It was with great reluctance that Harry said what he did but he said it anyway.

“Both of us.”

A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders due to those three simple words. Bitterness slowly left him as he waited for a response. He realized that sharing the Triwizard Cup was the best action and tried to be content with the choice.

Never mind the terrible need he had to make Cho look at him with admiration--that didn’t matter, he said to himself.

The Hufflepuffs needed some acknowledgement. Harry had many people in Hufflepuff he considered friends, one was staring at him now. And while Cedrics’s expression, that plainly asked about Harry’s mental state was not the reaction he hoped for, it would have to do.

Trying to form his obvious confusion into words, Cedric blurted out, “What?”

Harry smiled warily, “We’ll take it at the same time. It’s still a Hogwarts victory, we’ll tie for it.”

Cedric stared at Harry, he seemed a bit confused and uncertain of this unexpected occurrence. Slowly, he unfolded his arms.

“You--you sure?” The hesitancy and wonder in Cedric’s voice made Harry positive he had made the right choice.

Harry nodded, “Yeah.”

Then he repeated himself more firmly. “Yeah…we’ve helped each other out--sort of. We both got here, we earned it. Let’s just take it together.”

Cedric grinned, his smile was warmer then Harry had ever seen it; and he found himself smiling in return. “You’re on,” Cedric said and he extended his arm, “Come here.”

Harry looked at him in confusion until Cedric slung one of his arms under his. After helping Harry limp toward the cup, Cedric put one hand out to hover over one of the two handles.

Placing his hand over the other, Harry took a deep breath as anticipation coursed through his veins.

“On three,” Harry said. Cedric nodded. He was staring at the cup with excitement written on his face.

“One, two--three,” Harry said and they both grasped one of the handles. Instantly, Harry felt a jerk in his navel. A gust of breath flew past his lips in surprise when he realized his feet had left the ground.

Frightened, Harry tried to pull his hand back and away from the cup. His hand wouldn’t come away. It was stuck to the handle which was pulling him off to an unknown location.

The wind rushed around him, violently it tossed him until he was beginning to feel sick. He could barely make out Cedric who fell to the earth right beside him.

Hard ground came rushing up to meet them. Harry’s injured leg collapsed under his weight and pulled the rest of him down with it. From the ground, Harry looked up anxiously.

Short grass, wet with light rain irritated the palms of Harry’s hands. He could barely see around him because of the fog. It was dense and left him feeling wary.

Trying to stand and failing, Harry asked, “Where are we?”

Cedric shook his head and reached over to pull Harry to his feet. It was obvious they were far away from Hogwarts. The mountains that surrounded the castle were missing. The rooftop of a church could barely be seen in the distance. Around it were shops, and farther away were houses.

They were standing in the middle of a graveyard. Up the hill, Harry could make out the outlines of an old house.

“Did anyone tell you the cup was a portkey?” Cedric asked. Harry shook his head in response. Drawing out his wand as goose bumps rose on his arms, Harry looked at Cedric and the other boy drew his wand as well.

A wind rose and blew his hair. It chilled Harry to the bone. Something wasn’t right here; Harry could literally feel it in the air--no matter how barmy he felt for thinking so.

Why would they be sent here of all places?

Could this be another task…but they had the cup. Perhaps it was broken, and maybe they had broken it. There was only supposed to be one champion after all.

Biting his lip, Harry peered into the darkness. Beside him Cedric was looking around almost nervously. From the tight grasp Cedric had on his wand, Harry knew he was just as unsure of the situation.

“Over there!” Cedric exclaimed and Harry looked to where he was pointing. “Is that a person?”

Harry nodded as the short figure got closer to them. “Should we go over--maybe it’s best if we wait here.”

They waited as the squat person got closer. Harry could make out a bundle in the person’s arms and frowned in confusion. The cloak hid the person’s face; Harry could not tell if the person was male or female.

Cradled in the person’s arms, the bundle stirred and Harry lowered his wand slightly. He couldn’t hold his wand on a baby; he glanced at Cedric just to see the teen’s wand being held steady.

“Appearances are sometimes deceiving,” he whispered and stared in distrust at the bundle carrier.

Trusting his fellow student and friend, Harry lifted his wand as the person came to next to a large, marble gravestone. It was just a few feet away from them.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another. Harry looking over at the person, and it’s hidden face beneath the heavy cloak.

And then, without a warning, Harry’s scar exploded with pain. It was such pain as he had never felt before. Only half aware of his surroundings, Harry felt himself falling as his knees buckled. He fell onto his side on top of the green, wet grass.

Cedric was exclaiming is surprise and worry above him. He tried to pull away Harry’s hands that were clawing at his scar. A sound of immense pain echoed throughout the graveyard, Harry realized the sound was coming from himself.

His head splitting open, Harry thought he was going to black out from the pure agony.

Then from above him, something spoke. It’s voice high, cold and uncaring.

“Kill the spare.”

Harry jerked and opened his teary eyes. There was a swishing noise and then another voice spoke, “Avada Kedavra!”

Gasping in recognition, Harry gazed in wide-eyed wonder as a familiar bolt of green light shot past him and hit Cedric. Overcome with horror, and the pain that made him re-close his eyes; Harry turned to his side and retched.

As suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. It diminished and a terrified Harry opened his eyes. The first the he saw, was his dead schoolmate.

For a second that lasted an eternity, Harry stared at Cedric’s face. His eyes were opened and still frozen in an expression of surprise.

Harry was even able to believe what he was seeing. Before he could stop staring numbly at the person who he’d never see alive again, Harry felt himself being pulled up.

Unable to hold himself straight, and too numb to care yet, Harry let himself be dragged across the ground. Wide green eyes glanced at the gravestone, the name Tom Riddle written across it in bold letters.

Then, unable to complain about the rough treatment, thick ropes appeared and held him taught against the headstone.

Inside him, something was telling him to fight. He wasn’t to be treated like this. It wasn’t right!

Responding to his emotions, Harry struggled against the bonds. A hand slapped him for his efforts…a hand that was missing a finger.

“You!” Harry gasped in amazement and furious anger. Wormtail ignored him and continued to check the cords tightness.

Harry’s cheek stung from the blow that had been dealt to him.

Wild eyed and feeling trapped, Harry struggled all the harder. At the same time he began to scream. “Traitor!” The young boy yelled heatedly.

He knew Wormtail had paused; the man could not finish tying the ropes until Harry stopped moving.

“Murderer! I should have killed you; I should have let you be killed!” Harry yelled in fury. Hardly understanding what he was saying, he continued to verbally abuse Cedric’s killer.

“Good for nothing scum! I gave you a second chance and this is how you use it?”

Another slap silenced Harry. His teeth biting deep into his lip. Harry moaned lightly as blood dribbled onto his shirt. The copper taste made him blanch as did the dirty material that Wormtail shoved into his mouth.

Done with the ropes, Wormtail moved onto his next task.

With nothing else to do Harry watched in growing terror. Wormtail moved out of Harry’s line of vision. The ropes so tight, Harry could not move his head away from the sight before him.

Cedric lay not five feet away, his eyes opened but unseeing. Harry’s abandoned wand lay next to Cedric’s body…and then there was the bundle of robes. As he looked at it, Harry’s scar ached. Giving a small shiver; he looked away.

He didn’t want to know what was in those robes. A sudden surge of hatred made his frown deepen. Whatever was in those robes was responsible for Cedric’s untimely death.

Hearing the sounds of grass being crushed, Harry looked down to see a humongous snake sliding over his filthy shoes. Not being able to pull his feet away, and not even sure if he would if he could, Harry simply stared.

He was beyond aghast at the happenings that surrounded him. This numb feeling had to be shock; there was nothing else that could explain his current state.

The sound of heavy breathing made Harry’s head jerk. Barely, he managed to peer over his shoulder and see Wormtail pushing something heavy among the tombstones. As he came closer Harry was able to make out that the object was a large stone cauldron.

It was filled with water that sloshed over the sides, and created mud where the bottom of the cauldron had pushed up the grass. Panting for breath, Wormtail swallowed and stopped pushing the cauldron in from of the gravestone Harry was tied to.

The bundle of robes was stirring fitfully. Wormtail glanced at them before busying himself around the bottom of the cauldron. A muttered spell later, and a fire was rising around the cauldron.

Alarmed at the sudden light, the huge snake slithered away into the darkness.

The cauldron was larger then any Harry had ever seen. He imagined it could serve as a bathtub for full grown men. Steam rose from around the cauldron as the fire licked at the wet sides.

The bundle of robes moved more frantically, Harry wondered if the creature inside was scared from the sight of the flames. Then a voice rose from the bundle and Harry flinched at the sound, “Hurry!”

Too small to be a man, Harry thought faint heartedly. What other creatures lived in the Wizarding world that he had not learned of yet?

Wormtail hurried over to the bundle. “It is ready, Master,” Wormtail said.

“Now, do it now,” hissed the horrible voice that would haunt Harry’s dreams. The cloaks were spread apart as Wormtail reached inside them--and pulled out a beast.

Harry’s yell was muffled by the nasty material in his mouth.

The thing couldn’t be human. It was raw colored, hairless and curled in the shape of a kneeling child. Harry found his eyes couldn’t leave the figure no matter how hideous it was. His eyes were stuck on it; from both awe, and disgust.

The thing reached thin, scaly arms out and wrapped them around Wormtail’s neck. The traitor was stiff, and as one of the thin arms brushed against his cloak, he hood fell back.

The look of utter revulsion on Wormtail’s face showed Harry how much he hated touching the vile thing.

Wormtail carried the creature to the cauldron of boiling water. Harry got a glimpse of red, piercing eyes and then Wormtail lowered the thing into the water before hastily pulling his arms away.

There was a soft thump as the frail creature hit the bottom of the cauldron.

Harry closed his eyes and discovered his head was pounding painfully. Let it drown, he thought with all his might. Please, kill it.

He had a slim idea what the thing was, but knew that even if he was wrong, it was still evil and deserved to die. Green eyes filled to the brim with pain; physical and mental, opened just to gaze at Cedric.

The body was already starting to look pale--Harry looked way violently enough to wrench his neck.

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shaky like his trembling body. Scared beyond belief, but determined to do his wicked deed. Raising his wand, he spoke to the night. “Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!”

The surface of the grave around Harry’s feet cracked. While the voice that said the words was weak, the words themselves were not.

Horrified, Harry watched as a fine trickle of dust moved lazily into the air and floated over to the cauldron. It fell into the cauldron and the crystal surface rippled. Then sparks flew out of the pot, they were like firecrackers and it made Harry start in surprise.

The color of the potion turned a vivid, poisonous blue.

Terrified whimpers made Harry look at Wormtail. The man was starting to sob, he face crumbled in absolute terror as he pulled out a long, shining dagger from his robe pocket.

Harry felt his heart beating frantically at the sight of the deadly weapon. “Flesh--of the servant,” Wormtail paused to hold back a loud wail. “Willingly given--you will--revive--your master!”

He stretched out his right hand, the one with the missing finger. Gripping the dagger tightly in his left hand, Wormtail swung it upward.

Realizing what Wormtail was doing, Harry closed his eyes tightly and turned his head to the side. He couldn’t escape the scream that followed in the wake of Wormtail’s actions, or the few drops of a warm liquid substance that landed on Harry’s cheek.

Wormtail was panting from pain. There was a sickening splash and Harry knew that Wormtail’s bloody hand had been dropped into the cauldron. Already feeling sick, Harry looked none the less.

The water was red and thick looking; Harry was forced to close his eyes at the sight.

Warm, foul breath hit Harry in the face as Wormtail came to stand in front of him.

“Blood of the enemy--” Wormtail stuttered out. Harry looked at him through barely opened eyes, he was pale and sickly looking.

“Forcibly taken,” Wormtail continued, “you will resurrect your foe.”

Harry could not do anything to prevent it. The bonds held him taught as Wormtail drew the blade again. The blade penetrated his skin and cut under the crook of Harry’s arm.

Blood dribbled down Harry’s cloak. Wormtail caught some of it in a vial before hurrying back to the bubbling cauldron. Turning the vial upside down, Wormtail let the many drops of blood fall into the waiting water before he slumped to the ground in a defeated crouch.

The potion turned a brilliant, blindingly bright white. Even through Harry’s closed eyes he could tell its color. It made everything else look velvety black.

