“Daaaa,” Harry groaned. “I can’t go back to the Tower tonight. Hermione said she was gonna quiz me on History of Magic, and I haven’t studied.”

“And you imagine that I will help you evade your scholastic responsibilities?” Snape inquired drily.

“It’s just History of Magic,” Harry complained. “It’s not like anyone really cares.” At the sight of his father’s expression, he hastily revised his statement. “Okay, okay. It’s not like anyone but you and Hermione care. Besides, if I stay here, then Draco and I can work on our Potion assignment.”

“You have over a week before the Potion assignment is due and less than two days before your History test,” Snape pointed out with maddening logic. “Therefore, you should spend tonight with Miss Granger, studying History. There are still several hours before curfew, and with Miss Granger’s help, you will be able to make inroads into the material and atone for your previous sloth.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue further, but there was a rush of flames in the fireplace, and Lucius Malfoy’s voice spoke. “Severus, it’s Lucius. May I come through? It’s about Draco.”

“Just a moment,” Snape called. Malfoy might have switched sides, but that didn’t mean he wanted him around Harry any more than he could help. He turned to the boy. “This discussion is over. Take your things and return to the Tower.”

Harry grumbled, but he knew better than to argue with his da when he used that tone. Besides, his da was more than capable of scolding him in front of Draco’s dad, and that would be mortifying, especially since Draco said his father was a real stickler for manners.

Harry hurried to his bedroom to collect his satchel, but as he approached the door to the corridor, his curiosity made him hang back and listen. He wasn’t exactly eavesdropping, he reassured his conscience. Mr Malfoy had said it had to do with Draco, right? So wasn’t it important for him, as Draco’s friend, to find out what was going on? If Draco was in trouble or something, what kind of friend would he be not to bring him a warning? And if it was something, well, personal or embarrassing, then Harry would just keep his mouth shut and let his da handle it as Draco’s Head of House.

He heard the roar of the floo, and then Mr Malfoy’s cultured tones. “Severus. Thank you for allowing me to come through.”

“Sit down, Lucius,” Snape invited. “You said it had to do with Draco. Is there a problem? Something to do with Bellatrix’s death perhaps? I did speak with the boy and I assure you he’s fi-“

“Stupefy!”

Harry’s jaw dropped as the shout rang out. He heard a heavy thump, as of a body hitting the carpet, and he froze, hoping against hope that it was just his da diving for cover. But no noise of a duel broke out – no spells and counterspells shouted back and forth – just the roar of someone using the floo again. Harry started to creep forward, wondering if Mr Malfoy had left already, when two strange voices frightened him badly.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” the first one sneered. “And he’s supposed to be so great at DADA.”

“Hurry up,” ordered the other. “I can practically smell the stink of Dumbledore. Every minute we’re here makes it easier for him to figure out we’re in his precious castle.”

“Relax. All we need to do is Enervate and Imperius him, then once he retrieves the Malfoy brat, we take the both of them back to the Dark Lord, and –“

Harry had heard enough. Those were Death Eaters, and they were after his da! Harry bolted around the doorframe, yelling, “Expelliaramus!”

He knocked one robed figure flying, and the other one’s wand flew out of his grasp, but Mr Malfoy just stood there like a mannequin. Harry spun to confront him, and that allowed the second Death Eater time to retrieve his wand. “Diffindo!”

“Protego!” Harry deflected the curse, but then the first one had his wand too, and a snarled Stupefy sent Harry crashing to the ground next to Snape.

“Oi, is this the Malfoy kid?” one Death Eater asked hopefully.

“You idiot. Look at Malfoy. You’ve seen his wife. Do you really think two platinum blondes would have a dark haired kid?” The other Death Eater flipped the unconscious boy over and whistled softly. “I’ll be damned. Look at that scar – it’s Harry Potter.”

“Oh,” his partner replied in disappointed tones. “I guess we still need to Imperius Snape then, huh?”

