Somewhere near Little Hangleton:

It was with a great feeling of relief that Freedom finally spiraled down to a landing in a small patch of woodland near the sleepy little village known as Little Hangleton.  He, Hedwig, and Warrior had been flying for at least six hours straight, and now it was dusk and his wings and shoulders ached fiercely from battling sudden cross currents and wind gusts as well as flying high enough so people would not remark upon the unusual sight of a red-tailed hawk in British skies, nor a goshawk either, accompanied by a snowy owl.

Though the threesome did not fly together in tandem, but staggered, sometimes above and sometimes below each other, at least fifteen feet away, in case anyone should look up they would not think it odd to see two hawks flying.

But now the sun was setting and the first stars of twilight had begun to emerge as the moon slowly rose above the treetops.  A weary Freedom, followed by a slightly less tired Warrior, landed in a small shaded thicket bordering a little creek.  Both hawks blurred swiftly into human shape after making certain no one was about.

Harry sank to the ground, stifling a groan, for even in his original shape, his arms and shoulders throbbed.  He had never had that happen before, but then again, he had also never flown so far and so fast for so long, so perhaps this fatigue was normal.  He watched as Severus inspected the perimeter of the wooded area and cast  a few illusion charms so any Muggles who ventured too close to their campsite would be encouraged to look away or pass by.

That done, he stretched and looked down at his ward.  "Do you have magic enough left to start a fire, Harry?"

"Yeah.  I'm just . . .give me a minute," Harry said, drawing his wand.  He began to clear away a patch of bare ground, knowing full well that a fire in even a small wood like this was dangerous if not properly contained.  He summoned a few pieces of dry wood from the surrounding area and some small stones, which he arranged in a ring about the pieces of wood. Then he pointed his wand and whispered, "Incendio!"

A bright spark flicked out from his wand and within a half a minute, tongues of flame were licking hungrily at the wood, and in two minutes a sizeable campfire was crackling merrily.

"There.  Not bad for my first try, is it?" Harry inquired of his guardian.

"No.  I can see you've been reading that Muggle woodland survival guide I gave you," Severus said approvingly. "Now, I think some tea and perhaps a bit of soup is in order.  Tonight I shall cook dinner, tomorrow you may do so.  For now, why don't you set up the bedrolls?"

Harry nodded, and went to set up the thick padded bedrolls from each of their packs, which had been shrunk so they fit easily into their backpacks.  The bedrolls were wizard made, which meant they had spells on them for comfort and coolness and to keep away bugs and pests and could be cleaned with a simple Scourgify charm. Harry got his set up first and then Severus's, setting them somewhat close to the fire about five feet from each other.

Severus had meanwhile summoned a small cauldron and the teakettle from his rucksack and was busy making tea and soup from specially prepared packages of dried soup mix that Twixie had prepared for them.  All he had to do was to  mix the soup with water and heat it and it would taste just like it was freshly made. There were small rolls as well, set with a preserving charm, that would taste good as well once the charm was removed.

Both hawks had hunted earlier in the day, feasting on a squirrel in Warrior's case and a large mouse in Freedom's, nevertheless flying burned up a great deal of energy and both Animagi were hungry again by nightfall. Severus stirred the soup with a long handled wooden spoon while Harry washed his face and hands in the small creek.

Hedwig flew down to perch briefly upon his shoulder, hooting softly, I shall go and hunt now, Harry.  But fear not, I shall be back to keep watch over you while you sleep.  No spying Muggle or creeping dark wizard shall disturb your rest, my oath as a post owl on it!

He stroked the snowy owl's breast and smiled at her.  "Okay, Hedwig.  Good luck and  thanks!"

Hedwig nibbled his hair in affection before taking off and soaring silently among the trees, searching for an unwary mouse, or shrew, or possum.

"Where is Hedwig going?" came Snape's query from out of the gathering dusk.

"To hunt, but she says she'll be back and keep watch while we sleep," replied Harry, dusting himself off and coming to stand near Severus.  He sniffed appreciatively.  "Hey, that smells great.  I didn't know you could cook, Sev."

"This isn't cooking, this is house elf magic," snorted the other.  "Twixie gave these packets of soups and sandwiches to me, so we wouldn't have to do much beyond boil water."

"Can you do more than boil water?" teased the Potion Master's apprentice.

Snape shot him an irritated insulted look.  "Of course I can, I'm not an imbecile, you know.  I grew up Muggle and know how to cook and do other chores without magic, the same as you.  Still, it's a relief to not have to throw together a meal after a day spent flying."

Harry yawned, feeling suddenly exhausted. He rubbed his eyes then sat crosslegged on the ground waiting for the soup to boil.

The woods were peaceful enough, he supposed, listening to the soft chirring of crickets and the rustle of some small animal in the undergrowth and the buzzing of nighttime insects.  But this close to the graveyard in Little Hangleton made him feel slightly uneasy and a shiver skittered down his backbone.

The night had been dark and deep and shrouded figures surrounded him in grotesque white-painted iron masks, eager to see the rebirth of the monster known as Lord Voldemort, they had laughed when Wormtail tied him to the headstone . .  .

"Harry! Your supper," a bowl with a roll on the side was thrust practically under his nose, and he blinked and took it from Snape's outstretched hand.  "Huh? Oh, must have dozed off.  Sorry." He still felt twinges of fear, but the savory smell of beef, carrots, and onions soon made his stomach start clamoring and the fear subsided to the greater need of filling his belly.

Severus sat opposite his apprentice, eating his own portion slowly and observing the young Animagus from beneath half-lidded eyes.  Harry seemed to show no other side effects from his prolonged flight except for a general exhaustion, and that was only to be expected.  Snape himself was feeling tired and weary and his bedroll was looking like Nirvana right then. I suppose after a few hours of sleep, Potter will be ready to jump right up and start flying again, whereas I will doubtless need a full night's rest before I feel up to flying to Riddle House.  Ah, to be fifteen again with all of that endless energy.

He continued eating, saying quietly, "I trust you remember the rules when we get to Riddle House, Mr. Potter, or do I need to go over them?"

"No, I remember.  Touch nothing unless you say so, go nowhere without you, and be quiet and try not to knock anything over, we don't want any Muggles noticing us."  Harry recited in a bored tone.

"And above all, perform no magic without my express permission," Severus reminded sternly.  "There may yet be things in that house-things of dark magic-that might be waiting for just such an unwary wizardling to awaken them.  Voldemort might not have lived there long, but rest assured that he may have used the house to keep some of his cursed objects hidden . . .besides the Horcrux, to throw us off the scent.  So no magic unless I tell you otherwise."

"All right, Sev.  I'm not  a little kid, that you've got to watch every minute." Harry said, somewhat crossly.

The Potions Master slanted a sharp glance at him.  "You have had the tendency in the past, young man, to rush in where angels fear to tread, without using your head, so I thought a reminder was in order." He looked at Harry's almost empty soup bowl.  "Would you like another helping?"

"Yes, please.  I'm always hungry lately." He handed his bowl to Severus for a refill.

"Growth spurt, no doubt." The professor mused.  "You're overdue for one." He handed the bowl back to his apprentice.

"You think? Because I was afraid I'd be a shrimp my whole life," said Harry, his green eyes shining. 

"Your growth was most likely stunted because of your relatives starving you," Snape surmised, finishing his own soup a moment later. He too went back for a second helping, no sense in letting it go to waste. "But now that is no longer the case, your body should start responding normally and that means you'll begin growing taller.  You might not have the height of your friend Weasley due to malnutrition, but you won't be undersized either."

"Is that why you made me drink those awful Nutrient potions all last month?" Harry asked, blowing on a spoonful of soup. He wrinkled his nose in remembered distaste.  That potion had tasted like reconstituted swamp sludge.

"Yes.  The Nutrient Potion was designed to replace your essential amino acids, vitamins, and minerals your body was lacking," lectured the professor. "It also jumpstarted your metabolism, so that now you feel hungry and your body can stop storing away nutrients and process them normally."

"Oh. That's a good thing, I guess.  But that potion was utterly vile, Sev." Harry made a face. "You could have at least made it taste good, like something fruity."

Severus gave him a look of disgust and rolled his eyes.  "Merlin save me from thickheaded apprentices. Mr. Potter, how many times have I told you that altering the composition of a draft will throw off the entire solution unless you are putting in a nonreactive substance? And in the case of fruit juice . . .that would ruin the draft entirely, since sugar inhibits some of the absorption of essential nutrients. Therefore, it would not be feasible to tamper with the potion simply because you wish it to taste better, understand?"

Harry flushed.  "Right.  I'm tired, I forgot." He quickly finished his bowl of soup and then took the bowls, spoons, and the cauldron to the creek, rinsed them and washed them with magic and then shrunk them.  Severus took them and placed them inside his rucksack. 

"Here.  Drink that.  It'll help with your sore muscles." He floated a cup of Muscle Relieving tea over to the boy.

Harry took it, eyes widening.  "How did you know I needed this?"

"It would stand to reason, Potter, after all you've been flying for six hours today. Drink it quickly, it's most potent when hot."

Harry obeyed.  The tea tasted of cloves and was quite good.  Finishing his cup, he set it down and then asked, "You don't think anyone will be in the Riddle House, do you?"

Snape shook his head.  "No.  It's unlikely, but should we encounter a dark wizard, you are to let me confront him. You are not, under any circumstances, to reveal yourself or attempt to fight a dark wizard on your own."

"I know.  I promised, remember.  And you're not supposed to die protecting me either, Severus."

"That goes without saying.  Worry about your own hide, Potter.  I shall take care of mine." Severus sighed.  "I suggest we turn in, it has been a long day for us both."

He waved his wand, and Harry found himself wearing a familiar pair of pajamas and fuzzy red and gold socks.

The apprentice yawned again, he was now feeling pleasantly sleepy and didn't need to be told twice to seek out his bedroll and fall fast asleep upon it, though not before seeing a familiar white shadow alight upon a nearby branch overlooking the campsite.  "Night, Hedwig," he murmured before his eyes shut.

 Severus remained awake a moment more, then he transfigured his robes into a set of pajamas as well and sought his own bedroll, trusting in his wards and Hedwig's watchful eye to keep anything that meant them harm away. 

* * * * * * *

Harry was standing before the black-robed figure of Voldemort, trembling slightly, as the necromancer sneered, his red eyes glittering like the fires of hell, and pointed his wand at his heart. 

"You think you have defeated me, boy! But you know nothing! I shall return, and this time I shall make  certain you are destroyed.  There is no escape from me, Potter! Where ever you go, whatever shape you assume, I shall find you, I shall come to you, and I shall kill you.  I swear it upon my immortal soul!"

Then Voldemort threw back his head and laughed madly, the confident chuckle of one who knows he holds the upper hand.

"You destroyed your immortal soul long ago!" Harry shouted back.

"Did I? I think not! I am stronger than I ever was, and when I make the journey back through the Veil, you and yours will fall before me.  And when all of your pitiful friends lay dead at my feet, I shall celebrate!"

Harry felt his stomach tighten and threaten to rebel at the way the dark wizard was licking his lips.  But he managed to cry out, "That'll never happen! You're dead and you're going to stay that way!"

He woke up with Tom's insane laughter ringing in his ears, gasping and sweating as if he had run for miles. He glanced about and saw, or thought he saw, something moving in the shadows and drew his wand, crying, "Lumos!"

Light bright as day shot from his wand . . .to reveal . . .nothing.

Feeling like an idiot, Harry lowered his wand, then nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt  a hand clutch his shoulder.

"What on earth are you doing? Trying to show the whole village our position?" scolded a grumpy Severus.

Harry could feel himself flush to the tips of his ears. "Uh . . .no . .. I just . . .thought I saw something . . ."

"You thought you saw something? Well, this is a forest, Potter, and animals do roam at night," Snape began sarcastically, annoyed at having his sleep interrupted. "But if there was any danger the wards I set would have warned me."

He woke up from a nightmare, professor, and was jumpy, put in Hedwig from her perch in a gnarled oak tree.

Harry stared at the ground.  Oh, great! Hedwig, why did you have to tell him? Now he's going to think I'm a wimpy little baby.

"Is that true, Harry?" Severus's tone suddenly lost its sarcasm.

The boy nodded, stiffening.  Here it comes.

But Severus did not yell, instead he said only, "Care to tell me what this dream was about?"

Harry bit his lip and sighed. "I dreamed about Voldemort."

"In the graveyard?"

"No.  After that.  He said we were going to fail and he was coming back to kill me.  And when I woke up I felt . . .I don't know . . .all jumpy and then I thought I saw something in the shadows . . .I'm sorry I woke you, Sev."

But Severus did not dismiss his dream as Harry had expected. Instead he said, "Did you Occlude your mind before sleeping?"

Harry stared down at his bedroll, idly playing with the border.  "N-No. I forgot."

This time Severus did scowl.  "You forgot? I ought to smack you upside the head for that bit of forgetfulness, you  foolish child! How many times do I have to tell you, Occluding your mind before you sleep should be something you do automatically, especially on a mission such as this one?"

"Okay, I get it! I'm sorry!" Harry snapped, feeling ashamed and resentful at the same time.  "Excuse me if I'm not bloody perfect like you."

"This is not about perfect, this is about protecting yourself from unwanted mental influences, Harry. Even though the Dark Lord's body is dead, his spirit still lingers in a half-life, waiting for his chance to return.  And though the link you shared with him severed upon his death, I cannot trust that entirely."

"Do you think he sent me the dream, then?"

"Possibly," Severus hedged.  "Unlikely, but you must not allow him any loopholes, Harry."

"Okay, okay." The teen suddenly sprang to his feet, his earlier tiredness replaced by a feeling of foreboding and unease that made him start at shadows.  "Are you sure there's nothing out there?"

Severus sighed exasperatedly.  "Yes! Do trust that I know what I am about, I have been a spy long before you were born."

"What do you want, a medal or a monument?" muttered Harry cheekily.

Severus's mouth tightened and the obsidian eyes flashed. "Mind that tone, young man, before I-"

I shall fly the perimeter and check if it will make you feel better. Meantime try not to kill each other, Hedwig offered from the tree, diffusing the argument, then spread her wings and glided noiselessly away.

"Sorry, Sev. I'm just . . .on edge."

Severus snorted, nodded shortly, and turned away, peering hard through the trees facing the direction of the village.

Harry waited tensely for the owl's return, then relaxed when Hedwig came back some five minutes later and reported that all was calm.  There is no danger here, Harry.

Still, he could not shake the odd feeling that something was lurking nearby.  Nerves, just nerves. He stared up at the moon, which was a crescent sliver in the indigo sky, and tried to forget about the dream.  But it would not leave him alone and he could not settle back to sleep.

Severus watched his charge for a few minutes, then said abruptly, "Close your eyes, Harry, and take four deep breaths.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four."

Harry obeyed, finding his center and then taking the requisite breaths, allowing his mentor to walk him through the beginning stages of Occlusion and meditation.  Soon he felt himself begin to relax, and after about five minutes of controlled breathing and relaxation, Harry managed to Occlude his mind and relax enough to fall back to sleep.

Severus waited until the boy was well and truly asleep before tucking the bedroll about him and then retreating to his own to catch up on the sleep he had lost.  It was paramount they be well rested and mentally prepared when they arrived at the Riddle House, so they could evade whatever traps Voldemort had set and discover whether or not the abandoned manor held a Horcrux, as Dumbledore assumed.

As Seveus started to sink into the gray realm of sleep, he spared a thought for the Headmaster, and wondered how the old wizard's meeting with the Dursleys had gone.  He hoped that Albus had given the miserable Muggles something to remember, as payback for all the times they had abused Harry over the years.  A moment later, the watchful eyes closed and Snape slept, while above a snowy owl kept watch.

But the night was still and no dreams or ill feelings disturbed the sleep of her wizard companions further that night.

The two wizards left Hedwig sleeping and broke camp early the next morning. Once they had swept away any evidence of their presence, they shifted into hawk form and  headed west into the village.  Harry had not seen anything of the village last time he had come here, whisked away by Portkey to become a prisoner in the graveyard beyond the manor house.  Now, as Freedom, he had literally a hawk's eyeview of the sleepy hamlet. 

There could not have been more than perhaps four hundred inhabitants all told. The village was small, a place where everyone knew everyone else, their grandparents and great-grandparents had been born, raised, and died there.  The village was what some would term quaint, with small houses sporting tiled roofs and made of brick or occasionally stone.  There was a common green where people could walk among small trees and bushes and feed ducks in a man-made pond.  There was a little supermarket, a post office,  the Hanged Man pub, a bed and breakfast, and a bookshop.  A petrol station and a garage was just on the outskirts of the village proper, back in the days of horse and carriages there had been a blacksmith shop.  Hard by that was the local police station, which boasted a total of seven policemen and one sergeant. 

On a knoll overlooking the village was the once proud Riddle House, set back on a rolling sweep of lawn that must have been gorgeous in its heyday.  Now however, it was overgrown and weed ridden.  The flowerbeds were overrun with dandelions and the hedges overgrown.  The house itself was rundown, ivy and creepers practically covered over the magnificent stone face, some of the windows were cracked and boarded up and the tiles upon the slate roof were missing.  Once it must have been a grand old house, in the old Georgian style, but now it was nothing more than derelict ruin. 

Dumbledore had told Severus and Harry that the Riddle House had an unsavory reputation due to the triple murder that had happened over fifty years ago.   The owner of the Riddle estate, his wife, and his grown son had been found murdered in the drawing room by their maid.  The gardener, Frank Bryce, had first been accused of the murder, but was later cleared and the killer had never been found, according to Muggle records. The Riddles had, of course, been killed by Voldemort. Since then the house had changed hands numerous times and was claimed to be haunted and had a "bad aura" about it.  Dumbledore suspected that Voldemort had hidden a Horcrux there because it was an important family dwelling, and Voldemort liked to pretend he was a legitimate son of the Riddle family, instead of a castoff bastard who had never been acknowledged by his father.

Harry might have felt a bit sorry for Voldemort if the wizard had not been an incurable sociopath, but knowing what he did about him, any compassion he might have harbored died after Dumbledore had told him how Tom had come to Little Hangleton at fifteen and murdered his father and grandparents in cold blood, and had even set up the young Frank Bryce to take the blame.  Fifty years later, he had then killed Frank as well, for chancing to overhear a conversation between him and Wormtail.  And he displayed as much remorse over it as one would for swatting a fly.

The two hawks landed upon the rooftree and after peering inside and outside the grounds to ensure that no prying eyes could see them, flew down behind a large hydrangea bush in the back of the house and changed back into their human shapes.  This time Severus was wearing Muggle attire, dark trousers and a lightweight shirt of dark green and black trainers, Harry had already put on Muggle clothing this morning, and so did not need to change his attire. 

He looked up at Severus curiously and asked, "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"When you changed this morning, you had on your usual black robes.  But when you changed back now, you're wearing Muggle clothes.  How did you change clothes at the same time?"

"I simply thought of how I wished to look and when I shifted, my clothes became the ones you see," Severus replied.

"Oh.  I wonder if I could do that? It sounds neat." Harry said excitedly.

Severus held up a hand.  "Harry, you can experiment with your Animagus form later.  Right now our main priority is to find that which is hidden."  The Potions Master had decided that the less they mentioned the word "Horcrux" the better, just in case someone was listening magically to their conversation.  Better safe than sorry.

"Right.  Didn't mean to get sidetracked.  How shall we get in?"

"By the back door," Severus said. He walked quickly up to what had probably been a servant entrance at one time and muttered a charm to detect any harmful spells upon the entrance.  It revealed nothing, and so he set his hand to the doorknob and turned it. 

"Locked." He concentrated, and a blue glow covered his hand and the next sound that was heard was a sharp snick! And the door opened.

"I didn't know you could do wandless magic!"

Severus smirked.  "Another odd talent I possess.  It has saved my life on numerous occasions.  Come, Harry.  Time's wasting."

He carefully stepped across the threshold of the Riddle House and Harry followed.

Both wizards cast light spells to see inside the gloomy interior, which was thick with layers of dust.  Mouse droppings littered the floor and dead insects lay in the dust and along the walls.  There was a smell of rotten decaying matter in the air, it made Harry sneeze and wrinkle his nose.

"Ugh! What died?" he blurted before he could think better of it.

Severus rolled his eyes.  "This is no time for humor, Potter," he rebuked.  Harry noticed that when he was angry, Severus reverted to calling Harry by his last name. 

"I wasn't trying to be funny, sir.  It just . . .smells gross in here and . . .it came out wrong, what I meant," Harry floundered, then he shut up figuring it was safer to be silent than to continue making an ass of himself.

"Hush your babbling, Potter," ordered his guardian, walking lightly through the dust, moving so silently and gracefully that the dust hardly stirred.

In contrast, Harry sounded like a herd of erumphants, clomping and throwing up great puffs of dust, try though he did to be quiet.  He had the tip of his wand lit and wondered if he should take out his Sneak-o-scope and see if there were any dark wizards in residence.  He had just reached into the pocket of his jacket when suddenly a strange swishing and wailing was heard.

Both Snape and Harry froze, every nerve in their body tingling in atavistic fear.

"Uh . . .Sev? Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Severus replied in a bare whisper. 

"What . . .do you think it was? It sounded like . . ."

"The wind," Snape said, too quickly and dismissively. "Just the wind howling through the chinks in the windowpane. "

"That didn't sound like the wind to me," Harry said uneasily.

Severus did not reply.  "This room must have been a kitchen of sorts or servant's quarters.  I'm hoping this hallway will lead us to the more lived in sections of the house, like the drawing room and the-"

He never finished his sentence.  

An unearthly shrieking and howling filled the whole house, sounding like a thousand damned souls screaming in agony.  An arctic wind blasted them as they attempted to walk from the kitchen into the hallway leading to the drawing room.

Harry felt frozen to the marrow and looked down to see if ice had formed upon his fingers, for it had suddenly become deathly cold.  He could practically see his breath in the frigid air.  "Severus!" he hissed, shivering violently in his summer attire.  "What's happening? Is it some kind of defensive curse?"

Severus shook his head.  "No.  I do not believe Voldemort set this in motion.  My spell would have detected it." He had to nearly shout to be heard above the din. "I think this is the doing of a poltergeist."

"A poltergeist? Like Peeves?"

"A bit more vengeful than that." Severus grimaced and dashed the hair away from his eyes.

He walked into what he assumed had once been the drawing room and was immediately blasted by a gale-forced wind that made his teeth chatter.  The chandelier above rattled violently and the howling increased.  Severus winced as his sensitive eardrums were assaulted by gut-wrenching screeching.  He flinched and took a step back, nearly banging into his ward, who clung to his arm, holding his glasses on with his other hand.

"Sev, why do I get the feeling that we're not wanted here?"

"Because, little boy, you are not!" yelled a sepulchral voice, and the air spun in a mini whirlwind in front of them before resolving into a tall man dressed in a suit and tie, looking about sixty or so with salt and pepper hair and a goatee.  His shirt was stained with blood and his eyes glowed a sickly green.

"Mr. Riddle senior, I presume?" Severus queried.

"Correct.  I am Arthur Thomas Riddle, who once owned this manor and the grounds it rests upon. How dare you bloody wizards invade my home again? Am I never to have any peace, even in death?"

Severus opened his mouth to reply, but there came yet another stirring of wind and dust and two more spirits materialized in the air. One was of a slender woman dressed in a frilly top and skirt with a jacket her hair cut short about her head and her expression was more of sorrow than anger.  She appeared to be nearly the same age as her husband.  The other was a taller man, looking to be about thirty-five, dark-haired and handsome, wearing a sport coat and navy trousers, he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the two wizards. 

"Can you not go away and leave us be?" moaned the woman.  "Have we not suffered enough? Because of the manner of our deaths, we are trapped here, bound to this half-life until our vengeance is satisfied."

"Vengeance?" Harry blurted.

"Yes, vengeance!" snapped Tom Riddle, senior.  "For the bastard that came and killed us while we were discussing our taxes, who claimed he was my son by that pitiful witch Merope Gaunt! He called himself Ton Marvolo Riddle."

"That wasn't a lie, it was the truth," Severus countered. 

Tom senior's eyes blazed with unholy eldritch light.  "Oh, I know, wizard! Death grants you certain . . .insights, shall we say.  I know that the boy who came here that day in July was my bastard son, which I was tricked into siring by that miserable witch Merope Gaunt! And he then proceeded to murder me and my parents for never acknowledging him and to keep his secret as a half-breed unknown! I, who was enslaved by witchery, who did not even know the bitch was pregnant when I left! For that sin of abandonment, as he put it, I was killed by his hand."

"He used some odd spell," said Tom's mother, who was called Caroline. "A green light shot out of his wand and he killed first my son, and then my husband in front of me.  And then he turned to me and said that because I had sired a wicked bounder who had seduced his mother, I was to die too. And then he killed me."

"But afterwards, he found a pistol in my desk drawer in the study and shot us with it and then left it there beside us," the elder Riddle continued.  "It was all so sudden, clearly the boy was deranged."

"Oh, he was deranged, all right," Severus agreed.  "A thread of insanity runs in the Gaunt line."

"Bad breeding," sniffed Caroline. 

"Even so, you do not belong here, wizard!" shouted Tom senior.  "None of your kind have the right to set foot here after what that one did.  Now-GET OUT!"

He howled that last word with enough force to make Severus and Harry stagger backwards and the frigid wind returned.  The moth eaten drapes at the windows blew about and the couch and love seat trembled and slammed into the opposite wall.

"Wait!" Harry yelled.  "We've come here to try and find an object to defeat Voldemort!  He's our enemy!"

Severus chanted a Shield Spell, just to be safe, in case things started flying around, for there were piles of debris lying about in the corners of the room.

"No more magic!" bellowed Arthur, and the feeling of depression and anger permeating the room suddenly increased, slamming into both wizards with the force of an express train. 

Harry gasped, clutching his head. 

"Occlude, Harry!" Severus snapped, his own Occlumency shields snapping into place.

"No more magic in our home-EVER!" wailed Caroline, her shriek rising into an ear-splitting register.

"Owww!" Harry yelled, clutching his head.

Furious, Severus shouted, "Stop it! He's just a child, you have no reason to harm him in your bloody vendetta!"

"You are wizards-like he was! That is reason enough! Now leave this place and never return!" cried Tom senior.

"Imbecile! Yes, we are wizards, but we are as different from your wicked son as night from day.  We are fighting against him, do you not understand? Now cease this assault immediately.  Our magic is for our own protection . . .we could not hurt you even if we so wished . . .since you are dead!"

Abruptly, the winds and the awful howling ceased.

"What do you mean, you are here to defeat him?" demanded Arthur Riddle.

"Lies, Father! You cannot trust wizards!" snarled his son.

But the master of the manor held up a hand imperiously, and his son subsided.  "Tell me!"

"Just what he said," Harry spoke up suddenly.  "We're here to find an object Voldemort might have hidden here."

Tom sneered, but Harry went on gamely.  "Look, sir, we're really sorry that you were killed and all.  He killed my parents too and almost killed me too when I was a baby. He used the Killing Curse on them and on me."

"Why aren't you dead then?" demanded Tom angrily.

Harry shrugged.  "The spell he used backfired ‘cause my mother put a protection on me.  But he didn't die forever ‘cause he split his soul with a spell of dark magic."

"Split his soul?" Caroline gaped.  "How awful!"

"Yeah, tell me about it.  And that's why we're here, to find the object he stuffed part of his soul into and destroy it.  Once we have all the pieces destroyed, he'll die a final death."

"And rot in hell where he belongs!" growled Arthur.

Both Harry and Severus nodded. 

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" asked Tom suspiciously.  "He came here before and refused to leave despite all we did.  How do we know he didn't send you to get this object?"

"You can sense auras, right?" Severus demanded abruptly. 

"Yes.  All ghosts can," admitted the elder Riddle man reluctantly.

"Then look at ours and you will see we bear no dark taint." Severus invited.  After Voldemort's death, the Dark Mark had gone dormant, and so he was not afraid of any lingering taint of darkness.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and Harry felt a tingling brushing him.  An instant later it was gone.

"Well?" Severus asked dryly.

"You are telling the truth." The elder Riddle admitted. "They are not filled with darkness as was my . . .grandson and the one who accompanied him."

"Wormtail!" Harry scowled.

"Do you recall anything that happened after you were killed?" Severus asked.  "Did you notice anything unusual?"

Neither of the men said anything, but Caroline Riddle spoke up.  "I . . .I did see something right before I  . . .was murdered.  He . . .Voldemort . . .did an odd thing with his . . .stick . . .he claimed he needed some kind of energy from my dead son and husband . . .I think he took it from them to do whatever he was going to do . . .he had an old gold ring . . ."She frowned.  "It's so hard to remember . . .but I think he put the ring in a box and hid it."