Nothing happened.

Harry found himself hoping for the creature’s death.

Die, drown, please let it have died, Harry thought.

He was submerged into mostly quiet. The only sound was Wormtail’s quiet whimpering as he cradled his bleeding stump.

Then, just as he was becoming sure it had gone wrong--white smoke started billowing up. It blocked Harry’s sight of Cedric’s dead body and Wormtail’s mourning form.

Ignoring what was happening right in front of him, Harry continued to hope that the creature was dead. That whatever Wormtail had wanted to accomplish was a waste….

It must have died, nothing can survive that long under water, Harry dared to hope.

Then, through the mist--he saw him. Icy surges of terror had him wrapped in their grasp. It couldn’t be…things like this couldn’t happen--he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, if he did--it would mean the deaths of hundreds if not more.

In the shadows of the smog, a tall, thin man stood in the middle of the cauldron.

“Robe me,” he said. The voice was cold, terribly cold and unfeeling. Behind the steam, Wormtail stumbled to his feet at his master’s request.

Picking up the black robes from the ground, Wormtail robed his master and the moved backward cowering in fear. Voldemort had risen again.

The scene was so much worse then any horror film, even worse then Dementors. Harry could forget the Dementors and learn spells to keep them away--but he would never be able to forget this.

Voldemort was looking over his new body. Arms and legs were caressed, reverence in his cat like eyes. He reached a long thin hand into one large sleeve, and drew out a wand.

Harry squirmed gently, not trying to draw attention to himself, but to get free.

“Cease your squirming Potter, I’ll get to you soon enough,” Voldemort murmured as he turned to survey the graveyard. At his master’s words, Wormtail glanced at Harry; he was in a half bent position. His left arm held his stump close to his chest.

Harry looked back at him with total disgust and anger. There was a small flinch, then Wormtail looked away.

Voldemort spoke.

“Show me your arm Wormtail,” he demanded. Wormtail did so eagerly, he held out his right arm--but Voldemort laughed at him.

“The other arm, Wormtail,” he said lazily.

Wormtail’s hopeful face seemed to crumble, “You promised Master…please! It hurts!”

With irritation and boredom in his very movements, Voldemort reached forward and pulled Wormtail’s left arm forward.

Jerking the sleeve backwards, Voldemort stared at the mark on the trembling arm.

Harry could see a red, raw looking mark on Wormtail’s arm as Voldemort studied it. The traitor was whimpering, weeping and sniffling as Voldemort’s grasp held him still.

“They will all know,” Voldemort whispered and he pressed his fingers cruelly into Wormtail’s arm. Harry’s scar seared with pain and Wormtail whimpered.

Pushing Wormtail’s arm away carelessly, Voldemort turned to stare into the night.

“How many will be brave enough to come?” Voldemort asked in the silence.

“And how many will be foolish to stay away?” A small smile came upon his face, it meant pain and suffering to those who stayed away. Harry narrowed his eyes in a wince at the less then pleasing sight.

Voldemort began to pace among the headstones. Feet never making a sound, like a ghost floating through the air.

Harry, ever quiet and watchful, glanced at Wormtail. The man looked broken. He was staring at Voldemort with growing anxiety.

“They are coming soon,” Voldemort murmured--and that was when Wormtail moved.

With a speed that was surprising, he moved towards Harry. With a swipe of his wand, the bonds broke. However, the spell was not careful and cut into Harry’s robe, and the skin underneath his Muggle clothes.

The robe; already torn and dirty, fell off as Harry’s leg gave in.

Gaping at Wormtail, Harry fell forward into a crouch. He looked up in time to see Wormtail drawing his wand.

He pushed an old velvet bag into Harry’s unresisting hand.

There was one second, where Harry stared at Wormtail’s face is disbelief, and Voldemort was screaming curses at the man’s unprotected back.

Wormtail had fulfilled his life debt. “I’m sorry,” Wormtail said. “Alieno!” he shouted. Right then, Harry forgot all.

The crowd was excited. The Hogwarts students more so then the rest. The champions from the other schools had been injured, and were pulled out of the tournament.

This meant, that either Cedric Diggory would be the Triwizard champion--or, heaven forbid, Harry Potter would.

It was only when professor Snape’s Dark Mark started to burn; that the man thought something had gone wrong. The mark had not throbbed like this since the Dark Lord’s chaotic attacks during the first war.

He very much expected Potter to appear with the golden cup in hand. The brat would no doubt come along with an almost unbelievable story, of how he only survived by pure dumb luck.

He would be lifted on high shoulders while Diggory tried to be a good sport amongst his sour friends. However, Snape found this depressing mental image dimming in the light of new developments.

His eyes met Dumbledore’s. The old blue eyes of the Headmaster trailed down Severus’s arm where the Dark Mark was hidden. Asking the question with his eyes, Dumbledore looked back up for the answer.

He knew of the pain Snape had been feeling in his Dark Mark, and was very careful to keep track of its twinges.

While Snape did not want to be beaten down with negative thinking about the possible return of the Dark Lord, he was sure to inform Dumbledore of the Dark Mark’s actions.

Snape’s eyes roamed over the students gathered in the stands. Bright red caught his eyes and helped him find the youngest Weasley and her brother gathered with Granger. Only the friends of the remaining champions looked worried, and it was understandable as to why.

Last time the tournament happened a teen had died. It was unlikely for it to happen again. Especially after all the precautions the Hogwarts staff had taken and the added safety from the other school and ministry, but friends of the last champions were still anxious.

Moreover, Potter and Diggory had been in the maze for a longer time then anyone had expected.

Looking away, Snape did a swift check over the Hogwarts staff. If he had turned a second later, it was likely he would have missed the quick gulp Moody took from his hipflask. Snape frowned more prominently. There was something nagging him about that hipflask, he had never known the man to drink so often….

Before the Potions master could think too much on the subject, the Hogwarts champion arrived.

There was a deadly silence as everyone gazed in horror struck awe at the scene that had appeared before them.

Suspended in the air, and swinging from invisible cords, Cedric Diggory was hanging limply.

High above his head, the deadly Dark Mark hung in the sky. The green hues from it highlighted the dark sky and cast a tint on Diggory’s motionless face. Before others even had time to process what had happened; the screaming started.

It came from Diggory’s mother. She was screaming. Scrambling through the crowd and toward her son.

Her cries awoke the rest of the audience. Then, it became complete pandemonium. A nightmare come true, and a mother’s worst fear fulfilled.

Snape stood, one of the few people who were not gaping in horror and confusion, or crying. Dumbledore moved through the crowd faster then one would think and old man could. Snape was right behind him.

It seemed Snape’s earlier logic was wrong, for Diggory was dead. And if the Dark Mark was anything to go by, his death wouldn’t be the last.

Snape searched the area around Diggory’s floating body for Potter’s corpse. He saw none.

This meant either one of three things. One, the Dark Lord was killing Potter slowly. Two, he was going to keep Potter’s body for reasons unknown. Or three, Potter was not dead yet.

While Snape thought the Dark Lord would want to get it over with and just kill Potter, he was known for making his captives miserable first.

Diggory’s father was holding his wife back from getting any closer to their dead son. His face was stricken and pale, his wife sobbing in his arms.

“Cedrrrric, not Cedric!” She moaned.

Snape hurried to catch the headmaster.

“Where’s Harry?” Dumbledore said as he looked around. Only his eyes showed how frantic he was feeling about the missing Boy-Who-Lived.

Fudge was staring between Cedric’s body and the crowd while saying, “I’m sure he’s fine--just--just injured I’m sure!”

The audience was screaming, girls were crying, no one heeded the ignorant words of the Minister of Magic. All of them knew it could not be true. No one was left alive when the Dark Mark was involved.

The rest of the Hogwarts staff were starting to move. “Get the students inside!” Professor McGonagall called to the Prefects and other teachers.

The younger students were crying. While a few prefects were shaken out of their shock and hurried to gather the students. Dumbledore waved his wand under Diggory’s body.

“He’s returned,” Snape said after casting a privacy spell. The air reeked of dark magic, and his Dark Mark was tingling painfully.

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore said quietly as he finally released the spells that held the Hufflepuff in the air. “You’ll have to report to him soon Severus, I’m sorry.”

Snape’s face hardened at the whispered words. The Headmaster only met his eyes for as second before going back to taking care of Diggory.

Behind them McGonagall was still shouting orders, “Take the Diggory’s to Poppy.”

A tearful looking Herbology teacher did just that, but Amos Diggory was quickly making his way over. “Dumbledore, tell me he’s not…?” Amos swallowed his words as he came closer.

“I’m sorry Amos,” Dumbledore said quietly. The man balked violently.

“No, it’s not true--I won’t believe it!” Mr. Diggory said loudly. He was shaking, his voice stuttered out barely recognizable words.

One of the Hogwarts staff stupefied the hysterical man, and then put him on a stretcher to carry him to the hospital wing.

“He’s called me Albus, he has returned. Should I go now?” Snape muttered as Dumbledore covered Cedric’s body with a white sheet that appeared from his wand.

“Put him in a separate room of the Hospital Wing,” the Headmaster said to a pale McGonagall before turning to Snape.

“I think it’s too soon for you to return Severus,” Dumbledore said under his breath.

Fudge was rambling, and Aurors were running through the gates. No doubt they were called by someone in Hogsmeade who had seen the Dark Mark.

“It is too soon,” Dumbledore repeated, “He would know I need you here, you will likely die if you go now. He would have already killed Harry if he was going to do so, I don’t think he is not foolish in that regard.”

“I’m not as certain Albus,” Snape said as he looked around the grounds. “He’s been in a non-human form for so long, he may wish Potter to suffer. Or he’s already killed the boy and will save his corpse as a trophy.”

Dumbledore closed his eyes, “Merlin help us if he has.”

Snape stared at Dumbledore, a faint sneer on his face. Anyone that could see knew Dumbledore was fond of the Boy-Who-Lived. The potions master couldn’t see anything extraordinary about the boy.

He was always in the midst of trouble, a rule breaker, and disrespectful. No, there was nothing exceptional about the boy. Even now Snape wouldn’t put it past Potter to be perfectly fine. Probably escaped from the Dark Lord and asleep somewhere while everyone else ran around like chickens with their heads cut off.

Dumbledore peered at Snape and the potions master stared back. The Headmasters face told Snape he had a good idea what his thoughts were about--or who they were about.

“You know just as well as I do what the Wizarding world would be like if Harry was discovered dead,” Dumbledore murmured. He looked around, before turning back to Snape who nodded reluctantly.

“Complete chaos Severus,” Dumbledore continued. “Now someone here, with access to the maze caused this to happen.”

Snape’s gaze immediately went to Moody, his dim suspicions about the man’s hip flask coming back to mind.

“Surely if a killing curse was shot in the maze we would have known Albus. I saw no markings on Diggory, the only way he could look like that and be dead is the killing curse. He must have been transported somewhere else to be murdered. Perhaps Potter is still in the maze?” Snape’s questions brought a thoughtful look to Dumbledore’s face.

“I’ll have Hagrid check the maze,” Dumbledore said. He cast Expecto Patronum and sent his patronus off to deliver a message to the teacher and groundskeeper.

Turning away, Snape let his curiosity lead him to the Triwizard Cup that Auror’s had blocked of by casting a repelling charm around the object.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was casting charms in the cup, his face grim. “It’s an unauthorized portkey,” he said as Snape came closer.

“Can you tell if Potter touched it as well?” Snape asked.

Imediantly Kingsley shook his head. “I’ve already thought of that, it will take some time, but it can be done.”

“Is it a one use portkey?” Snape asked. Kingsley looked up.

“Yes, it should be harmless as well, but we are taking extra precautions before touching it,” the Auror said.

Snape returned to Dumbledore who was talking to Moody. “--there’s no way of telling if Potter’s dead then?” Moody was asking.

“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore said. Moody grunted, his fake eye swiveling around to watch the Auror’s and others suspiciously.

“Karkaroff’s run off,” Moody said. Disgust was in his voice, “Afraid no doubt,” the grissled man continued.

“I have to admit that I‘m skeptic as to how far he can run,” Dumbledore said.

“Voldemort’ll be looking for his lost Death Eaters,” Moody said. Both eyes looked at Snape who raised an eyebrow. “I suspect he’ll also be rewarding those who have remained loyal to him.”