The first Death Eater gripped his wand tightly and struggled for the patience not to hex his erstwhile colleague. “I know you were in Azkaban a long time, LeStrange, but do you think you can try to get your brain to work? Who do you think the Dark Lord would rather get his hands on: The Boy Who Lived or Malfoy’s brat? We can always grab Malfoy’s kid at a later time – it’s not like they’ve got special wards to protect him. We need to get out of here with Potter and Snape before someone figures out what’s going on. Get out that portkey. Malfoy! Come here!”

##

Snape groaned and grabbed his head. What in Merlin’s name – ? The last thing he remembered was talking to Lucius Malfoy and then suddenly his head had exploded. He tried to grip his temples and realized that his wrists and ankles were bound, and he was lying on dusty earth. A groan from a few feet away caught his attention, and he squinted towards the sound. Harry!

What was Harry doing here – and where exactly was here? The boy should have been up in his Tower, studying History with the know-it-all, not here with… Snape looked around and froze.

They were outside, in a graveyard to judge by the broken headstones scattered around. That was bad. What was infinitely worse was that they were sprawled in the center of a ring of robed and masked Death Eaters, their faces weirdly lit by the blazing bonfire off to one side. But much, much worse than that was the fact that sitting on a throne, beaming down at them like some perverted monarch, was Bellatrix LeStrange, her eyes glowing red and her features oddly distorted into a horribly familiar leer.

Snape almost didn’t need the tingling in his left forearm to know who was gazing down at them.

“Da?” the voice was weak, but steady.

“Harry!” His head snapped around. The boy was pale, but he had a resolute look on his face. Snape had never been prouder of his son’s Gryffindor nature than he was right then. “Are you all right?”

“My head hurts,” Harry admitted, looking around. “Are – are you okay?”

“Ah, sssuch heart-warming father-ssson bonding,” the Dark Lord smirked from his throne.

Harry squinted up at the form. “Who are you?”

“Do you not recognize me, brat?” Voldemort snapped. “Your parents thrice defied me, and you have come close to that already.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re Voldesnort? But you’re a girl!”

The Dark Lord looked disconcerted. “I have merely possessed one of my servants until my new body is prepared,” he explained defensively.

Harry wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but a girl? I mean, don’t you still have to – y’know – and all that as a girl?”

There was a hastily choked off snort from the ring of Death Eaters, and Voldemort’s features twisted with fury. “Crucio!” he shouted, gesturing wildly in the direction of the snigger, and several of the Death Eaters shrieked and fell to the ground, twitching.

“Don’t upset him!” Snape hissed at Harry before the boy could say anything else, and Harry gulped and nodded.

“My Lord,” Snape began, hoping desperately that he could find something – anything – that might convince the Dark Lord to let Harry go. “It –“

“Ah, the traitor speaks.” Voldemort stepped down off his throne and stalked over to where Snape lay. “Will you plead for your life, traitor? The way your good friend has done?” A sharp gesture had two Death Eaters throw a bound, battered, and bleeding Lucius Malfoy down next to Snape.

Snape glanced at him, his mind working frantically. Obviously the fire at Azkaban had been to cover an escape, and somehow Malfoy had been or become involved. He tried desperately to formulate some sort of plan…

“I was Imperiused, Severus,” Lucius panted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His once-handsome face was now disfigured with slashes and burns, and his wand hand had been flayed to the wrist. “I swear – I didn’t mean to…”

Snape tuned him out and focused his attention back on the Dark Lord. “My Lord,” he began smoothly, “I am sure we can reach some kind of –“

Voldemort strode forward and kicked him in the face. “I am sso SSICK of sscheming Sslytherins,” he snarled, storming back to his throne. “At least the Gryffindors just sspit defiance and die.” He turned to Harry. “And you, my little nemesssis? Will you too try to convince me to sspare your miserable life? Will you too sseek to grovel before me and kiss my robe?”

“I think you’re a – a – a sick fuck!” Harry yelled, using the worst insult he could think of. “Don’t you hurt my da, you stupid wanker!”

Snape struggled to clear his head, ignoring the blood that was dripping into his eye from a gash on his temple. He was dimly aware of Harry shouting something at the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters’ loud cries of outrage, but his mind was still spinning from the kick to his head.

