, because I am Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and no matter how much you fear and loathe me, you need me to defeat Master Riddle. You need me, so you allow me to continue. Thank you. I greatly appreciate the compliment. Should any of you have cared to notice, I have never done anything but fight to save your lives and your futures, perhaps it isn’t your style to acknowledge that verbally, but remember it the next time you’re looking down the wrong end of a wand, and call for help.

“Have a nice afternoon everyone.” Harry smiled, reminiscent of a crazed flight attendant, and continued down the hall, out the doors and onto the grounds.

>====<

Kingsley Shacklebolt wearily traipsed up the stairs of the Grimauld place, wand already out, and entered his temporary room. Ever since the Werewolf had left the Order, he had been unable to stop the stream of thoughts ripping through his head. The man had betrayed the Order, most likely to serve the Dark Lord. It was terrifyingly simple how quickly his mind connected a lifetime of noticed comments.

He peeled off his damp cloak, tossing it over the edge of a chair, and paused to kneel beside the bed. Reaching beneath it, he withdrew a small wooden box. Magically enlarged inside, it housed some of his most important belongings.

The long days were catching up with him and he yawned before yelping in pain. He grabbed his arm, mumbling to himself, and opened the box.

Without another moment’s hesitation he flung a fresh black cloak about his shoulders and grabbed his mask, barely bothering to set it in place before he dissapparated.

>====<

Harry climbed over the last of the branches and bushes obstructing his path. He tumbled back onto school grounds, thoroughly dirty, and more than a bit damp. Heavy snow was gathering on his back, and he felt nearly ready to collapse. Looking up at the sky, he cursed it passionately, and continued to walk.

It was almost two weeks since he had woken, and somehow, his teachers acted as if he had never missed a day. The students knew had been missing, but his assignments gave no reflection of his absence. Astounded, he had concentrated on healing enough to restart his nighttime jaunts, one of which he was returning from now.

They were less dangerous then they had been, but his leg had gone numb for several minutes earlier in the night.

Sighing, and continuing to trudge across the Hogwarts grounds, Harry saw the Whomping Willow flailing amid the falling flakes. He frowned; normally the tree was fond of the relaxing precipitation. A second shape, dark and large was moving beneath it.

A looming weight settled over his shoulders and mind. The tree was a part of the marauders, and a large mountain troll was now trying to destroy it. After spending his last few hours fighting, he could not help but begin to run. His private, late night wars left him filled with a terrible wrath, and he had spent so long unable to exact his revenge that the thrill of taking it physically from his enemies made his blood race.

The troll was notably larger than the one he had fought in his first year. Harry grinned, Slytherin-esque, and pulled his wand out. With a loud shout he sprinted the last few feet.

It took him little effort to dodge the angry swings of clubs and branches, and caused him great joy to feel the adrenaline in his veins. The troll, while large, was obviously less than intelligent. It was not only attacking a tree, but barely noticed when Harry rolled beneath the troll’s legs. It had trampled the ground until it turned to a wet slop. Thick mud coated his back immediately, and a small part of him felt guilty for dirtying another outfit. One swing graced over his head, and he grew a bit nervous. It was late and he felt his exhaustion abruptly sweep through him.

Two whispered words and the troll dropped to the ground.

Harry stood up, idiotically.

For half a breath, Harry stood in the snow, beside the fallen form, and then he felt a strike to his stomach. Flying into the air, he felt himself carried to the center of the tree and set on an interior branch, one that remained absolutely still. Harry looked from side to side, baffled as he stood. Then, through the flurry, he saw Ron and several others approaching. They ran straight to the tree, which promptly knocked them unconscious, picked them up and threw them away, all the while shielding Harry from the snowfall.

He did not understand. It almost seemed that the antisocial arboreal entity had taken Harry under his wing. Without the energy to rise and return to the school, he removed a cloak from his pocket wrapped it around him, and curled into the surprisingly warm core of the tree.

>====<

Sighing, Draco Malfoy dropped into a chair in the empty Slytherin common room. He had spent the last two weeks investigating every facet of Harry Potter’s fall from glory. It had been an inexplicable affair. He had committed an infinitesimal crime that had been blown out of proportion. Little flaws were used to fan the flame. It had made no sense to any of the Slytherins or Death Eater onlookers. Even the Dark Lord had watched in shocked amusement while the Light’s Golden boy had turned into the hated traitor.

Draco dropped his head into his hands, forcing his mind to concentrate on what needed to be done.

He stared into the fire, heart in his throat.

With his back to the door, he heard it open, and heard soft steps across the floor. Waiting, with full knowledge of what was coming, he let cool hands slide through his hair.

“Hello, love,” he whispered, grabbing her hands, “How are you?”

“I’d be better if you would finally explain yourself. I don’t like it when you have a problem, and you won’t let me help you.”

“I wish I could tell you all of it. I can’t.” He reached up, pulling her arms further around him until she took his hint and climbed up on the chair behind him, wrapping her legs around his waist. She had slipped out of her school robes earlier, but was still wearing the clothing he had come to expect of her. His hand brushed against the fresh, and still painful burn of the Dark Mark. She gasped aloud, the noise nearly a shriek. “Alright love? I know they hurt, the pain will fade, I promise.”

“I know Draco.” She slipped around and kissed his ear. “Draco please, tell me what has been torturing you lately.”

Draco opened his mouth to explain, and then snapped it shut. “I’m sorry, I can’t, not yet.”

She climbed into his lap, kissing him fiercely. “Then I’ll wait. But we have to go. We have a meeting tonight.”

“Yes we do,” They stood up, and Draco kissed her again, “We have extra robes at the manor; we can pick them up there.”

“I love you Draco.”

“I love you Ginny.”

To be continued...


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