Snape watched at Moody took out his hip flask again and turned away to take a drink. Dark eyebrows lowered as Snape estimated how long ago it had been since Moody had taken a drink, almost forty minutes he guessed.

There was something about it that was bothering him.

He never liked Mad-Eye; and he was sure he never would, but Snape was sure it was not a grudge that made him keep his suspicious of the old Auror.

“The Dark Lord isn’t patient, those that don’t report to him quickly will be considered lost and punished when found,” Snape said easily. The words were formed from curiosity, he wished to see how Moody would react.

The Mad-Eye Moody he knew; would be saying the Death Eaters deserved whatever punishments Voldemort handed them, and more…but, he didn’t say a thing. The man was pale looking, he stared straight ahead with both his magical eye and his normal one.

Snape excused himself and made for the castle, Dumbledore was once again conversing with Moody before he was five steps away.

As he walked, more bits of information came to him. The honest look Potter had given him when Snape had accused him of stealing the gillyweed came back to Snape. Then, to further add to his suspicions, the incident with that parchment he was sure belonged to Potter came to mind.

The way Moody had suddenly remembered it was his own, and the egg that had to be Potter’s as well. He knew Moody must have known Potter was there, his magical eye could see through Invisibility Cloaks.

What if Moody had been the one to break into his cabinet? But why would he do so much to help Potter?

Snape reached his office and flung open the door. His mind turning like an engine, he paced trying to make sense out of the situation.

The only way to get the answers he needed was to return to the Dark Lord. But Dumbledore was right, he couldn’t return immediately--no matter the consequences Potter would suffer from their descision.

If he went to early his life could be put in jeopardy like Potter’s most likely was.

His mind came back to that dirty parchment he had seen Potter with in third year. Snape had to know what it did, was there anything that it could help him with? There were ideas in his mind as to what it did, but he needed to make certain. He had to know.

Coming to a descision, Snape stalked out of his office and to the Gryffindor Tower.

His dark expression and stride frightened the few wandering prefects out of the way. The Fat Lady stared at him in surprised suspiscion as he reached her portait.

Snape spat out the password. All teachers were told the passwords for each house, it was in case of emergency situations, and Snape considered this important enough.

While she looked hesitant, the Fat Lady opened up her portrait. Climbing through, Snape ignored all the horrified faces of the Gryffindor house. It seemed they had all gathered in the room to take comfort from one another.

In the middle of the huddle were the two Snape wanted to speak to. “Weasley, Granger, follow me now,” he said to the pale friends. Without waiting for their reply, he headed toward the staircase that would lead him to the boy’s dormitories.

He heard the two Gryffindors follow him slowly. At the top of the stairs, Snape quickly went to the dormitory Potter slept in and threw open the door.

“Out, now,” he growled at Longbottom who was the only one in the room. The boy seemed to muffle a scream of fright as he fled the room, running faster then Snape had ever seen him.

Right as he left, Weasley and Granger entered. “Has something happened Proffesor? Have they found Harry?” Granger asked, she looked frantic and Weasley didn’t look much better.

“No Granger,” Snape said and saw out of the corner of his eyes as the girl seemed to deflate.

“Then what do you want?” Weasley asked rudely. He seemed offended that Potions Master had no good news for them.

“Watch it Weasley,” Snape said warningly as he spotted Potter’s trunk. It was easy to spot with Potter’s initials carved in the front. He drew his wand and pointed it at Potter’s trunk.

The lid flew open at the unlocking charm he used.

“Hey! That’s Harry’s trunk, leave it alone,” Weasley said, his face turning red with irritation.

“Weasley,” Snape said as patiently as his the growing thob in his head would allow him. “Potter owns an old parchment, a map--” the stiffening from both Gryffindors showed him they knew of what he spoke.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said. Gryffindor wore their emotions on their sleeves.

Granger nodded, she looked curious, but not near as suspicious as Weasley. Good, maybe one of them had enough sense to give him some answers.

“I need to see that parchment,” Snape said.

To his irrataion, Weasley snorted and crossed his arms. “Why?” Granger asked and ignored the look of disbelief being shot at her by Weasley.

“There is an imposter in Hogwarts, most likely a staff member. I need that map if you ever want to see Potter alive again,” Snape said.

Granger paled, “Harry gave it to Proffesor Moody,” she gasped out. “We don’t have it”

“What does it do?” Snape asked, his suspicions were already being confirmed.

“It--it shows the inhabitants of Hogwarts,” Granger stuttered out.

“Can it be tricked?” Snape pressed.

“No--I’m pretty sure it can’t be.”

“Did Moody say why he wanted it?” Snape doubted Granger had an answer that would help him, but he asked anyway

“He told Harry it was what he had been looking for.”

Snape nodded, and without another word he swept out of the room and down the stairs. He could hear Weasley grilling Granger about why he had told the ‘greasy git’ anything, and had to stop himself from smirking.

Snape needed to find Dumbledore, or get the keyes to Moody’s room somehow. The Proffesor doubted that the headmaster would take drastic action against Moody unless he was sure.

He need something more.

Moody took the map away from Potter to hold the secret of his identity, that had to be it, he couldn’t see any other solution.

Snape past through doors that led outside, Moody and Dumbledore were making their way to him. As Snape caught sight of the hipflask, gleaming silver in the light of the slowly rising moon, he made a sudden decision.

“Accio hipflask!” said Snape in a fierce voice. Moody was too far away to hear the spell, but he looked up in alarm when the hipflask he was never seen without; flew straight into Snape’s waiting hand.

Quickly unscrewing the top, Snape smelt of the remaining liquid inside just as the Moody impersonator fired Impedimenta at him.

“It Polyjuice Albus,” Snape snarled loudly after he blocked the spell.

Out of trust; Dumbledore turned on Moody and cast two spells silently, and quickly.

The surprise of being lifted into the air, made the Moody imposter pause long enough for the disarming spell to hit him.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Snape cast and the squirming man froze. To add to the security, Dumbledore stunned the floating man who instantly went limp.

Fudge and Auror’s were hurrying over. “What--what’s happened here!” Fudge asked as he stared at Moody’s still floating form. “Dumbledore explain!”

“Cornelius, let’s take this inside. Severus, it seems we’re in need of some Veritaserum--or whatever the strongest Truth Potion you have is. I‘ll be in Moody‘s rooms,” Dumbledore said.

Snape nodded, and without a glance back, he headed back to his dungeons while Dumbledore floated the unconscious imposter inside.

After Snape retrieved the Veritaserum from his private stocks, he swiftly climbed the stairs to Moody’s rooms.

Dumbledore was in the process of going through a set of keys when Snape arrived in Moody’s rooms. The imposter was lying on the floor in an uncomfortable position, most likely where Dumbledore had dropped him.

Snape’s mouth twitch in faint amusement before adjusting back to it’s usual cold expression. This was not the appropriate time for humor, not even from a man that had not laughed in…well, a long time.

McGonagall was watching Dumbledore, but her steady wand was trained on the imposter.

Snape stepped further into the room, the Veritaserum in hand. “He hasn’t moved?” he asked McGonagall.

The Transfiguration teacher shook her head, “Your stun got the spell done well Severus,” she said. “Can’t help but wish he had woken up; if for nothing else, then just so I can knock him out again,” she grumbled.

Dumbledore unlocked the trunk again, but instead of shutting it and trying again, he peered into the empty expanse before him. “He’s here. Minerva, we are going to need the expertise--”

“I’ve already called Poppy, Albus,” McGonagall said. “She is on her way as soon as she settles in the Diggorys.”

Dumbledore nodded and stood from his kneeling position. “Severus, I’ll need your help,” he said as he climbed into the trunk, lowered himself and dropped to the dusty ground.

Snape climbed in after him. Moody looked terrible. His hair was uneven from where the imposter had cut his hair all year long, his wooden leg was missing and it was the same for his magical eye.

He was skinny, dirty and unconscious. “He’s weak, but not in immediate danger,” Dumbledore said to Snape.

Snape looked over the Auror, and cast a diagnosus spell. “He’s been under the Imperius Curse,” Snape said.

Dumbeldore frowned, “I’m very curious…. Raise Alastor out of here will you Severus? I want to see just who our imposter is.”

Snape nodded and waited until Dumbledore had climbed out before he once again cast Mobilicorpus. Carefully floating the man out of the trunk, Severus climbed out all the while keeping his hand steady on Moody’s form.

Madam Pomfrey was waiting when he finished ascended. The mediwitch covered her mouth with her hand, “Oh, goodness! Here Severus, let me take him from you--there, thank you.”

Snape didn’t respond at first, but Madam Pomfrey was used to him not saying much--unless it was an insult or involved work. She transferred Moody from the floating spell onto a floating stretcher.

“Mercy me, if it’s not one thing it’s another,” she mumered softly looking between Moody and the imposter which still lay on the floor.

“Moody’s been under Imperious, unless you want him mindless I suggest you don’t give him any sleeping potions for at least a few hours,” Snape said as Pomfrey started to take Moody away.

“I know how to treat my patients Severus,” Pomfrey said testily.

Severus couldn’t stop the self-satisfied expression on his face--or maybe he could have and just didn’t want to. Pomfrey huffed and after sending him a half-hearted glare, she left.

“I wish I knew when he last took Polyjuice,” Dumbledore said as he pulled the imposter to a slumped sitting position.

Snape cast a time telling charm, “I assume it was twenty minutes ago since his last drink. You’ll have to wait for the affects to wear off,” he said.

The Dark Mark burned suddenly, Snape’s hand quickly clasped it. Sometimes it helped ease the pain…and the feeling that everyone could see it.

Snape looked up from his burning arm to Dumbledore who was watching him. “Get ready Severus, avoiding Voldemort will only endanger you more--I suggest you leave early tomorrow,” the headmaster said.

“I think he is more dangerous then before Albus. The Dark Mark has never burned this bad before,” Snape said. The itchy, scalding feeling had numbed part of his arm, and had been tingling for a long while.

“Depending on how he got back, he may just be more powerful Severus. I’m afraid we won’t know how that happened until you get back….I am sorry that you have to return to your past position Severus,” Dumbledore said. “I never wanted you to return to him.”

Snape could tell by the coldness of his skin, that he was pale. Anyone that had to bow to a monster would be frightened--especially since this monster was not the least bit forgiving.

“Go,” Dumbledore said with a sigh as he turned to the still unconscious imposter that still looked like Moody. “Check your Occlumency shields Severus, he will no doubt test them. I’ll show you what I learn from this imposter when you return.”

“I’ll do that Albus,” Snape said. He turned and left the room.

The sun was bright, that much he could tell without opening his lids. All the boy could see was whiteness behind his closed, gritty eyelids. Scrunching his eyes in discomfort, he turned his aching head to the side and tried to escape the blinding light.

It was inescapable though without moving more. The pain he felt in his back from the slightest movement stopped him from trying anything further.

Long grass shifted under him as he moved. Meanwhile, the longer strands of grass that went above his head, blocked out some of the daylight.

It was then that he noticed how wet he felt. Perhaps the morning dew had wet his clothes or a light rain shower? Although the moisture was uncomfortable, the warmth from the sun was not.

Curious but also tired, he managed to turn on his stomach and cradle his pounding head with his hands.

He fought half heartedly against sleep, the need to discover where he was--and who he was almost unbearable. But it overwhelmed him, and he let himself doze off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something warm and wet was running over the back of his collar. Little puffs of heated air lifted the hair on his neck. The panting and sniffing sounds made his eyebrows crinkle.

The confusion in his sleepy head aimed itself toward the creature that found him.

Something with padded feet pushed, at his cheek with its paw. The boy gathered that the creature was either feeling playful--or wondering if he was edible.

He stayed still fearfully. Perhaps he wouldn’t seem so appetizing if he pretended to be dead. He could only hope that this creature didn’t like its food dead.

Just as the wait was beginning to ware on his nerves, the animal did something that shocked him. It howled.

Surprise made the boy jump lightly. A suspicion as to just what kind of animal it was made him open his eyes warily.

The boy couldn’t begin to describe how silly he felt at seeing the dangerous animal. He’d thought he was going to be eaten--by a sheepdog.

Be afraid, be very afraid, he thought sarcastically.