“My Lord!” Somehow he managed to outshout the Death Eaters. “The boy is a foolish child, beneath the notice of one so great as yourself. Surely you see that to attack the boy now, while he is still so young, will not enhance your stature. He is unworthy of your attention. Let him go and –“

“Oh, no, Sseverus. I have promised my faithful sservants a night of great excitement. They shall assist me in the punishment of two traitors, and then they will witnesss my rebirth.”

“Your – “ Snape choked.

“Yess, my naughty Potion Master,” Bellatrix’s vague features twisted into a kind of awful simper. “Even without your help, I have found the way to live again, whole and complete with all my powers ressstored, not merely inhabiting a willing sslave. We are here to use the bone of my late unlamented father, and for the blood of an enemy, well, well, we are ssspoiled for choice, aren’t we?”

“Please,” Snape began desperately.

“But you know, Sseverus, the ritual makes no sstipulation as to whether the blood must be from a foe that is living or dead, and I am rather taken with the imagery of tying my enemy upside down above the cauldron and ssslitting his throat ssso that his blood drains into my potion. Would that be a fitting end for a traitor, Ssseverus? Drained like a butchered hog?” Voldemort watched him closely, and Snape fought down his panic. “But I can ssee that you value the boy’s life even above your own. Ah, how far you have fallen, my ssad little Sslytherin. Where has all your rage and hatred gone? You have become weak and sssoft like Dumbledore himsself.”

Snape struggled against his bonds, but it was useless. “No! You can’t!”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “You of all people ssshould know better than to sssay that to me, Sseverus.” The Dark Lord’s wand flicked over to the wide eyed Harry with all the speed of a striking snake. “Avada Kedavra!”

“NO!” Snape screamed, but it was already too late. Lifeless, Harry fell backwards, his open eyes staring sightlessly at the night sky.

Utterly devastated, Snape was barely aware of Lucius beginning to curse in a low, hopeless monotone or the Death Eaters’ cheers of celebration. He curled in upon himself, his body wracked with heart-rending sobs.

##

“Now, Minerva, you know I can’t go on another horcrux hunt without my fuzzy blue socks,” Dumbledore chided as he entered his Hogwarts quarters. “It won’t take me very long to find them. The house elves know how I feel about them.”

“Albus, I am beginning to realize why you never married,” Minerva said with a long-suffering sigh as she leaned against the door frame.

“Tut tut, my dear, we all have our little eccentricities,” he twinkled at her.

“Some more eccentric than others,” she retorted.

“HEADMASTER! MINERVA! IS SOMEONE THERE?” Molly Weasley’s panicked face appeared in the hearth.

“What is it, Molly?” Dumbledore and McGonagall rushed over to the floo, socks forgotten.

“Look out, we’re coming through!” And in another second, both Molly and Arthur tumbled out of the fireplace.

“It’s Harry and Severus!” Arthur explained, trying hard to sound calm. “On our family clock, they’re both showing in mortal peril.”

“We tried flooing them, but they’re not answering,” Molly sobbed, wringing her hands. “What could be wrong?”

Dumbledore held up a hand. “Let me see if the castle knows where they are.” He closed his eyes, but a moment later reopened them, his expression grim. “They’re nowhere in the castle nor on school grounds. Minerva, summon the others. We must try to learn where they may have gone.”

As the others were assembling, Amelia Bones called through. “Headmaster! Where is Harry Potter? Is he all right?”

“We are trying to determine exactly that, Madame Bones. Why do you ask?” Dumbledore replied.

“Stand back.” A moment later, first Bones, then Moody and Shacklebolt entered the Headmaster’s office. “Snape gave me this amulet shortly after my election,” Bones explained, holding out a blinking disk. “It works on the same principle as a family clock, and he said it would blink if Harry was in danger. He wanted someone away from Hogwarts to be able to keep an eye out for the boy.”

Albus’ face grew even more drawn. “I wish I could reassure you, but it would seem that both Severus and Harry are missing.”