"Do you remember where?" Snape demanded sharply.

"I . . .it was so long ago . . ."

"Try and remember! It's important!"

Caroline dithered and Severus fought to keep from screaming.  He wondered irritably if she had been this absentminded in real life. 

Five minutes went by, but it felt like an eternity. 

"If you can't remember . . .you will never have your vengeance and never rest in peace," gritted the Potions Master.

"Think, Caro!" urged her husband.

Caroline sighed.  "Really now! All I wanted was to forget that awful day.  And now you want me to remember something that happened just after I died!  Because he hid the box only after he had killed me and it's really fuzzy."

"Try, Mother!"

They waited some more, until Caroline said, "I think . . .he place it behind a brick in the fireplace.  Only I can't really recall which one . . ."

Harry groaned. 

"It's a start." Severus said.  He walked over to the fireplace and began tapping the bricks with his wand. 

After about seven minutes he heard a hollow sound behind the sixth brick in the tenth row from the top.  "Ah! I think I've found the secret hiding place."

"Where?" Harry asked, coming over.

"Here, I think." Severus pulled on his Curse Blocking gloves, they were black leather stamped with red sigils all over them. Then he pressed the brick that had sounded hollow and it swung out, revealing a small hole.  Inside was a narrow wooden box with a lock upon it.

"You found it, Sev!" exclaimed his ward and forgetting about possible danger, reached out to touch the box.

Severus smacked his hand down. 

"Ouch! Hey! What was that for?" Harry cried angrily, rubbing his stinging hand.

"Idiot boy! Do you want to end up lit on fire or a babbling drooling dunderhead for the rest of your life?" snapped the Potions Master. "Never ever touch a cursed object, or one you even suspect is cursed, bare handed.  Put your gloves on."

"Oh.  Right." Harry said lamely, feeling like the world's biggest dumbass for forgetting that.  He quickly drew on his gloves.  "Now can I touch the box?"

"You may, but do not attempt to open it." Severus cautioned.

Harry ran his finger along the box, which was a fine dark maple with a snake carved into it.  It looked and felt perfectly ordinary.

"Enough.  Let me cast some spells that shall reveal whether or not it has magic defending it." Severus tapped the box with his wand and began to mutter several detection spells.

After a moment he paused and looked at his apprentice.  "There are no curses implanted in the wood.  The lock, however, does contain a poisonous substance. "

"Can you dispel it?"

"Perhaps." Severus concentrated, and suddenly a needle popped out of the lock. "Careful, Harry.  That poison is probably the worst I have ever known. Nightdusk venom.  It will kill you in seconds. And there is no known antidote, not even a bezoar." He quickly chanted a stronger unlocking spell but it fizzled and died. 

"Huh? What happened?"

"The box is warded against unlocking charms. So that means I'm going to open the box another way."

"How?"

"With a set of these." Severus pulled out a pair of small thin lockpicks.

"You know how to pick locks?"

"Not very well, though I can do it." Severus removed the box and brought it into the light. 

The ghosts remained silent, hovering in the air, and watching the proceedings.

Severus set the box on the table and began to work, slowly inserting the pick inbetween  the lock and the poisoned needle.  Harry remained riveted, not daring to move, hardly even to breathe, as his mentor deftly jiggled the slender wires in the lock.

It took Snape nearly ten minutes, his sense of touch was off due to the gloves, to jimmy the lock on box.  There was a soft snick! He silently withdrew the pick.  "Back away," he ordered his apprentice.

"Yes, sir," Harry said respectfully, for once obeying his guardian without an argument. 

Snape waited until Harry was a good four feet away before easing the lid back on the box. 

There was a sudden glow of purple light.

Severus shut his eyes and turned away.

When he looked back, there was a large gold ring lying on a bed of crushed green velvet.  The ring was set with a large black stone, possibly onyx, etched with a glyph of a triangle containing a circle inside bisected vertically by what appeared to be a single line-the Peverell coat of arms. 

Harry released the breath he'd been holding.  "You did it, Sev!" he praised, stifling the urge to cheer like a Quidditch fanatic.

Severus nodded, not touching the ring in any way. "The box is open." He chanted a quick spell and saw that the ring carried some kind of dark curse upon it.  "Harry, fetch me the cauldron of silver lined with iron from my pack.  This ring bears a powerful curse and it's best if we destroy it immediately."

"Whose ring is it?"

"It belonged, from what I know of Voldemort's history, to Marvolo Gaunt, his maternal grandfather, it has been in the Gaunt family for centuries.  Voldemort stole it off of his uncle Morfin when he framed him for the murder of Marvolo."

All three Riddles howled in fury and gnashed their teeth.

"Destroy the wretched thing!" howled Caroline.

"That whole family was cursed, mad all of them!" sneered Arthur.

"They didn't even look normal-they were all horridly ugly with eyes that were facing opposite directions.  They lived on the opposite side of town in this ramshackle eyesore of a house-more like a shack-I used to ride past it some evenings on my way home from the Hanged Man." Tom senior said coldly.  "She used to be on the porch, of an evening, sweeping, and watching me with those evil eyes . . .like a spider waiting for me to fall into her web.  Nothing good ever came from that family!"

"And good came of yours?" sneered Severus.  "The Gaunts were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts."  Though they had been steeped in dark traditions and insane, the Potions Master felt compelled to defend them for some unknown reason.

"Descended from the devil is more like," grumbled Arthur.

Harry had found the cauldron by then and brought it over, along with the case where Severus had the Curse Dissolving potion.  "Should I light a fire?"

"No need.  We're not brewing, we are using," said the Potions Master.  He enlarged the kit and took out a single vial of the Curse Dissolving brew, opened it and poured it into the cauldron. 

Then together, Harry and he tipped the box containing the ring into the cauldron and then threw the box in afterwards, just in case.

The very acidic electric blue potion smoked and hissed and bubbled agitatedly as it devoured the cursed ring.

Both Harry and Severus winced and coughed as the potion turned black and emitted a foul odor and finally ceased bubbling some few minutes later.

"It is done," the Potions Master announced.

The spirits had clustered about the cauldron while the ring was being destroyed, unaffected by the odor, and now they gave a great collective shout, turned and bowed to the two wizards, and said, "We are partly free! There is a lightening of our curse that ties us here.  Find the other objects and destroy them and we shall be able to move on."

Severus banished the contents of the cauldron and replaced everything.  "That we shall try and do as swiftly as possible. We thank you for your assistance."

"Might we know your names?" inquired Caroline politely.

"Harry and Severus," replied Harry.

"Thank you, Harry and Severus, for trying to free us and rid the world of a menace," Mrs. Riddle said formally. "May God go with you."

Then they all vanished, and the temperature in the house suddenly returned to normal.

Harry looked at his mentor. "One down, Sev.  Where to next?"

"The house that Tom Riddle senior mentioned.  The Gaunt residence."

"Is that haunted, do you think?"

"I have no way of knowing until we get there.  But let us hurry." Severus looked out of the window.  "It's nearly sunset."

"We've been in here that long?" Harry cried.  "But how?"

"I do not know.  Hurry, Potter.  Time flys."

They walked out of the house the way they had come and once beyond the ruin, took to the skies in hawk shape.

* * * * * *

Hogwarts School

Headmaster's office:

Dumbledore sat at his fine mahogany desk, a bowl of lemon drops at hand, seemingly relaxing after processing all of the end of term grades, his eyes half-shut behind his spectacles.  To the casual observer, he would appear to be staring contemplatively down at his striped rainbow socks.

Actually, he was ruminating on two things, the first being his imminent visit with Dursleys at King's Cross.  He had volunteered for that duty as a means to atone for his earlier oversight in allowing Harry to live for years as a neglected unloved child, assuming everything was all right until Severus pointed out the boy's depressed state and what had caused the majority of it.  I was a blind fool and Harry suffered for it, poor boy!  But no longer.  One day I must thank Severus for opening my eyes to the truth, however painful that was.

The Headmaster popped a lemon drop into his mouth and allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk upwards as he thought about the man whom he considered yet another "lost boy", who had nearly surrendered to darkness and depression as well.  But Severus had redeemed himself through his own stubborn refusal to be a pawn to anyone and his everlasting love for a woman that would never be his.

Dumbledore had cultivated Severus the spy-Severus Sharp-eyes, my watcher in the dark-was what he called the Potions Master to himself, but it was Severus the man who had connected with Harry as both hawk and child, saving the boy from the depths of despair, fulfilling the promise he had made long ago to Lily.

Snape's eyes, observant as that of his goshawk form, had seen what Dumbledore, in all of his wisdom, had missed, and had acted upon that revelation by making himself guardian and mentor to Harry.  Harry was lucky to have him.  And Severus was lucky to have Harry, for both needed each other desperately, even if neither would admit it aloud, the old wizard thought, though the bond was not something he could take credit for, he was simply happy it had occurred, and that history would not repeat itself.

He pondered whether things might have been different if he had been more aware when Tom Riddle was a student, might he have prevented the rise of Lord Voldemort? If I had acted upon my suspicions all those years ago, would he have ever become a power-hungry monster? Could he have somehow been turned from the darkness?  Severus thinks not.  He believes Tom was born with a twisted spirit, one lacking in remorse and conscienceless, what Muggles call a sociopath.  That nothing I tried to do would have made a difference, for such was his nature from the beginning.

Dumbledore had not wanted to believe that, one of his greatest flaws was seeing the world and people as he wished them to be and not as they truly were.  He tended to be complacent and look at things optimistically until forced to do otherwise.  But now looking back upon it . . .

Even as a child, Tom had been abnormal, skewed in the way he related to other people.  The matron's report from the orphanage had been disturbing, revealing that even at age eleven, Tom did not get along with other children, the staff and his peers feared him and he was a loner, preferring to be solitary.  Albus had thought at first that was because of Tom's bouts of accidental magic, that the other children shunned him, but it was not until he had seen the boy that he realized he was cunning, cold, a thief, a liar, and fond of collecting trophies, and already using his magic to harm people and animals.

Despite all the evidence, Dumbledore had been willing to give the orphan the benefit of the doubt, wishing the boy to not only live up to his tremendous potential as a wizard but to  guide that brilliant mind on the path to light and glory.

But all of his plans came to naught, as Tom refused to be guided, rebelling against all of Dumbledore's teachings and in the end succumbing to the lure of the dark, never to be redeemed. 

"You can spot a sociopath by the way he avoids others and animals especially fear and hate him," Severus had told him once.  "Had Voldemort been a dog or a cat, he would have been destroyed at birth for the abomination he is and thus saved the world a lot of suffering."

Dumbledore had to conclude that Severus had been right, Hagrid never trusted or liked Riddle, even as a student, and the half-giant liked nearly everyone.  And Tom had held himself aloof from everyone, even members of his own House, until he had finished school and began his campaign to rule the world.  Then and only then did he begin to use his considerable talents at manipulation to gather followers to him and offer them power if they would accept his new doctrine-that magic is might and the mighty shall rule, and all those who oppose Lord Voldemort shall die.

The Headmaster sighed and rubbed his eyes.  He could only hope that Severus and Harry would find all the Horcruxes and destroy them before Voldemort found a new body to inhabit.  And also that they might one day forgive him for his meddling and allow him to make amends.  Speaking of amends, Albus, you need to get to King's Cross before the Dursleys become too concerned over their nephew's absence, he reminded himself.

* * * * * *

King's Cross Station:

The old wizard, now glamoured to look like a Muggle reject from the 70's with a purple and gray pinstriped double-breasted jacket, matching trousers and lavender shirt complete with a purple carnation in the lapel, lavender shoes and a fez to top it off, stood in an alcove watching the people coming to and fro, trying to locate Harry's relatives.   At last he saw a man, woman, and child matching the description Harry had given him.

They were standing in front of an eatery and an arcade, the man was large and sported a walrus-like mustache and the woman was stringy with a pinched prune-like face.  The boy, Dudley, was pudgy and reminded Dumbledore of a hamster who had stuffed his cheek pouches too full. 

Vernon was glowering and muttering loudly, "Where is that boy? Does he think we've nothing better to do than to wait here all bloody afternoon for him? The cheek of that brat!"

"I don't understand it, Vern.  The train is never late and always on time.  We never had this trouble with my sister at school."

"Maybe the train crashed, Mum," put in Dudley, his manner suggesting he wouldn't care at all if that had happened.  "Maybe Harry's trapped underneath a tire and broke his leg! That'd be so wicked!"

To Albus's shock, neither parent bothered to reprimand the other boy for saying such nasty things about their nephew. 

Instead Vernon growled, "I don't care what happened, if he's not here in ten minutes he can just stay on the train and go live at that freaky school."

Dumbledore made his entrance then, stepping out from the alcove and walking casually towards the trio.  "Hello! Are you by chance waiting for Harry Potter?"

Vernon blinked at the smiling old man and snapped, "And if we are? You from that school of his?"

"I am.  My name is Headmaster Dumbledore , and I have come to try and clear up a few things."  Dumbledore held out a hand, but Vernon just looked at it and did not shake it.

Petunia gasped and went pale. 

Vernon was quite impatient.  "So what's the delay? The boy get expelled, the train got wrecked  . . ."

"No, no.  Thank Merlin! If we could find a quiet corner, I shall explain everything to you."

"Very well," Vernon agreed.  Then he poked the elderly wizard in the chest with one beefy forefinger.  "But none of your funny business or else I'll have the law on you!"

Before Albus could reply, Dudley broke in.  "Mum, I want to go play in the arcade, not talk about stupid old Harry. Can I go?"

"Very well, sweeting.  Here's some money," Petunia cooed sickeningly, and reached into her purse.

Dudley snatched it and waddled off to the brightly lit arcade as quickly as he could, huffing and puffing. Dumbledore frowned, finding Dudley's lack of interest over his cousin not to his liking.

The Dursleys followed Dumbledore to a small alcove inbetween some phone booths and Dumbledore cast a privacy spell so they could speak freely.  He cleared his throat.  "I have come to tell you that your nephew Harry will no longer be living with you."

"Oh? And how did that happen?" Vernon asked, unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice.

"It came to our attention that Harry was not happy at home, and was not being treated right, so one of my staff, Professor Severus Snape, offered to become Harry's guardian.  Harry consented and signed the papers and thus the guardianship passes from you to Severus Snape."

"Snape?" Petunia repeated, looking even more shocked.  "The same Snape that my sister used to play with when we were girls? The same Snape she went to school with? That Snape boy?"

"Why, yes.  Lily and Severus were friends as children.  I wasn't aware that you knew him as well, Petunia."

"Humph! He was the one who led my sister astray, Mr. Dumbledorf."

"Dumbledore," corrected Albus. "What do you mean-led her astray?"

"What I said! If not for him my sister would have never known about magic or wizards or anything to do with your crazy world and lived a normal life the way she ought to have."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.  "You do not understand.  Lily was born with magic, she could no more have given it up than a bird could give up flying."

"You're wrong, old man! She was normal before she met that scummy Snape boy!" shrilled Petunia angrily.  "Once she made friends with him, she changed.  She became a freak just like him and look what it got her.  Killed by some psycho and left me with her brat to raise these past fourteen years.  And he was as freaky as his parents! If Snape wanted the boy so much, why did he not take him from the beginning instead of sticking him with us?"

"That was not possible at the time, Petunia," Dumbledore said sternly.  "Don't blame Severus for any of this.  I had thought ties of blood the best and that you would raise Harry as your own, as his mother's last living kin. I had no idea that you hated magic-once you wrote to me and asked if you might come to school with Lily-so naturally I assumed-"

"That was a long time ago, old man!" Petunia cut him off, glaring at him fit to kill.  "I wished to be with my sister, not become one of you!  What has your precious magic ever done for me? Magic stole my sister from me, magic turned her into a freak and then it killed her.  Why would I want anything more to do with it? Then magic saddled me with her brat, who brought more trouble down on me.  It was because of him my poor Dudders nearly died that night last July!"

"You are wrong.  Harry was not to blame for the dementors attacking your son." Dumbledore defended quietly.  He had no idea that Petunia's resentment of magic ran so deeply.  Had I known, I would have listened to Minerva . . .But alas, now is too late for regrets . . ."And remember, Petunia, if not for Harry, your son would have died.  Harry saved his life, at great risk to his own, I might add."

"True," Petunia's mouth became even more pinched at that admission.  "But Dudley would have never been in such a position were it not for your freaky magic!  Magic is the ruination of my family and I am glad I do not have to put up with it, or him, any longer!"

"Petunia's right.  That boy has brought us nothing but headaches and stomach ulcers since we took him in.  He's nothing but trouble, always has been," Vernon added spitefully.  "He's cost me a promotion at work, made the neighbors gossip about us, nothing has gone right since you dumped him on our doorstep."

Dumbledore's mouth thinned.  "I hardly think it is fair, Mr. Dursley, to blame all of your problems upon one small boy."

"No? Then you're more of a fool than you look," sneered Vernon.

Now Dumbledore started to become angry at the tub of lard's presumption and blind prejudice  against a boy that had done nothing save been born with an extraordinary gift.

"I am sorry you feel that way, but I would have thought compassion for a helpless baby would enable you to look past your misgivings and treat Harry with love and kindness.  I see now that I was mistaken." His eyes flashed chained lightning.  "You have the worst prejudices of any Muggle I have ever met and it is to your shame that you took them out on an innocent child, one who merely wanted to be loved and protected and to have a family like everyone else."

"He should have found a different family then!" spat Vernon.  "One willing to put up with freaks."

"Oh, indeed?" Albus struggled to hold on to his temper.  "You, sir, are for lack of a better term, a despicable pudding, an ignorant lout, who should not ever have had the raising of a sensitive child like Harry.  Did I have time, I would press charges upon you for neglect and cruelty of a minor."

"How dare you threaten us, you pompous old windbag?" Vernon shouted, going red.  "I'd like to see you try!"

"That was not a threat. It was a promise. I find your whole attitude reprehensible and since it was I who left Harry with you, I must bear the responsibility for it and rectify it."

He drew himself up to his full height, no longer a doddering old gaffer in a purple pinstriped suit, but an imposing sorcerer out of legend, magic crackling about him in a corona of reddish-gold light.

The Dursleys trembled and shrank away, clinging to each other like terrified children, but for once Albus did not relent.  He pointed his wand and intoned, "For your ill-treatment of Harry Potter, I hearby sentence you to a period of reflection in dreams for three years.  Every night you will become Harry in your dreams and feel what it was like for your nephew, growing up in your house, being treated like an unwanted burden, lonely, depressed, unloved.  Thus will you learn the error of your ways.  Further, you will be unable to speak anything but praise for Harry, to offset the slander and lies you told people about him being criminally inclined."

Then he chanted rapidly in Latin and both the Reflection Charm and the Honey Tongue charm were cast upon them.  The Dursleys' eyes went slack for a minute then the Headmaster put the tip of his wand against their temples and Obliviated them.  He cast the same barrage of spells on Dudley as he did on the others once the boy returned a few minutes later.

Blinking owlishly, the threesome stared at Dumbledore. 

"Excuse us, sir, but we have to be getting home," mumbled Vernon. 

"Just so, fellow! Carry on then.  Toodles!" Dumbledore waved at them until they were out of sight. He hoped that he had done the right thing and they would learn from their mistakes and feel remorse for what they had done.

Dumbledore departed in a flicker of light, feeling slightly less guilty now than he did this morning.  Making things even with the Dursleys had assuaged some of the guilt he still felt for being so blind.  He appeared back in his office and immediately removed the glamour. 

He bit back a chuckle when he recalled the horrified look upon Vernon's obese face. Severus was right.  A little honest-to-goodness retribution does feel good every once in awhile.

Then the Headmaster settled back in his chair, put his feet up on his desk, and proceeded to eat a handful of lemondrops, his blue eyes twinkling in infernal amusement.

Warrior and Freedom flew straight over the village, heading towards the opposite side, where the small Gaunt House was supposed to be located.  Harry had a pretty good idea of what to look for, as did Severus.  Dumbledore had said the Gaunts' house was little more than a tumbledown shack, hidden in a culvert near what used to be a riding trail through Little Hangleton.  How hard could it be to find a shack?

But even with their hawk sharp vision, the Animagi could not locate the Gaunt house.  They flew several sorties over the village, scanning every possible culvert and overgrown abandoned building, of which there weren't many, and none of them were what they sought.

Finally, after about an hour of flybys, Freedom looked at Warrior, and screeched, Do you think maybe it was knocked down or something? You know, Muggles sometimes do that to condemned buildings.

But Warrior disagreed.  No, the Headmaster assured me that the Gaunt house was still standing.  It is a wizard residence, however poorly built and maintained, so it most likely has preserving spells on it.  And the Gaunts had an unsavory reputation here, so I doubt if any Muggle would want to come near the place.  It MUST be here somewhere.

Freedom gave an impatient squawk.  Maybe it's hidden somehow.  With magic?

Yes.  Warrior clicked his beak.  Though it would take a great deal of power to set concealment charms to hide such a large object.  Still, Voldemort was not short on power or ambition.  We should shift back anyhow, it's growing dark and that makes our eyes unreliable as well as the fact that we have been flying over the village for over an hour and hawks aren't a common sight around here.

So the two Animagi landed in some large overgrown field just beyond the border of the village and shifted back to their human forms. 

"Now what?" Harry asked.

Severus gave him a sharp look, and Harry quickly realized he was breaking the other's concentration and clamped his mouth shut.  A year a go, he wouldn't have been able to interpret Severus's looks with that degree of intuition, but now he could tell nuances in the way the man glared and what had prompted one, most times.  Not that he would ever become a total expert on reading the professor, Snape had been a spy too long to give away all his emotions with body language and facial expressions, but he was getting better at some of Snape's silent cues.

Harry watched as Severus lowered his head a bit and though the man's expression did not change, Harry could feel the invisible magical energies gathering about the other sorcerer, the rousing of magic made his skin prickle with warm darts of energy.  Severus had said that due to his near-death by magic, Harry was overly sensitive to powerful magic being used near him.  Had Snape been casting a dark spell, Harry would have felt cold and uneasy, even sick to his stomach, the way he had been during the battle at the Ministry, when the Death Eaters had cast Unforgivables. Severus had said that Occlumency shields would help reduce the sensitivity somewhat, though right now Harry wasn't using them since he didn't find the sensation of Snape's magic unpleasant.

Severus sent out his mental probe again, using his powers to fuel a wandless detection charm, one of the strongest in his arsenal of such spells.  As a spy he had studied not only the art of non-detection, but the reverse as well, so he could find documents and other things that had been hidden.  Given Voldemort's fanatical nature, Snape suspected he had cast several layers of anti-detection and concealment spells once he had hidden the Horcrux here.

He felt a slight nudge somewhere off to the right, and began to walk slowly in that direction.  The magic tugged him again, and he continued, sensing that this was the direction of the house.  It was an odd thing, trying to find something under a concealment web.  It wasn't so much of finding where an object was, but of where it wasn't.  To Severus's magical Sight, every living thing had an aura, a pulse of energy surrounding it.  Non-living things often took on the aura of the person or animal that used them, and radiated a slightly lesser energy.  Houses and other dwellings made from materials that had once been alive had a bit more of an aura. But when you put something under a concealment charm, the aura was altered, disrupted, and sometimes vanished entirely.

If you knew how, you could direct your Sight and see the gaps between things, and in this case, Severus was able to discern that there was an odd vacancy off to the left, in a bunch of overgrown hedges and bramble thickets.  The plants showed up as a glittering greenness, but in the middle was an odd nothingness. 

That had to be where the house was, thought the former spy, and continued on until he reached the thicket and then stopped.

Harry, who had been following Snape eagerly, looked up and said, "Here? But we flew over this spot a dozen times at least."

"He was good at concealment magics even then," Severus reiterated.  "Look at the spot using your magical Sight.  Tell me what you see."

Harry did so, and saw the bright green auras of the bushes. "I see . . .the bushes glowing green and . . ." he squinted sharply.  It was almost as if there were a smokey outline where the bush met another bush. He stared hard. "It's almost . . .as if I could see . . .something . . .wispy . . .like smoke . . ."

"Yes.  Now glance away a bit, and look out of the corner of your eye."

"I can't see anything.  Just a blur of black."

"Exactly."

"What good is that?"

"Seeing nothing means that someone is hiding something, especially when you should be seeing a hedge there." Severus told him.  "A concealment charm usually warps the aura of an object or if it's particularly strong, makes it vanish.  And that leaves a hole in the fabric of energy."

"So . . .that's how you can tell where the house is? By what's not there?"

"Yes." Severus gave him a nod of approval.  "And now I need to figure out how many layers of charms are here and how to dispel them."

"Can't you just cast Finite Incantatum?"

"That works well on one specific spell, but not for this, where many spells are layer upon each other," Severus lectured. "In order to cancel a spell, Harry you must know the exact spell you are cancelling.  If you don't, then the charm will fail.  Magic works specifically, not generally. So I must figure out the concealment charms layer by layer."

Harry groaned.  "But . . .that could take hours!"

"Yes.  It could.  Which is why you will find a spot out of the way and be still, Mr. Potter.  I cannot afford any lapses in my concentration."

Harry looked around, finally spotting a semi-cleared patch of ground under a tree where he could sit.   He decided he would keep a look out for anyone coming by that might wonder why a tall man was just standing and staring at a bunch of brambles.  He leaned back against the tree and watched the path that led into the village.

Snape chanted another spell, this one designed to pierce veils.  Slowly, the nothingness peeled away, rolling away like a curtain drawn back from a window.  But underneath that was yet another layer of spells, ones designed to make him look away and see nothing where something should be.  Layer upon layer, like a spiderweb, thought the professor grimly, and set to work dismantling the second set with yet another unveiling charm, this one designed to tear apart the concealment web like a hot knife.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Harry as he watched both the road and Severus.  The sun sank beneath the horizon and night fell and still the professor remained where he was, manipulating the web of spells with a surgeon's deft preciseness.  Harry tried once or twice to penetrate the spell web with his own Sight, but found it disorientating to look upon so much magic at once in a small space, it was like gazing into the sun and he blinked and rubbed his watering eyes.

He did not know just how Snape maintained that intense focus for so long, he was sure at least an hour or two had gone by since they had first discovered the place where the house ought to be.  He didn't think he could keep focus that way for so long, but maybe such came with practice, and Severus had been both spy and Potions Master for many years.  Maybe by the time Harry was Severus's age, he would have the discipline to focus his will and his magic that way.

A car honked from somewhere in the village and he heard a door slam and someone call something.  A radio blared and a baby wailed further down the street, the sounds carried because the night was still.  Harry wondered if Hedwig had woken yet, and if she would be able to find them.  Then he recalled she had never had trouble finding him before this, perhaps it was part of the bond between master and familiar.

Severus tugged hard at the final layer of the concealment web, driving his will down into his Revelation Charm, until the spell began to penetrate the thickly woven net of invisibility and dissolve it. Bit by bit, the concealment spell shredded, until only wisps remained. 

Harry looked up and saw the Gaunt House shimmer into view a few seconds later. He grinned from ear to ear.  Way to go, Sev! He cheered silently.  You did it.

The Potions Master turned back to look at his apprentice, triumph in his onyx eyes, but he looked wan and exhausted.  "Finally managed to break through the final layer," he said wearily.  "Gaunt house, fledgling.  Where hopefully another hidden thing awaits us."

"You mean a Hor-"

"-do not say that name aloud!" rebuked his guardian.  "Too much mention of those forbidden objects may draw attention that we do not need from certain quarters."

"How? I don't understand, Sev.  How can just mentioning  a name draw attention?"

Severus rubbed a hand over his face.  "Listen close, Potter.  When someone calls your name, do you pay attention?"

"Well, yeah, sure."

"Names, especially in the wizarding world, have power.  In the old study of sorcery, to name a thing truly meant you commanded it, and sometimes that still holds true.  So it is best if we do not speak of what we seek, lest someone on the Other Side chance to hear it. Living or dead.  Remember, he who is cautious lives to fight another day."

"Oh.  I get it now. So, do you think the . . .thingamajig is in there?"

Both eyebrows went up.  "Thingamajig?"

"Well, you said not to call it by its real name," Harry defended.

"I would say based on the number of non-detection spells, that yes, it is here." He gestured at the house.