Said dog was now howling his misery to the world. The only reason for this curious action that the boy could think of, was that the dog thought he was dead. He found himself smiling at the mourning dog.

It was a shaggy mess. White and gray fur was bland looking from rolling in dirt and other doggy habits. Carefully, watching the dog the entire time, he sat up.

The dog seemed to start in surprise. The boy smiled as the dog barked happily and licked his face.

“Yuck,” the nameless boy said with a small laugh. The sheepdog didn’t seem offended and nudged the boy with his wet nose. Pushing the dog away; he placed his hands back on the ground. It was then that he felt the material under his palm.

It was soft, blue, and possibly velvet. Curious and hopeful, he pulled it open but sadly there was nothing inside to help him understand. He still had no idea where he was or how he had came to be here.

The shaggy dog backed away a couple of steps as the boy tried to stand. His wounded leg made itself known. He couldn’t hold in a gasp as pain surged up his thigh. Stumbling a step, he fell down.

The dog cocked his head to the side worriedly.

It was useless to try and look reassuring, the pain had him concerned--especially since he had not even known he was injured! Sitting down, he examined the leg injury.

It was hard to tell because of the smeared blood, and the trousers that were covering the limb. But from what he could make out, it looked like something had bitten him.

One thing was for sure, he was not going to get very far walking.

“I hope your home is near,” he told the dog. “I don’t know where my home is,” he continued to himself.

Where was his home? How did he come to be here and why could he not remember anything about himself? He didn’t remember anything that could be considered personal.

How old he was, his favorite color, what his family was like, or where he lived. I don’t even know my name, he realized with faint horror.

Probably sensing his discomfort, the friendly sheepdog put a muddy paw on the boy’s chest. The clothes were already filthy and torn, so the boy figured the added mud didn’t matter much.

He was about to speak to the dog; when a man’s voice disrupted him.

“You! What’re you doing on my property boy?”

He jumped, he couldn’t help it. The gruff voice was stern and accusing. Looking up, his eyes found the tall man that was making his way towards him.

The man looked intimidating as he stalked toward the kneeling boy. Swallowing nervously, the boy tried to stand; not wanting to confront the man when sitting on the ground.

Forgetting that he had just decided not to stand because of his first failed attempt, the boy once again fell over. This time the ground rushed up to meet him and only his hands kept his nose from being smashed.

The corner of his glasses still hit the ground and his temple hit the ground as well. A terrible crack made the boy wince. He didn’t know if it was the glasses that had cracked, or if he just injured his leg more.

Before he could get up and see, strong hands turned him over onto his back. A yet suspicious face looked down at him.

“Hi,” the boy said stupidly. The man frowned and his gaze went toward the the boy’s temple.

“How hard did you hit your head boy?” the man asked gruffly.

The boy frowned, was the man concerned or was he being mocked? Not waiting for an answer, the older man lifted him off the ground. His bad leg tried to give out, but with someone to support him he managed to stand.

“What did you do to my dog?” the man said angrily as dark eyes examined the wounded leg.

“Wh--what?”

“Fendi bit you, right? He would only do that to someone causing him harm.”

“Fendi?” the boy asked slowly looking at the messy dog that was staring at them. He wasn’t sure If the name fit, but the dog wasn’t complaining.

“Yes,” the man snapped, “that’s his name, don’t wear it out!”

Staring in anxious surprise, the boy watched as the man looked around with narrowed eyes. “Just where did you come from? I’ve never seen you--you aren’t her dunderhead are you?”

Gaping slightly, the boy stuttered. “I--I--what are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” the man muttered with a shake of his head. The man lifted him up, and kept him standing by grasping his arm firmly.

“You look like you’ve been in out here for a while. You’re clothes are wet, brilliant way to catch a cold.” The man seemed disapproving.

The boy looked at himself. He did make quite the sight. His face felt bruised, he was sure his lip was swollen, broken glasses, torn clothes. Feeling slightly ashamed and very confused about how he got in this condition, he looked up.

The man had dark hair that was speckled with grey from age. A bristled beard added to the lone wolf look, and he was staring.

“You can come to my house, or go your own way. I can get that leg looked at, then you can tell me what you were doing out here. Or…if you leave now I won’t be held responsible if you fall over dead in the woods somewhere.”

Gulping, the boy nodded. “I would like to get my leg looked at, please.”

“Very well.”

Now, the boy just hoped he could remember what he was doing here by the time the man asked again. It was doubtful that this man would accept ‘I don’t know,’ for an answer.

It was hard to see out of his left eye since a crack ran through the lens, but he managed to catch the dog walking happily beside them.

“So,” he said hesitantly. “Why did you name the dog Fendi?”

The man seemed to relax a little at the question, and he glanced at the sheepdog.

“It was either going to be Fendi, of Mr. Fluffypants,” the man said dryly. “What’s your name boy?” he continued, as he helped the boy limp across the rolling valley.

It was extremely grassy. Wildflowers grew in random, and two or three trees created shaded spots.

On both sides of the wide valley was a forest. He couldn’t see far into it because of the darkness the trees of the forest created.

The boy turned back to the man as he tried to find an acceptable answer.

“Er…I don’t--don’t actually know sir,” he said.

The man didn’t stop walking from surprise, or look at he boy in disbelief. Instead he made a thinking sound and stared straight ahead, his expression neutral.

“Tobias Snape, but that’s Mr. Snape to you. I refuse to keep calling you boy; so I’ll just have to give you a name won’t I?” Tobias said with look toward the boy at his side.

“O-okay,” the boy said hesitantly.

“Let’s see, how about Marilyn?” Tobias asked seriously. The boy gaped at him in horror. He wanted a name, but not a girl name, he’d rather take Fendi’s rejected name and start calling himself Mr. Fluffypants.

“No? Well how about Pee Wee instead?” Tobias continued.

“How about a normal name Mr. Snape? Like,” he thought for a minute. “What do you think of…Jesse.” From beside them Fendi barked, the boy took it as approval.

Tobias shrugged with one arm since the other was holding the boy up. “Jesse’s a good name, don’t know what was wrong with Pee Wee though,” he murmured.

The boy, now called Jesse, laughed. Tobias seemed to fight back a grin himself which amazed Jesse.

Jesse didn’t know what made him choose his new name, could it possibly be his real name before he forgot everything?

For some reason he doubted it. But he liked the name he had chosen. Somehow it felt comfortable; like a well worn coat, and it slid off the tongue easily.

He could see people calling him Jesse, where as he would only be called Pee Wee or Marilyn in a nightmare.

Together Tobias and Jesse climbed over a hill. At the top of the rise Jesse got his first look at Tobias’s house.

It was a rather small looking, green roofed cabin. A few sparse trees provided cool shade while the front porch was bathed in the warm glow of the sun.

“That’s your house Mr. Snape?” Jesse asked as they went down the hill. Fendi ran ahead, barking the entire time. Even though Jesse hadn’t noticed the chickens before, he noticed them now as the sheepdog made them scatter with indigent squawks.

“Yes, and the only one around for many miles as well, that’s one reason I’m very curious to hear how you ended up on my land,” Tobias said.

Jesse didn’t offer any information at the time, even though Tobias glanced at him expectantly. What could he possibly say? He was lost, sort of nameless and with no clue as to how he had come to be here.

The only possession he owned was the velvet bag, and that certainly didn’t give him any clues. But, it was nice to have something, no matter how small it was.

Jesse looked around in interest, he couldn’t help but be curious and there was also the hope that something familiar might jog his memory.

The front of the house had two small windows, stairs led to the door and to a verandah that protected anyone coming out of the rain.

Tobias opened the door without using a key. But, Jesse thought looking back at the roaming chickens and massive field, out here you didn’t really need to lock the door.

The door opened up to a living room, it could have been spacious--but there were scattered books and miscellaneous products scattered around.

Jesse gathered that Tobias must live alone, it looked like no one took care of the house.

A dressing-gown, trousers and a few jumpers had been tossed uncaringly onto various objects.

Pushing Jesse inside, Tobias was shutting the door and Fendi barely managed to squeeze through before it shut with a clicking sound.

Jesse was leaning heavily on the wall to remain standing, and was very grateful when Tobias led him to a chair. “Sit here and I’ll be right back,” he instructed.

If Jesse looked away, he would not have seen the sign Tobias made to Fendi. It was a swift motion where his hand flicked toward Jesse’s direction.

The boy would have thought it unremarkable if Fendi had no reaction, but the sheepdog did have a reaction. He stopped chewing on his ragged bone, and came to sit not far from Jesse.

Jesse knew that Tobias did not fully trust him, so he was not offended by Fendi being sent to watch him--because that appeared to be what the dog was doing. He would just have to gain the man’s trust, if he had the time.

Hopefully someone would come looking for him, have a perfectly good explanation for his situation, and somehow get Jesse’s lost memories back. Tobias came back in the room, a few items held in his hands.

“I don’t know how bad you’re hurt, but this should cover it,” he said and pulled Jesse’s injured leg out to have better access to it.

Not wasting time, Tobias put two fingers on both side of the hole on Jesse’s trousers and ripped the material open. Jesse winced at seeing the wound, before he couldn’t tell how it looked, now though….

The wound looked like two long teeth had pierced his skin, liker a bite from an unknown animal. Around the teeth markings, the skin was tinted black.

“That can’t be good,” Jesse muttered. Tobias’s face was grim.

“How did this happen? It looks infected,” the man said, his eyes seemed to flash with anger.

“I don’t know sir,” Jesse said reluctantly.

Tobias stood up in one swift motion, “There seems to be a lot of things you don’t know boy.”

Jesse bowed his head, “I can’t remember anything--” he stopped as Tobias snorted.

“It’s true!” he said. “I can’t remember anything about my past. That’s why I didn’t know my name--I don’t even know what I look like!”

The sudden urge to find a mirror was irresistible. What did he look like?

He ended up tripping over Fendi who seemed to be trying to push him back in his seat.

“For the love of--!” Tobias cut himself off as he tried to catch Jesse and ended up kneeling on the floor.

“You’re depriving a village somewhere of an idiot, do you know that?” Tobias said to a sheepish Jesse.

“Sorry--do you have a handheld mirror? I--I want to see what I look like, please,” Jesse asked softly.

Tobias looked at him until he squirmed. “You really don’t remember anything about yourself?”

Jesse shook his head. “I woke up in your field, Fendi found me and woke me up.”

Tobias turned back to the leg wound. “Let me try and take care of this first, then you can have a look in the mirror.”

Jesse watched as Tobias cleaned the wound with a wet flannel, and then poured peroxide over it. Biting his lip, Jesse tried to think of happy thoughts while it felt like his leg was going to burn right off.

“You could have warned me,” he told Tobias grumpily as the pain receded slightly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tobias said and Jesse glared at him.

“You’re a sick man,” he muttered glumly. Tobias chuckled while wiping blood off the limb.

“I’m going to wrap this but I’m taking it off tonight, it needs to breath. Just try not to move to much,” Tobias said as he searched for a bandage in his small pile of medical supplies.

Jesse was quiet for a moment, “You’re going to let me stay here?”

Tobias looked up, his own surprise mirrored on Jesse’s face. “Of course, like I said, there’s not another house around here for miles. I’ll go ahead and call as doctor, I want him to look at that leg, but I doubt he’ll be able to come over until tomorrow.”

Nodding, Jesse looked around the house once more.

“Where else are you injured?” Tobias asked, his eyes were drawn to the bruises on Jesse’s face, but he didn’t say anything.

Jesse looked back at him. “My arm is cut,” he said. Tobias moved toward the right arm the boy indicated.

The boy looked down at his chest. Parting the torn shirt a bit, he saw a long cut there. It didn’t appear deep enough to need immediate attention.

Tobias, now done looking at Jesse’s arm, handed him the bottle of peroxide.

“I’m not going to baby you anymore than is necessary,” he said. “I’ll call the doctor and you can treat whatever other wounds you have.”

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said and Tobias moved away. Fendi tried to follow, but after seeing his master make the hand motion again, he moved back to watch Jesse.

After bathing the cuts in the cleaner, Jesse leaned back in the soft armchair and closed his eyes. He felt tired, no matter the fact that he had woken up less then three hours ago.

Jesse’s forehead throbbed. His hand crept into his trousers pocket and clenched the velvet bag that was inside.