The faculty – Remus, Sirius, Filius, Pomona, and Poppy – rapidly arrived in response to Minerva’s summons, and Arthur summoned Bill and Charlie from their respective homes as well. With the help of the castle’s portraits and ghosts, they were quickly able to ascertain that no one had seen either Snape or Harry since the two had entered their quarters.

“Well, they’re not there now,” Moody confirmed, stumping back into Albus' office. “I found the boy’s bookbag in the room, and some soot that indicated that someone flooed in recently. The pattern of smudges suggested that no one had flooed out, though, and I think there was a faint trace of portkey magic. Couldn’t swear to it, though.”

Sirius paled. “They were portkeyed away? Then they could be anywhere!”

Dumbledore and Bones exchanged carefully expressionless glances. “Well,” Albus began to speak, choosing his words with care.

A pop interrupted him, and suddenly an elf stood on the table before them. “Thank you, but we don’t require refreshments just now,” Dumbledore said, forcing a kind tone.

“I is not here to feed yous, Master Dumblydore Sir,” the house elf said reproachfully. “I is here to find out if what the ghostses is saying is right. Is Master Potion Master Sir and Master Harry Potter Sir missing?”

Now the Headmaster recognized the little elf as the one that was bound to Harry. He sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid it is, and we are very busy trying to find him, so if you would excuse us –“

“Dobby is helping to find Master Potion Master Sir and Master Harry Potter Sir,” the elf told him stoutly. “Dobby is using house elf magic to find his masters.”

“If they have been abducted, they will be behind powerful shielding wards,” Moody grumbled. “You think you can find them through all that?”

“House elf magic is very, very powerful, Master Scary One Eye Sir,” Dobby scolded. “You is not wanting to think our magics is little because we is little.”

“If you can find them, Dobby, then please do so,” Albus broke in before the old Auror could take exception to his new title.

Dobby nodded once and popped away.

“Albus, if the elves can’t find Harry, then what options do we have?” Molly begged.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat. “I’ve already put all Aurors on high alert, Molly. We’ll see about bringing in the Unspeakables as well.” Bones nodded her permission. “They may have some ideas.”

For a long moment, no one spoke, each person trying to think of some way to help, then Dobby popped back in.

“We has found them, Master Dumblydore Sir!” he reported excitedly. “My Master Harry Potter Sir and Master Potion Master Sir is together and so it was very easy. But oh, they is with some bad, bad people, Master Dumblydore Sir. Yous is needing to go get them right now.”

“How do you know they are bad people, Dobby?” Bones asked quickly.

“They is wearing the bad clotheses that Master M- that the bad peoples wear.”

“Bad clothes?” Shackleford pressed.

Dobby nodded so hard his ears made slapping noises against his head. “Black cloakses and maskses. They does bad things when they is wearing those clotheses!”

“Death Eaters!” Sirius said, his expression sick. “And they’ve got Harry and Snape!”

“Dobby, can you take us there?” Dumbledore demanded.

Dobby wrung his hands in distress. “Oh, Dobby is sorry, Master Dumblydore Sir, but Master Harry Potter Sir and Master Potion Master Sir is behind some very very powerful wizardy wards. They is not allowing any apparition or portkeys. House elves can be using our magic to get to the edge of the wards, and we is knowing that our Masters is inside the wards, but we is not able to get any closer to them. And there is lots and lots of the bad wizards there. If yous pop in, then the bad wizards is going to have time to hurt Master Harry Potter Sir and Master Potion Master Sir before yous is able to break through the wards. I is very sorry I can’t get you close enough to save them!” And Dobby began to yank on his ears and wail in distress.

Minerva grabbed the distraught elf before it could punish itself any further, but then every instrument in Dumbledore’s office went berserk, and Bones’ medallion flared like a sun before going black.

“What is it? What’s going on?” The babble of voices slowly died out as, one by one, they caught sight of Dumbledore’s ashen face.

“Wh-what does it mean, Albus?” Sirius finally found his voice and asked the question on everyone’s mind.

“It means,” Albus said, through bloodless lips, “that Harry Potter is dead.”