The Gaunt house was as ramshackle and derelict as they had been told.  It was made of cheap clapboard, the paint was peeling off the sides in dingy gray strips, the door was painted a muted green which had since faded to a disgusting puce color, it had a crescent moon carved in the top, reminding Harry of an outhouse.  The shingles were split and missing off of half the roof and the chimney stones were crumbling as well.  The walk and lawn were overgrown with weeds and several windows were cracked and one shutter hung forlornly from the lefthand side. 

"Looks like it's one step away from being declared an eyesore," Harry stated.  "Is it safe to enter?"

"I would say not, yet enter we must." Snape sighed, then pointed his wand at the door and chanted a quick unlocking spell.

The door swung open and Harry walked forward.  He paused on the threshold, recalling Severus's lectures on casting spells of detection when entering a wizard dwelling uninvited.  But his spells showed no wards over the door and he walked inside, lighting up his wand as he did so.   

After a moment, Severus followed, gulping down a Headache Remedy as he did so.

Inside it stank of mildew and the dust was an inch thick on the wood floors. A few moth eaten rugs were on the floor and two or three chairs that had holes chewed in the cushions plus an old secretary in the corner.  A potbellied stove stood on the righthand side with an old saucepan atop it.  A picture of Salazar Slytherin was above the fireplace, which was filled with ash and soot.  A set of rickety stairs led up to most likely an attic.  Off to the right was a sink and a partially open door leading to the bathroom.  Other than that the house was empty.

Before Severus could tell his apprentice not to move or to be careful where he stepped, that hidden wards could be on the floor, Harry walked over to peer up the rickety staircase.  As he did so, he felt something catch at his trainer, and he stumbled, like he had tripped over something, but there was nothing there. He went to his knees with a thump, skidding across the dusty floor.

"Damn it all, Potter, watch where you're-!"

There was a sound like a match being struck and then the stairs and a portion of the floor were wreathed in flames.

With a startled cry, Severus leaped forward, snatching Harry up bodily by the back of his shirt and half flinging the boy behind him.

One minute Harry was on the floor with flames racing eagerly towards him and the next he was halfway across the room, watching in horror as Severus was surrounded by a ring of fire. 

"Severus!" he could not contain the howl that emerged from his throat then.

The flames danced greedily about the tall black-robed figure, and then he heard the professor's voice chanting, "Aguamenti majoris!"

Water exploded from Snape's ebony wand, dousing a portion of the raging fire, and clouds of steam billowed up, obscuring Snape from view.

Harry began to choke and gasp, the smoke was terrible, and his eyes streamed. He staggered over to a window, striking it with the flat of his hand and knocking a pane out.  Coughing, he gulped some cool air, then managed to summon a refreshing breeze into the ramshackle house so he could breathe, after first wrapping a handkerchief about his face. 

Some instinct urged him to shift forms and just as he changed into Freedom, a reddish black dog, like a German shepherd, but much larger, with blazing yellow eyes and tongues of flame shooting from its mouth, appeared out of the smokey interior and lunged at him.

Freedom soared up into the air in the nick of time, avoiding the hellhound's jaws.  Flecks of fiery spittle burned holes in the floorboards and the demon canine bayed ferociously. 

The dog's awful bay sent shockwaves through Freedom, and the red-tailed hawk shuddered and nearly plummeted from the sky, his hearing was affected by the hellhound's magically amplified bark.  As the hawk began to fall, the hellhound sprang up about six feet, its jaws narrowly missing Freedom's tail.

It mouthed two red feathers and snarled.

Merlin, but that was close! Freedom thought, and circled above the raging dog.

The hellhound eyed the hawk, but it was smart and did not bother trying to jump at the bird again.  Instead it turned about and sprang through the ring of fire at Severus, who had managed to put out the worst of the flames, but was nearly overcome by the resultant smoke and steam.

Snape was in the midst of trying to banish some of the smoke with a Fresh Air Charm when the hellhound landed on top of him, pinning him to the floor. By chance, Severus fell on a portion of the floor where the flames had already been put out, and so was not roasted to death. 

He threw up a hand, eyes wide in terror, as the hellhound tried to rip out his throat.

The demon dog's fangs closed upon his wand and then Severus blurred into Warrior, trading wings for flesh.

The hound suddenly found that its paws were no longer holding a human, but a slippery goshawk, who used his razor sharp beak to stab at the dog's vulnerable eyes and nose, tearing into the tender flesh.  The hellhound yelped like a whipped cur and drew back, allowing Warrior time to spread his wings and fly into the smoke-filled air.

The goshawk felt his shoulder muscles protest, because the hound's claws had scratched him a bit and singed some of his feathers, but he ignored the pain and climbed higher, trying to get free of the dangerous area.

Freedom nearly backwinged into the bigger hawk, hissing and coughing.  Can't . . .breathe right!  Huh? Warrior, is that you?

Warrior nipped the smaller hawk sharply.  Fly towards the window, stupid fledgling!

Freedom meeped.  Ow! But what about the demon dog? And the house will burn down!

And so will we if you don't move your arse! Warrior shrilled and drove the startled red-tailed hawk towards the cracked window using his beak and talons.

Freedom flew swiftly away from the seemingly crazed goshawk, diving through the window an instant later. Then soaring upwards into the sky and hovering, gasping for breath.  Oddly enough the leaping flames inside the house were barely visible on the outside.

A moment later, the darker goshawk appeared, landed on the roof, and transformed back into Severus Snape.  Before Freedom could ask what he was doing, Snape ran along the flattened roof and thrust his arm down the chimney.

One Gust of Wind spell later had smothered the remainder of the flames and cleared out most of the smoke.  Then the professor changed back into Warrior and flew down the chimney, followed an instant later by Freedom. 

The two hawks burst from the chimney into the main room of the house to find a confused hellhound wandering in circles, drooling and whining.

Now, fledgling! Warrior shrieked, climbing as high as he could to the top of the ceiling. 

Then he closed his wings and dove, talons outstretched, striking the hellhound hard in the middle of its back, talons ripping into the vulnerable spleen and kidneys, which were to the right of the hellhound's spinal cord, for despite looking like a dog, the demon had a different internal makeup. 

Kreee-aarr!

Freedom plummeted from the air like a bolt of divine lightning, smaller and faster than his raptor companion.

The hellhound bellowed, flames shooting from its jaws as the goshawk's talons pierced its vitals, but before it could turn and barbecue Warrior, Freedom slammed into its head, binding his talons to the hellhound's fiery eyes.

The Animagus clung hard as the demonic dog thrashed and howled, running in circles trying to dislodge both birds, leaking greenish blood that smelled like brimstone all over the floor.

Suddenly, the hellhound threw itself on the ground and rolled, trying with the last of its strength to crush and smother the goshawk.  Freedom released the dying creature and then screamed at Warrior, Release! Quickly!

But the normally cool and collected Warrior was deep in a killing rage and did not realize his danger until Freedom bit him sharply on the shoulder.  Warrior, move!

The goshawk released the hellhound and flew up just as the dog toppled over, then hovered as the creature writhed and hissed curse at the two hawks before expiring in a crimson burst of hellfire, leaving a blackened splotch upon the floor.

Freedom landed and transformed into Harry, followed a moment later by Warrior.

"Sev, are you okay?" asked Harry worriedly, for the professor seemed dazed.

"I . . .think so." Snape gazed down at himself quizzically.  His black robes were covered in soot and his palms were red from battling the flames.  He coughed sharply, for some of the smoke had entered his lungs despite his quick water and air summoning spells.

Snape's harsh coughs sent Harry into paroxysms as well and for ten or fifteen minutes all the two did was cough viciously, as their bodies sought to expel the deadly poison from their lungs. 

When Harry could take a breath without hacking up a lung, he reached into a pocket of his jacket and pulled out the emergency potions kit Severus insisted he carry, enlarged it with a word, and then found the Breathe Ease Elixir and swallowed it down.  The potion started to work, immediately healing the smoke damaged tissue of his lungs and trachea.

He placed his kit on the floor and went to help Severus, who was worse off than he was, having been almost within the inferno, helping the still gasping Snape to sit down.  "Drink, Sev," he urged, putting the vial of Breathe Ease to the Potion Master's lips. 

Snape made as if to shove his hand away, but Harry remained firm.  "No.  Drink! I can't spell it into you, damn it, so you're going to have to swallow.  Now, come on." He tilted the vial, and managed to coax the wizard to swallow a bit. 

The spasms eased, and Harry urged his mentor to take another swallow.

Then a lean hand closed over the vial and Snape finished the draft without any more urging.

Afterwards, Severus seemed more coherent, and he said sharply, "Why didn't you fly when I told you to, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged.  "I don't know.  I was . . .confused and angry, I guess.  You okay? I thought . . .you were dead."

"Yes, apart from some minor burns, I am well. Thank you for the warning, fledgling.  Sometimes the goshawk shape . . .has a mind of its own," the Potions Master admitted ruefully.  Then he reached over and cuffed the younger wizard on the back of the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" demanded Harry.

"That was for blundering in your typical Gryffindor fashion into the house without first checking to see if there were wards inside."

"But I did check the door." Harry protested, rubbing his head.  "How was I supposed to know there was some kind of bloody fire trap on the floor?"

"By using your head, young man.  Think before you react," scolded his mentor.  "Had you waited, I could have detected that trap, but instead you walked right into it."

Harry flushed, knowing Snape was right.  He had nearly gotten both of them killed by being too hasty.  "Sorry, Severus.  It won't happen again.  You can ground my arse later, okay?"

"Don't think I won't, fledgling.  Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No.  Damn dog snitched a few of my tail feathers, but otherwise I'm okay."

"You are certain?" Severus frowned, drawing his wand and intoning a quick diagnostic. 

It came back normal, save for a few scrapes and bruises on Harry's rear end where the dog had tried to bite him.  Severus drew out his own potions kit, which held more potions than his apprentice's, and handed the Animagus a squat earthenware jar. "Here.  Rub that on your backside, it'll take care of the scrapes and bruises."

Harry blushed.  "How did . . .? I don't really need it."

"Put it on, no arguments, mister.  Even a scratch from that dog could be deadly. Or I shall."

"No!" yelped Harry, grabbing the jar and scurrying off to the bathroom.

While Harry was doing that, Severus attended to his own scratches with yet another salve.  He had just finished shrugging his shirt back on when Harry emerged from the bathroom, still red-faced and indignant.

"You know, Sev, you aren't supposed to risk your life either," he scolded as he went to hand the jar back.  "So what was with throwing me into a wall before?"

"First off, I acted to prevent you from being burnt to a crisp, and second I didn't throw you into a wall, I shoved you behind me."

"So then you almost became a crispy critter," Harry argued. 

"I did not.  I was prepared to battle the fire trap," Snape insisted.

"You almost died!" cried his apprentice.  "Look at your hands!" He indicated the slender hands, which were red and burned.

Severus grimaced.  "Perhaps . . .I miscalculated a little.  My timing was off."

"Don't do it again, you hear?" Harry waved a finger at his mentor, only half-teasingly.  "If you died-"

"Then the prophecy wouldn't be able to be fulfilled."

"No! Well, yes, that's true, but . . .if you died, Sev . . .I wouldn't ever forgive myself . . .Not ever."

"Nonsense, child," Severus said gruffly.  "Rest assured, that when I die, it will be in a manner of my choosing.  And you will have no need to feel guilty at all, Harry James Potter."

"I will too," the boy hissed, looking down at the ground.  "Because you came on this quest ‘cause of me . . .and I should have gone by myself . . ."

"Why? So then you could play hero and die alone?" snapped the Potions Master. "Harry, the prophecy clearly states two of us are needed, and I chose to come of my own free will.  You are not responsible for the choice I make, how many times must I tell you that, you stubborn boy?"

"I know, but . . ."

"No! I knew the risks and it was my choice-mine, not yours-whether to take them.  I want Riddle destroyed as much as you do, maybe even more."

"Your hands, Sev." Harry gestured to them.   "Let me fix them for you."

Severus opened his mouth to refuse, but then he figured it might help assuage the boy's guilt complex if he allowed him to assist with the healing process.  "Very well.  There is a vial of spring water in the potion bottle in the back of the kit, use that first and then the Burn Salve. There are clean bandages in there as well."

He held out one hand, and Harry gently took it and laid it on his lap. He gently began to wash the professor's hand. 

Severus gazed at his burned hand and shuddered.  "I hate fire," he whispered, half to himself.  His eyes darkened and it seemed as if he was recalling something long ago that disturbed him greatly.

Harry looked up from salving Snape's palm and asked, very softly, "What are you talking about, Sev? I mean, I hate fire too, but . . .you sound like you've seen something terrible . . ."

Severus murmured, almost in a trance.  "Yes . . . long ago . . ."

"What did you see?"

Abruptly, Severus shook his head.  "There's no sense in talking about it, Harry."

Harry tilted his head, gently bandaging one of his teacher's hands, and then starting on the other one.  "Severus, remember when you told me it was good for me to talk about things that were bothering me? That I shouldn't keep them inside and let them fester?  Well, maybe you ought to take your own advice, sir."

"What's this? Are you trying to play mentor now, Mr. Potter?"

Harry gave him a quiet smile of encouragement. "I'm trying to help you, Sev.  Because you're my friend.  And my guardian. And you helped me when I needed it. Turnabout's fair play." He then bent his head and continued to work on Severus's left hand. 

Severus was silent for a long while, his eyes far away, reliving one of the most atrocious memories of his time as a spy.  Harry almost thought he wasn't going to say anything else, but finally he spoke, his voice low and rasping with an old anguish.

"This happened a few months after your birth, in October, I remember the month because it was unusually dry.  I had been a secret agent for several years and Voldemort was gradually beginning to give me more freedom as far as assignments go.  My main assignment was to spy upon Dumbledore, of course, and make potions for him, but occasionally he summoned me for other reasons.  That time . . .he decided that some Muggleborns needed to be reminded of their place and that they should not be allowed to breed like rabbits." Severus shivered and winced.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No." He licked his lips and continued.  "We went to a Muggleborn family's home in Somerset.  Lucius, me, Bellatrix, a few others.  We surround the house, Stun the parents and take their four children.  Voldemort brings them into a culvert in the woods, and wakes up the parents and immobilizes them.  The children were frightened, the oldest was only nine, the youngest was a toddler. They were whimpering and crying.  Voldemort was smiling, I shall never forget that smile.  He walked up to the oldest and patted him on the head. 

"Don't cry, child.  Soon you will never know pain or fear again." He laughed then.  The children didn't understand, all they wanted was to be let go.  He told them that they did not deserve to live, that the world needed to be cleansed of their presence." The Potions Master shut his eyes.  "Then he cast the Inferno Charm on them and burned them to ash.  All of them . . .even the little baby . . .he burned them alive while we watched . . .the parents were helpless to do anything . . .and then he killed them  . . .I could do nothing . . .otherwise my cover would be destroyed . . .and the Order needed to know his plans and his weaknesses . . .So I watched and sometimes . . .sometimes I hear them crying in my dreams . . .crying for me to save them . . .but I can do nothing save watch them die in the flames . . ."

Harry looked up then and saw the bleak bitter ache in the other's eyes.  Severus's words haunted and horrified him and he realized that the Potions Master had endured worse than the Cruciatus Curse during the course of his duties as a spy. "Oh God, Sev.  That's just . . ." he trailed off, unable to articulate what he felt.  "I never knew what being a spy really meant . . ."

"Nor does anyone, until they actually do it," answered the former spy quietly.  "There is no glamour, no heroism, in being an agent.  It is thankless and dangerous and I have seen things that will haunt me forever.  I would never recommend it as a career," he said with a touch of dry humor.  "That was one of the worst things, and the hardest thing I have ever done was to stand there and allow that bastard from hell to harm those children." There was a terrible rage in the obsidian eyes now, mingled with an equally terrible grief.  "I swore then that someday there would be a reckoning and he would pay in blood for the death of those children.  That time has come, and this is my payback."

And your atonement, Harry thought suddenly, only then understanding what drove the Potions Master so relentlessly.  "It wasn't your fault." Harry said abruptly.  "You couldn't know what Voldemort would do."

"No? I should have anticipated it . . ."

"Even if you did, you might not have been able to save them and then you'd have blown your cover and maybe killed yourself.  You didn't kill them, Sev, so stop blaming yourself."

Severus snorted, half-irritated and half-amused to have his own advice turned on him so neatly.  How ironic, Snape.  The student has become the teacher.  "I . . . shall try."

"Good.  Because that's Voldemort's responsibility, not yours."  Harry said earnestly, then he hugged the other wizard lightly for a minute before drawing away.

"What was that for?"

"You looked like you needed it," the boy answered, shrugging in embarrassment.  He rose and looked up towards the staircase.  "So . . .how about we see what that hellhound was guarding so we can send Riddle on a one way trip to hell?"

"A magnificent idea, fledgling," Severus said, examining the staircase for evil influences before starting up it.

At the top they found themselves in a kind of attic, it was dark and stuffy and Harry cast Lumos almost immediately, for his phobia of dark small spaces was causing him to shiver and his breath to catch.  Beneath the eaves was a bookcase, though most of the books had been removed, a few tattered copies still remained.  In a far corner was a small desk with three drawers along the lefthand side. 

Severus quickly checked for any more spell traps before motioning Harry to follow him.  The professor headed over to examine the bookshelf and Harry went to examine the desk. 

To his disappointment, the desk was empty except for a few broken quills and scraps of parchment, plus a broken inkwell.  "Junk! Nothing but junk!" Furious that they had risked their lives for nothing, he kicked the side of the desk drawers hard. The bottom drawer popped open and Harry went to shove it back, only to find it refused to shut properly.

Damn it to hell! He banged the drawer hard, only to have it bounce back and nearly fall on his foot.

Severus looked up from his perusal of the old school texts and said sharply, "Mr. Potter, there is no need for you to have a temper tantrum.  Why are you banging the furniture?"

Because I bloody well feel like it, was on the tip of his tongue, but he controlled himself and answered, "This damn drawer is stuck and won't shut." He knelt down and felt about inside the back of the drawer, figuring perhaps some parchment had gotten caught behind there. 

His fingers encountered something else though.

He gently lifted a small leatherbound notebook from the back of the desk.  A notebook! Maybe it has something in it about Voldemort.  He opened it, hoping it contained something he could use to help him in his quest.

To his dismay, the first few pages were blank, and the rest of them were covered in a strange spidery script of runes that he could not read.  Frustrated, he nearly threw the notebook on the ground.  But then he figured he might as well show it to Severus.  Maybe he can read it.  I just hope it's not a list of groceries or an address book or something useless like that. "Sev, I think I found something."

Severus rose.  "What? Nothing up here is of any importance, all of these books are old schoolbooks and none of them are disguised to hide anything within them."

Harry handed him the journal.  "I found this in the back of the desk drawer, only I can't read any of it."

Severus took the notebook and opened it.  "That's because you never learned to read Ancient Runes."

"Can you read it?"

"Yes, I can translate it." He frowned.  "These sentences make no sense." He continued reading. 

"What does it say? Are there spells in there?"

"No.  This whole book is full of fragments and rhyming bits that have no coherence, at least from the few lines I can translate."

"But why keep a notebook with stuff that makes no sense?"

"The Gaunts and Voldemort were given to fits of insanity . . ." the Potions Master scowled.  He scanned the lines again, flipping through the pages.  Then he stopped.  "Wait.  There is a pattern here.  Of course! I am the world's biggest idiot! It makes no sense on purpose."

"Huh?"

"It's in code, Harry."

"You mean . . .Voldemort wrote this in an Ancient Rune code?"

"He may or may not have.  I'll only know if I can decipher it."

"Can you?"

"I do not know." Severus yawned.

"This was what the fire and the hellhound was guarding, I'll bet." Harry said excitedly.  "Maybe there's clues in there on where to find the . . .H-forbidden objects."

"Perhaps.  But I am too tired to begin trying to translate this entire notebook, much less break a cipher now. Voldemort thought himself clever, I suppose, leaving behind a riddle wrapped within a conundrum."

"Should we leave and come back later?" Harry suggested.

"I would advise against that."

"Why?"

"Hush and tell me what you hear," Severus ordered abruptly.

Harry obeyed and then he heard the sharp sound of rain on the roof, followed by a loud peal of thunder.  There was a storm outside, quite a bad one if the sound of the wind was any indication. 

"Blast, it's storming."

"Yes.  We cannot fly in this, too dangerous.  So I suggest we stay here for tonight, I do not care to risk a broken wing, and Apparition is impossible during a thunderstorm, it plays havoc with transportation spells."

Harry groaned, he really didn't want to spend the night here.  "What about Hedwig? And our packs?"

"I am sure Hedwig is smart enough to take shelter in weather like this," Severus soothed.  "As for our packs . . ." He quickly summoned them with a casual wave.

"Someday you're going to have to teach me how you do that."

"Wandless magic can be difficult for most wizards to master, but given your talent, I think you could learn it. But I have no time to teach you at the moment.  For now, let us eat and then get some sleep."

This time, Harry prepared their small meal of soup and sandwiches and they ate hungrily.  Severus made Harry drink a Calming Draft before going to sleep, then drank a vial of a Sleeping Draught himself before curling up on his sleeping bag, falling asleep to the staccato patter of rain on the roof along with the occasional clap of thunder and flash of lightning.

"Must you continue pacing around and around like a bloody caged panther?" Severus demanded irritably as Harry walked past the desk in the attic for the fiftieth time that morning, his footfalls breaking the Potion Master's concentration once again.

"I can't help it, Sev," Harry whined. "I'm bored, there's nothing for me to do in here."

"Oh really?" drawled the professor.

Harry could have kicked himself then. Aww hell! Why did I say that?

"Would you like me to assign you some busy work, Mr. Potter? Like writing three hundred times I will not disturb my guardian while he is attempting to decipher an Ancient Runic code that may lead to the destruction of a forbidden object?"

"That's not lines, that's a damn paragraph!"

"Would you like to write it?" demanded Snape, his patience fraying rapidly.

"No, sir." Not on your life! That's torture. "I just wish it would stop raining. I hate being cooped up in here." He dug a trainer into the floor, hating the way he was complaining, he probably sounded like a spoiled brat like Malfoy. But he was so bored he could die, honestly!

It had been raining ever since last night, the sky just opened up and drenched the entire area with rain and the wind was screeching and occasional flashes of lightning still lit the sky. Harry hated being confined in a small space, and the Gaunt house was the size of a shoebox and had nothing whatsoever of interest in it unless you found dust motes and mouse feces fascinating. The books in the bookcase in the attic were all old first and second year texts and Harry already knew their contents by heart.

"I need to fly, Sev."

Severus set down the quill he'd been using to write possible code patterns on the parchment he'd found inside the desk and gave his apprentice a look that should have lit his backside on fire. "Mister Potter," he hissed, enunciating every syllable of Harry's name distinctly, a sure sign he was going to go postal in about a minute. "You will not go flying in the middle of a bloody thunderstorm, as I have told you for the tenth time! Now quit whining and acting like an impatient three-year-old and find something to amuse yourself right now, otherwise I shall make you stand in the corner and count the grains in the wall and write an essay on self-control until I have finished deciphering this, am I clear?"

"I hear you," muttered the somewhat chastened Animagus. He heaved a sigh. "Could I help with the code, maybe?"

"Can you read Ancient Runes?"

"Well, no, but . . ."

"Then how could you help me?" asked Snape sharply. "I am aware this is not fun for you, being trapped this way in this house, but you must learn to endure it. Meditate or sleep, Potter, but for the love of Merlin, do not interrupt me again! These runes are difficult enough to translate without constant disruption."

"All right. I'm sorry. Let me just go bang my head into a wall," Harry grumbled.

Severus scowled and cast a Silencing Charm about himself, hoping to minimize the distraction of Harry's pacing and huffing and sighing. Teenagers! None of them these days had any patience, everything was supposed to be given to them immediately. And his ward seemed to have been bitten by the restless I'm-Bored bug at the worst possible time.

As Severus had told Harry last night, there was nothing glamorous or heroic about being a secret agent. The job was dangerous and frustrating and the benefits sucked. However, Severus had been a top spy for years, and he had been trained to break codes and ciphers by some of the best in the Auror department. He knew that code in the notebook could be broken, it was not an impossible encryption, but it just took time . . .hours of it, since Severus had to rely upon his photographic memory instead of Ancient Runes texts. The texts he needed were under lock and key in the Auror Department, in a protected vault resistant to Summoning Charms, and Severus knew he would never be allowed to remove them from the Ministry.

Still, he was confident he could crack the code, given enough time and silence and the cooperation of his restless adolescent ward. He glanced up to see what Harry was doing and saw the boy sitting on his sleeping bag, looking at his hands disinterestedly, but at least he wasn't pacing and huffing. It was a vast improvement compared to the previous two and a half hours. He went back to translating the runes, relieved that each rune only had one or two meanings.

It was the way that they were combined that was frustrating the hell out of him.

Harry sat staring down at his hands, trying to do as his mentor had ordered and meditate, but so far the peace of inner reflection was eluding him. He felt filled with a terrific restless energy, one that drove him crazy demanding an outlet, but he was denied any. He rose, careful not to go anywhere near Snape, who had his head bent over the notebook, and went downstairs.

At least the main room of the shack was bigger than the attic and Harry shifted into Freedom, flying back and forth across the room in short bursts. He flew spirals and loops, hovered and dove, trying to rid himself of the manic energy. He had been tired this morning, but sometime after breakfast, his magic had replenished itself and now he long to do something-fight a dark wizard, break a curse, anything but stare at a wall for three hours.

He wished he dared call Hedwig from the forest, but he did not want to injure his owl by making her fly to him. Severus was right, the storm was too dangerous for any avian to fly through. Harry peered out at the cracked window, watching the rain come down in silvery sheets, soaking the brambles and the lawn. The roof had sprung several leaks and for a while, Harry was kept busy shoring them up with Repel Water Charms that the twins had taught him.

But once the roof was secure and he had mopped up the water with some old rags he had found in a small closet, he was at loose ends again.

He understood Severus's annoyance with him, and he didn't mean to irritate his guardian, especially when he was trying to break an important code, but he was going stir-crazy, and the depressing atmosphere of the house wasn't helping. He kept recalling what Severus had told him of the Gaunt family, which he had learned from Albus ere their departure from Hogwarts.

Marvolo Gaunt had been a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but something had gone wrong in the Gaunt makeup, perhaps too much inbreeding of pureblood cousin to pureblood cousin, but whatever the genetic mishap was, it had made the Gaunts subject to fits of insanity and megalomania, among other things. Once a respected pureblood House, by the time Merope was a young girl, their reputation had fallen into obscurity and ruin. Marvolo had been desperate to marry off his youngest child to a pureblood wizard of good family, and also deep pockets, for the Gaunt vault was nearly empty, since Marvolo refused to demean himself by working.

But Merope was not a pretty child and as she grew, she became more introverted and her looks did not improve with time. Ashamed of their poverty and browbeaten by her father's constant cruel criticism, Merope refused to mingle with any appropriate purebloods, and happened to see handsome Muggle Tom Riddle riding past their hovel one day and been smitten instantly. She had seen Tom and thought he was a fairytale prince, ready to carry her off and he was also forbidden fruit, being a Muggle. Sick and tired of her father's endless demands and her brother Morfin was little better, always drunk down at the tavern, Merope rebelled and tried to catch the eye of the handsome son of the landlord.

Only Tom would have never looked twice at the odd unattractive young woman, with her patched clothes and strange eyes and unwashed hair. Merope tried repeatedly to get him to notice her, growing more and more desperate, until at last she resorted to using a forbidden Love Potion to make young Thomas desire her above all else.

She had managed to get him to drink the potion, how was unknown, and as soon as he had done so, he was hers. Riddle kidnapped her and took her away to live with him in London, and for awhile they must have been happy, though it did not last. Dumbledore had been unsure whether the potion had worn off before Merope could make more, or if Merope had felt Riddle's feelings for her were false and she longed for the real thing and released him from her enchantment, but in the end Riddle was released and he immediately left his pregnant wife alone and returned to his home. Merope later died after bearing her son, leaving young Tom to be raised in an orphanage.

When Tom was fifteen nearly sixteen, he came to the village where both his parents had lived and killed his father and grandparents. He then tried to use Frank Bryce and Marvolo Riddle as scapegoats to cover his trail. Then he returned after graduation and killed his remaining grandparent and framed his half-wit uncle Morfin for the deed. Morfin was later sentenced to Azkaban for life and died there. That seemed to be a standard procedure with Voldemort, allowing others to take the blame for his misdeeds, at least before he grew strong enough to threaten all of the wizarding world.

Still, dwelling on the occupants of this house and their twisted and sad history was not peaceful, and Harry could not settle down. He glanced at his watch. Only an hour had gone by since he had come down here. Rain was still pelting down and Harry began chewing his nails and shadow boxing, anything to relieve the endless monotony of staring at four bare walls.