He was almost asleep when the entrance of Tobias woke him. Sitting up, Jesse wiped his aching eyes by putting his hands under hid glasses and then looked at the man. Tobias held out a hand mirror, excitedly, Jesse took it.

His eyes were green. That was the first thing he noticed. His hair was black and at the moment extremely messy. Jesse tried raking it back down with one hand, but the rebellious hair stood back up immediately.

Jesse glared at it in the mirror.

Chuckling, Tobias took the mirror away from Jesse. “Getting mad at your own reflection isn’t healthy.”

Jesse smiled and scratched Fendi behind his ears. He then yawned so wide, that his jaw made a cracking sound.

Tobias raised an eyebrow, “Tired?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said bashfully. “Do you mind if I go to sleep here--?” Tobias was already putting an arm under Jesse’s armpit.

“I have a guestroom you can stay in. I don’t think it’s ever been used so you’ll have to ignore it’s condition,” Tobias said as he led Jesse through the house.

The guestroom was dustier than the rest of the house, and only held a bed, a bedside table and a chest of drawers. However, Jesse didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful--and perhaps he hadn’t.

He was so tired. Tobias helped him sit on the bed, “Put one of those pillows under your bad leg,” he told Jesse.

He turned to leave, “Oh, and you can wash those blankets tomorrow,” Tobias added before turning off the light.

Jesse rolled his eyes before taking his glasses off and setting them aside and then he kicked his shoes off his feet. Sitting back into the pillows; he was close to drifting off when the door creaked open.

Opening one eye, he saw Fendi jump on the bed. “Going to keep me company?” he asked the dog warmly.

The dog answered by farting. Fendi then seemingly grinned at Jesse. Muffling his laughter in one of the pillows, Jesse covered his nose with the thickest blanket.

“Brilliant,” he muttered from underneath it with a little laugh. “I get to spend my night in a small room with a gas filled sheepdog, just brilliant.”

Even so, Jesse was asleep in a matter of minutes with the sheepdog’s head laying protectively on his chest.

For the first time in thirteen years, Severus Snape put on his Death Eater robes.

The robes were stiff from being in storage so long. Snape had left them in a locked box near the back of his cupboard and hoped vainly that he would never see them again.

Unfortunately, Voldemort would not see his followers wearing anything except these certain robes in his presence. So, Snape was forced to put them on.

It seemed he had not outgrown the robes much during the many years. He looked at himself in the full-length mirror that hung from the wall of his room. Pulling the hood up, Snape knew he looked rather…intimidating.

The deep hood cast shadows on Snape’s frowning face. Seeing himself now, he wasn’t too surprised Longbottom almost fainted every time he scowled in the boy’s direction.

The last item in the box was the one Snape despised the most. The Death Eater mask.

It was the last thing several people saw before they died. The mask was the first thing Snape wanted to destroy, should his triple spy position be revealed--if he lived long enough to see that day.

With reluctance in every movement, he picked up the mask and placed it on his face. Every Death Eater mask had a built in sticking charm that left no undesirable effects on the skin.

While it could still be knocked away if a curse hit hard enough, the charm usually worked very well in the Death Eater raids.

The Potions Master knew this well enough, he had been apart of enough raids to last a lifetime…and probably the life after death, if there was one.

He thought himself not fully sane by going back to the monster. But he would help the side of the light as long as Dumbledore needed him. He could do this much, Snape thought as he stroked a finger down the side of the forbidding mask. No matter the cost.

For the past few hours, he had tested his mental shields. While Snape would have to show Voldemort most of what he had done today, some things were too dangerous to let the monster see.

His hand in revealing the imposter, the silent conversations with Dumbledore about his Dark Mark and older, much more important secrets.

Snape was a master at Occlumency, but he was never arrogant in his knowledge. He constantly rebuilt his shields and scrutinized himself for flaws until his emotionless mask never faltered, and one could mistake him for a statue his expression was so cold.

These…talents, came in handy many times over the years, and it seemed he was about to use them once again.

Casting an obscured charm that softened any sounds he made and concealed him, Snape left his rooms.

It was late, past midnight at least. Snape saw a glimpse of the moon shining bright through the Great Hall’s see through ceiling before he opened one of the doors and walked outside.

Everyone was in bed it seemed. Although, because of recent events, there was bound to be those that could not sleep. Two friends in Gryffindor Tower were probably a good example. Depriving themselves of sleep would not help Potter. Snape wondered that if they were awake, would they realize this and try to sleep.

The large gate that protected the inhabitants of Hogwarts, and opened the show the path to the nearby town, loomed closer.

Using the key only the Heads of Houses and Hagrid had, Snape unlocked the gate. Knowing that if he returned alive, it was likely he wouldn’t be have the strength to stand lock enough to unlock the gates again, he pulled the gate so that it looked closed, but he did not lock it.

Storing the key in his pocket, Snape turned and walked toward Hogsmead.

He would wait until he got out of sight before apparating. Even though he was invisible, walking away from the castle before heading off to see the Dark Lord had been a routine Snape had followed since becoming Death Eater.

When the Dark Lord fell, he had stopped following the routine. The feeling he felt most; as he walked away from the gate and to his old apparation spot, was bitterness.

The mark on his arm drew him towards the Dark Lord, like a line or portkey it pulled him to the man’s side.

Covering a hand over the Dark Mark and closing his eyes, Snape aparated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Dark mark took him directly to the Dark Lord‘s new throne room.

“Severus,” the Dark Lord hissed as he stood. “I had stopped expecting you my slippery friend.”

“I’m sorry my lord,” Snape murmured. He fell to his knees, his head bowed. He was careful to seem every bit awed of being in the monsters presence.

And a monster he was. From the glimpse he had seen before bowing his head, Snape was disgusted. One thing was sure, Voldemort now looked every bit he ugly villain. The red eyes were terrible, the coldness in his every move and voice made Snape very anxious.

“I couldn’t come sooner--” Snape tried to explain, but Voldemort interrupted him.

“I bet you didn’t even try did you Severus? You never once tried to seek me out. It was only when you realized you could never escape me that you came back to my side,” Voldemort said.

Before Snape could protest, he was being held under the Cruciatus.

He had forgotten the feeling of pain. Crucio was hard to forget…but all memories of pain fades. You would remember that it hurt like hell, but the way it felt as a thousand knifes were being jabbed into your skin--that, had faded from Snape’s mind.

The burning unpleasantness that seemed to scream from his bones; made the spy muffle screams into his arm.

He was not afraid to show his pain, but there were very few he allowed himself to be that human around. Dumbledore, Pomfrey and McGonagall had seen him times of weakness and he respected them.

But for this--monster that was intent of destroying lives and killing for fun, he had no place of respect.

Snape bit his arm and hoped with his very being for mercy. Then--mercy was granted.

Voldemort lowered his wand, and stared at his panting follower.

“Now tell me Severus, why should I allow you to wear my follower’s robes? What makes you think I still consider you a faithful servant when you’ve been under Dumbledore’s wing under all these years?”

Behind the silky voice was a deadly curse just waiting to be used. Snape knew he needed to speak, and soon.

“My lord, please listen to me. I have never fully been one of Dumbledore’s fools. Over the years, he has grown to trust me, and I silently waited for your return. And here you are master, more powerful than you’ve ever been!” Snape hated himself as he crawled as a worm to Voldemort’s booted feet.

“I‘ve been told much by Dumbledore, my lord. Information has been past to me by unsuspecting lips. They all trust me, I can aid you in your cause--if only you will allow me the honor?”

Voldemort stared down at Snape. His expression showed nothing.

Reaching a cold, pale hand down, Voldemort jerked Snape’s face up and ripped the Death Eater mask off. Looking him in the eye, Voldemort cast Legilimens silently.

It was incredibly hard for Snape not to throw the Dark Lord out of his mind. The feeling of someone treading on his thoughts and seeing his memories of the last thirteen years was uncomfortable to say the least.

The Dark Lord’s presence was a dark gray in Snape’s mind and oozing bad intentions.

Snape let a unnoticeable sigh escape him as Voldemort left his mind. Unlike more experienced Occlumency users, the Dark Lord did not know how to control the feeling of his presence.

He was not subtle, but fast, and quick to attack.

The Dark Lord’s way of using the old talent made Snape clench his teeth in disgust.

“I see that you tell the truth Severus,” Voldemort said and he withdrew to sit back in his imperious chair.

“I beg of you to tell you how you’ve managed your return My Lord. I am ignorant on the matter. Dumbledore was attached to me like a leech when you called, I’m am truly sorry to have missed such a magnificent event.” Snape made sure to sneer at Dumbledore’s name, the hatred Voldemort felt for the old man could not have changed in the years--unless it had grown.

“You will have to loosen your leash Severus. I want my followers always able to come at my command,” Voldemort said.

Severus bowed his head back to the ground. “I shall try.”

Voldemort made a sound of unhappiness. “You will do more than just try Severus. I won’t have you just try. I shall have you succeed--or pay the consequences of failure.”

“Yes, my lord,” Snape murmured.

“If it’s true that Dumbledore needs you, than lessening your schedule should be no problem,” Voldemort said and then hissed something in Parseltongue.

A large snake appeared out of the shadows and passed a still Snape on her way to Voldemort.

Petting the snake fondly, Voldemort stared at Snape in assessment. “I shall tell you how I regained my current body, then you can do me a favor--I think you shall enjoy it.”

Never hesitating, Snape nodded. He was sure to act the ever faithful servant. That was what Voldemort wanted and Snape was going to provide for the monsters needs as long as he could.

The longer he pleased, the longer he lived. It was a simple and yet grim logic that Snape had learned to live by.

Nodding, pleased with his servants eagerness, Voldemort told the tale of his return.

It was a long time before the story was over. Snape listened and puzzle pieces began fitting together into a masterpiece of a plan.

It was near the end that Snape learned that Potter had indeed been taken to the Dark Lord along with Diggory. His knees ached from kneeling so long, but he couldn’t let any discomfort effect his spying.

This information would have to be re-told to Dumbledore in perfect detail.

Voldemort’s face was pleased as he told of how he had Wormtail kill Diggory, tie up Potter and then how he’d (with Wormtail’s help) had brought himself back to a more human form.

Voldemort’s face changed and Snape wondered if he had done something wrong.

Voldemort’s face was cold, “Wormtail freed Potter.”

Snape looked up, surprise shown freely since he had not bothered to retrieve his Death Eater mask.

“My lord…why?” Snape had to ask.

Voldemort looked around the room slowly, he seemed to be thinking. Nagina, as Snape had learned was her name, was curling around Voldemort’s cloaked legs.

“He cut the ropes that held the boy to my father’s headstone, and sent Potter away with a portkey.” Voldemort stood. A snarl on his face, dislike and anger showed in every jerky movement.

“The change was sudden Severus. I wonder if he might have had a moment of pity for Potter. I knew he had weaknesses, but I admit I didn‘t expect this much.” Voldemort’s quiet musing’s were interrupted as the door opened.

Lucius Malfoy came through the doors. His mask was no where in sight, and he was dressed in regal robes unlike the plain dark ones all Death Eaters wore. Lucius’s robes were dark grey trimmed with light blue. He looked out of place in the room.

Lucius’s eyes met Snape’s, and the man nodded slowly before turning to Voldemort.

“Wormtail has become silent my lord. He refuses to speak of his actions,” Lucius said.

Snape took the minute to look around the room. It reminded him of a cavern, one big room that was empty except for Voldemort’s chair, a dining room table seated for many.

Looking back at Voldemort, Snape noticed for the first time the bear skin rug that sat at the feet of the Dark Lord’s chair.

That was a bit overdone, he thought, but Voldemort was proudly contemptuous.

Voldemort looked back at Snape. “I want you to see if you can convince Wormtail to tell me where he sent Potter. That boy has lived long enough, I want him dead.”

“Yes, my lord,” Snape nodded.

“And Severus? If Wormtail can not be convinced by you, I will kill him. I have no use for him any longer. Lucius will show you the way.”

Snape was led out of the room by Lucius. It was outside the large room that Snape realized he was in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor.

A familiar banner of the Malfoy Crest hung from a long, dark wall as they walked to where Wormtail was being held.

“I wondered if you were coming back Severus,” Lucius said.

“Why should I not? The Dark Lord will conquer all in the end. I want to be alive to see it, and siding with Dumbledore will only get me killed,” Snape said with a light sneer.

Lucius chose not to respond.

Wormtail’s ‘room’ seemed more like a cell. Dark, cold and foul smelling. Lucius hung outside the door while Severus stepped in.

“I prefer not to accompany you Severus, his stink is hard to get rid of once it contaminates you. The door will open with your touch,” with that, Lucius had shut the door and started walking away.

Peering into the shadows, Snape saw a hunched form. “Wormtail, the Dark Lord told me of your betrayal.”

The form of Wormtail shivered at the monster’s name.

“I see you still fear him…and yet--you were foolish enough to free Potter. Why?” Snape asked.

No answer was forthcoming and Snape had not expected one. He continued to prod.

“Did you pity him Wormtail? Was the sight of a broken boy enough to make your loyalty to our lord tremble…or was it because of who’s boy it was?”

Slowly, almost unnoticeable in the dark, Wormtail shook his head. Snape felt a small victory. “Boy wasn’t broken,” he muttered in a low voice.

“It had nothing to do with James Potter then,” Snape murmured almost too quietly for Wormtail to hear.

“Tell me Wormtail, why did you free Potter?” Snape asked as he came closer.

“Can you not see me Snape?” Wormtail asked in a trembling voice. “Look at me! Ask me how long he left me like this. I’m sure you know the story now.”

Curious, Snape came closer. “What has been done to you, what has changed your mind--your alliance?” he asked quietly. Then he saw what had been done to Wormtail.

His right hand was missing--still. The bloodied limb was no longer bleeding, or else he would have been dead. The pain was still there though, Snape could tell my the way Wormtail shivered every few seconds.

It was not cold in the room, Wormtail was just in pain.

Snape remembered that Voldemort had promised Wormtail a new hand after he returned him to his full strength.

“You began to doubt him,” Snape said. Wormtail let out a low wail.

“That doesn’t explain why you let Potter go.”

“The boy saved my life in the Shrieking Shack Snape. I felt that if I was doomed to die with a unmerciful master, I could at least fulfill my debt to him,” Wormtail said between sniffs. His voice tearful and lost.

“Where did you send Potter?” Snape asked.

Wormtail sighed, “I don’t know Snape. It was an emergency portkey, I made it just in case things went wrong…and they did go wrong,” Wormtail trailed off.

Not believing him, Snape dove into Wormtail’s defenseless mind when the man met his eyes.

He quickly found what he had been looking for.

Potter’s bruised and bloody face was looking at Wormtail with disbelief, as the man cast a spell and shoved a little bag into the boy’s hand at the same time.

Potter disappeared and Wormtail was hit with Crucio.

Knowing he would not find out anymore, Snape pulled out of Wormtail’s mind. He left the cell before the man regained his senses.

Snape knew the way back to Voldemort and he made his way there. Voldemort was sitting where Snape had seen him last, not seeming to have moved from his position.

“He gave Potter a emergency portkey, my lord. Wormtail knows no more about Potter’s current position than we do,” Snape said as he bowed low to the Dark Lord.

“I shall have him killed then. I need nothing more from you Snape,” Voldemort said.

Snape bowed and headed out of the room. He had not mentioned the spell Wormtail had used, he needed to find what it was for--and quickly. It could be the clue to finding Potter.

Lucius showed him out and to the gate that surrounded Malfoy Mannor.

Nodding a goodbye, Snape aparated when he was outside the property line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He headed straight for the Hogwarts Library. Although he had many books on spells, they were for rare spells and occasionally the need for Dark spells came up.

The one Wormtail had used seemed familiar, but Snape did not remember seeing it in one of his personal books.

The spells were in alphabetical order, and after going through two books, Snape found it.

Snape read the paragraph again before closing the book. Amnesia? Wonderful.

How the hell did Wormtail think he was helping Potter? Wormtail had already signed his own death certificate by giving Potter the portkey. A portkey that brought him right outside Hogwarts would have made things so much easier. The idiotic Gryffindor deserved to die from pure stupidity alone!

With a annoyed sigh that seemed loud in the empty library, Snape turned and headed off to find the Headmaster.

It seemed Potter was lost somewhere with no idea where he was, or who he was. And if Potter didn’t know that much, he certainly wasn’t aware that a crazy, sadistic wizard wanted him dead.

Snape suddenly wanted to laugh at himself. He ached everywhere from the Crucio, and his bed sounded was very tempting. Yet, he was up in the early hours of the morning to try and aid the search of a student he detested.

As he scowled to himself, the mental image of Potter wandering innocently into a room full of Death Eaters crossed Snape’s mind.

He broke into a quick walk.

Jesse awoke with a start. He remembered the dream it was fresh in his mind--then it started fading.

Red eyes…no there were no eyes, they were gone now. What had the dream been about? Jesse was feeling frustrated as he forgot he dream. This could be a clue to his past and it was fleeing his mind.

Something terrible, blood of the--nothing. The dream was gone and his memory of it.

Jesse could remember that it was a nightmare. His heart was still beating heavily, a sheen of sweat cooled his skin as he sat up.

The details of the dream were gone, all he remembered was the sense that something major was happening before his eyes. The nightmare was important, a very dramatic detail of his forgotten past.

And he had no idea what it was.

Sighing, Jesse pulled he knees up to his chest and laid his head on them. A childish gesture maybe, but one that felt right for the occasion.

His head throbbed gently. It was another headache that seemed to come from that silly looking scar he had noticed the other day.

The warmth that cocooned him while he was sleeping was gone now. Jesse remembered waking in the night to find Fendi asleep on his chest. He wondered where the sheepdog had gone.

Curious about the eerie quiet that surrounded him, Jesse got out of bed. Putting his cracked glasses on, he moved toward the door.

Jesse looked around the corner of the doorway, he could see the living room and the door that probably led to the kitchen. Tobias was no where in sight.

Jesse walked into the living room. His dirty clothes rough against his skin as he moved.

He reminded himself to ask Tobias for some clean clothes when he found the man. Moving into the kitchen, Jesse looked around. Old wooden cabinets, dusty floor, a table for two and a fridge. The kitchen was small, but homely.

Jesse opened a door to find a fully stocked cupboard. Mostly it was filled with canned vegetable and soups, there was dried meat, dry milk and other stable food products.

Shutting the door, Jesse was drawn to the window. The sun was up and he guessed it was around seven in the morning. The chickens he had seen yesterday were no where in sight, but as he watched, a solitary goat walked past the house.

Deciding to look for Tobias outside, Jesse went back to the bedroom to put on his shoes.

He found Tobias feeding the chickens a few minutes later. The chicken house was small, about the size of Jesse’s bedroom.

But the coop was only for sleeping in, it seemed that Tobias let the chickens wander during the day.

“I see you’re finally up,” Tobias said as he caught sight of Jesse.

“Yes, sir,” Jesse said. He ignored the ‘finally up’ part. “Can I help you with anything?”

“You can go get those sheets off your bed. I’ll draw you some water and you can wash them, and after that you can have a bath yourself.”

Jesse bit his lip but didn‘t speak.

“You look like you’ve been impersonating a pig, and you’ve gone all the way if your clothes are anything to go by,” Tobias said with a crinkle of his nose as he came away from the chickens.

Jesse looked down at himself. Personally he thought the pig comment was a little much, but it was true that he looked a mess.

Even Fendi was neater than him at the moment, and the dog was currently rolling around in the dirt.

“I would have changed but I don’t have any clothes except these,” he said with a helpless shrug.

“I called Isaac, Isaac Dane that is, he’s the doctor that will be coming over later. I asked him to bring some clothes for you. His son is about your age,” Tobias said.

“Thanks,” Jesse said, “I was beginning to wonder how long I’d have to wear these.”

“I was beginning to wonder how long I’d have to smell you,” Tobias muttered and Jesse snickered. “Know how to cook?” the man asked suddenly.

Jesse had to pause and think, truthfully he had no idea. He did have the memory problem and that pretty much kept him from knowing. “For all I know I could have been a chef, sir,” he told Tobias with a half hearted smile.

“I doubt that,” Tobias said as they entered the house. “I know one boy who’s good in the kitchen. Only one I know of, except me that is. I’m like poetry in motion when it comes to cooking,” Tobias said seriously.

Jesse found himself choking on laughter, and Tobias smacked him on the back to help him. The black haired boy thought it was probably pay back for his obvious disbelief and amusement.

“Poetry in motion, eh?” he said dryly.

Nodding, Tobias grinned at him. “And since I have no choice but keep you here for the moment, you get a front seat for the show.”

Jesse wasn’t sure this was a good thing.

It turned out Jesse was wrong, terribly, horribly wrong. Tobias was not just a bad cook, he was an appallingly bad one.

“If you’ve seen my cupboard, you know why most of it is canned,” Tobias said wryly.

Jesse was gazing in terrified awe at the kitchen stove. The attempt at scrambled eggs was inedible. Even he knew that eggs were not supposed to be black, and somehow batter had ended up on the ceiling.

A bit of it was dripping onto the floor every few seconds.

The man had proved that his words were right, he was poetry in motion, but Jesse imagined it was an Edger Allen Poe poem. Something along the lines of, I shall never look at the wondrous chicken egg the same way again. How can I, now that I have seen it at it’s worst? I think it was better off staying in the chicken’s arse.

Jesse chuckled in childish delight at his thoughts and avoided Tobias’s prying gaze.

Or, man is a wonderful creation, but in the process of watching one in the kitchen, I have given up on this species.

Jesse knew he had read some of Poe’s poetry somewhere, even though he could not remember when or where. He did remember that most of it was grim and left one feeling depressed. Nothing could possibly be more depressing than the kitchen scene before him. Especially when he knew someone would have to clean it up.

“How is it you’re still alive if you have to live off your…cooking?” Jesse asked.

Shrugging, Tobias peered up at the batter on the ceiling. “I don’t eat much, there’s an apple orchard that a friend of mine owns, I usually go up there for breakfast. Then sometimes the wives of some neighbors bring bread, and canned fruits. I eat light.”

Jesse frowned. “Did you just show me how bad a cook you are so I would cook for you?” he asked.

Tobias laughed lightly, “You said you don’t remember cooking, for all I know you could be worse than me.”

Jesse made a face. “I find that hard to believe.”

Tobias threw an apple at him, Jesse caught it easily.

The man looked at him in slight surprise. “Fast reactions, that’s…good Jesse.”

Shrugging, Jesse went to the sink and washed the red apple before taking a big bite. Tobias grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table as well.

“Simple usually is best,” Jesse heard Tobias mutter. He grinned and turned away from the resigned looking man.

They moved to the living room where Tobias told Jesse to sit and wait for Dr. Dane.

“I don’t want that leg worse than it already is, I should have told you to just stay in bed,” Tobias said as he sat across from Jesse.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jesse said. “I don’t think I would be able to stay in bed all day,” he gave a theatric shudder.

“Thank you for letting me spend the night, it was very kind of you,” Jesse said. He felt very grateful, the man didn’t know him and yet he had been kind and generous.

Tobias grunted as he stood, “Well, you haven’t tried to kill me yet so that‘s good,” he said dryly to a wide eyes Jesse. “Plus, Fendi found you and that dog is a good judge of character, so I imagine you can’t be too bad.”

Fendi started barking outside the door at that moment. “Speak of the devil,” Tobias muttered and then Jesse heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up the driveway.

“Makes a good watch dog as well,” Tobias said to Jesse before telling him to sit still as he went outside.

Jesse obeyed and sat still as Tobias greeted his friend outside. He could hear them conversing in low voices and Jesse bit his lip. They were probably talking about him, he hated the feeling that the information gave him.

Tobias had just told him that he had to be all right if Fendi liked him, but--that didn’t reassure Jesse. He liked the dog, but he would have rather had Tobias’s good opinion.

Dr. Dane came through the door, a medical bag in hand and Tobias right behind him.

“Hello there,” he said to Jesse with a bright smile. He was holding out his hand.

“I’m Isaac Dane, the local doctor of our little town. I’d like to take a look at your leg, if you don’t mind?”

Jesse shook the man’s hand, “Jesse, just Jesse and I’d be really happy if you would look at my leg,” he said with a laugh. “I’m kind of worried about it,” he added.

Isaac nodded, “I can understand, if the description is anything like what Tobias here told me I’d be worried as well.”