It was then that he heard a soft shush of wings and he jerked about to see a rather bedraggled snowy owl come flying down the chimney.

"Hedwig!" he cried, and held out his arm for her to land on. "Why did you fly here in this weather? You could have been hurt."

The wind is not as bad as it sounds, the owl replied, beginning to fluff and groom her feathers. I wished to be with you, not sleeping alone in a tree in the rain. Besides, there is no telling what trouble you two will get into without me.

Harry chuckled, and removed his spare cloak from his pack and tried to help dry his familiar. But Hedwig told him he was hindering more than helping, and she could dry faster by picking her feathers. She settled upon his shoulder and began to preen vigorously, and Harry talked to her about what had happened and how Severus was trying to break the code in the notebook.

"I just wish he could work faster," Harry sighed. "I'm going crazy here, Hedwig. It's nearly as bad as being locked in my room or the cupboard."

You expect too much from your guardian, Harry. He is only human, after all. Hedwig reproved, nibbling at the feathers inbetween her talons. I am sure he is trying his hardest. Why don't you eat some lunch and then take a nap? Sleep might ease your restlessness.

Harry wanted to protest that he didn't need to take a nap like a child, but suddenly Hedwig's suggestion started to sound good. He rummaged in his pack for a sandwich, butterbeer, and a Cauldron Cake, ate them, then brought some to Severus as well.

He placed the food on the desk near the Potions Master, who did not even look up, but continued scribbling rapidly on the parchment. "Here, Severus. It's lunchtime."

When the other did not respond, Harry shrugged and left the food and went to fling himself on his sleeping bag. He closed his eyes and tossed and turned restlessly until finally he declared sleep a lost cause.

He darted a glance at Severus, who was still hunched over the desk, but the plate of food was empty. Harry wanted badly to ask if the Potions Master had figured anything out, but did not want to risk the man's temper, so he quickly departed the attic and headed down to the main floor.

It was around two o'clock in the afternoon, and the sky was still a dreary gray, and rain was still coming down, though it was much less forceful than before. Hedwig was perched upon the back of the stove, near the stovepipe, her head tucked beneath her wing, asleep.

Harry shot her an irritated glance. Great. Now he had no one to talk to.

He gazed out the cracked window longingly. When would the blasted rain stop?

He felt the minutes tick by endlessly and all at once he could not bear it any longer.

Rain or no rain, he needed to fly, and not just around a small room. He needed the sky.

He blurred into Freedom, recalling that Hedwig had said the wind was not as bad as it looked, and the rain seemed to be slowing. Then he flew up the chimney and out into the rainswept sky.

* * * * * * *

Severus had been sitting at the small desk in the attic for over seven hours before he decided to take a break and stretch and walk about. He rose, doing some elementary stretches and head rolls, and then walking about for ten minutes, before sitting back down and resuming his work.

Thus far he had managed to translate all the runes and discover about twenty-five combinations of them that whoever had written this had used to write down seemingly nonsense words and sentences. He knew he was close to discovering the pattern the writer had used, because though skilled in runes, the writer was not quite as skilled at making coded sentences.

Severus rubbed his brow and scowled down at the notebook. That pattern . . .where have I seen it before? I know I have.

He shut his eyes, his head was throbbing, and then he thought back to when he was learning how to form and memorize different codes.

Minutes later he opened his eyes and nodded. The pattern that had eluded him for hours was now clear in his mind.

He bent and tested it upon the first sentence in the notebook.

To his delight, it worked.

The fragmented sentence read, when properly deciphered: In this notebook I shall record my deepest secret-that I have discovered the secret to immortality.

Definitely the notebook of the former Tom Riddle, junior.

Severus felt his breath quicken. What secrets did this notebook contain? He could hardly wait to begin translating it now that he had deciphered the code. Of course, that would not be accomplished all in a day. But he had made a very important breakthrough.

He looked about the room and since he did not see Harry in the attic, assumed he must be downstairs. He walked down the staircase, only to find the shack was deserted.

Snape opened his mouth to call for the boy, wondering where the hell he had gotten off to.

* * * * * *

Freedom soon realized that Hedwig may have been trying to downplay the effect of the wind so as not to worry him too much. It was much stronger than he had been led to believe, and his first attempt to fly above the roof nearly resulted in him being blown across the village.

He abruptly decided that it had been a huge mistake to try and fly in such weather and struggled to get across the rooftree to the chimney.

The wind buffeted and slammed him and he was hard put to stay upright, clinging to the roof with all of his strength. Little by little, he inched his way back towards the chimney, the rain soaking through his feathers, despite the natural oil upon them. He started to shiver slightly, for the rain was not only relentless, it was chilly.

This was one of your stupider ideas, he lamented as he crawled towards the chimney. I hope Severus never finds out about this little bit of idiocy.

At last he finally managed to gain the chimney and huddled there for a few moments, catching his breath and regaining his strength. Then he jumped up onto the lip of the chimney and flew down it. His feathers garnered soot that clung to him because of his wet state, but being filthy was the least of his worries, as he soon discovered upon entering the main room of the Gaunt house.

Severus Snape was standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, scowling at the soot covered hawk that emerged from the fireplace.

Uh oh. I think I am so dead.

He swiftly transformed back into his human self, landing with a thump upon the floor, wet and shivering, his eyes fixed upon his furious guardian.

"Harry James Potter, you had better have a suitable explanation for why you have been flying during a storm when I have expressly forbidden it," Snape began, and his tone, though soft, warned that if Harry didn't, he would wish he was back at Hogwarts, scrubbing cauldrons, compared to what Snape would do to him now.

Harry gulped and suddenly found the floor very interesting.

"Well, young man? I'm waiting."

Harry remained stubbornly silent, unwilling to meet Snape's eyes, knowing full well what he would see in them-anger and disappointment.  He knew perfectly well that he had behaved like an irresponsible idiot, risking his neck for a forbidden flight in a rainstorm, he knew he had acted just like the toddler Snape had compared him to earlier, and that he deserved every stinging word of sarcasm and condemnation Severus was going to level at him.  He knew . . .but that didn't keep a small part of him from resenting the older man.  The resentment had its roots in his childhood, when he was punished for everything by the Dursleys, whether or not it was his fault.  Growing up at Privet Drive, he had never been allowed to express said resentment, but in school it was different.

And he had almost always resented Snape punishing him because the man had been unfair.  That was no longer the case, Harry knew that he more than deserved whatever Severus was going to do to him, but old habits were hard to break and harder to forget. So, without quite realizing it, he fell back into his old patterns, and remained sullen and uncommunicative, staring at the floor while Severus fumed.

"Mr. Potter! Might I remind you that we are not at school, and you promised to obey me without question on this journey? And instead I find you doing one of the most foolish things imaginable after I had specifically forbade you.  Explain yourself!"

That tone made him bristle, and before he could think better of it, he blurted sullenly, "What for? You won't listen to what I say anyhow, so what's the use of talking?"

Severus glowered, not liking the boy's tone or attitude.  "Talking about it might mitigate what punishment you earn, Potter.  Or do you want me to assume that you acted like an impulsive harebrained idiot and flew into a storm for no reason whatsoever?"

"No . . .but you'll think so anyway once I tell you," he muttered to his trainers.  He did not know how Snape managed to do it, but he made Harry feel like he were five again and had just been caught sneaking back to his cupboard with a piece of cake, which had been a major transgression in the Dursley household. 

"Well? Shall I count to three, Mr. Potter, as I would do if you were a two-year-old?" Snape growled. 

Harry flushed. "I'm fifteen, not two!"

"Your actions today were closer to those of a toddler than a teenager, Mr. Potter!" cried his guardian.  "This is your last chance."

"Okay!" he gave in, figuring that things couldn't get any worse.  "I wasn't planning on disobeying you, sir, but . . .I was going nuts in here and I really needed to get out so I just . . .I transformed and flew up the chimney.  I didn't know the rain would be that hard and I thought the wind had calmed down some, since Hedwig was able to fly in it and she said it wasn't as bad as it sounded."

Severus whirled upon the dozing owl, blurring into Warrior so he could understand Hedwig's reply.  Damn it, bird! How could you bloody encourage him to go flying during a storm like that? And here I thought owls were supposed to be wise!

The snowy owl glared at the goshawk. Do not presume to blame me for his recklessness, Warrior! How was I to know he would do something so stupid? He is supposed to be your apprentice, why didn't you keep a better watch upon him?

I was working on a difficult translation! snapped Warrior defensively.  I wasn't aware he needed minding like a bloody two-year-old!

"Hey! I am right here, you know," pointed out Harry, and then immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Because now he had two pairs of eyes glaring at him in sharp disapproval.

You went flying during this storm, Harry? Hedwig chirruped in alarm, she was sitting alertly atop the cold stove, giving Harry a reproving look from her large amber eyes.  What were you thinking of, you foolish fledgling? You might have broken your wings again or worse!

Now Harry felt even more ashamed.  But he turned and snapped at Hedwig to ease the sting.  "Hey, you were the one who told me it wasn't that bad out for flying!"

The snowy owl puffed herself up and gave a sharp squawk.  I meant for a seasoned flyer like myself, you impudent fluffbrain, not a mere fledgling who has been flying only a few months.

"I'm a good flyer, Hedwig!"

Not good enough to fly during a thunderstorm.  That takes years of practice and you are not up to that standard yet.  Now quit giving me cheek, and trying to blame me for your own blunders! You chose to go out and risk your own neck, Harry James Potter, so if you want to place blame-blame yourself! She hissed pointedly, and then she abruptly turned her back on him, clearly disgusted.

Severus had remained stonily silent while Hedwig scolded her wizard, though he could not understand the owl all that well now that he had resumed his human form, he could get the gist of what she meant, and it was plain the wise owl heartily disapproved of her young master's decision to risk his neck out of boredom.  Severus was furious.  Did the boy not comprehend what it would mean if he died? Did he not understand that such behavior was not only childish but unacceptable? That he was important, not just to fulfill the prophecy, but because Severus cared about him? I have lost too many that I care about, I will not lose him too! Especially not to some damned stupid stunt! He is my responsibility, I cannot fail again.  Not again!

"Foolish incorrigible brat!" he snarled, and his hand flicked out, delivering a smart smack to the back of Harry's head.  A puff of soot hovered in the air afterwards, and Snape grimaced and rubbed his hand on his robes.

Harry flinched, but made no move to get away from the irate professor, more proof that he understood the wrong he had done.  "I'm sorry, Severus."

"Sorry for what? Sorry that you got caught? Sorry that you disobeyed me? Sorry that you behaved like a bloody idiot? Very good, Potter! You ought to be sorry, because being bored is no excuse to risk your life.  How many times must we go through this before it sinks into your stubborn skull? What part of do not put yourself in unnecessary danger do you not understand? Must I make a sign and hang it around your neck before you comprehend the seriousness of your actions? I had thought after Umbridge and your ill-fated Animagus accident that you would have finally tamed that impulsive streak of yours and learned to look before you leaped.  But no, once again you jump headlong into action without stopping to think of the consequences."

"It . . .it wasn't like that, sir!" Harry protested, absently rubbing his head.  "I just wanted to get out for a bit.  I didn't know it wasn't safe to fly."

"And what, pray tell, was wrong with using your own two feet? You could have gone for a walk instead of flying.  And don't give me that line about not knowing it wasn't safe-you have eyes, you could see the storm was still raging outside." Severus pointed out mercilessly.

"Okay, I was stupid! Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Mind that tone with me, Mr. Potter.  You ought to know by now I don't tolerate such attitudes from anyone, especially my ward.  If you weren't prepared to face the consequences of your actions, you shouldn't have disobeyed me in the first place.  I had hoped after last term that you would have learned to behave more responsibly, but I suppose I was mistaken." His guardian shook his head in disgust. 

"I'm not allowed to make mistakes? I'm supposed to be this perfect obedient little pansy?" Harry snapped.  Snape's disappointment cut him worse than a whip and he reacted to it by going on the defensive.

Severus opened his mouth to deliver one of his more scathing remarks, but then paused.  For some reason, he just wasn't connecting with the boy, and Harry's sullen and smart attitude was irritating him beyond belief, but he didn't want the quarrel to degenerate into a shouting match.  Don't let him push your buttons, Severus.  You're the adult, remember? He reminded himself.  Though Harry had matured quite a bit over the last half a year, he was still a teenager, and never was Snape more reminded of that fact than now.  He took a deep breath, then said, in a controlled tone, "You and I both know that perfect is an ideal and no teenager anywhere can live up to it, nor can any adult, for that matter.  I do not expect it from you, Mr. Potter.  What I do expect is a willingness to own up to your mistakes and face consequences and realize that when I issue refusals I am doing so for your own safety, not because I am being mean or because I enjoy driving you crazy.  Do you not understand what it would mean if you died doing something so foolish?"

"Yeah.  You wouldn't be able to complete the prophecy and kill Voldemort."

"Hang the bloody prophecy!" Severus swore.  "Your life is worth more than any prophecy, Harry, and I want to see you live to grow up, not to die in some idiotic stunt because you were bored! It is my responsibility to keep you safe, but you need to assume responsibility as well for your own good.  Or do you wish to be known as The-Boy-Who-Only-Lived-To-Be-Fifteen?"

"No." Harry squirmed under that eagle-eyed gaze.  Now he felt guilty on top of feeling ashamed.  He hadn't meant to make Severus worry, but sometimes it was hard to remember that he now had an adult in his life who actually cared whether or not he put himself in danger.

"Good.  As I've said before, you need to start valuing your life, Mr. Potter, and stop flinging yourself into danger, because one day it is bound to catch up with you.  You are not invulnerable, fledgling, and the last thing I need is to have to bury another whom I care for." Snape cleared his throat, which had gone strangely hoarse for a moment, then continued.  "You've broken my trust with your actions, Mr. Potter, and that is not something I give lightly.  I trusted you to act maturely while I worked on the notebook, that I did not need to watch you every minute to ensure you were behaving yourself.  It would seem I was wrong, and you need constant supervision, like a naughty two-year-old."

Harry flushed.  "No!"

"No? Tell me something, Mr. Potter.  If you were in my position, as a guardian, and your ward had continually flouted and ignored your authority, what would you consider an appropriate punishment? How do you think you would react?" Before Harry could reply, Severus spun about and headed towards the door of the tiny house. "Think about that, Mr. Potter.  Think long and hard.  I will expect an answer upon my return."

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk."

"But . . .it's raining!"

"So? I know a spell to keep the rain away." Severus said shortly, then he muttered it before stepping out the door.

Harry just stared at the closed door, unsure of what to think.  Had he heard correctly? Had Severus Snape, the ultimate disciplinarian, just asked him to choose his own punishment? What was up with that? He was almost certain he had heard right.  Why would Severus ask that? Harry was sure his guardian would have no trouble whatsoever coming up with ways to punish Harry for acting like an addlepated fool.   He'd been a teacher for over sixteen years, he knew how to get creative and make the punishment fit the crime. 

"Huh? I don't get it," he muttered aloud to Hedwig. "What did he mean, think about what you would do?"

It seemed pretty clear to me, Hedwig hooted, ruffling her feathers.  He wishes you to think about how you would feel were you in his place and what type of punishment you ought to get.  If I were you, I'd start thinking about it. And you're lucky I'm too tired to nip your ear like you deserve.

"Who do you think you are, my mother?"

Merlin forbid! My feathers would have all fallen out by now, with the way you fly into danger like some nitwit starling! But I do care very much about you, and so does Severus.  Do consider what he said, fledgling, it was not an idle question.

"I know that, but why would he need my input? He's never let me choose my own punishment before."

Hedwig began to preen herself, saying inbetween smoothing her primaries, Perhaps he wishes you to take more responsibility for your own actions, after all, you're always insisting you're old enough to make your own decisions. 

"Oh.  I . . .guess that makes sense," her wizard conceded reluctantly.  He turned and sat down on the bottom step of the staircase, his chin in his hands.  Crazy as it sounded at first, Harry had to admit that the Slytherin's command was causing him to reflect more than normal about his actions, and not only regretting that Severus had caught him, either!

He had never before put himself in the position of a guardian or a father figure, and it was kind of strange to consider his behavior from that viewpoint.  He knew it angered Severus when he did something risky, but he had never thought about why Severus was angry, except for perhaps the simple reason that Harry had disregarded his orders.  But now that he was sitting and thinking about it, he realized that Severus was angry because he was afraid.  Afraid to lose him to death's unforgiving embrace.  What had Snape said? You are not invulnerable, fledgling, and the last thing I need is to have to bury another whom I care for.

Harry felt both humbled and cherished when he thought about what Severus had said.  He also realized something else.  Severus loves me.  Like a father would a son.  His guardian had never said the words aloud, but Harry knew he was not mistaken.  Looking back, he could see now that ever since the signing of the guardianship papers, Severus had been treating him more like a son and less like a student. 

Oh, Merlin! I really screwed up big time.  He's been trying to be a father to me and I just acted like a total git to him.  Now he really regretted his foolishness and began seriously thinking about what he would do if he were Severus and his son had behaved so badly.

I'd be angry too if my son had just done something that dumb, and it really was stupid the more I think about it, though at the time all I was thinking about was getting out from this damn house, it reminded me way too much of my cupboard, and besides the dark, I detest small spaces and being confined.  Still, I should have been smart and gone for a walk, who cares if it was raining? I used to garden in the rain plenty of times and once when Dudley locked me out of the house, I even spent the night in a tree next to the shed in the rain.  Of course, that was the summer I also got bronchitis . . .But I'm rambling . . .Can you ramble to yourself? Guess so, since I've just done it.  Okay, Harry, stop going off on a tangent and keep on the subject.

He grimaced, for that particular subject wasn't one he wished to dwell on, but nevertheless . . .I owe Sev an apology big time and I ought to kick myself in the arse good for acting like a smartass to him before, I know better, damn it! Why do I act like that around him sometimes? I don't mean to, but I just . . .forget sometimes that he's not the snarky teacher I used to dislike so much, but my friend and guardian and . . .almost like my father.  Especially when he gets all in my face and starts giving me what for.  He sighed.  But he's supposed to do that when I screw up, that's what parents do, they tell you where you went wrong so you don't keep making the same mistakes over and over.  Guess I'm just not used to having somebody around to tell me that when I need it.  But I'd better get used to it. He's only trying to keep me safe, but safe isn't something I do well at all.  I'm used to keeping other people safe, not myself.  Another thing I have to work on. 

He chewed his lower lip and considered what he ought to do so he didn't keep repeating that same silly mistake over and over.  Finally, he came up with a suitable punishment, just as the door to the shack opened and Severus walked back inside.

"Well, have you thought about what I asked you to?" were the first words out of Severus's mouth after he had entered.

"Yes, I have. And the first thing I need to do is apologize for snapping at you that way, sir." Harry said honestly, standing up and meeting his guardian's eyes.  "Sometimes I forget . . .that you're trying to help me, not just being mean and nasty when you get on my arse for something.  Anyway, I'm sorry and I'll try to control myself better."

"Apology accepted," Severus said.  "And the other?"

"I thought about that a lot . . .and I'd be mad too if my kid had done something so dumb, and I know I deserve to get in trouble, but I kind of have a problem with small spaces ever since my aunt and uncle started locking me in the cupboard under the stairs.  It's not an excuse, I know, but . . .I wasn't going flying just to make you mad, I really needed to get out of this house, Severus, and I just . . .did the first thing that came into my mind.  I love flying and so I just became Freedom and went out on the roof.  I knew the minute I felt the wind that I was an idiot, that I should have listened to you . . ."

"True enough.  I am glad you realize that now." His expression shifted from disapproval to a kind of concern as he said next, "Are you aware that you might suffer from claustrophobia, Harry?"

"Claustrophobia?" Harry repeated stupidly.  He called me "Harry", that must mean he's not totally wanting to trounce me anymore. He felt extremely relieved, for being stuck in a tiny house with an angry Severus Snape was not a good thing.  At all.

"It's a fear of small or confined spaces-"

"I know that, Sev.  I just never really thought I had it, I mean I don't go all to pieces when I'm in a closet or a shower or something."

"You might not have an acute form of it, but what you just told me suggests you may have a lesser degree of it," Severus surmised.  "In light of that, part of your reaction to being cooped up here is understandable."

"But not all of it."

"No, not all of it.  Well? Have you thought about what you would do in my situation?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me then."

"Part of my problem was that I was bored stiff.  So I think that making me study something useful, like some Ancient Runes or maybe even some healing techniques, and write an essay, would help me get over that and might even save my life or yours if one of us happens to get hurt on this mission."

Severus nodded.  "An intelligent concise solution.  Go on."

Harry sighed, he really didn't like this next part.  "For disobedience and disrespect, I should do something mindless and constructive . . .like scrub the floors and the fireplace without magic, just soap and water and a scrub brush.  And just so you know, I hate scrubbing floors.  Aunt Petunia used to make me scrub every floor in the house for hours till my hands blistered with vinegar and water."

Severus scowled at that.  "I am not your aunt, Merlin forbid I should be compared to her.  Anything else?"

Harry made a face.  This was the part he totally dreaded.  "And since I did act like a . . .two-year-old and I keep acting like one, I should be made to stay within your sight for the next three days, and that should remind me not to be so impulsive because I really really hate being watched that way." I cannot believe I said that.  What was I thinking, giving myself punishments that I hated? Am I totally cracked or what?

"And do you think that is a reasonable consequence for your behavior?"

Harry nodded. 

"Good.  Then those consequences are what you shall face." Severus declared.  "Since they are ones you chose yourself, I sincerely hope that you learn from them." He waved his wand and a very large bucket of soapy water and a scrub brush appeared on the floor.  "You may begin on the floor first, if you wish, or your essay."

The Animagus grimaced.  "The floor, I guess. But before I do, can I ask you something?"

"You may ask me something," the professor corrected.

"Did you ever figure out the code in the notebook?"

"Yes, I did.  In fact, I was coming down here to tell you that when I discovered you missing."

"Oh." My timing sucks.  If I had waited a few more minutes, I wouldn't have gone and gotten into trouble, Harry thought ruefully. "That's great, Severus! Now you can translate the notebook."

"Yes, but I think I will take a nap first." He turned to go upstairs. Adding over his shoulder, "Don't wake me if you come upstairs to start your essay.  You can scrub the attic after dinner."

Harry rolled his eyes, muttered a "Yes, sir," and flicked his hand in a mock salute when his guardian's back was turned.

Incorrigible fledgling! Hedwig scolded.

Harry looked up at her, his eyes twinkling impishly, and said, "Hey, that's what Sev calls me.  Stealing his lines now?"

If the name fits, why shouldn't I use it? Hedwig hooted, her eyes closing lazily. Better start on that floor, fledgling, it won't get any cleaner by you staring at it.

"Merlin, but you do sound like my mother! Ugh!" Then he heaved a giant sigh that seemed to come from all the way down by his feet and picked up the scrub brush.

* * * * * *

An hour later, Harry's back was aching and so were his knees, from crawling about on the floor scrubbing back and forth.  You just had to pick the floor to scrub, didn't you, Harry? He thought glumly, wielding the brush industriously in spite of himself. I HATE scrubbing the floor.  But I was the one who thought of it, so I can't complain, he groaned silently. Next time I'll tell Sev I hate dusting or whatever.

He found that the water in the bucket both magically refilled itself and remained clean no matter how many times he dunked the dirty scrub brush into it.  He had shoveled and scrubbed the fireplace free of ash and soot first, and now was doing the floor.  Funny how the floor had seemed tiny when he was pacing it two hours ago, but now it seemed humungous when he was scrubbing it on his hands and knees.

He paused and swished the brush about in the soapy bucket, then leaned back on his heels to rest for a few minutes.  The only good thing about this punishment was that he had no Aunt Petunia hovering over him, waiting to give him a good cuff if he missed a spot, and no Dudley either to knock over the bucket and track mud across the floor he'd just cleaned on purpose. 

He peered down at the spot of floor he had just washed and frowned, for it was the spot where the hellhound had died, leaving an unsightly black smudge on the wooden floorboards. "Blast and damn! It's still there!" he growled irritably.  "Stupid demon dog! Can't even die and not leave a mess for me to clean up.  Why couldn't the remains just vanish back to hell or whatever? But no . . .it has to stay burned into the floor and muck up the whole thing."

He banged his hand down on the floor and noticed that one of the floorboards was loose.  Typical.  Harry huffed and decided to move on to the rest of the floor since nothing short of magic was going to get out the hellhound-shaped splotch on the floor.

Some forty minutes later he had finished the floor and the stairs as well as the bathroom.  By then he was sweaty, filthy, and smelled like a chimney sweep from a Dickens novel.  He decided to take a shower before moving on upstairs and taking a ten minute nap before starting on the essay.

He summoned clean clothes from his pack and started to run the shower.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged, feeling ten times better, free of grime and a little weary, but at least the small house was clean, probably for the first time in fifty odd years, and the hated scrubbing had given him time to reflect on his behavior and make a solemn vow to himself to think before he acted so he would not end up scrubbing anymore damn floors and disappointing his guardian.

He walked up the stairs and saw his mentor sleeping.  It was odd, but Severus looked strangely peaceful asleep, all the lines of care and worry erased from his lean features.  Asleep, he looked younger than his thirty-five years and more handsome than he appeared.  It's because he's not scowling or glaring, his ward thought, smirking.  And he'd hex me good if he ever heard what I was thinking.  I guess that frightful reputation keeps the girls from flinging themselves at him.  Harry covered his mouth with his hand to keep from exploding in uncontrollable laughter at the picture that was suddenly conjured in his mind of dozens of teenage girls drooling and hanging all over their Potions Master crying, "Oh, Sevvy darling, I'm just dying for you to kiss me, hold me, touch me!"

Ugh, Harry, get your mind out of the gutter! the rational part of his mind scolded, but the insane part kept cracking up hysterically.  He turned away from his blanket shrouded mentor, biting his lip firmly so no stray snicker could escape and doom him.  Severus deserved to sleep, he had been putting in too many hours trying to break that code today, Harry reminded himself.  You've got an essay to write, he reminded himself, then he realized he needed some books on healing techniques or Ancient Runes to write it and Severus was asleep.

Oh well, guess that means I can take a nap too, and he curled up on his sleeping bag.

* * * * * *

  He was awakened by Snape's hand on his shoulder, and the Potions Master was wearing his patented scowl, making him look normal and not a teenage girl's fantasy.  "Sleeping on the job, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, I couldn't clean or write my essay while you were asleep, since I didn't have any books to study." Harry pointed out.

"Finish the floor first, then I'll give you my Magicka Medicina, my medic text, and let you see what you make of that," ordered his guardian, and for once Harry obeyed.

The attic floor only took him twenty minutes to scrub, since it was half the size and not quite as dirty.  Once he had washed up again, and eaten dinner, then he took the text Severus handed him and studied by the light of a Lumos-charmed lamp while his mentor began the tedious task of translating the notebook.

Harry was on the second paragraph of his essay, writing about wound care using magical salves and spells and potions, when Severus exclaimed, "Riddle, you were a clever bastard! But not clever enough to resist boasting about it."

Harry set down his quill, he was working at a small desk Severus had transfigured from a broken piece of wood, and stared curiously at his mentor.  "What do you mean, Sev?"

"I mean that young Tommy got overconfident and thought he was so clever that he could put down his plans for immortality in this notebook, encrypt it, and hide it away here and it would never be discovered."

"But he never reckoned on the likes of us going to find it, did he?"

"No.  And now he will pay for that overconfidence." Severus tapped the side of the notebook.  "From what I have translated so far, Voldemort learned how to make certain objects by chance, from a forbidden book of dark magic obtained in Knockturn Alley and speaking to Professor Slughorn, my former potions professor.  He writes that one of them was an old diary he had kept from his days as a student, it had once belonged to his mother, Merope, the other he had placed in the Gaunt family ring, after he had killed Marvolo, and split his soul using the ritual."

"The ritual? You mean that's how you make a forbidden object? By killing someone?"

"Yes.  Apparently, the sorcerer uses the energy of the killed person to split his soul and then needs to have a vessel ready to contain it.  A ritual is involved, as is so often the case, and he also made another object using a necklace-a priceless locket that Merope sold when she fled from his father and needed money.  Voldemort bought the necklace back from Borgin and Burke's and then used it and the triple murder of his grandparents and father to split his soul yet again and make a Horcrux out of the pendant and I think another out of a staff known as the Dragoneye Staff, which he stole from the Ministry."

"What's the Dragoneye Staff?"