The doctor lifted Jesse’s leg pushed apart the torn trousers with a dry look, “I can see why you asked for those close Tobias,” he said.

His part smile quickly faded as he looked at Jesse’s leg. The wounds seemed to be trying to heal, but the discoloration around the wound was still there.

The doctor poked and prodded gently for a few minutes. There was a frown on his face that Jesse didn’t like.

“It looks like--well, If I’m not mistakes it’s a spider bite, but I’ve never seen anything like this,” he looked up into Jesse’s green eyes.

“Do you know what kind of spider it is Jess?” Isaac asked with a hopeful look.

Jesse blinked at the nickname, but shook his head in answer, “Sorry sir, I can’t remember anything prior to waking up in Mr. Snape’s field.”

“Oh yes, your amnesia,” Isaac shared a look with Tobias before looking back. “I’m sorry to sound doubtful, but are you sure?”

A bit frustrated, Jesse nodded. “I’ve tried sir, and--I had a nightmare that seemed important, but when I woke up I couldn’t remember any details. I’m sorry that I can’t tell you anything--I just can’t remember!”

Isaac patted Jesse’s knee calmingly, “It’s alright lad, I’m sure it’ll come back to you, give it some time.”

Jesse sighed and looked away. He hated the feeling of helplessness.

Opening his bag, Isaac started mending Jesse’s leg. “After I do this I’ll take a look at your head, it’s likely that if you have amnesia it’s because of a head injury.”

Jesse remembered his headache from earlier and moved a hand up to rub at the scar.

“I need some hot water Tobias, I want to clean this good before I bandage it,” Isaac explained to Jesse.

“Can I sit back?” Jesse asked and Isaac nodded and held his leg up as he scooted back in the arm chair.

Tobias brought back a bowl of steamy water and a flannel. “Thanks,” Isaac said as he took it and started soaking the flannel.

Fendi came over to Jesse from out of nowhere and licked his hand. Jesse grinned and petted the dog’s head.

The doctor was done washing soon and began applying a salve, Tobias watch avidly from behind his shoulder. By the time Isaac had began to wrap the wound, Jesse was feeling quite content--if a bit itchy in his clothes.

Isaac looked up as Jesse shifted to scratch his back and grinned. “You’ll need a bath if you plan on keeping this clean and unaffected, I’ll leave some extra bandages so you can rewrap it later.”

Tobias nodded, “I hope you brought some of Samuel’s clothes, because mine won’t fit Jesse.”

Isaac nodded, “I did, you can get the out of my bag. Martha insisted on packing three of everything,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Tobias smiled and reached into the doctor bag for the clothes.

Isaac started examining Jesse’s head with his hands. Jesse watched as Tobias brought out more clothes than he could have hoped for, there was even socks and a jumper. It appeared Jesse owed thanks to whomever Martha was.

Jesse waited impatiently for when Isaac would find a bump on his head that would explain his condition…but it never came.

“I can’t find anything to explain your condition Jess,” the doctor said and he ran is tongue over his lips.

“I saw him fall on his head in the field, could that have caused it?” Tobias asked.

Pausing momentarily, Isaac ran his thumb over the scar on Jesse’s forehead with a thoughtful look. “That’s very unlikely, he would have a bruise or a bump if it was serious. Do you know where you got this scar?”

Jesse shook his head, “No sir. Silly looking thing though isn’t it?”

Smiling, Isaac pulled his hand away. “It’s very unique, I bet no one else has one like it.”

Leaving Jesse with that thought, Isaac headed toward the kitchen, “I’d like to see you before I go Tobias.”

Tobias put the clothes in his hands beside Jesse and followed Isaac.

Having a good idea as to what the doctor wanted to talk about, Jesse moved forward to get out of the chair. He hoped that Fendi wouldn’t start barking. The dog looked at him lazily from where he was laying with his head on his paws but did nothing.

Biting his lip in anxiousness, Jesse stood all the while watching Fendi.

The dog seemed to raise an eyebrow.

Then Fendi let loose a doggy sigh that seemed to say, ‘You’re going to get in trouble, just remember I tried to warn you.’

Careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg, Jesse walked toward the kitchen door.

When he was close enough, he leaned forward and listened. “--if it is amnesia, I’m betting it’s post-traumatic amnesia. He shows no sign of brain damage, and that is the main cause of amnesia.”

It was the doctor speaking, Tobias made a sound of irritation. “You can get amnesia from alcohol can’t you? I hate to think the worst of the boy, he seems like a good kid, but it’s all very….” he didn’t seem to know how to finish.

“You can get amnesia that way, but I find that hard to believe. First, he would only have forgotten new memories, he would still be able to remember his name and most things he says he’s forgotten,” Isaac said and he sighed.

Jesse heard Tobias start pacing. “Isaac, you saw the bruises and the injuries beside the spider bite. I think the boy might be running from somebody. His ‘forgetfulness’ has basically given him a new life and a new name.”

Isaac was silent for a while. “That makes sense, but where are his parents? You know how far he would have had to run to get here? I know everyone around here Tobias, and I’ve never seen that boy before.”

“Maybe someone dropped him here,” Tobias said grimly.

“What?”

“Someone could have dropped him here, there’s a road that runs very near where I found him,” Tobias said.

“Do you think his parents would be that cruel--” Isaac cut himself off and Jesse was scared he was going to be found out. The doctor continued speaking.

“He looks like he’s been through a lot Tobias. It could be that one of his parents dropped him here or a guardian, he would probably be too ashamed to tell the truth so he made up a story about amnesia,” Isaac said.

“Hmm, there are a lot of possibilities. But what am I going to do with him? I haven’t taken care of anybody for a very long time.”

“Maybe it’s time you started doing it again,” Isaac suggested. “Just for a few days. I think by that time he would have told you the truth if he‘s lying.”

“You’re not worried about him stealing something a running away are you?” Isaac added.

Jesse closed his eyes, and waited for the answer.

“I don’t know Isaac,” Tobias said with a sigh. “Fendi watched him most of last night, he slept all the way until morning. And by the look of it, I’ll have to put him up for another night. So…no, I’m not too worried about him stealing. Even if he did try to take something he wouldn’t get far.”

“You’re right about that, I just don’t like the idea of leaving you here with someone who could potentially be dangerous.”

Tobias snorted, “What harm can he do? Trouble doesn’t find us often out here, I’ll keep a close eye on him, Fendi will help--even though I may need to cut the hair around his eyes.”

Isaac laughed softly, “Well, just remember that you have my number and I can send Samuel over to help you with anything, you know he’d be glad to help.”

“You got a good boy Isaac. Let’s go back in there before Jesse get’s bored and starts wandering around on that leg,” Tobias said.

Jesse’s eyes widened and he more or less ran back to his chair. He reached the chair by the skin of his teeth.

Fendi looked up again as Jesse fell into the chair, he seemed disgruntled and snorted softly before going back to sleep.

Tobias came in, and his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Jesse’s flushed face. Isaac came in right after Tobias but didn’t notice Tobias’s expression or Jesse’s guilty face.

“Just make you stay off that leg as much as possibly for a few days and the swelling should stop. You’ll be good as new very soon, you people always are,” the doctor said as he packed his medical bag.

“But that’s only if you stay of that leg,” Tobias said with a raised eyebrow. “You think you can do that Jesse?”

Not able to speak, Jesse only nodded and tried to smile.

“Well, I guess I better go. Take care of yourself Jess,” Isaac said and Tobias walked him out to his vehicle.

While the men were outside, Jesse was inside trying not to look guilty.

When he came back through the door, Tobias stared at Jesse for a minute.

“I’m sorry!” Jesse burst out as the pressure got to be too much. “It’s just…I had to know if he was holding back anything. I want to know what’s wrong with me--and I swear I’m not here to steal anything from you! I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you before, but I can’t know for sure because my head’s messed up!”

Tobias’s anger seemed to diminish, “I can understand curiosity, but you heard Isaac. He told you to stay off that leg, and the first thing you do is go wobbling across the room! Am I going to have to make Fendi watch you all day and night?”

“No,” Jesse muttered.

Tobias nodded, “I hoped you would say that. Now, I’m going to help you outside where you can sit and pull weeds, I won’t have you sitting in the bed all day--you aren’t that bad off.”

Jesse sighed and let Tobias pull him to his feet. The walked outside together.

Snape reached his destination within a few minutes. “Crunchies,” he hissed in distaste.

The gargoyles guarding the stairs to the Headmaster’s office parted at the password, they seemed to be smirking at him.

Snape himself had no idea what a crunchie was, but imagined it was probably the main cause of hyper children. That alone was enough for him to dislike the candy bar.

He swept up the stairs, his robes whirling behind him. Snape took a second to stop at the door and knock, he knew the Headmaster would be in, he always waited for Snape when he was summoned.

It seemed that just like Snape’s spot for apparation, Dumbledore also had a tradition.

Without waiting for a response, Snape opened the door and entered.

He sneered at the scene before him. Sirius Black, sitting in a chair obviously distraught looked up at Snape.

His eyes were red rimmed, but instead of looking away like Snape expected, he stood. “Did you learn anything? Please tell me you learned something that will help us find Harry!”

“I found something that will help you find Potter,” Snape said.

Sirius’s eyes widened, and he looked at Dumbledore sitting behind his desk back to Snape. “Really?” he asked in surprise, his eyes wide with hope.

“No, but you asked me to tell you what you wanted to hear. I fulfilled your request.”

As a look of horror came upon Sirius’s face. Dumbledore sighed. “Severus,” he said in exasperation.

“Potter has amnesia,” Snape said. “Apparently Wormtail paid the life debt he owed Potter by casting Alieno on him, and then sending him to heaven knows where with a unregistered, emergency Portkey.”

Sirius was the first to respond to the flood of information. “What?”

“Please explain, Severus,” Dumbledore said. The skin around his eyes wrinkled in thought.

Snape pulled up a chair and sat. “The Dark Lord had indeed returned. Although I do not believe he was fully dead in the first place. He has a more human form, but I can’t say he looks human, more like a hybrid between a man and a snake.

“In the process of him returning to full strength, which I will go into later if you don’t mind, he had Wormtail cut off his hand with the promise of giving him a hand of silver later. From what I was told by Wormtail, his faith in the Dark Lord faltered when he did not get his reward immediately. In those moments of doubt, he freed Potter. Then Wormtail cursed Potter with Alieno, which is a spell causing amnesia, and he sent the boy away with a portkey.”

Sirius’s face was very grim, “Is there anyway to find where the portkey sent him?” he asked.

Snape answered, “No, the type of portkey used is for disasters. It sends the person in danger far away from the area they are at, there is no way to trace it and Wormtail has no idea where Potter was sent either.”

Sirius stood up to pace the length of the room.

“We have to find him before--before someone else does,” Sirius said. He looked agitated as he ran two hands through his hair. “And those damn emergency portkeys should be made illegal!”

“I’m positive the Dark Lord has no idea where Potter is either Black. If he did Potter would already be dead and we would be receiving bits of him in the morning mail--of course it’s not morning yet so there is still time,” Snape said thoughtfully.

Sirius paled and let out a small moan. Snape smirked and Dumbledore frowned at him in disapproval.

“Why don’t you go rest Severus, I’m sure you must be tired,” Dumbledore said. Snape heard the command under the disguise of a request.

He turned to leave as Dumbledore wanted, but couldn’t resist adding, “See you in the morning,” as he exited.

Behind him he heard the sound of Sirius’s horrified voice and Dumbledore trying to reassure him.

After taking a pain number for the after effects of crucio, Snape found himself grading papers. Due to the recent events, assignments had piled up on his desk.

Because he doubted he would get any sleep in the few hours there was left of darkness, Snape decided to try and get some work done.

After five minutes of staring at the same badly written sentence, he realized what he should have known all along.

He was not going to get anything done tonight.

His mind kept going back to Potter’s disappearance. Every year Hogwarts seemed to have some kind of problematic situation, and Potter was always involved.

The Potions Master liked to know what was happening in his school. It was just as much his home as it was the students, and he was going to be aware of everything that was happening in it.

This need to be aware of his surroundings aided him many times. Although, his midnight wanderings had earned him names like ‘the bat’, but to Snape, that was a bonus.