"A very powerful magical object, supposedly the staff Merlin once carried, the dragon's eye was from the white dragon Merlin saw get defeated by the red dragon in a vision. Voldemort could not resist that he did not own such a treasure and so he stole it away and used it for a heinous purpose."

"Where is it? And the necklace? Does it say?"

"There is a riddle I have partially translated here that may give us a clue," admitted the professor.  "Here.  See what you make of it."

He handed Harry the piece of parchment upon which he had scribbled down the translated verses.  Harry scanned it and read the following verse aloud.

"Slytherin's treasure am I,

Hidden away,' neath footsteps trod at the break of day.

In the home of the damned and wronged do I rest,

Waiting for the one who loved me best."

Then he put his chin in his hand and said quietly, "The first line's easy.  Slytherin;s treasure is the locket."

"Obviously.  What about the next line?"

"Hidden away . . .'neath footsteps trod at the break of day.  Maybe under stairs? Maybe under his bed?"

"Except that Voldemort never slept here."

"Where did the Gaunts sleep, Severus? I never saw a bedroom."

"Perhaps they slept on the floor, like dogs.  Or maybe they shared a bed in the corner," replied the Potions Master dryly.

"Ugh! That's just . . .disgusting!" Harry made a revolted face and shuddered.  "But it says Slytherin's treasure is in the home of the damned and wronged.  So maybe it's in the Riddle House? It's haunted and they were wronged by their own flesh and blood."

Severus considered.  "A good supposition, but he had already hidden one there, why bother hiding two? That's much too risky.  No, think about who wrote these lines, Harry.  Voldemort would not consider the Riddles wronged, by his lights, they got what they deserved, since his father refused to acknowledge him and allowed him to grow up in poverty in an orphanage.  Voldemort would have never forgiven that.  No, the "one wronged" would be Merope . . .and she lived in Gaunt House, which might be considered damned since Voldemort summoned up a hellhound to guard the object."

"Yes! I get it now! And the last line . . .the object is waiting for Voldemort to reclaim it." Harry finished.  "So it has to be here in this house somewhere.  If we can figure out the second line . . ."

"That is what I have been trying to do." The Potions Master said rather testily.

Before Harry could come up with another suggestion, Hedwig glided into the room. She landed on her wizard's shoulder gently and nibbled his wayward hair. It tickled and Harry brushed at her, ordering, "Hedwig, stop! I can brush my own hair!"

The snowy ignored him and kept preening.  Then why do you not do so, hmm?

"Ah! Hedwig, don't you have anything better to do than mess up my hair?"

"I fail to see how it can be any worse," commented Snape.

"Thanks, Sev.  Real nice.  You don't see me making fun of your hair," grumbled Harry.

"Not if you're smart and want to still be able to talk intelligently."

Harry scowled down at the parchment. "Hidden away ‘neath footsteps trod at the break of day. Just what in Merlin's bloody name is that supposed to mean? Where's a place beneath footsteps at the break of day?"

Hedwig stopped preening, looking interested.  Riddles, Harry? I love riddles, all owls do.  We host riddle challenges sometimes in the Owlery.  Read it to me, please.

Harry exchanged doubtful glances with Snape, then read the riddle to his familiar.

Hmm . . .the second line is giving you fits, aye?

"Yeah.  Know what it could mean?"

The snowy owl blinked, then replied, Well, you humans don't fly, you walk on the ground, so perhaps the locket is beneath the floor or buried in the earth?

"Yes, that would fit," Severus said.

"You're right! The floor . . ." Harry hit himself in the forehead.  "Oh, am such a dunderhead! The floorboard! Sev, when I was scrubbing, I noticed a floorboard was loose, it was one of the ones the hellhound fell onto before it died and it left a big splotch on the wood.  Could that be it?"

"It may be." Severus rose, his nose twitching eagerly.  "Show me where this loose floorboard is."

Harry led the way downstairs and quickly located the loose floorboard.

"There! See how loose it is?" Harry jumped on it.

"Yes, now get off."

"How can we remove it?"

"With a Shrinking Charm."

"Oh.  Now why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I have more experience than you," said Severus somewhat smugly. He pointed his wand and muttered the charm.

The board shrank to the size of a toothpick, leaving a space.

Harry tugged on his Curse Breaking gloves and knelt down.  Then he waved his wand and chanted a detection spell-it came back empty-before reaching into the hole and pulling out a small handcarved wooden jewelry box.

"I think this is it!" Harry declared excitedly. 

"Yes.  Wait, before you open it.  It may be boobytrapped," Severus cautioned.  He then cast a spell to detect dark magic traps.

Harry waited tensely until Severus signaled it was okay before opening the box.

The box contained a drawstring green velvet pouch.  When Harry opened it and tipped it upside down, a large oval locket spilled out into his palm.  It was made almost entirely of gold and had a large S over the face of it, done in precious emeralds. 

Almost immediately, he felt his scar start to tingle and burn.

"Ow!" He went to rub his scar.

"What's wrong?" Severus demanded.

"My scar's just . . .tingling."

"When did that start?"

"Just now, when I held the locket."

"Definitely a forbidden object." Severus said grimly.  "Time to be rid of it once and for all."

"Severus . . .what does it mean that my scar's bothering me all of a sudden?" Harry asked anxiously.  "Does it mean he's trying to come back?"

"No, I think that because of what made the scar, you will always be sensitive to objects of dark magic and this is one of the darkest objects ever created." Severus reassured him.  "Let me know what happens when I destroy this one."  He removed the locket from Harry's grasp.

Then he summoned his iron lined cauldron and the case of Curse Destroying potions.

He allowed Harry to toss in the necklace and together the two watched as the mixture hissed, frothed, turned black and smoked, dissolving the locket utterly.

Harry coughed and his eyes streamed despite the handkerchief about his nose and mouth, and Severus went and threw open the door and a breeze came in and blew the offending stench and smoke away. 

Almost immediately, Harry's scar quit hurting. 

"How is your scar, Harry?"

"It's not hurting anymore."

"You are sure? Do not attempt to play the martyr."

"I'm not." He peered down at the black sludge in the cauldron.  "I'd say it was destroyed for good."

"Evanesco!" Snape said and the contents vanished.  Then he reached out and ruffled his ward's hair lightly.  "Well done, Harry.  You and your owl make a good team."

The boy basked in the unexpected praise, smiling quietly.  "Yeah, Hedwig rules. Aren't you glad she came along now, Sev?"

"Yes.  Especially because she gives me a second pair of eyes, which I need to keep you out of mischief, fledgling!"

"Ha ha.  Very funny.  Now what?"

"Now I think it is time for us to go to bed.  We have accomplished much today.  We shall stay here until I have translated the entire journal, and in the meantime you still need to finish your essay and stay within my view."

"Aww, why'd you have to remind me?" his apprentice moaned.  "I was hoping you would . . .forget about that."

 "Trying to weasel out of your chosen punishment already?" scowled his guardian. "Remember, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"I know, Severus!"  he grumbled.  "But I don't have to like it!"

"I would say by the time we are done here, you will have learned a good lesson."

"Damn straight!" the fifteen-year-old muttered.  Then he climbed the stairs and got ready for bed, remembering to thank Hedwig for her input as he did so.  One thing was certain-he would think long and hard about acting on impulse again, because serving your own punishment was just plain awful! And he couldn't even be mad at his guardian, since he was the one who had thought of it.

Shaking his head ruefully, he crawled into his sleeping bag, thinking If I ever have kids, they're going to think I'm the worst dad ever when it comes to giving out punishments and stuff, because by then I'll know almost every trick in the book and the best way to make sure they don't follow in my footsteps and give me heart failure. He yawned then.  Merlin! I must be tireder than I thought, thinking about kids I don't even have, hell . . .I don't even have a girlfriend.  Whatever, I can worry about that later, when Moldy Voldy is in hell for good.

"Good night, Severus," he mumbled as he pillowed his head on his arm.

"Good night, fledgling," came the silky rejoinder, and just before Harry's eyes closed he could have sworn he felt a familiar hand carding his hair. 

Severus stood looking down at his sleeping ward with a faint smile on his taciturn face.  Tomorrow I shall finish my translation and perhaps speak with him a bit more about his claustrophobia.  Meditation might enable him to keep control of it better, but he needs proper sessions to truly conquer it.  That will have to wait, however, until we are home again.  Merlin grant that we return.

He glanced up to see Hedwig perched alertly on the desk chair.  "Thank you, wise one."

You are most welcome, professor.  Together, I think we shall yet keep him safe.

"One can hope." Then he turned and sought his own bed, leaving the owl to keep watch in the moonlight and the single glow from a small nightlamp near Harry's space.

12 Grimmauld Place

London:

Sirius cast a quick glance at the slumbering Remus on the couch before attempting to slip past him and use the Floo.  He felt a slight pang of guilt at his actions, but not enough to stop him from acting upon his impulses.  Really, the insistence that Mind Healer placed upon being supervised and all was a load of codswallop! Sure, he had been a little touched after the curse had been removed, Healer Sandrilas had said it would take some time to get over the effects of it.  That Bellatrix was a nasty piece of work, cousin or no.  But I feel fine now! I can go out for a time, by myself.  I'm not some bleeding child that needs to held by the hand, Sirius argued with himself.  I'm safe now, I haven't had a flashback in weeks.  Well . . .a week, but who's counting?

The Animagus brushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes, he had cut it since returning to live at Grimmauld Place with Remus.  He was dressed in a casual set of gray pants and a red shirt with an open necked collar.  He was still thin, the after effects of the curse had robbed him of his appetite, though Remus was doing his best to encourage him to eat, especially disgustingly healthy things like vegetables and fruit.  Sirius wrinkled his nose.  Who cared about eating healthy?

When I was in Azkaban, I lived off of watery gruel and beef jerky twice a week, and bread and drippings.  They couldn't be bothered serving vegetables to prisoners who might have died, not that I cared, I've never liked vegetables all that much.  And I survived without all that blasted nutrition nonsense.  Sirius snorted derisively, and continued making his way stealthily towards the jar of Floo powder on the mantle. 

His hand had just closed upon it when Remus woke up and said sharply, "Ahem! And just where do you think you're going, Mr. Black?"

"Who, me?" asked Sirius, shoving the jar of Floo powder behind his back and trying his best to look totally innocent. "I was just . . .checking out the fireplace, Moony.  To make sure it was . . .uh . . .drawing properly."

"Nice try, Sirius.  Tell me another one.  What's that you're hiding behind your back?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Moony."

"Right. Show me your hands, Sirius."

"What for?" He switched the jar of Floo powder from one hand to the other and held out his left hand.

Remus frowned.  "What about the other one?"

Sirius held out his other hand.  "See? Nothing in them."

"Both hands together now."

"What is this, an interrogation ?" Sirius grumped.

"Show ‘em." Remus ordered, rising and coming over to stand in front of him, looking for all the world like an exasperated parent with a mischievous toddler.

Slowly, Sirius pulled both hands out from behind his back.  They were empty.

Remus scowled.  He was almost certain his friend had swiped the Floo powder from off the mantle, since it was currently missing.  Then he recalled a prank where Sirius and James had once hidden contraband Zonkos products down their . . .

"Turn around, smartarse!"

Sirius backed up.  "Ah, now wait a minute, Moony! I told you, I have nothing to hide, now why won't you believe me?"

"Because I know you, Sirius Orion Black.  Anytime you start playing innocent means you're up to something." He made a twirling motion with his hand.

"Aww . . .bloody hell!" Sirius whined and turned around.

"Ah ha!" Remus cried and snatched the Floo jar from out of Sirius' waistband.  "What do you call this, mister? Plan on making a visit to St. Mungos?"

"I don't know how it got there!"

"Oh yeah, it just happened to jump off the mantle and ended up in your pants, right?" Remus shook his head in disappointment.  "Did you really think you could sneak past me, Padfoot? I'm a werewolf, for Godsake!"

"So?  I need to get out, Moony.  I hate being stuck in here all the time."

"Sirius . . ." Remus groaned.  "You know you're not supposed to go out alone."

"I only wanted to go for a walk, Moony.  A ten minute stroll down the street, where's the harm in that?"

"Sirius, you know why you can't leave unsupervised. Last time I let you outside by yourself as a dog to get some air, you nearly bit a child, remember?" Remus asked, his hands on his hips.  "Padfoot, you're not well-"

"I am too!  That was last week! I'm better now, Healer Sandrilas said so."

"How can you say that, Siri, when you're still having flashbacks and when you get them, you're as unpredictable as a wounded dragon?  I'm sorry, but if you want to go out, you're going to have to put up with me.  It's for your own good."

"You sound like my mother," grumbled his best friend.  "She always said that when she was trying to get me to take disgusting potions.  I'm not a little kid, damn it all!"

"You're certainly acting like one," pointed out the werewolf.  "Look, I know it's tough, but trying to sneak away like that isn't going to help you, it'll only make things worse.  You'd feel horribly guilty if you hurt a kid or some innocent person, I know you would.  And right now, no matter how well you feel, you aren't safe to be let out on your own."

"You don't know that, Remus! At least let me try."

"I'm sorry, Siri.  But I can't take the chance."

Sirius scowled angrily.  "You don't trust me, is that it? You think I'm crazy, don't you? Well, I'm not! Sn-Severus removed the curse.  I'm fine!"

"That's a lie, old friend, and you and I both know it." Remus said quietly.  "You might not be under the influence of that Manaed Curse anymore, but the aftereffects still linger.  It happens, mate.  Nobody's blaming you.  But you have to trust us.  Healer Sandrilas said it's not safe for you to go anywhere alone just yet."

"What does he know? He's not me."

"True, you stubborn bonehead.  He's much smarter than you." Remus teased.

"Ha ha.  Real funny.  You just don't trust me."

"Do you trust yourself?"

"I . . ." Sirius hesitated.  "What kind of a question is that?"

"An important one.  Care to answer it?"

Sirius looked away.  Much as he didn't want to admit it, Remus was right to be so cautious.  That day last week. . .he had been frisky and delighted to run around outside without being "kept an eye on" and then that kid had come up to him and one minute he had been enjoying a good scratch behind the ears and the next . . . he was somewhere else, and Bellatrix was taunting him and he growled and started to snap at her . . .except she hadn't been there . . .and he had nearly bitten that little girl . . .if Remus hadn't come out right then . . ."You're right.  I almost hurt a little kid.  I don't trust myself.  And that's not how it should be.  I don't want to be a . . .dangerous animal that ought to be put down, Remus.  Damn Bella to hell!  Why didn't Snape kill her when he had the chance?"

"Because you can't just go around killing people, no matter how much they might deserve it," Remus sighed.  "I heard he kicked her arse good though, before he weaseled the countercharm out of her."

"Good, but I still have a score to settle with my beloved cousin," Sirius sneered.

Remus clapped him on the shoulder.  "You'll get a chance someday, Sirius.  But in the meantime, you ought to concentrate on following Healer Sandrilas's orders and getting well.  Now, if you want to go out for a walk, I'll gladly take you.  But you shouldn't  have tried to sneak out behind my back.  That was very irresponsible and could have had serious consequences." Remus shook a reproving finger at him.

Sirius winced.  Remus's lectures always tended to make him feel ashamed, much like his father Orion's used to.  "Okay, I was stupid.  You gonna make me stand in the corner and go to bed without supper?"

Remus cocked his head at him.  "Maybe I should.  Too bad you're too old for me to tan your arse, mister."

"Shove it, Moony!" growled Sirius.  "I'm sick and in pain, you ought to humor me."

"You're a pain, all right.  A perfect pain in the arse.  Let's have some lunch, then we can go out for a walk in the park.  How's that?"

Recognizing a compromise when he heard one, Sirius agreed.  "Fine.  But do I have to go as a dog or a human?"

"Your choice.  C'mon, let's eat.  I'm starving."

* * * * * *

After lunch, Remus and Sirius went for a walk, as Remus had promised.  Sirius had opted to go out as Padfoot, saying that he could run around and not look like an idiot, plus it was a good way for Remus to scope out chicks.  "Girls dig guys with dogs, buddy.  This could be a golden opportunity for you, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Sirius, Merlin help you! I'm a werewolf, what girl would go out with me once she found that out?  And how would I explain to her that my dog was actually my best friend?"

"Well, Lupin, you know what they say.  A dog is man's best friend."

"Sure you are.  Do me a favor, Siri, and try and behave."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means keep your nose out of girl's skirts."

"Moony! I've never sniffed a girl's skirt!"

"No? How about Mandy Armstrong during sixth year?"

"Well, that was different! I was a kid back then."

"Uh huh.  And a part of you still is."

"Killjoy.  I wonder how Harry is getting on with old Severus? Now there's another one who needs to learn to have fun."

"Oh, I think he's fine.  Even if Severus is rather . . .serious, Harry seemed to be quite happy to be going to his home for the summer."

"With the way those Muggles treated him, who could blame him?" Sirius growled.  "I just hope Snape's not keeping him chained up in his lab brewing 24/7."

"I'm sure Severus is treating Harry decently."

"Yeah, but I'd like to talk to him and make sure."

"Maybe you can write him a letter later on.  I'm sure he'd like to hear from you."

"Think so? I thought maybe he wouldn't care now that he's got Snape for a guardian," Sirius said, somewhat jealously.

Lupin eyed his friend.  "Why, Sirius, I do believe that you are . . .jealous.  Jealous that maybe Harry likes Severus and respects him more than he does you."

"That's not true.  I'd never want Harry to look at me like some kind of . . .authority figure.  That's the ultimate in boring.  I don't want to be a stick-in-the-mud all stuck on rules like Snape is.  I want to be there for Harry, I want him to be able to talk to me, like he can't to Snape.  But because of these bloody flashbacks I can't do that."

The wistfulness in Sirius's tone made Remus's heart ache.  And he too wished Bellatrix LeStrange six feet under or burned upon a pyre.  "I wish you could be that too, Siri.  And one day I have every confidence that you will be.  But until then you need to follow the Healer's orders.  Write to Harry and ask him how his summer's going if it'll make you feel better."

"I'll do that.  And thanks, Remus."

"Don't mention it." Remus rose.  "C'mon.  Let's go for a walk.  We could both use the exercise."

* * * * * *

Some ten minutes later, a big black dog chased a Frisbee that a tall man with graying hair threw high in the air.  The dog leaped up and caught it effortlessly in his mouth, then fled like a fiend around the trees in the park.  Remus grinned, happy that Sirius could still lose himself in play, especially after some of the horrific nightmares he had endured as a result of Bellatrix's curse.  

Padfoot came back and dropped the Frisbee at Remus's feet, panting happily and wagging his tail.  C'mon, Moony! Throw it harder, I can catch anything you dish out to me! He barked and lowered his front half to the ground, his brown eyes sparkling.

"Ready for it, boy?" Remus asked, grinning.  He threw the Frisbee as hard as he could.

Padfoot raced off at lightning speed, then catapulted into the air after the yellow disc.  

His jaws closed upon it and he thought triumphantly, I got it! Ha!

Then he whirled around and trotted back to Remus, tail held high.  He had forgotten how much he enjoyed running and jumping and not having to worry about people giving him odd looks.  Sometimes it was fun to just be a dog, enjoying the summer sunshine and the feel of grass under his paws.  

He hoped that the bloody flashbacks could be conquered, and resolved to try and follow Healer Sandrilas's instructions, because he wanted to be able to someday look his godson in the eye and not worry about seeing monsters.  He shook his head and returned to Remus with the Frisbee.  

You'd better be treating him decent, Snape.  Or else I might just develop an acute case of distemper and bite you one!

He perked up his ears as he approached his best friend, who was standing there chatting with a pretty woman.  Hmm.  What's this? See, old friend, who you can meet in the park?

He frisked up to Remus, wagging his tail in a friendly fashion.  Oi, Moony, introduce me to the lady, why don't ya? Then he stopped short when he recognized that the pretty woman bore the scent of Tonks, his cousin.  Oh, it's only Dora.  Too bad, Moony.

Then he stopped, because to his astonishment, Remus was smiling and laughing at Tonks, who was not turning her hair bubblegum pink for once, but had instead adopted a more sedate color of a golden blond.  It looked surprisingly good on her, and he was shocked to  see that she seemed to be enjoying herself as well.  

Well, well.  So that's the way the wind blows, eh? Remus and my little cousin. How very . . .amazing!  He sat down and listened to the two speaking about an old case Remus had once assisted in and then Tonks was speaking about Greyback, the werewolf that had turned Remus as a small boy.  Remus immediately lost his happy mien and bared his teeth.

"If you need help in bringing that one in, Dora, you can count on me.  That's one lone wolf who needs to be put down," said the other grimly.

Padfoot snarled angrily.  Damn straight.  I'll help you too.  I'll hunt him down like the beast he is.

"I'll tell Captain Shacklebolt that you offered to help hunt him down, Remus.  He's elusive all right.  How's Sirius?"

"Getting better.  Why don't you ask him yourself?" He gestured to Padfoot.

Tonks grinned.  "Hiya, Padfoot? How's tricks?"

Padfoot barked and wagged his tail.  Hi, Dora! Looking good, kid.  He nudged at the Frisbee.  Want to play?

Tonks laughed and threw the Frisbee.  "He seems like he's happier now. Does that mean the spell's wearing off?"

"Yes, the aftereffects are gradually fading.  According to Mind Healer Sandrilas, Sirius should be fully mended in a month or so."

"Good.  Glad to hear it.  Nobody deserves what my aunt did to him," Tonks said softly, and her eyes flashed.  "I hope someday we can bring her in, she should be locked up like the beast she is."

"You'll get no argument from me there," said Remus.  Then he cleared his throat and asked, shyly, "Would you like to . . .uh . . .have dinner some night, Dora?"

"Why yes, Remus, I'd love to? Where? At your place or mine?"

"Can you cook?"

"Yes."

"Then we'd better eat at your place.  I don't want you dying of food poisoning." Remus said, and Tonks laughed.

Padfoot trotted over to them, amusement dancing in his brown eyes.  Attaboy, Moony.  It's about time! You need a good woman, mate.

"Gotta run, my break's almost up," Tonks said suddenly, regretfully.  "See ya around, Moony." She stood on tiptoe and kissed the werewolf lightly and then she was gone, Apparating back to the Ministry, leaving a rather pleasantly bewildered werewolf behind wearing an astonished and tender smile.

Padfoot came up and nudged his nose under Moony's hand.  Remus ruffled his ears and said, "Guess you were right, old man."

Of course I was.  I'm a dog, I know how to spot a good relationship from a mile away. Then he jumped up and licked the werewolf's face, making Remus grimace and scold him for drooling.  Seeing his friend happy made him hope that soon he would be mended and be able to go back to his old job as an Auror, as he was meant to be.

He also wanted Harry to be proud of him, for Remus was right in a way.  He had seen the way Harry had looked at Snape, with admiration and respect.  He wanted the boy to look at him that way, to prove to him that he wasn't just an immature bully, that he could be a respectable member of the community.  Harry's opinion mattered to him, it was because of his godson that he had made peace with his rival Snape, and made him resolve to turn his life around.  So he could be a decent godfather to the boy, as his best friend had wished.  

The road may be long, but I'll come to the end of it someday.  And then I'll be able to look you in the eye, Harry. An instant later he flipped the Frisbee up into the air with his nose and caught it on his nose, making some kids who were watching smile and clap their hands.  

"What a cool dog!"

"Yeah, he ought to be in the circus!"

Padfoot lifted his head and barked.  That's me, the one and only, utterly amazing Sirius Black!

Beside him, Remus just shook his head.  Some things never changed.

Gaunt House

Little Hangleton

Crushed mallow root applied directly to a wound will ease pain on contact and also prevent infection.  When ground and mixed with crushed tansy flowers and a drop or two of dandelion extract, it makes a safe antibacterial wash for minor burns and skin rashes as well.  To prepare as a lotion for sunburn, follow this recipe . . .

Harry continued taking notes from Snape's  Magica Medicina, writing an essay on the use of common herbs in medicinal magical potions.  He figured that would be a useful thing to learn, considering the dangers this quest was sure to have and how often one or the other of them tended to get injured.  Severus shouldn't be the only one with medical know-how, Harry reasoned.  What if he became ill or badly injured? Harry didn't want his guardian's life to be put in danger because he didn't know proper procedures in an emergency.  No knowledge is ever wasted, was a maxim Snape often quoted when his apprentice asked why he had to learn some obscure potion or Herbology term.  Severus even insisted Harry brush up on his Latin, explaining that knowing the language thoroughly would help if he ever needed to create a spell of his own devising. 

Then too, writing the essay was also part of his punishment, and it gave him something to do while remaining within sight of his guardian besides cleaning and sleeping.  And though it was a punishment, Harry discovered learning about medicinal potions was also interesting and he quickly set himself to learning the material.  Two hours passed as both Potions Master and apprentice studied on their relative subjects.  Severus was busy translating the rest of the notebook now that he had broken the code Voldemort had invented, it had been a fairly hard one, though not as hard as some he had broken in the past, but that was to be expected, given the fact that Voldemort had been barely out of his teens when he had started writing the journal and making additional Horcruxes to gain him his forbidden immortality.  He had not yet had the time to study and invent more complex codes nor summon up more dangerous monsters to guard the Horcruxes he had already made.

One entry stated that young Tom had broken into the Ministry archives and stolen several texts on summoning underworld creatures and undead and another book on dark magic designed to bring pain and suffering to whomever the caster desired.  "I learned much from these texts, ways in which to bring my followers to heel, especially those arrogant purebloods who were older and resented me for my youth and skill and my relentless vision. I am destined to rule the world, I have always known this, and soon I shall make sure everyone else does too.  My Death Eaters will learn what it means to obey and to teach others their place . . .on their knees at my feet, head bowed in worship.  For those who remain loyal to me, they shall be given power-the power to make all who oppose them cower and flee in terror, for I am the Dark Lord, and my shadow shall rise and cover the land. . ."

Severus grimaced and curled his lip upon reading that, for he was familiar with many of the spells in the notebook, he had seen them used upon others and had some of them used upon him when Voldemort was in a pet.  Crucio was among the worst, but there were others, like the Blood Boiling spell, that was just as bad.  He learned that Voldemort had experimented with several animals, trying to use their life energies to extend his own, and it was in this way that he came up with the idea to try and use a living entity to hold a portion of his soul. 

"But first I shall experiment some more with inanimate objects and especially those with powerful magic already set upon them, such as the Dragoneye Staff, which the old texts state once belonged to Merlin himself.  If I could get my hands on that, what a receptacle that would make.  It's kept under heavy guard in the Ministry vaults, but I'm sure after a few nights of my persuasion spells, the Auror on duty will tell me the passwords."

The Potions Master rubbed his eyes and drank the glass of cool water Harry had given him that was sitting on the desk.  Ah, so that's how he gained access to the vault. .  .by torturing some poor wizard on duty in the archives.  Evil little bugger! It will give me so much pleasure to send his twisted soul down into the depths of everlasting torment.  He read a bit further, and discovered that Voldemort had indeed succeeded in capturing the Dragoneye staff and perverting the venerable magical relic into a receptacle for his twisted fragment of a soul.

"Then, of course, I had to find a place to hide it, and there were no decent stretches of woodland left in which to hide my latest creation in Britain.  It was then that I heard of a haunted wood on the continent, in the Transylvanian Alps, a wood rumored to be the abode of Baba Yaga, the evil witch of Russian folklore who traveled about in a hut that could walk on chicken legs and fly, looking for children to eat and heroes to slay.  The forest was named, aptly, the Forest of the Night, and it seemed like an ideal place.

"Magic, magic, burning bright,

In the Forest of the Night,

Creatures dark and endless gloom

Await those who seek to seal their doom,

Within the heart of a tree

Rests a treasure fair,

But only those who have the key.

Shall discover what resides there.

The reward that's worth a kingdom's ransom

Or a wizard's magical soul."

Snape pursed his lips.  Another awful poem and a clue about where another Horcrux was located.  That Voldemort had perverted the cherished Dragoneye staff was not surprising to Severus, the dark wizard destroyed whatever he touched, then and now.  Now, of course, the treasured staff would have to be destroyed, for that would be the only way to ensure the dark wizard's destruction.  He flet a pang of regret and sorrow for being forced to destroy the relic and silently cursed Voldemort for defiling it. 

He set the notebook aside then and looked up at his apprentice, who was busily working on his essay.  "Harry, you may stop and take a break if you wish."

The boy jerked upright, quill still clutched in his hand, and his green eyes focused upon his mentor.  "Huh? Oh, yeah, I am getting kind of hungry and thirsty.  Did you find out anything else about the . . .forbidden objects, Sev?"