In his position it was good to keep up an infamous appearance, no one would try to get involved, and so no one would get hurt.

With these thoughts, he stood up and left the room.

He walked the corridors with quiet steps. His eyes swept across the darkness in front of him.

Snape’s mind went back to when he had been searching through Wormtail’s mind. The man’s guilt lay on his thoughts like a thick sheet. Snape had to pass many memories where Wormtail doubted his choices.

Onw of those memories where Wormtail was in doubt, was the one where he sent Potter away with the damned portkey.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. He knew Wormtail had no idea where Potter was, no one did.

It was going to be incredibly hard to find Potter, especially since they didn’t know where to start.

He could imagine Potter’s friends handing out flyers or doing some other useless act to try and find the boy. Snape turned abruptly and he glared at the wall down the corridor.

When the newspapers found out…he could already imagine the chaos that would follow. There will be an all out search for the boy, rewards might be given for the first one to find him.

Potter would be like a missing dog, a very rare and valuable dog, but still….

In his mind, Snape watched the moment Wormtail sent Potter away. The confused expression on Potter’s face as the velvet bag was shoved into his hands--the velvet bag.

Where had he seen that bag before?

Wormtail carried it everywhere with him when he was in school--and Snape had seen it before at a Death Eater meeting.

Since he always carried it around it was not suspicious, a lot like Moody and his hipflask.

A conclusion to their problem hit Snape like a bag of bricks. He stopped in the middle of the hall. Could it possibly be so easy? He remembered seeing a potion in one if his books a long time ago.

This certain potion, allowed someone to track or find a person’s possessions.

Snape remembered this and had to find a seat, it could be the answer to what Dumbledore was looking for. The potion would show you the area where the object you were thinking of was at.

It was a very complicated potion, and deemed rare as most considered it too expensive to make when one could usually cast a summoning charm for the lost object. Snape would need a bit of Wormtail’s hair to accomplish it, but it was still possible.

He would have to wait until the Dark Lord called him again--or he could come back with news. When coming with news, he would be welcomed and unquestioned. But what could he tell the monster?

Snape would need to talk with Dumbledore again, but he didn’t want to go back up there. It could wait until morning he decided. Feeling more content, Snape turned and stalked back to his rooms.

Maybe now he could get some sleep.

Snape woke early and left for the Headmaster’s office. He’d only gotten a few measly hours of sleep, but he would make do just like he had several times before.

Once again he spat out the childish password and climbed up the stairs.

He found Dumbledore reading a letter with an unhappy expression.

“Ah, Severus, please sit,” Dumbledore said and he placed the letter on the table.

“What happened to Black?” Snape asked sarcastically. “He didn’t stay all night and moan about his loss?”

Dumbledore looked at him over his glasses. “Now Severus, his godson is missing--Harry may even be dead for all we know. So of course the man in nervous, and with good reason. You would be to if you were put in a similar situation.”

Snape watched Fawkes clean his feathers and did not answer. Instead he mentally counted the potions that used phoenix parts.

Fawkes seemed to know somehow that he was being scrutinized and he looked up.

“I believe you wanted to know what I’ve learned from our imposter?” Dumbledore asked as he eyed the two of them.

Snape nodded at the question and looked away from the glaring bird. “Yes Albus, but first I believe I may have found a way to find Potter.”

Dumbledore looked up at him sharply, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Oh really, and what way is that Severus?”

“I recognized the satchel that Wormtail used as a portkey, I saw him carrying it everywhere with him when he was in school. I have also glimpsed it at meetings with the Dark Lord. Because this item is so familiar to being with his person, it did not look suspicious and therefore Wormtail could turn it into a portkey without having to worry about being scrutinized,” Snape said.

“There is a certain potion that will track down the items you want from a particular person, if I find the bag, then we will most likely find Potter--or at least the place where Potter’s portkey landed.”

Dumbledore nodded, “That’s wonderful Severus, but I feel you are holding something back?”

Snape clenched his jaw and nodded firmly. “To track down Wormtail’s old possessions, I need something from his. Hair or otherwise, but I need it soon or his magical signature will be weaker. The weaker it is, then the area Potter might be in will become larger and not as dependable.”

Sighing lightly, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and crossed his fingers across his stomach. “You will have to get to him soon Severus.”

There was a pause in which all was quiet, then Dumbledore sat up.

“I have to leave soon I‘m afraid. Now, about the imposter. He is Barty Crouch--”

“Barty Crouch!” Snape exclaimed. “He was supposed to be dead and buried--how?”

“I shall show you Severus,” Dumbledore stood and moved to a open cabinet and took out a pensieve. “I’m afraid I don’t rather feel like telling it. You see, Crouch has been kissed.”

“What?” Snape hissed and stood.

Dumbledore nodded slowly as he brought the pensive to the table, “Cornelius brought a dementor to keep him safe when he learned we had caught the Death Eater responsible. He brought the dementor to the office where I had placed Crouch, and it swooped down and kissed him.”

“No doubt Fudge did this on purpose,” Snape snarled. “Now we can not have the man give testimony! The only one alive that’s seen the Dark Lord return is Potter--and he’s missing!”

“Calm yourself Severus, I understand your anxiety. I feel the same way, but people will be more willing to listen if they here the news from a calm person,” Dumbledore said and he glanced at Fawkes.

The phoenix started crooning softly. Snape felt some of his heightened emotions relax.

Snape took a calming breath and stopped pacing. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was taking memories from his mind and placing them in the pensieve.

“I have been called to the Ministry for a press conference, I won’t be here when you are done Severus.”

Snape nodded, “When will you be back?”

“Before lunch I imagine. I will talk with you about this later,” Dumbledore said and he left the room.

Snape dipped his head in the pensieve and watched the memories. He had to admit it was a brilliant plan. Very thorough and thought out--too bad it was the plan of the enemy. Barty Crouch seemed very passionate about serving the Dark Lord, it was amazing how the monster had so many fooled.

Later, when Snape left the pensieve, he realized that he know had a reason for reporting back to Voldemort. The man would want to know that the one who helped him return was dead.

Snape just hoped Voldemort didn’t get angry and kill the messenger.

In the Great Hall, the owls were flying wildly. Students were gathering around their friends Daily Prophet and reading in whispers. Snape knew what the newspaper headline would be without reading it.

The way half of Gryffindor was worrying over Weasley and Granger made it obvious.

Sure enough, an owl dropped the Daily Prophet over his plate.

TRIWIZARD CHAMPION DEAD! HARRY POTTER MISSING!

Snape scowled. His eye caught Rita Skeeter’s name near the end of the article. How the woman kept finding information like this was beyond him. All he knew was that she was an annoying bug, he’d seen her hanging around the outskirts of the school willing to listen to any students gossip.

Dumbledore was missing, Snape had heard McGonagall telling Pomfrey he was at a press conference, it seemed the staff all knew. Hopefully they would except his explanation and not question it.

“Shut up you stupid ferret!” The yell of fury got most of the attention in the Great Hall.

Snape immediately looked to Gryffindor table--just as Weasley punched Malfoy.

“Harry’s innocent and--and probably seriously hurt! So don’t you dare accuse him of killing Cedric!”

The force of the punch made Malfoy land on his behind. Crabbe and Goyle were still for a moment, then they attacked.

Granger was yelling at them all--then Snape saw her punch Malfoy just as he got back on his feet “Don’t you dare say something so vile, you nasty little cockroach!” she screeched.

“Wonderful,” McGonagall muttered from beside Snape as she placed her fork down.

Snape was reluctant to get up as well, the small amount of sleep he had was wearing on him. Couldn’t they just let the children settle their differences in their own creative way?

Snape spoke, “Do we reallyneed to step in? They’re doing a fine job.” Just then the Weasley twins turned Crabbe and Goyle into matching canaries. How they had done it, Snape wasn’t sure, but he was silently impressed.

Down the table Hagrid inhaled his tea and started coughing between hearty laughs.

Snape barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead he glared at the groundskeeper and stood.

“I guess I’ll stop Malfoy from killing Weasley--I don’t want to clean up the mess,” Snape said to McGonagall.

She sniffed and tilted her head up. “Your mistaken Severus, look again. I do believe that fist digging into Mr Malfoy’s face belongs to Mr Weasley.”

Snape did look--and then he looked away. Weasley was indeed turning the youngest Malfoy’s face bloody even as the Malfoy heir screamed for help. Clenching his teeth in exasperation, Snape left the table to go to their side.

“Weasley!” Snape snapped and then dragged the red-head off Malfoy.

“And you wonder why you lose so many house points,” Snape said mockingly to the angry boy.

“He said--he accused Harry of killing Cedric!” Weasley screamed.

“You’ve already told every one with that big mouth of yours. Now why don’t you do us all a favor and shut it,” Snape hissed.

McGonagall had pulled a sniffling Malfoy to his feet. “Did you see that? He tried to kill me, you just wait until my father hears this Weasel. You won’t have a bone to fight over!”

Malfoy’s voice was sounded stuffy because of his nose, Snape suspected it was broken.

“It would have been better for you to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid, than to open it up and remove all doubt!” Granger snapped. “Anybody that’s ever talked to Harry would assure you that he would never--could never do anything so horrible,” Granger continued heatedly.

“That’s enough Ms Granger,” McGonagall said. “I’m very ashamed of all of you, fighting like common Muggles!”

Weasley bit his lip and tried to shake out of Snape’s tight grip.

“Malfoy started it, everyone heard what he said about Harry,” Weasley said with a scowl meant for Malfoy.

“And instead of taking it to a teacher, or better yet ignoring it, you decided that violence was the best answer and started a major fight in the process,” McGonagall said. “Weasley, detention for a week, and fifty points from Gryffindor--anymore groaning and it’ll be a hundred!” she said to the other ones fighting.

“What about Malfoy!” Weasley exclaimed. His mouth was open with horror that Malfoy would get away with his actions. Snape could already see Granger getting ready to name the reasons why Malfoy should be punished.

Snape spoke before Granger could, he didn’t want to be standing there forever and that was exactly what would happen if she was allowed to speak.

“I’ll deal with Mr Malfoy, Weasley,” Snape said. “I suggest you all get to class. Come with me Mr Malfoy.”

He turned and left the room with Malfoy following behind. “I think my nose is broke Professor, I’m going to black out from blood loss!” Malfoy began moaning as soon as the left the Great Hall.

Snape didn’t speak. “I need to see Madam Pomfrey before my nose heals like this and I look ugly for the rest of my life,” Malfoy continued.

“That would be a shame,” Snape muttered. “Mr Malfoy, I am fully capable on healing you injuries. I fully doubt that your nose could heal that fast, but I will re-break the bone should it heal before we reach my office.”

Malfoy stopped walking for a second, and Snape glanced at him to see he had completely paled. “I--I don’t think that will be necessary, Professor.”

Snape made no comment, and too afraid to speak, Malfoy kept his mouth shut. They reached Snape’s office and the Potions master healed Malfoy’s nose, and cleaned the blood away.

“Now, what do you think should be your punishment?” Snape asked as he sat down behind his desk.

Malfoy shrugged insolently, “I don’t see why I should be punished at all. Weasley is the one who attacked me, not the other way around.”

“You provoked him, and you know it. Twenty points from Slytherin and who nights of detention with Filch--”

“Filch!” Malfoy exclaimed in horror and cut Snape off in the process.

“--but I’m sure Hagrid would love some help collecting rare plants from the Forbidden Forest,” Snape continued lightly.

“As I was saying, I can’t wait to work with Filch,” Malfoy said with a weak smile.

Snape barely showed his teeth in what could almost be considered a smile. “That’s what I thought. Now, go to class and don’t talk to Weasley or Granger anymore involving Potter.”

“If they weren’t so easy to irritate--” Malfoy muttered as he turned.

“I wonder if Hagrid will be able to find hemlock alone,” Snape mussed with a raised eyebrow.

Eyes widening, Malfoy hurried out of the room.

Smirking, Snape started grading papers as he waited for his third year class to arrive. Later he would tell Dumbledore about the potion that could help them find Potter, then he would have to report to Voldemort and somehow get a lock of Wormtail’s hair.

From outside the door came the sound of children talking. There was the sound of two shooting insults at each other. Why did the day have to stat with a Gryffindor and Slytherin class?

Snape rubbed his eyes, and spelled the door open. This was going to be a long day.