"Yes.  It appears that we shall be making a rather long journey to Transylvania."

"Transylvania? Like in Dracula?"

"Yes, but unlike Van Helsing, we are not seeking a vampire.  We are looking for a forest known as the Forest of the Night.  Voldemort had hidden the next object somewhere in there."

Harry whistled.  "Well, that's an awful long way, isn't it? Good thing we both have wings."

"Indeed.  Even so, we shall be flying for several days before reaching our destination.  And if rumors are correct, a walk in the Forest of Night is deadly dangerous.  There are creatures in there that were once known in legend for their love of human flesh, like night gaunt, and the acromantula, and some legends state that the trees in the forest are alive and a few can speak with humans, if they so choose."

"Talking trees?" Harry repeated skeptically.  Then he grinned at his own foolishness.  "Well, I guess that's no stranger than me understanding birds and turning into one. Hope they speak English and not Romanian or oak language."

"We shall worry about that when we arrive there," Severus said decisively.  "There is no point in speculating until then.  In the meantime, I think some lunch is in order and afterwards I shall read your essay so far and hope there are no glaring grammatical errors."

"There aren't," Harry assured him.  "After a week reading student essays, I learned pretty quick what not to do."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," the professor replied dryly.  "For once I can give my red quill a rest." He waved his hand and several packets of sandwiches and crisps, plus a pot of soup began cooking itself over Snape's portable cauldron.  "How are you finding that medic text so far?"

"It's actually pretty interesting, and I like how it's diagrammed, it makes it easy to find the herbs with all the pictures. It's clear and easy to read, not like some of the texts I've had to read."

"Yes, the witch who wrote it knew how to translate most of the Latin terms and medical terms into standard layman's English fairly well." Severus agreed.  "I have found that book very useful in the past."

Harry nodded, then bit into a ham and Swiss sandwich with pickles hungrily. 

After they had finished their lunch of soup and sandwiches, Severus was just starting to read over Harry's essay when there came a sudden tap on the window downstairs.

Hedwig squawked from below Harry, there is a post owl here with some mail.  I recognize him from school, his name is Magister.

"Severus, Hedwig says there's an owl outside from Hogwarts," Harry reported.

The professor rose.  "That is probably your OWL scores as well as your end of term grades."

He quickly descended the staircase, Harry following.

Harry felt butterflies cramping in his stomach as he wondered what kind of scores he had received upon his OWLS.  He prayed they were all A's at least or above, otherwise he would have a very annoyed guardian to deal with and his career options would be severely limited.  I don't think I flunked anything, but I'm kind of worried about my History of Magic, I did take it over, but does that lower my overall score or do they just throw out the previous incomplete score and give me the second one?

Severus had opened the window by then and let Magister, a large brown owl, perch upon his shoulder while removing the metal tube from around his ankle and thanking the bird with an owl treat.  "Safe journey home, friend."

Magister took off, calling softly, May the wind guard you, Warrior.  Good luck!

Severus shut the window, it was still gray and mucky out, though no longer raining.  He uncapped the scrollcase and out of it withdrew two rolled parchments, one with an official Ministry seal upon it and the other with the Hogwarts school crest.

"Hey, how come Magister brought my test results to you and not to me, like usual?" asked Harry, struggling to keep from biting his lip.

"Because as your legal guardian, your marks are supposed to be reviewed by me." Severus explained, before breaking the seal upon the OWLS.

For a long moment, Severus perused the parchment, making Harry shift restlessly from foot to foot.  Seconds became hours and Harry wondered frantically if he was going to be grounded for the rest of the summer or maybe even his life.  How bad is it? Oh Merlin, it must be awful, he's not saying anything, that must mean he's trying to keep from strangling me or something.  A trickle of sweat meandered down the back of his neck.

"Stop fretting.  You're not in trouble."

"I'm not?" Harry breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

"No.  You did better than I would have expected, given what Umbridge put you through before your exams. Take a look." He handed Harry the parchment, smirking slightly.

Harry took the parchment and scanned it.  He had received O's in Defense, Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration, and E's in everything else, including History of Magic.  A smile spread slowly across his face and he turned to his guardian and said, "I did okay, right?"

"Yes, I won't need to beat you this time," Severus teased, smirking.

"What?" Harry blinked.  "You're not serious . . .?"

"Do I really need to answer that?" The Potions Master reached out and mussed his ward's hair playfully.  "Silly fledgling, even if you failed everything, I would never beat you. Maybe ground you for life . . .In any case, the point's moot, since you did brilliantly and can have your pick of careers.  You can be an Auror, or a professor, anything you desire. You should be proud of yourself, Harry."

"Are you, sir?"

The uncertainty in the boy's tone touched Severus profoundly, for he well remembered how desperate he used to be for any sign of approval from his own father, and he answered, "I am, Harry.  Your marks would make any parent proud.  Well done." He clapped Harry on the back.  "Shall we see what marks you earned for the rest of the term?"

Harry nodded.  "I probably failed Defense though, considering who was teaching it."

"The Headmaster informed us that since Umbridge was not known for her impartiality, if you think your mark was unfair, he shall adjust it accordingly.  But mind, this is probably the only time in the history of the school that such will be done."

"Oh. Well, that's really great."

Severus handed Harry the second parchment, and Harry carefully broke the seal and looked at his marks.  His jaw dropped.  "You . . .gave me an O in potions?"

"Why are you so surprised? You have improved your potion-making tenfold since becoming my apprentice, Harry, and that reflects upon your work in my classroom.  That is the grade you have earned."

He was rewarded with yet another dazed smile, and then Harry looked down at his Defense grade and the smile dimmed. 

"What is it? What did the hag from hell give you?" demanded Snape.

"A . . .D."

"Miserable bitch! That will not stand, Harry.  Based on your OWL you should have earned at least an E, and I shall tell the Headmaster so.  All of us know that she detested you because you were an Animagus."

"Thanks, Severus.  I'm not really surprised at what she did.  I'll bet the only ones who got an O in her class were on the Inquisitorial Squad."

"That would be likely." He took the parchments back, stuffed them into the scrollcase, shrunk it, and tucked it in his pocket.  "Now that the drama of the end of term marks is over, might I suggest you return to your previous assignment? You still owe me another foot of parchment."

"Right.  I'll get on it, Sev.  Wouldn't want to wreck the good mood you're in." Harry said, then added slyly, "Considering it's probably the first time in sixteen years that you've ever praised a student."

"Impudent brat! Go on, get to work," his guardian mock-growled, making a shooing motion with one hand.  "I'll have you know I tell my Slytherins well done all the time.  It might be the first time a Gryffindor has earned a well done in a year or two given how some of you behave . . ."

Harry walked back up the stairs with a spring in his step that had not been there before.  Severus's words still echoed in his head and warmed him to the core of his being.  That was the first time any adult had ever told him that they were proud of him and he was surprised at how good those simple words made him feel.  He felt better than when he had won the House Cup for Gryffindor.  His aunt and uncle had never praised him for anything and had in fact punished him for getting good marks, because no one was ever allowed to outperform Dudley.  But at last he could perform up to his true potential and Severus's approval spread a warm glow through him, and he found he didn't even mind the rest of the punishment he still had to serve. 

* * * * * *

Severus finished up translating the notebook the next day, while Harry was reading a small primer about Ancient Runes Severus had summoned from his personal library.  Harry found the way Ancient Runes were formed and the meanings behind them fascinating, but even that exercise paled after awhile.  Enough so he felt the old feelings of restlessness stir within him, and he asked softly, "Sev, are you nearly done with the notebook?"

"Almost.  Why?  Has your attention span run out?"

"Sort of.  I'm starting to feel uneasy again, the way I did before.  Could we maybe go for a walk or . . .fly?" He threw his mentor a sharp pleading glance.  "Please?"

Severus set down his quill, it was on the tip of his tongue to say no, wait until later, but then he recalled that Harry was probably claustrophobic, and it was probably a good idea to take a break and allow the Animagus time to stretch his wings.  Besides, he was getting a crick in his neck from leaning over the desk for so long.

"All right, we shall go flying for . . .an hour or so."

Harry let out a whoop, then flushed, embarrassed at behaving like some over-eager seven-year-old.  "Thanks, Severus!  Can I change into Freedom now?"

"Yes." Severus waved a hand at his ward.

Harry quickly blurred into Freedom, and the young red-tailed hawk spread his wings and glided lazily about the room, his brown wings glinting in the sunlight. His tail feathers with their distinctive red plumage had not yet deepened to the crimson of an adult hawk, but were still a light red.

Freedom circled above Severus's head and trilled, C'mon, Sev, let's fly! You've been stuck inside this moldy old tomb long enough!

Severus was not as advanced as Harry in his understanding of hawk in human form, but he got the gist of it and shoved the incomplete journal aside.  "Very well, fledgling.  I shall join you."

He concentrated and the change slipped over him.  In minutes he had become a dark goshawk with a snowy breast and legs.

He took off, his larger wingspan and body dwarfing the smaller red-tail, to glide serenely next to his apprentice.  Come, Freedom, let us see what the weather is like.

Freedom chuffed and sped up, flying through the attic door and towards the fireplace.  Catch me if you can, slowpoke!  He challenged, then shot upwards and out of the chimney into the azure vault of the sky.

Slowpoke? Incorrigible fledgling! I'll show you who's slow! Warrior shrilled and within a few wingbeats, shot after the red-tail and through the chimney.  The sun dazzled his eyes for a moment, but the goshawk soon adjusted to the brightness and swiveled his head about, catching sight of Freedom flying in circles above the house.

Look sharp, fledgling!  Warrior shrieked, then flew straight at the other hawk.

But Freedom, though smaller than his goshawk mentor, was more aerodynamic, and managed to twist about and avoid Warrior's rush.  Ha! Getting slow in your old age, Warrior? He taunted, then took off, flying hard, nearly reaching his maximum speed of fifty-five miles per hour.

Old?!! Warrior shrieked indignantly.  Oh, just wait, you sly little jackdaw!  If you think you can get away with such blatant disrespect . . .He put on a burst of speed, nearly catching up to the impudent Freedom.

Freedom flipped his tail at him and slingshot around a large oak tree, weaving neatly in and out of the branches.  Hey Warrior, beat that!

But the young overconfident red-tail forgot that a goshawk  was bred to maneuver through a forest environment and was eminently suited to flying through and around tree branches.  Warrior swooped and slipped over the branches and caught the parading red-tail a quick buffet with his wing. 

You were saying, Master Insolence?

Freedom shot the elder hawk a disgruntled look.  Okay, so you're not that old.  But I can still dust you.  Race you to that tree over there, the pine at the end of the village.  Last one there is dragon dung.

You are really asking for a good lesson, fledgling mine, Warrior warned, then he abruptly shot forward and blurred into a mass of dark and light feathers. 

Freedom let out a sharp cry-No fair, sir!-and then tore off after the goshawk.

He used every scrap of jetstream and wind current he could to propel himself faster and catch up to the wily goshawk.  It was more difficult than he had thought, for Warrior could use broader thermals and was surprisingly fast.  Still, a red-tail was born to fly the open skies and Freedom pushed himself until he was flying level with the larger bird.

Kreee-eeaarr!

The eerie wild cry of a triumphant red-tail echoed through the air just before Freedom put on an extra burst of speed and tagged the pine with a talon scant inches before Warrior. 

Whoo-hoo! I rule!

Freedom commenced doing barrel rolls in victory, then hovered, delighted to have bested his mentor for once. 

Warrior flew circles and spirals next to him.  You got lucky, fledgling.  Let us have a real contest, shall we?

Like what?

Like who can tag the most prey in . . .an hour.  Warrior suggested.

Tag the prey? You mean touch it and not kill it?

Exactly.  The one with the most prey wins.

Uh, Warrior, I'm going to have to fly a little out of your sight.  Is that allowed?

Warrior chirruped in acknowledgement and the hunt was on.

Freedom circled the village lazily, his eyes ever alert for any kind of movement below.  So far, nothing stirred, not even a mouse.  The red-tail glided, flying high enough so no Muggle could see him.  Where is the prey? There has to be some mice or a grouse or a duck somewhere.

After about five minutes of searching, he finally spotted a mouse scurrying towards a shed.  He closed his wings and dove, a bolt of brown lightning, and the mouse trembled.  Freedom's talons, just grazed the mouse and then he soared away.

I got one, Warrior!

Then the eager young hawk began a new search.

Clever fledgling, the elder hawk acknowledged.  But not clever enough. Warrior flew into the section of the village where many children gathered and left crumbs and bits of their lunches for the finches, sparrows, and squirrels and rabbits.  They called it the green, and it was rather like a small wooded park.

There the goshawk found much prey to tag and set about doing so.

Fifteen minutes later Warrior was beating Freedom by four tags, and the red-tail was sulking slightly. 

How does he always know what to do?  He's such a bloody perfectionist. Freedom thought exasperatedly.

He immediately felt bad for thinking in a rather unkind way towards the one who had helped him so much, to whom he owed his peace of mind, and he concentrated on his hunting. 

He dove on a rabbit, touching it ever-so-gently with his talons, and he could swear the poor frightened thing heaved a sigh of relief.  It's okay, Easter bunny, I'm not hungry just yet, Freedom reassured the petrified rabbit before climbing into the sky again.

The rabbit, once it was sure the hawk was not going to change his mind, bolted for the safety of his burrow. 

Freedom trilled and continued searching.

By the time forty-five minutes had passed, Warrior had found a total of ten prey animals and tagged them, while Freedom had only found six.  But the red-tail was having a grand time flying and swooping and wasn't bothered any longer by the fact that Warrior was beating him.

He loved the sky, loved the feel of the wind on his feathers and the way it curled around him, like a mother embracing her child. The wind was playful now, it caressed and soothed rather than attempted to rip out his primaries, and he enjoyed slipping about on the thermals immensely.

The sun was warm on his back and cried his satisfaction aloud before stooping to tap an unsuspecting squirrel.  God, how I love flying! And flying as a hawk even beats flying with a broom. It's wicked, and I wish this damnable hunt for Horcruxes is over, so I can spend some time catching a few warm fronts and perfecting my diving skills. 

Suddenly he spotted a small black nose twitching and Freedom closed his wings and dove.

Only to be beaten to the punch by Warrior, who thundered by a flurry of brown and white, his height and momentum enough to catch the red-tail and breeze past him, tagging the squirrel with a precise tap on the tail.

The squirrel shuddered and squeaked, but Warrior was away before the little mammal could jerk his head up, and Freedom had to pull up sharply to avoid crashing into the squirrel.

The poor squirrel bolted for the safety of a tree then, leaving a disappointed chagrined red-tail behind.  Rats! Missed!

He climbed upward until he was hovering just above the trees, and called to Warrior, Is the hour up yet?

You have five more minutes, the other replied, then soared off to the left, where a small stand of trees grew at the edge of the village.  Eleven to six, Freedom.

It ain't over till it's over, Warrior! Freedom called back cheekily, though realistically he knew he would never be able to catch Warrior's score in five minutes.  But he would give it the old school try, anyhow.

He liked this game, it sharpened his hunting skills and precision attacks without harming anything.  It also burned off an awful lot of energy and allowed him to have fun with his usually stern mentor.  And Warrior certainly was enjoying himself as well, even if he wouldn't admit it.

By the time five minutes was up, Freedom was forced to admit defeat, on account of not being able to find no more prey in the area.  But he took his defeat with good grace and Warrior commended him for his poise and said he had done well, which made Freedom happier than if he had won the game.

Warrior nipped the other hawk playfully, then said, And now, my young apprentice, let us hunt, for I am famished.

For real?

Yes, for real. Warrior answered, then turned on a wingtip and soared towards the same wooded area he had found all the mice and rabbits in the first time.  Warrior allowed the younger raptor to take the lead and scope out the terrain and choose the target, a nice plump squirrel that looked too fat to move very fast.

That one, Warrior!

Good, go and get it!

Freedom didn't need any encouragement, he dove and snagged the squirrel, binding to the prey and then mantling to eat. 

Warrior trilled approval, and then flew off to catch his own lunch. 

Once the two hawks had dined, they engaged in some more playful maneuvers, playing tag across the sky until their wings burned from the exercise.  But it was a good kind of pain, and neither hawk minded in the slightest.

There's nothing quite like flying, is there, Warrior?

No, there isn't. Warrior agreed.  Flying relieves stress even better than boxing. I have always loved watching birds fly, but never did I think I would become one with them until I discovered my Animagus form.

And isn't it incredible?

Is is, fledgling, Warrior said.  Brooms have nothing on a pair of wings.

Freedom screeched loudly in agreement, then flew spirals over Gaunt House until Hedwig came out and crossly ordered the hawk to hush, she was trying to sleep.  Though who can sleep through the racket you're making, you inconsiderate nitwit, is beyond me.  Is it too much to ask that you be quiet?

Sorry, Hedwig, Freedom apologized.  I forgot you were taking a nap.

Humph! If you weren't so busy having fun, you'd remember that, scolded the irate owl.

Leave the fledgling be, Mistress Softfeather, Warrior chimed in abruptly.  He called Hedwig that because owls have soft feathers and can fly utterly silently because of them.  He didn't mean to disturb you.

Both owl and red-tail stared at him.

What is this, a conspiracy? hooted Hedwig.  You wouldn't be half so understanding if he woke YOU up, Warrior!

Warrior clicked his beak and did not answer, and Hedwig fluffed her feathers smugly.

She's got you there, sir, Freedom remarked. Then he turned to Hedwig.  I'm really sorry, Hedwig.  I just got a little carried away.

Oh, very well.  I forgive you, it's the nature of the young to annoy the pinfeathers out of their elders.  But please, for the love of Merlin, do play more quietly, Freedom!  Good afternoon! And with that, Hedwig glided over to the oak tree overlooking the tiny cottage and perched in it, tucking her head down and falling asleep.

Freedom eyed her mischievously.  Merlin, but she's almost as grouchy as you, Warrior.

Don't get cheeky, mister! Warrior warned, and gave the red-tail a nip on the head.

Ow! I was kidding! Can't you take a joke?

Warrior gave him a mild glare then flew down the chimney.

Once inside, he transformed back into Professor Snape and waited for Freedom to return.

Once the red-tail had become Harry again, Severus said, "Get a good night's sleep tonight, Harry, for we leave here at dawn tomorrow. It's time for us to seek the Forest of the Night."

"Will do, Sev.  I am kind of tired." Harry yawned.  Then he said impishly, "I had a good time flying with you today, Sev.  It was fun."

To his everlasting shock, Severus agreed.  "That was the most fun I have had since I was a child and your mother and I played together down at the park.  However, all good things must come to an end, child.  Now go take a shower and then we'll practice a bit of Occlumency before going to sleep.  It is rumored there are things in that wood that prey upon unwary minds, so it's best to be prepared."

"Whatever you say, sir," Harry said agreeably.  Then he headed off to the bathroom, summoning a towel and a change of clothes as he did so.

Severus watched him go and thought it had been a nice change to see the boy so relaxed and carefree and acting, for once, like a normal teenage Animagus.  It was too bad that innocence could not last, the Potions Master sighed. He very much feared that what was in that haunted wood would test them both greatly, but come what may, at least they would face it together.  One day, Harry, you will have a normal home and a normal life, or as normal as I can make it for you.  Severus vowed, brushing the hair from his eyes.  But until then, Mr. Potter, forewarned is forearmed.  May Merlin watch over us and grant us victory.

* * * * * *

The dawn had barely touched the tops of the trees when two hawks and one snowy owl flew away from the sleepy village of Little Hangleton, turning west and south towards Dover, and from there across the English Channel to France and the continent.  The next stage of their journey had begun.

Somewhere in Dover

Day 1:

Warrior circled over an open expanse of a rocky cliff and landed lightly upon the bare rock, his brilliant amber eyes scanning the crashing surf against the shore.  The Channel was not calm today, it frothed and snarled, and the goshawk could feel a drop in the barometric pressure, signaling a cold front and perhaps a storm as well.  Freedom and Hedwig landed next to him, and the red-tailed hawk fluffed up his feathers and said, Feels raw out here today.  And I don't like the look of the water, or the clouds.

He gazed upward, to where a large mass of cumulous clouds were scudding across a dreary gray sky, they had begun to break apart and some of them were looking ominous. 

Yes, there seems to be a storm brewing, Warrior agreed.

We ought to take shelter then, Hedwig suggested sensibly.

Where? This place is nothing but bare rock,  Freedom reported.

Hedwig spun her head halfway around and made a strange amused chuffing noise. So sure of that, are you, fledgling?

Freedom just stared at her, confused. 

I know where we can find shelter. The snowy owl told him.  Follow me.

The two hawks obeyed, for out of them all, the snowy owl was the most wise and experienced at finding hidey holes in strange territory, since a post owl's duty took her everywhere, and sometimes she could not fly in a storm and thus had to be able to find shelter when necessary. 

Hedwig glided smoothly on a thermal down the coastline and towards a small slit in one of the white cliffs.  Here.  A nice cozy ledge where we can perch out of the rain.

Sure enough, about four feet within the cliff was a depression with a medium width lip of rock inside the cliff wall, providing all the birds with a dry place to rest and wait out the coming storm.  No sooner had they perched upon the ledge, the first drops of rain began to fall and the wind to blow.  But underneath the overhang, the three raptors' body heat soon made the ledge warm and cozy.  Hedwig was in between Warrior and Freedom, as she was the largest of them, and she gently draped her wings about the hawks to conserve body heat.

Freedom was grateful for his owl's warmth and yet was shocked that Warrior didn't  object to Hedwig's motion, normally Warrior was not a cuddly type of bird.  But the goshawk did not say anything to the snowy owl, and seemed not to mind the white wing draped about him, though he did not snuggle against the owl the way Freedom did.

Outside the wind picked up, and the waves lashed the rocky cliffs, tossing spray upon them for a good ten or twenty feet.  It began to rain harder, though it did not penetrate the nook Hedwig had found. 

You picked a good spot, Hedwig.  How did you recall this was here? Warrior queried softly.

A post owl friend of mine, Grayfeather, has flown the Channel route often to deliver mail to wizards on the continent, and he showed me once where this was.  I never forget a resting place.  Snowy owl instinct. Hedwig replied, then she began to preen herself, her short golden beak ruffling and picking her breast feathers dexterously, redistributing the oils in them and waterproofing them as well as picking out any dirt or bent feathers.

The two hawks copied her example, for keeping their feathers in good condition was paramount to flightworthy status, and no bird out of its shell would ever neglect its feathers. 

While Freedom preened himself, he thought about the three hour flight they had just completed to get here, the winds had been good, and they had made good time, according to Warrior.  Warrior had refused to allow him to fly at full speed, saying it was not necessary to exhaust himself at the journey' s beginning.

You ought to learn to pace yourself, like a marathon runner, Warrior had told his younger companion, and Hedwig had agreed with that. 

They had hunted earlier, catching a large shrew and a small bevy of quail, which satisfied their hunger and meant they didn't need to hunt again until the morning.  Provided the weather held out, they would depart across the Channel in the morning.  Warrior estimated it would take about two hours to cross over into Normandy, if the winds were against them.  Otherwise they could make the crossing in perhaps forty-five minutes, given the speed of their Animagi forms and Hedwig had been spelled as a post owl to be able to fly faster than a normal owl when necessary.

Even so, the flight could be tricky due to the sea winds, and Warrior wished to get a good night's rest before beginning the flight.  Freedom nibbled inbetween his talons, making sure there was no grit inbetween his toes, which might create sores or infection if not removed promptly. 

Hedwig, finished with her own grooming, turned and began to gently preen Freedom's back and neck, which was an affectionate gesture, and very soothing.  The snowy owl trilled softly, as she would have to her own owlets, and Freedom turned to look at her, startled.

Huh? What are you doing, Hedwig?

The snowy blinked her large eyes and crooned, Relax, fledgling.  You are more weary than I, not being used to flying such a distance. Sleep, little hawk. She resumed her gentle preening.

Freedom wanted to protest her mothering, he was not a chick after all, but Hedwig's beak was extremely soothing and he felt himself relaxing against her in spite of himself.  Before he knew it, the combination of the shared warmth, grooming, and crooning had made his eyelids droop.  He dozed lightly at first, then gradually slipped into a full sleep.

Hedwig chuckled, then turned to look at her dark companion.  Tired, my friend?

A little, but not enough to require a lullaby, Warrior answered swiftly.

Hedwig's eyes whirled in silent amusement.  Oh? Then the great goshawk has never had a lullaby sung to him?

Warrior clicked his beak in annoyance.  Only when I was a small boy, Hedwig.  Since then, I am more than capable of making myself fall asleep.

Ah.  Well, that is more than the fledgling has ever had. Fear not, my friend, I shall not intrude upon your dignity. The snowy owl hissed softly, cast up a pellet, then settled down for the night, ducking her head into her shoulders and closing her eyes.

After a moment, Warrior followed suit, tucking his head beneath his wing and falling asleep. 

The three slept for several hours before the crack of lightning and boom of thunder awoke them. 

Freedom startled violently and nearly fell off his perch, the crack of thunder making him shudder.

Easy, Freedom, Warrior soothed, not wanting the young hawk to panic and fly out into the storm.  You're not alone.  Relax, fledgling, and sit tight.  The storm shall pass.

Freedom shivered, the ultrasonic booms making him even more nervous, as did the dark, which he detested.  Although, he reflected, it wasn't quite dark beneath the overhang, not with the lightning striking the water a few hundred yards away.  He huddled closer to Hedwig, who began to hum into his ear and preen him gently. He felt ashamed, he was fifteen and still petrified of the dark, like a toddler.  But he could not bring himself to move away from Hedwig. 

Sorry, he meeped, hanging his head.

There is no need to apologize, little hawk, Hedwig chirred.  Everyone is afraid of something.  I myself detest brilliant flashes of light, and almost never fly during thunderstorms.  Once I did so and was nearly blinded and since then I cannot stand bright lights.  She looked over at Warrior.  How about you, Master Grim and Stoic? What is it you fear?

Warrior did not reply for a moment.  Besides failing to keep my charge safe, do you mean? He thought.  At last he said, I will ask that you keep this in confidence. I . . . am afraid of werewolves.

At that, Freedom felt a little better.  So Warrior's secret fear was werewolves.  He wasn't surprised, given what had nearly happened to Snape in the Shrieking Shack.   To distract himself from the dark and the screeching of the wind, Freedom asked, Warrior, do professors at Hogwarts get paid well?

 Why do you ask, Freedom? Plan upon joining the faculty someday? asked Warrior, sounding quite amused.

I've been thinking about it, sir.  Since I got my OWLS.  I liked teaching last term.  So, what do they pay you?

Not nearly enough to put up with all the aggravation caused by you students, Warrior said bluntly.  If you're thinking about going into teaching for money, forget it.  A professor's salary is not conducive to a wealthy lifestyle. The goshawk said honestly.  If anything, we are overworked and underpaid for what we do. 

Why? That's not fair.

And since when has life been fair, apprentice of mine? Educators have never been paid well in the history of the world.  That is just how it is.  The few who do make a halfway decent wage are private tutors.  Magical boarding school teachers . . .are paid a pittance compared to say, your average Ministry official, or an Auror, or a second string Quidditch player.  We work long hours and are responsible for instructing all of you brats and hopefully pounding some useful information into your skulls that will enable you to go out and find a career that satisfies you and will most likely pay more than ours.  Were I to rely solely upon my teaching salary, I'd not be able to retire comfortably.  But I supplement my salary with the creation of potions from the International Potion Master's Institute and also with my hazardous duty pay as a spy for the Order.

Freedom blinked. You mean, you get paid for being a spy? But I thought you had to do it.

I made a promise, yes, but I go above and beyond that sometimes, and therefore I get paid for it.  Warrior replied simply.  I am not altruistic enough to refuse a few extra Galleons. Then he added, more encouragingly, Not to be discouraging, Freedom, but you should consider carefully in your choice of career, knowing all the facts.  Yes, being a professor can be extremely rewarding, but it is not a job for those who wish to make easy money or be lazy or cannot discipline children, or have no love for studying or knowledge of a particular subject.  A mediocre professor is sometimes worse than none at all, so do think about it very carefully. Doing a job you hate is one of the worst forms of torture, as bad as any Cruciatus Curse.

Then, being a Potions Master would mean a better salary than being a professor?

Yes, but in order to do research and create new potions, you need to have financial support and grants and a patron.  It is not cheap, though if you patent a new potion, you can make a substantial amount of Galleons, admitted the goshawk. 

Oh.  Then are you rich?

Warrior snorted.  Hardly.  My Galleons were spent upon more research and ingredients and could only be stretched so far.  Unlike many Masters, I have no true patron and no financial backing to speak of.  I exist solely upon my own merit.

Freedom cocked his head.  How come?

Because few will support a known former Death Eater.  Warrior answered, bitterness tinging his tone.  That single mistake has branded me forever.

But that's stupid! You're not a Death Eater, so who cares what you did as a kid?

They do, obviously.  Warrior ruffled his feathers and sighed.  I have made my peace with it long ago, fledgling, so quit going all Gryffindor indignant on my behalf, it won't change anything.

But Warrior, when Voldemort's dead at last, you can reveal yourself as a spy and then they'll eat their words. 

Will they? Somehow, Freedom, I doubt it.  But that is not important.  I am not cut out to be an elitist rich snob.  I am much more suited to being a borderline broke sarcastic curmudgeon, wouldn't you say?

You're not a curmudgeon, Warrior. Freedom said loyally. But then he ruined the moment by adding wickedly,  A sarcastic grumpy git with a weird sense of humor maybe . . . He screeched as Hedwig nipped him on the head.  Hey! What's up with you, Hedwig?

Hedwig gave him a frosty glare.  Show some respect for your guardian, youngling. You mouth off to him far too much for a youngster, boy or hawk.

So? It's the truth . . .

Nevertheless, it is disrespectful to speak so about a teacher.  After what he has done for you, he has earned the right to be a sarcastic git, by virtue of risk and experience.  Think you are the only one to ever have a teacher with such an attitude?  Well, think again! Most of mine were quite grumpy and had tempers to match, especially those who had been scouts and war correspondents for years, bringing messages covertly.  But I respected them and learned much from them. They were brave and canny and the best fliers, even if sometimes their tongues could strip the feathers from you.  Hedwig scolded. 

I wasn't all that serious, Hedwig.  I was teasing . . .mostly.

Ah, fledgling, it is the mostly part that I worry about.  Then the snowy owl began to preen him again.  Still, you are young, you will learn better.

Freedom shifted, trying to see Warrior.  Are you mad at me, Warrior? I didn't mean to insult you . . .not really . . .I mean, sometimes it's good that you're like that.

Indeed.  But you needn't point that out so boldly, fledgling, the older hawk said, a faint reproving note in his voice.  No matter how true it might be.  You need to develop some tact, Freedom.  Not a Gryffindor or a child's strong suit, but a skill you should try and practice.  Especially when dealing with older wizards.  They can be touchy. 

Freedom nodded.  Okay, I'll try.  Thanks for the tip, sir.

You are welcome.  Now, might I suggest we try and get some sleep?  Dawn will come soon and I would prefer to be well-rested for it.

With that, the goshawk fell asleep again, and after a moment, so did Freedom and Hedwig. 

The storm blew itself out somewhere around five o'clock AM, and the three awoke soon after to a sky that was still overcast and drizzling.

Day 2

Crossing the Channel

The three raptors went out to hunt before attempting the crossing, feasting well on a few nesting seagulls that were unobservant enough not to notice the birds of prey hovering upon their doorstep, so to speak.  Afterwards, they rested a bit and allowed the sky to lighten to a rosy gold before Hedwig said they might as well begin their flight. 

The rain might return at any time now, and I'd prefer it if we weren't en route when it begins again.

Me too. I hate the rain . . .flying in it, I mean. Freedom agreed.

Warrior bobbed his head slightly in agreement, then he spread his wings and launched himself skyward.  Fly in between us, Freedom.  That way if something should happen, one of us can help you, or vice versa.

Okay, the red-tail acquiesced without an argument for once, though he did roll his eyes because he thought himself too old to need a blasted babysitter . . .or was that hawksitter?

The wind was a bit rough, and Freedom found it difficult to stay on course, he was following Hedwig, who was staying a little ways ahead.  They were flying above the first cover of clouds, to avoid being noticed by people in boats or ferries down below.  The red-tail had to cup his wings in order to keep flying straight, allowing the wind passage below him, and he envied Hedwig her soft pinions and her greater flight control. 

Warrior too found it difficult to fly, but his wings were larger than Freedom's and could catch more air and his bigger body was not buffeted as much by the currents. He managed to stay on course with minimum corrections and also attempted to shield his smaller companion from the worst of the wind. 

About halfway across, the rain shifted and now blew onto them in a sharp summer shower, making it even more difficult to see, though Hedwig assured them her homing instinct could guide them in to land safely.  The snowy owl was a white blur against the deep gray backdrop of the sky.

Freedom flew onward doggedly, keeping his eyes trained upon Hedwig, trying his best to ignore the pelting cold rain and the sharpening wind that buffeted him, praying that they would make it to land before he exhausted himself, for it was hard to fly in a crosswind, and his feathers would not keep him dry forever.

Warrior cursed the sudden gusts of wind and rain that had turned what would have been a forty-five minute flight into something that would probably take at least an hour and a half now.  Bloody rain and bloody summer squalls.  Why couldn't this one stay out at sea until we were safely across, damn it? He flew slightly to the left and below Freedom, the three flying in a classic triangle formation.  Even through the rain, though, Warrior could still make out the faint horizon, where a green stripe cut through the gloom.  The coast of France was up ahead, Warrior told himself.  All they would need to do was to keep going.

Hedwig was more accustomed to flying in such weather and was not as bothered by the wind and rain.  She was worried about her companions, however, and kept glancing over to see how they were doing.  So far the two hawks looked as though they were going to make it, despite the rainy conditions.  The wind, thank the Wind God, was not strong enough to really harm them, and the owl concentrated upon her own flying.

The wind increased and below the waves were rushing and boiling like an over agitated potion in a cauldron, though none of the birds were looking down for more than a brief instant.  An hour passed and then an hour and a half and by the time the wind had slackened somewhat, all three birds were soaked almost to the down beneath their flight feathers and exhausted. 

But they managed to make it to land and as they skimmed over the trees, looking for a suitable spot to rest, Freedom though nothing had ever looked so inviting as the green and brown landscape.  Hedwig circled above the bustling seaport of Calais, and at last found a tall pine with plenty of sheltering branches to rest in.

The three landed and shook off the water, preening swiftly before falling into a bone-numbing sleep, too tired to even celebrate their victory at crossing the English Channel.

* * * * * *

Day Three

Calais, France:

The three travelers didn't awaken until the next morning, and by then Freedom had developed a case of chills and seemed to be running a fever.  However, he said nothing about his condition, as he had been trained to never complain about such things growing up with the Dursleys.  But once he had transformed back to Harry, his state was obvious, and Severus insisted they go into Calais and try and find a place to stay for the day and probably the night as well.  They were still wearing Muggle clothing and Severus was well aware they would be taken for tourists visiting from England. 

"Sev, I'm fine! I just need a Fever Reducer," Harry protested. "I'm not sick, honest.  I've just caught a chill." He muffled his mouth with his hand as he started to cough. His clothes felt damp and sticky.

His guardian frowned down at him and cast a quick Drying Charm.  The boy's clothes steamed as they dried, but even then Harry's cough did not abate.  "That chill could turn into something worse unless you get some rest," he began.

"I just slept all night and all day, Severus," his ward objected, for he detested being sick. 

"Harry, no arguments," Severus said firmly.  "I will not have you contract bronchitis or pneumonia by not taking care of you properly. Now, come on, I'm sure I can find a room for rent and hopefully they speak English here as well as French." Severus's French was terrible, he'd never been formally tutored in it and languages were not taught at Hogwarts, nor had they been at the primary school he'd attended before going away to Scotland.

Do as Professor Snape says, Harry, Hedwig hooted softly, nuzzling her wizard gently, she was perched upon his shoulder.  You don't want to be sick for weeks now do you?

"What about you? You're just going to hang around the bushes or whatever?" Harry grumped, sneezing.  Why did this have to happen now? I hate being sick.

I will be fine, I have been looking after myself for quite some time, Harry. Hedwig told him.  I shall meet up with you again if it is safe for me to find you.  Until then, listen to Severus and get better. Then she gave him a gentle nip on the ear before spreading her wings and flying off across a small field, hunting for mice.

Severus took his protesting charge firmly by the elbow and led him back into the town of Calais, leaving Hedwig to her hunt.

* * * * * *

An hour later, Harry was wearing a set of flannels and tucked into a rather small bed in an inn, which was the least expensive place Severus could find where the proprietor and most of the staff spoke English.  He had managed to purchase a room for two nights, having changed some of his pounds for francs at the local exchange, and now was intent on making his ward get well.

Harry was still shivering, so Severus warmed up the sheets with a quick spell, before casting a quick diagnostic and discovering that the boy had picked up a lung infection due to his flying in the storm, was exhausted, and running a very high 38.9 (103 F) fever.  He huddled under the covers, coughing.

Severus studied his ward for a moment before summoning his potions from his pack.  Harry's hair was mussed, as usual, sticking up like a hedgehog's, and his face was flushed and his green eyes glassy.  He looked like nothing so much as a little boy, angry because he had to stay in bed instead of playing outside.

Severus removed the vial of Fever Reducer from his potions kit and shook it to mix the contents.  Then he uncorked the vial and handed it to Harry.  "Here, take your medicine and don't give me an argument."

The boy flashed him a rather irritable glance, muttered, "I hate being sick and I hate taking potions," then took the vial of green potion and downed it in two swallows.  Then he grimaced. "Sev, can I have some water? That tastes awful."

"Yes." Severus had purchased a large bottle of spring water for that reason and now he poured some in one of their mugs and handed it to Harry.

Harry gulped the water eagerly, until Severus admonished him to slow down and said, "You have two more drafts to take, one to clear up that infection in your lungs and another to quiet that cough so you can sleep."

Harry sighed, he was really feeling horrid now, all stuffy and his chest was aching every time he breathed and coughed.  "'Kay, Sev.  Where are they?"

"Right here." The Potions Master handed him the Cough Elixir first, and Harry swallowed that one obediently, it tasted kind of like cherries. 

The Lung Decongestion Draft was utterly vile, and Harry gagged twice before he finally managed to get it down by holding his nose and swallowing rapidly. "Ugh! That was so gross! Now I feel like I'm going to puke."

"Wash the taste away with water," Severus advised.

Harry did, wiping his mouth after with a handkerchief and asking, "Why does it have to be so thick and nasty tasting, like swamp water?"

"The thick consistency is so it can coat your throat better to soothe it and as for the taste, most medicinal potions use ingredients that are extracts from bitter or sour tasting plants, but they are the most effective.  You know that, Harry. Now lie down and try to sleep."

Harry slid down onto the pillow, but the bed was not good quality, the mattress was thin and lumpy and poked him a bit.  Still, he'd slept on worse, and knew not to whine.  He could feel the potions start to work already, breaking up the congestion in his chest. 

Severus pulled over a chair and took out a book and began to peruse it leisurely, obviously determined to remain beside Harry until he was better. 

The man's protective attitude confused the boy, for he was not used to such concern from any adult.  Before, whenever he had been sick, he had to take care of himself and often had managed to do chores while being so sick he could barely keep his eyes open.  Yet somehow he had always managed to get well.  Thus he felt compelled to apologize for being so much trouble.  "I'm sorry, Severus, for being such a . . .problem.  I don't mean to delay our trip, I'll try and get better as quickly as I can."

Severus looked up from his book.  "Harry, why are you apologizing for something you can't help? It's not your fault you became ill.  And there is no set timetable for us to reach the forest, so you are not delaying anything."

"I am too, you're just being nice and not saying so," he argued.

"Wrong.  Rest assured, if you were dawdling, I would say something.  But being sick is not something you can control and the most important thing right now is for you to get better." He reached out and felt Harry's forehead with the back of his hand.  "Still warm. Turn over and get some rest," he ordered gruffly, pulling off the boy's glasses. 

Harry obeyed, muttering another, "Sorry," under his breath.

Or at least he thought it was under his breath until Severus exclaimed, "Will you quit bloody apologizing? Why do you feel so guilty that you're sick?  People fall ill all the time."

"I know but . . .when I was little, my aunt and uncle used to say that I was nothing but a worthless brat and they didn't want to waste any time or money on me, and whenever I was sick, they just . . .complained and said I was a burden . . .and once . . ." Harry trailed off and coughed softly.

"And once?"

"Once Uncle Vernon said that if I were a dog . . .he'd . . .take me out back and put a bullet in my brain, then he wouldn't have to waste money on medicine for me." Harry finished.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Severus's voice was a low rasp of fury.

Harry peeked up at his guardian and shivered involuntarily.

Severus's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists and two spots stood out on his cheeks as testament to the rage that possessed him.  But his eyes were the worst, black coals that burned with a terrible anger. 

Harry shrank back and cringed, until the man whispered, "Foolish child, I am not angry at you.  I am angry that you had to endure such . . .people . . .and their treatment for so long.  Albus had better have settled with them good, otherwise I shall pay them a little visit and leave them with a lesson they will not soon forget! How old were you when he said that, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Five or six, I think."

"Five or six," Severus repeated, feeling sickened.  "They ought to be brought up on charges and put away for life.  Or dropped off a cliff." His mouth tightened.  Even I never was told such cruel things, bad as my childhood was, I still had my mother to take care of me when I was sick and to shield me somewhat from my asinine bastard father.  But not Harry.  Albus told me he had Arabella Fig watching the house, but she never actually went in there to see what went on, or looked beyond the end of her nose. The Potions Master thought scathingly.  He recalled Harry admitting that the neighbors used to see him doing gardening work all the time about the property, but never questioned it.  Fools, not to notice that the boy was being treated more like a slave than a relation.  What had Arabella been watching, her cats snoozing or running about high on catnip instead of learning the truth about Harry Potter and his relatives?   Dumbledore should have come and checked up on the boy himself as well, instead of assuming that the ties of blood would be enough to make a loving family.

Harry found he was somewhat comforted by his mentor, despite the man's black scowl that could have stripped all the fat from Uncle Vernon's beefy frame in two seconds flat.  True, Severus was terrifying when he was furious, but not when the fury was on one's own behalf, like now.  Harry was suddenly very very glad he was not a Dursley.  He turned over on his side and tried to sleep. 

He was just beginning to drift away into that half-awake state between dreams and reality when he felt a light touch on his hair and lean fingers combing through it gently. He smiled lopsidedly, his face half-buried in the pillow, and closed his eyes then. 

"Sleep, my Freedom." A silky voice floated through the air, reassuring him that all would be well. 

Nothing will hurt me so long as Severus is here.  Nothing ever.

An instant later he was asleep.

Severus remained gently running his fingers through Harry's hair for an instant longer before drawing away, tucking the covers up around the skinny shoulders and then settling back down in the chair he had vacated.  He picked up his book but found he had lost interest in reading about nightblooming flowers and such.

He was seething that the miserable Muggles had been allowed to get away with such despicable treatment for so long, and he sincerely hoped that Albus had shown them the error of their ways, because if not, he would make sure they learned their lesson, and he was not going to be gentle about it.  Telling the boy if he were a dog, he'd take him out and shoot him! That sodding great lump of suet! I ought to boil him in his own fat, like a pig! It's a miracle the child survived as long as he did there, without proper food or medical care.  When he became sick before, his magic must have acted to cure him.  It's the only explanation how he could have lived through such neglect. 

And as Severus knew from experience, neglect was sometimes worse than if someone were beating on you every day.  At least a beating required interaction between two people, and some kind of acknowledgement of your existence, even if it bloody hurt like hell.  But will neglect made you feel as if you were invisible, not even alive, and like you didn't matter at all.  Oh, yes, Severus knew, for that was how his father had treated him after Eileen had died and he had discovered that his son was not willing to be his punching bag anymore.  Once Severus had stood up and threatened to hex his father's hands off, and used an Illusion Charm as an impetus, Tobias had resorted to pretending Severus didn't exist, and never acknowledged his son's presence.  Strangely enough, that had hurt more than his father's fists, though Severus had never really sat down and analyzed his feelings during that time, to this day he still felt the sharp pangs of rejection from the man who should have loved and protected him.

But that will not be the case now.  Not now, while I have legal custody of you, Harry James Potter.  That much I can and will vow.  Those days are done and shall never return, this I promise with all that I am.

He closed his eyes and began to do meditative breathing to bring his anger back under control.  After five minutes he opened them and began to read, though he did look up every once in awhile to make sure Harry was sleeping peacefully.

* * * * * *

   The potions wore off sometime in the evening, and Harry woke feeling achy, hot, and congested, though not as bad as before he had taken the potions.  He looked over at the chair next to his bed and found it empty, to his surprise.  But then he glanced across the room to the other bed and saw Severus sleeping there.  Harry decided he didn't need to wake the professor and hopped out of bed to go use the bathroom.  But when he returned, he found Severus awake and waiting with the next round of potions.

"You're awake? But you were asleep just a minute ago!" exclaimed Harry. 

"I'm a very light sleeper.  Back to bed, Mr. Potter." Severus pointed and waited until Harry had complied before asking, "How do you feel?"

"The truth?"

"Of course.  I won't be able to treat you properly unless you are honest with me."

"Then I feel bloody awful.  But better than before.  Does that make any sense?"

"Actually, it does, in a strange way." Severus ran his wand over him.  "You still have a fever.  But the congestion in your lungs is better." He handed Harry the next round of potions.

Harry made a disgusted face, but managed to take them all, even the dreaded Decongestion one.  After he had drunk his water, he looked at his mentor and said, "Thanks for everything, Severus."

The professor looked uncomfortable. "There is no need to thank me, Harry.  I am just doing what any good guardian or parent would do."

"Maybe, but . . .you're the first one who's ever done anything like this for me and I just . . .want you to know that I . . .appreciate it."  Harry said awkwardly.  

Severus gave a short nod, not wanting to get all maudlin about something he saw as a basic duty of any caregiver. "Would you like some soup? I think you ought to eat and then sleep."

So Harry had some of Twixie's delicious creamy chicken and wild rice soup and crackers, then went willingly back to sleep, since he was now tired. 

As the first stars of evening came out, there was a soft hooting outside the small casement window.  Severus went to the window and opened it to admit Hedwig, who flew immediately to her wizard and perched upon the headboard.  Severus nearly smiled, recalling Freedom doing the same thing when he was recovering from the Cruciatus Curse. 

"He woke a little while ago and ate and took some more potions," Severus informed the owl, who was looking at him questioningly.  "He should be well by tomorrow at the earliest, and we'll fly a bit slower after this for a few days, let him regain his strength."

Hedwig dipped her head in acknowledgement, then tucked her head and fell asleep, leaving Severus to eat his supper and then return to sleep as well.  

* * * * * * *

During the night, Harry's fever spiked, despite the Fever Reeducer already in his system, and he woke Severus from a sound sleep with his whimpering and thrashing about.  The Potions Master was on his feet in two seconds, and at Harry's side in one.  He did not need a diagnostic spell to tell him what was happening, however, he could see quite plainly that his ward's fever was dangerously high. 

Hedwig made a soft cry of distress and stared worriedly down at her chosen wizard.

"I know.  He needs an Extra Strength Fever Reducer and a cool bath," Severus told Hedwig matter-of-factly. 

He removed the vial of potion from his kit and proceeded to spell the potion directly into Harry's stomach.  That done, he conjured a rather large metal bathtub and filled it with cool water using a Water Calling Charm.  Harry was still whimpering and fighting some formless inner phantom when Severus banished his pajamas and picked him up and lowered him into the tub.

In his delirium, Harry struggled, but Severus held him firmly, saying softly yet authoritatively, "Harry, be still! It's Severus, you've got a bad fever, now relax and let me help you. Lie here in the water until I tell you to get up.  Lie still!"

Trained to obey an authoritative tone since babyhood, even subconsciously, Harry quit struggling and went still as Snape had commanded.  His head lolled back against Severus's chest, and Snape carefully removed his hands from Harry's shoulders and propped himself up behind the boy, mentally ticking off the fifteen minutes Harry needed to spend in the cool water.

Harry's eyes opened, but he wasn't really seeing anything, his mind was still back within the realm of dreams.  "Cold . . .so cold . . .don't leave me outside, Aunt ‘Tunia . . .it's snowing . . ." his voice was shrill, like the voice of a small boy, and Severus knew he was reliving parts of his life with the Dursleys.  "I'll be good . . ."

"Hush, child.  It's all right.  You're not outside, you're with me," his guardian murmured into one ear.  "You're safe with me, but you must stay in the water for a while longer."

"Why?"

"It'll help take away your fever."

"I'm not bad?"

"No, not at all."

He smiled a bit then.  "I didn't break Dudley's plastic snow shovel, he did that when he hit me with it.  It broke apart when it hit my shoulder."

"I would imagine it would," Severus responded in that calm tone, though inside he was snarling imprecations upon the Dursleys unto the tenth generation. 

"Then he knocked me down and put snow down my shirt and pants, and it was so cold . . .so cold . . .Please, Aunt let me in . . .I don't want to be a st-statistic . . .Please . . ."

As Harry continued to beg for Petunia to let him inside, Severus swore silently and whispered reassurances into his ward's ear, calming the frightened child somewhat.  When the fifteen minutes had gone by, he removed Harry from the water, dried him with a flick of a wand, re-dressed him, and gave him a second dose of the Extra Strength Fever Reducer before tucking him back in bed. 

"There! Your fever is starting to go down," Severus said, pleased and relieved.  He went to sit again in the chair nearby, only to discover that Harry had a death grip on his wrist and he could not move.  "Harry . . .Potter . . .for the love of Merlin . . ."

"Don't go . . .Please . . ."

That stopped him from trying to withdraw his wrist and made him sit on the edge of the bed instead.  "Oh, very well.  I shall stay, never fear," he grumbled, but the words were mere bluster, Harry's plea had caught him fast, like a fly in amber, and he could no more force the boy to relinquish his wrist than he could cut off his own arm. 

Severus Snape, sarcastic dungeon bat, stayed beside his ward all the rest of the night till the dawn, when Harry's fever broke at last, and only then did he manage to get Harry to pry his fingers off and seek his own bed.

"Keep watch, Hedwig," he mumbled before tumbling headlong into sleep's gray realm.

* * * * * *

Day Four

Leaving Calais:

 By the next morning, Harry was feeling very chipper, compared to the horrid mess he had been yesterday.  But Severus insisted he rest a full day before they set out again, and no amount of arguing could change his mind.  He brought Harry fresh croissants with sweet butter and strawberry jam for breakfast, and fresh crusty French bread, baguettes the locals called them, spread with brie cheese and smoked ham for lunch plus sweet grapes and melon.  Everything was delicious. 

"I have a surprise for you for dinner," Severus said as they ate lunch, munching upon a grape and sipping the local version of a champagne spritzer. 

"Like what?"

"A specialty dish they make here which I have eaten before," answered his mentor.  "This may be the only time we will be eating like this for a good long time, so I figured we might as well eat some of the local cuisine."

"What is it?"

"You'll find out when you eat it," Snape said mysteriously. 

"What's all the mystery?"

"You'll see."

They went to a small local restaurant, and Severus ordered for them in French.  Harry, whose only bit of French consisted of "bonjour" and "no parle vou Francais" didn't catch a word of what his mentor said and so was still stumped when the dinner arrived. 

It smelled heavenly though.  There was a fresh salad plus more warm baguettes and the main course was spaghetti with some kind of heavenly garlic butter sauce and shrimp and some kind of odd-looking shells over it.  Harry inhaled and he began to salivate like Pavlov's dog.

"Oh, man, Sev, what is this? It smells great!"

"It does, doesn't it?" Severus said with a smirk.  "Turn that shell over and stick the tiny fork inside it and get out the meat inside of it," he said demonstrating with his own meal.  Then he popped the meat into his mouth and chewed appreciatively.  "Delicious."

Harry followed suit, and found that his mentor was correct.  The meat inside the spiral shells was delicious, tasting of garlic, butter, and similar to steak in an odd way.  "This is some kind of shellfish, right?" Harry guessed, eating another smothered in spaghetti. 

Severus did not answer, he was too busy enjoying his own dinner. 

After they had finished the meal, and Severus had ordered coffee for himself and a hot cocoa and some kind of chocolate torte for Harry, his ward raised an eyebrow, and said, "Okay, Sev.  Tell me, just what was I eating for dinner? I recognized the shrimp and the spaghetti, but what kind of seafood was in the shells there?"

"It wasn't seafood.  It was escargot." Severus replied.

"Escargot? What the hell's that?"

"Are you sure you wish to know?"

"Yeah. C'mon, Severus! The suspense is giving me indigestion."

Severus gave in then.  "Escargot is a local dish, Harry.   They're not seafood, they're snails."

"Snails? I was eating snails?"

"Yes.  And you liked them," Severus reminded him swiftly, hoping the boy wasn't going to vomit up his supper. 

But Harry was not fazed.  "Oh. They didn't taste gross.  They were really good." He looked up at his teacher and flashed him a Snape smirk.  "You thought I'd be totally sickened, didn't you?"

"Most people are."

Harry snickered.  "You forgot, Mr. Brilliance, that as Freedom I eat raw rabbit and bugs and stuff.  So what's a snail dipped in garlic and butter? Least it's cooked."

And for once, Severus Snape had nothing to say.

Later on that night, Freedom, Warrior, and Hedwig left the French seaport and flew onward across southern France, heading towards Italy, and from there they would cross over into Bulgaria and thence into Romania, home of the famous Transylvania vampire, Dracula, and also the legendary Forest of the Night, where the next Horcrux was hidden. 

It would take them five days to reach their goal, and within the forest a great secret would be revealed, but unbeknownst to them, old enemies were stirring, and they were not of a mind to let the hunting hawks go unchallenged.

Malfoy Manor

Wiltshire:

"Do you not find the dinner to your liking, Bella?" inquired Narcissa softly, raising a questioning eyebrow at her elder sister, who was making a disgusted face at the main course of salt and pepper prawns on a bed of jasmine rice with asparagus.  "If so, I can have my house elf serve something else.  No trouble."

Bellatrix toyed with her rice, scowling.  "I am not particularly hungry, Cissy.  Though it does look rather tempting."

The three were having a rather late supper, celebrating Lucius' recovery from his injury.  Draco had gone to stay with Goyle for a week and so the three adults were free to discuss Death Eater business, plots, and machinations.  For though their lord had been defeated, the three still had hopes that he might return someday, and Bellatrix especially had vowed to do all in her power to bring him back.  She worshipped Voldemort with the same kind of obsessive devotion a fanatic did, she had dedicated her being to pleasing him and now that he was gone she was adrift, without purpose, and very angry.

Then too, she could not recall what had happened to her two weeks ago, except that Narcissa had returned from shopping to find her under some kind of curse that forced her to relive all the dark magic she had ever practiced upon others, torturing her with the guilt of her crimes.  Whoever had cast the curse had left her bound to a chair and the room silenced as well.  Narcissa and Lucius working together had managed to remove the curse after a week, but Bellatrix still felt unaccustomed twinges of guilt and there were holes in her memory as well. 

Lucius suspected an Auror had been working solo and had found his way to the manor and tried to get some answers from Bellatrix about the role she had played with the Death Eaters or something, perhaps gain a confession about the spell she had cast upon her cousin Sirius.  For Sirius had been cleared of all charges and was now resting at his ancestral home, according to the latest article in The Daily Prophet.  Bellatrix had damn near thrown a hissy fit when she had read the article, cursing her cousin to hell and back and wondering how they had managed to reverse the curse to a spell she had invented.  Hence Lucius's suspicion of a secret Auror. 

"Bella, are you still tormenting yourself over your lost memories?" inquired her younger sister, she was dressed in a deep blue pantsuit with matching robes and her hair put up in a fashionable twist.  "You know it's not good to brood over things you can't change."

"If either of you were halfway competent at brewing Memory Restoratives, I'd not be missing my memories!" spat Bellatrix irately.  She was wearing a crimson dress with pointed sleeves and her nails were lacquered to match. 

"Unfair, Bella," Lucius reprimanded.  "You know Memory Restoratives sometimes don't work, especially if the one who cast the Memory Charm was an expert on mind magic.  The original purpose of a Memory Restorative was to fix memories lost due to an accident, like a concussion, or an illness, like dementia.  There's no real counter to a Memory Charm."

"Useless, the lot of you! If my lord were here now, he would be able to help me!" she cried passionately.  "He would not rest until the culprit was found and his heart roasting on a spit in the fireplace!"

Lucius bit back a groan and rubbed his temples.  Bellatrix's attitude was beginning to give him a migraine.  "Well, Bella, our master is not here and you must simply make do," he snapped.

"Headache, darling?" Narcissa asked, concerned. 

"I'm all right.  No need to worry, dear," said Lucius quickly, for any more of his wife's fussing and he would go mad.  His Healer had fixed him up with a special glass eye, a magical one carved from a cat's eye chrysoberyl that not only allowed him to see normally, but also in the dark like a cat would.  It could also enchant a person with a Mesmerize Charm.  The one drawback to his magical orb was that it could not be removed, unlike Mad-Eye Moody's eye, Lucius's was affixed permanently to his face.

"Worry about me, not him!  He's not the one with holes in his memory!" Bella trix whined petulantly. 

Lucius gritted his teeth and wished he could give Bella a more permanent hole in her head.  He had never cared for his sister-in-law, he found her far too demanding, opinionated, and annoying-a first class bitch if he ever saw one, and she had become even more impossible since the death of their master.  He reached for his glass of white wine and tossed it back.  Sometimes the only recourse to surviving an evening with Bellatrix was to drink heavily. 

"I'm worried about both of you," Narcissa said diplomatically.  She slowly sipped her chilled melon breezer and said, "If you wish to find out who cast the Guilt Charm upon you and Obliviated you, perhaps a Retrograde Charm might help?"

"What's that?"

"A spell that allows you to view past events up to three weeks before.  Historians use it to make sure of certain facts when they are writing their history scrolls." Narcissa answered.  "When I worked as a scribe for the British Wizarding National Library, I had to learn that spell.  I have never cast it, but I do know it works.  The historians and librarians used it all the time."

"Is it like a timeturner?" Lucius queried.

"No.  You do not actually go back in time, merely view events in the past.  Perhaps you would like me to cast that, Bella?"

"What sort of question is that, Cissy?" growled the volatile witch. She threw her hands up in the air.  "Honestly, how dense can you get? Why didn't it occur to you to cast that spell a week ago, instead of waiting a week and watching me struggle to recall anything?"

Narcissa's mouth tightened and temper shone in her china-blue eyes.  "Mind your attitude, Bella! I'm not one of your servants, to terrorize with your temper.  In case you hadn't noticed, I've been a tad bit busy with taking care of my husband, spending a little bit of time with my son, and trying to misdirect the Ministry officials who are suspicious of both me, Lucius, and you.  In case you've forgotten, elder sister dear, you are under suspicion of being a dark witch after that debacle at the Ministry.  Not to mention, I've also had to figure out the countercurse to that Guilt Charm or whatever it was.  I think you should be thanking me instead of harping at me!"

Bellatrix sneered.  "Always with the excuses, Cissy! You're pathetic! I would have figured out who had hexed you weeks ago instead of being so complacent.  But then again, I was always the one with the most backbone out of all of us."

Narcissa gasped in outrage.  "Listen, you razor-tongued cousin to a viper!  If all you're going to do is insult me, then you can figure out your own time viewing spell.  Otherwise , remember that you are a guest in my home and try and be a little polite.  Normally, we don't use that kind of charm upon people, only objects, to see where they have been and what they were used for.  I have no idea how well it will work upon a person.  I have never cast it."

"I'm willing to take the risk.  Just do it, Narcissa." Bellatrix said, then added through gritted teeth, "Please."

Narcissa sighed.  She disliked how her sister treated her, but when all was said and done, Bellatrix was family, and the only living sister that still talked with her since her other sister Andromeda had run off and married Muggle Ted Tonks.  She didn't like what had happened with Bellatrix and wanted to see her somewhat content, if only to keep peace within Malfoy Manor.  Bellatrix as she was now was like living with a harpy.

"Very well.  Why don't we retire to my workroom and I can begin a casting there, just to make sure the spell is one that I can make work properly?" Narcissa suggested.

"As you will. O Cautious One," Bellatrix grumbled, standing up and following Narcissa downstairs to the basement level where she had her experimental workroom where she tried out new spells.  The room was heavily warded in case a spell happened to go wrong with Repel Magic Charms outside of the room.  That way Narcissa didn't need to worry about destroying her home with a miscast spell.

The two witches entered the workroom, which was a round room of interlocking stone blocks and a bare stone floor with a pentacle etched into the center.  It was lit with several Lumos globes hanging suspended in midair and a single chair was leaning against the wall, but the room was otherwise devoid of trappings and accoutrements. 

Bellatrix sniffed and walked into the center of the pentacle, Narcissa closed the door behind her and sealed it with a word, then turned to her sister, her wand out.

* * * * * *

Ten minutes later, the sister emerged, and made their way back to the dining room, which was where Bellatrix had been when the curse had been cast.  Narcissa was confident she could recreate what had occurred that day in the room, and she had managed for once to impress Bella with her accurate spellcasting.

To their surprise, they found Lucius talking to  Fenrir Greyback in the drawing room, Narcissa having been told by Skippy where to find him so she could inform him she was about to cast the Past Viewing Enchantment.  Both women stiffened upon seeing the tall rangy werewolf. 

Greyback was a follower of Voldemort from the beginning, but his was a purely business relationship-he was Voldemort's man because the dark wizard provided him with plenty of children to infect with his bite and terror to create and feed off of, not because he believed in the unholy cause.  As a human, he was large and menacing, with pointed teeth and long yellowed nails and hairy hands.  He had matted and tangled gray hair and a beard and his eyes were just this side of a rabid animal's.  He was universally feared as the most dangerous werewolf in Britain and perhaps even in Europe as well. 

He was also, to Narcissa's disgust, a frequent visitor to Malfoy Manor.  His uncouth manners grated upon her and he gave off the stench of unwashed dog . . .or wolf . . .plus he scratched himself in unmentionable places in public without regard for common decency and delighted in killing anything even children.  Greyback was the epitome of why people hated werewolves. 

"Lucius, I wished to tell you that I am ready to view the events of that afternoon with Bella," Narcissa told her husband tightly. 

Lucius glanced up and smiled.  "Wonderful.  Tell me how it goes, I need to brief Greyback for an assignment."

"Good evening, lovely Lady Cissy," Greyback leered at her, sketching a mock bow.

Narcissa gave him a polite nod.  His black robe was tight across his shoulders and looked as if it might tear at any sudden movement.  No doubt he enjoys ripping apart his clothes, the savage beast!  I wish he were not allowed to come here. I feel as if Lucius has invited a monster into our home.

"Come along, Narcissa," Bellatrix ordered, and dragged her sister back to the dining room. "Disgusting beast! How Lucius can bear to be near him is the greatest mystery.  Why is he here?"

"I don't know.  Lucius probably wants him to teach some Auror or supporter of the Light a lesson."

"Or get rid of them," Bellatrix pointed out.  She went to sit in the same chair she had been in that fateful afternoon. 

"Okay, Bella.  Relax. Close your eyes." Narcissa ordered.  Then she pointed her wand at her sister and chanted, "Ostendo preteritus vices!"

Immediately, a white mist twined about Bellatrix.  An instant later it departed and now Narcissa could watch as Bellatrix had afternoon tea alone, for she had been shopping that day and Lucius confined to his bed.

 The witch ate until she was full, then pushed her plate aside and dabbed her lips with a napkin.  Then she straightened and sipped her tea.  She started violently, knocking over the cup and saucer. "Bloody hell, Snape!" she hissed! "Must you always prowl like a blasted ghost?"

"You're in a fine mood, Bella," he drawled, his wand slipping into his hand from inside his sleeve.

"Shut your gob, Snape! Our master is dead and all of you should be down on your knees praying to the Black God to restore him! Instead you all just . . .worry about your own bleeding skins, like my miserable brother-in-law here! He shoved me into his damn secret room and locked me in! I wanted to blast those pompous Ministry idiots, but no, I had to keep a low profile! Arse-licking miserable piece of shit!" She threw the teacup against the wall.

It shattered and Severus snorted.

"Temper, temper. I don't think Narcissa would be pleased if you destroyed her things."

Bellatrix spat. "That for Cissy and her wishes. I do as I please, I'm her elder, and the more loyal and faithful Death Eater. My lord knew that. He rewarded me for it!" Her eyes were glazed with a fierce obsessive love and a tinge of madness.

"In what way, Bella?"

"In ways that you can only imagine," she purred, running one long fingernail down her cheekbone. "Why are you here, Snape? Lucius call you to moan over his lost looks, like the whimpering tosser he is?"

"That was part of my reason for visiting," Snape allowed. "The other reason was because I wished to speak with you."

"What about?"

"I heard that you have been experimenting with . . .shall we say . . .new spells that affect the mind. That is a particular area of interest of mine. I am curious . . .what have you discovered? There are rumors that you supposedly hexed the mutt Black with a curse of madness."

Bellatrix threw back her head and laughed. "Ha! I should have known! You always come poking your crooked nose around when something new comes up. Can't bear to have someone else steal your brilliance, eh, Snape?" She clucked her tongue at him. "Well, it so happens that rumors are correct. I did hex my no-good cousin with something I invented-the Curse of the Maenads. You do know what that refers to, don't you, Snape?"

"The maenads were female followers of the Greek god Dionysus, known for their religious frenzy and insanity, they were best known for their uncontrolled emotional outbusts which led to drunkenness, ripping apart animals and people to shreds, and insatiable sexual urges." Severus recited.

Bellatrix gave him a disgusted look. "Humph! You sound like a bloody walking encyclopedia, Snape. Yes, that's why I called my little spell after them." She sighed dreamily. "I used to wish I could be one of them when I was a girl. Mother was always so prim and proper and so bloody boring." She waved a hand in dismissal. "Anyhow, I've been experimenting for awhile now with spells of that nature, mostly on animals . . .to see how far I could hurt them before the pain became too much and they snapped. . .It was so . . .invigorating . . ." She licked her lips.

"Then I had a glorious idea, a curse to destroy an Animagus without killing him, a slow death. I hate Animagi . . .they are lower than Mudbloods, tainted by the beast within. Thus, my spell." She grinned like a little girl who had just learned how to wave a wand and cast Lumos. "My sweet lord was very pleased with me, he said I was a brilliant inventor."

"How thrilling. I'm sure that memory warms you when you think of him." Severus said, sounding bored. "Is there a chance that Black could come out of the curse? Can it be dispelled?"

"No. Not unless you know the countercharm," Bella chuckled, her eyes glowing wickedly. "And any attempts to dispel the curse results in an increased level of madness over time. Isn't it perfectly . . .delicious? You know, I have heard rumors that Harry Potter is an Animagus. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Mmm. . . what would it be like if I cast that on the Potter brat?" she mused. "How would it feel to see itty-bitty Potter, the little bastard who killed my Sweet Tom, writhing in agony, frothing at the mouth, trapped in his own mind, a prisoner of his own nightmares? Would that not be something to see, Snape? Can you imagine?"

"No. Because I, unlike you, am not a sick perverted bitch!" he spat, and then he gestured and froze her where she sat. She stared up at him, mute, and he growled, "I am tired of enduring your wicked rants and your sadistic musings, Bella. You think Animagi are beasts? You are the beast, one that should have put down years ago, for in your madness you slaughter and destroy without remorse." He loomed over her, pinning her with his frigid furious stare. "You will not harm Potter, not while I still breathe. And I will have the countercurse for your little spell. Now." He placed the tip of his wand against her head and hissed, "Legilimens!"

Her eyes went wide in revulsion and terror, but he slipped into her mind effortlessly. . . .

Narcissa gasped, but she did not break her focus, and continued watching as Snape ripped the knowledge of the countercurse from Bellatrix's mind. He also cast the Guilt Curse upon her sister and bound her to the chair and Silenced the room and last but not least . . .Obliviated her memories. 

Narcissa ended the spell when Snape left the room, visibly shaken with what she had learned. She put a hand to her head.  "I can't  believe it . . ."

"Can't believe what? Who did it?" Bellatrix demanded, her hands clenched.

"I never would have thought . . .he was our friend . . .but the spell can't lie . . ."

"Just tell me, dammit!"

"Severus . . .It was Severus . . ."

"SNAPE!!?? That lickspittle, cowardly piece of shit cursed me?" Bellatrix screamed, her eyes burning with rage. 

Narcissa nodded, dumbfounded by the betrayal of one of their oldest members. She would have sooner suspected her own son than Snape, who had been Lucius's man since he was a sixth year.  "I don't understand why he would do such a thing . . ."

"What does that matter?" raged her sister.  "The important thing is that he DID it! And for that he is DEAD! Do you hear me, Cissy? DEAD! I'm going to cut his heart out and roast it over a fire and make him eat it! I'm going to carve him into pieces and dance on his grave.  That ball-less bloody bastard!"

Bellatrix's ranting soon brought Lucius and Greyback to investigate.  Lucius looked as shocked as Narcissa when she told them who had been the culprit.   Then his mouth firmed and his countenance became stern and forbidding, calculating and cruel.  "I can think of only one reason, Narcissa, for Severus to betray us this way.  And that is because he was never really one of us."

"What do you mean? He took the Mark, he pledged himself as we all did!" Narcissa cried.

"And he lied.  How he did so to the Dark Master himself I don't know, but somehow he did.  He hurt Bellatrix because she threatened to kill the Potter brat.  He stole the countercurse to help that mutt Black, which suggests that he was not ever one of us.  He was a spy."

Greyback growled deep in his throat, and his amber eyes glinted red.  "Never trusted that long-shanked greasy bugger.  Knew he didn't smell right."

"But that means . . .he knows about the way our master preserved his life," Narcissa cried.  "You remember, Lucius, how we discussed the ways in which the Dark Lord survived the Killing Curse the first time, and you said it must have meant he had created Horcruxes.  And Snape agreed with you."

"Yes, I know." Lucius slammed his hand down on the table.  "We even discussed where the Master might have hidden them.  Now that information is in the hands of the enemy.  Now they know . . .how to destroy our master."

Bellatrix howled like a mad werewolf.  "No -o-o-o! I will find Snape and rip him into shreds!" She spun on Lucius.  "Quickly, we must make haste to resurrect our Lord! Before Snape makes him die the Final Death!"

"Easy, woman! You don't even know if Snape knows where the Master hid the pieces of his heart," Greyback growled. 

His heart? Lucius looked blank for a moment, then he recalled the old legends of some of the necromancers removing their hearts from their bodies and hiding them away somewhere to ensure that they could not be killed.  It was an old magic, a deep magic, but the Horcruxes were surer.  "He knows, or can guess, where one of them is," the Malfoy lord said grimly.

"Where is it? Tell me and I'll go and retrieve it," Bellatrix declared passionately.

"The house of his mother, Merope Gaunt," Lucius replied. "In Little Hangleton." He looked at Greyback.  "Care to go on a hunt, Fenrir?"

Greyback licked his lips and his eyes burned with bloodlust.  "I am always ready to hunt, Malfoy.  You know that.  I shall find Snape the traitor and drink his blood and crack his bones! Oh, how sweet he shall taste!"

Narcissa went pale and looked ill.  Lucius shook his head rapidly.  "No! He must not be killed.  You must bring him to me alive."

Greyback snorted.  "You do not command me, Malfoy.  When I hunt a quarry, I decide who lives and who dies.  Only one wizard ever ordered me to hold my claws and he is now dead." The werewolf bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "You are not alpha enough to command my obedience, Malfoy."

"I am senior to you, Greyback! I was the Dark Lord's right hand!"

"Was.  You are not now.  And therefore I may challenge your right to command." The werewolf drew himself up to his full height, he was a head taller than Lucius , and his whole body radiated a beastial need to rend and tear something . . .or someone. "I shall not show my throat to you, Malfoy."

"Won't you?" Lucius purred, and then he stared directly at the werewolf, making sure his magical eye met Greyback's own.  He concentrated and his eye began to twinkle and sparkle.

Greyback tried to look away, but the sparkles blinded and confused him, and without realizing it, he became mesmerized.

Lucius smiled tightly at the slack look in the werewolf's eyes before stating slowly and firmly, "You will obey me as you would the Dark Lord.  You will hunt Severus Snape and when you have found him, you will not kill him.  You will bring him and the Potter brat to me, unmolested, and I shall decide their fate. Is that understood?"

Greyback nodded jerkily.  "Yes, Master Lucius.  It shall be as you say." He bowed his head.

Bellatrix stood up then.  "I'm going with you."

Greyback sneered. "You will only slow us down."

"Us? More of your smelly wolves are going, but I can't? How dare you dictate to me? Ahhh!" she yelped as Greyback's hand shot out and fastened around her neck like a collar.  He lifted her off her feet and she gasped and wriggled, but could not free herself.

"Mind your tongue, bitch! And your place! You are not the alpha's mate and you do not counterman my orders.  I hunt with my pack and you will only slow us down."

"Greyback! Release her!" Lucius ordered.

Greyback dumped the struggling witch onto the floor.  She landed with a thud. 

"Bella,are you all right?" Narcissa rushed over and began to help her sister to her feet.

Bellatrixs brushed aside the hand she offered and climbed to her feet.  "Beast! You dare . . .!"

She squealed when Greyback swung at her, ducking just in time.

"Greyback! Stop! Leave Bella alone.  Call your pack and get started trying to find Snape. And remember, I want him and Potter alive! Unharmed and alive!"

Greyback nodded.  "It shall be done."

Then he whirled and launched himself across the room and down the hall in the blink of an eye. 

"I can't believe you let him walk away! He nearly killed me!" cried Bellatrix.

"Oh, quit being so melodramatic! You aren't dying yet. You need to stay in hiding, remember? When Greyback returns, I'll let you work over either Snape or Potter.  Then you can have your revenge."

Bellatrix sulked.  "Why didn't you tell him I had to go with you?"

"Because the mesmerizing charm only lasts a certain amount of time and once it wore off, you'd be at risk of being murdered  by him for your smart mouth." Lucius replied.  "This way is safer."

"Pah!" the wronged witch spat. Then she subsided.  "Fine.  I shall wait.  Let's have tea."

The other two Malfoys were only too happy to comply with his request, and they summoned Skippy.

* * * * * *

Minutes later they heard the bone-chilling, gut-quivering howl of a werewolf summoning his pack.  It was echoed by another howl a few moments later and then another.  They all looked at each other.  How had the werewolves managed to get there so swiftly?

Ten minutes went by and more werewolves howled in response to their leader's summons, until twelve stood upon the lawn of Malfoy Manor.  Greyback growled and stared down the few who dared to meet his eyes.  

Then he spoke.  "We go to hunt Severus Snape, coward and traitor. Arr-ooo!"

He gave three sharp sniffs of the ground, then blurred into his wolfman form and sprang away, moving at an unbelievable speed across the grounds towards the direction of Little Hangleton.  Silently, the rest of the pack followed, eager to hunt new quarry and taste the blood of a Potions Master.

* * * * * *

Early the next morning, Greyback returned to Lucius to report that while Snape and the Potter biy had definitely been at Little Hangleton in Gaunt House, they were not there now.  "The trail went cold. I cannot smell where they went.  Wizard tricks!" the werewolf spat.

"Did you notice anything out of place?" demanded Lucius, clutching his cloak tighter about him.  He had been woken by Skippy to see Greyback, his wife and sister-in-law were still asleep.  

Greyback shrugged.  "A board in the floor was missing.  Why?"

Lucius swore.  "Then I can assume Snape has found one of them.  Blast and damn!" he paced, damning his former ally to the depths of Tartarus.  "But if you move quickly, you may yet salvage things." He snapped his fingers and a silver key appeared in his hand.  "Take this. It's a Portkey to the Master's retreat in the Transylvanian Alps.  Use it to take yourself and your pack there. Nearby is the Forest of the Night.  I believe the Master hid a . . .piece of his heart within the wood.  Snape knows this.  Wait for him there."

"Yes, my lord." Greyback whined. He took the silver key, relieved that Lucius was not going to punish him for his failure.  The Dark one would have. "When the traitor comes, we shall be waiting."

"Good.  Oh, and Greyback? Do not fail me a second time. Or else," Lucius warned, his eyes colder than arctic midnight.

The great werewolf bowed his head in respect, then walked from Malfoy Manor to where his wolves waited. "Join hands, all of you," he ordered. "Then touch me, Grimfang," he told his second, a deep gray werewolf. He waited until they had obeyed, then he reached out and touched the Portkey.

There was a brilliant flare of silvery blue light and then the werewolves were whisked away across the sea to Voldemort's secret retreat near the Forest of the Night.

After leaving Calais, Freedom, Warrior, and Hedwig took a direct route across the southern part of France and across part of Italy. They spent a night and a day in Rome, the Eternal City, to rest up before trying to fly across Croatia and the mountains that surrounded Romania. Warrior was still concerned over Freedom’s health and wished to make sure he was well rested and fit for the flight across the mountains, where the cold could sap one’s strength in an instant, and the wind could turn from friend into foe in the blink of an eye.

Plus, Severus had only been to Rome once before, as a newly fledged Potions Master attending his very first international potions conference. Back then, he had been twenty-one, awestruck at visiting a foreign country, and speaking with some of the premier master wizards in Europe and America, and he had fallen in love with the ancient city.

He had received his Potions Mastery at a very young age, displaying a brilliance that few wizards decades older than he could match. It had taken him three years to earn it, as compared to the more usual five or six. He had apprenticed himself to Horace Slughorn, since the elder wizard had agreed to waive the fees normally associated with an apprenticeship. At that time, Severus had been broke, his father had died, and left his son with a mountain of debts that the young wizard struggled to pay off by moonlighting as an independent apothecary, brewing his stock in his basement and selling it in several potions journals. Between that and trying to make enough to live off of, Severus would have never been able to afford an apprentice fee. Slughorn was a thorough if less scintillatingly brilliant master, he taught Severus the basic tenets of a master, and then left the young man alone to create and invent as he chose, knowing he could not match his student.

Severus had developed several new potions during that time, including the Lung Repair Cordial, a Memory Enhancer, and a Neurological Poison Inhibitor, which won him his Potions Mastery. A year after that, he had been invited to the conference in Rome. But he had been so busy meeting other potions practitioners that he hadn’t taken the time to drink in the sights.

Now, he indulged himself and his ward as well, knowing that Harry would never have this opportunity otherwise, having been deprived of a normal childhood. “Come, Harry,” he said after they had washed up and changed into some decent Muggle attire. “Let us explore La Citta Eterna—the Eternal City, in English.” He spoke fairly good Italian, having spent the full two weeks at the conference among those who spoke a mixture of Italian and English. “Travel broadens the mind.”

Harry grinned. “Okay, Sev. I always wanted to see the Colosseum. We studied the Roman gladiators when I was in primary school. My teacher even made us build a Roman fort.” He glanced around at the magnificent statuary and the marble facades upon the buildings they passed as they walked along the cobblestone byways.

The air was heavily scented with exotic spices, garlic, and tomatoes, as well as fresh figs and other fruit. Harry’s mouth watered as they passed a fruit seller, and he stopped and gazed longingly at a plateful of figs and sweet plums. Severus turned to see where his ward had gone and snorted knowingly before reaching into a pocket and withdrawing some lira. He dickered a bit with the produce seller before agreeing on a price for two handfuls of figs and four plums.

The seller, impressed by Severus’s haggling, and in Italian no less, threw in two complimentary slices of melon as well.

The two thanked the fruit seller and then strolled along the Via Appia, eating the succulent orange melon and figs, while also smelling the tantalizing aroma of pizza and paninis. Around them, tourists yelled and pointed and snapped pictures and locals smiled and rode motor scooters and bikes to and from work.

Harry noticed that Severus walked about with an odd familiarity, prompting him to ask his mentor, “Hey, you’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

Severus nodded. “I spent two weeks here at an international conference of Potions Masters fourteen years ago. I shall never forget it. It was the last time I ever went abroad beyond Calais.”

“But you still remember how to get to places?” Harry asked, surprised and amazed. “How?”

“I have a photographic memory, Harry,” he reminded the young wizard. “And I roamed around this city with several of my colleagues, especially one young woman . . .” Severus trailed off abruptly, not wanting to get into that discussion and the woman he had met whom he had left behind.

“You had a girlfriend here?” Harry queried, unable to help himself. “Was she Italian? Did she attend the conference too?”

“She was half-Italian and yes, she was attending the conference with her teacher, Master Villaggio. She was not yet a master, being about two years my junior. And we were friends.”

“Oh, yeah, sure you were.”

Severus scowled. “Harry! My personal life is not a gossip column. Leave it go. The important thing is that I still remember how to get to most of the famous sights here. Things haven’t changed all that much in fourteen years.”

Harry followed obediently at his heels, examining everything with interest, and managing to keep his curiosity reined in, though he badly wanted to ask Severus who the mysterious woman was and what had happened to her. But he sensed that topic was not one that his guardian was willing to discuss right then and he didn’t wish to mar their time here with a lecture or a quarrel.

They visited the Colosseum, the Forum—where Julius Caesar had been assassinated--, the Fountain of Trevi—Harry threw three coins in the fountain, as did Severus—who then told him the legend. “You know, now we’ll have to return here one day, since we threw three coins in the fountain.”

“Cool. I’d like to. Did you do that last time?”

“Yes. And here I am.”

“Sev, is the fountain magicked?”

Severus chuckled. “Not by one of us,” he murmured. “I think many of the ruins here have their own loci spirita, ancient powers, not to be understood by mere mortals like us. Perhaps that is what brought me back again.”

Harry stared at the fountain, admiring the beautiful statues of Neptune and his daughters and the cool flowing water glistening with the many coins in its depths. Then he looked across the way and saw a gelateria. “Severus, can we get some ice cream? Please?”

His mentor raised an eyebrow. “You’re hungry again? We just ate lunch.”

“So? I’m a teenager, we’re always hungry.”

“Obviously.” The Potions Master sighed. “Very well. It wouldn’t be complete if you didn’t have a gelato on your visit to Italy.”

Harry’s eyes lit up and he thanked Severus sincerely before racing across the street.

An old man watching laughed and called out to Severus, “Il tuo Figlio, egli è un tipico ragazzo, impazienti e sempre fame. Capice?”

“Si, signore,” replied the Potions Master. “Egli è tutto questo e altro. Buon giorno.” Then he followed his eager child across the street.

Harry ordered a medium-sized chocolate gelato with Oreo pieces and fresh strawberries inside it. Severus had a butter pecan one, slightly smaller than his ward’s. They ate them slowly, savoring the luscious taste of the rich treat, while watching the sun begin its descent behind the Seven Hills.

They prowled the city some more after dusk, enjoying the cool breeze of the evening after the heat of the afternoon, ate pizza and pasta marinara at a local restaurant that Severus recalled from years before, and Severus allowed Harry to have a small glass of sweet Moscato di Asti while he sipped a mild pino grigio. They had cappuccino and tiramisu for dessert, it was the perfect compliment to a wonderful meal.

Over his cappuccino, Harry said wistfully, “We have got to come back here, Sev. There’s so much more I want to see and do. I wish we could just . . .stay here and forget about you-know-what.” There was an undisguised longing in the green eyes as he spoke, a longing to just be an ordinary boy for once on holiday.

Severus reached out and patted his shoulder. “I know. I wish that too, Harry. Perhaps someday . . .but you know duty comes first. After we have done what we must, we will have all the time we could want to return here again and do whatever you wish.”

“Do you promise?”

“Upon my honor,” said his mentor solemnly. “Finish your cappuccino, mio bambino. It’s getting late.”

Harry shot him a curious look. “Uh, Sev? What did you just call me?”

“An irrepressible brat,” he answered slyly. Then he smirked. “Only teasing. Mio bambino means ‘my child’ in English.”

Harry looked startled. He had known that Severus considered him a sort of family member, since he had signed the guardianship papers, but the man had never come right out and said it until now. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I would never have agreed to guardianship over you if I didn’t.” Severus replied honestly. “I am responsible for you until you are of age and that makes you my child. Does it bother you?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to shake his head, for there was a note of uncertainty in the other’s voice that had not been there before. “No. It’s just . . .I was surprised, because . . .you actually . . .want me. I’ve never . . .I mean . . .”

Severus’s hand closed over Harry’s cheek, cupping it gently. “I understand. Rest assured that I do want you. And always shall.” His hand remained upon his child’s face a moment longer before he withdrew it. “Finish up, Harry. We can’t spend too much longer here, and we’ll need to get an early start tomorrow.”

“All right,” murmured Harry swiftly, embarrassed at revealing so much emotion over a simple cup of coffee. But his eyes glowed and he felt warmth fill him at Severus’s simple declaration. At long last he belonged somewhere. With someone who wanted him. Suddenly the future didn’t look half so bad, and he could face the dawn with a new resolve to finish the quest he had begun and finally live a normal life when it was over.

* * * * * *

They bid farewell to Rome the next morning and continued onward to Transylvania. It took them three days to cross the mountain range and fly across Croatia and into Romania. Transylvania was almost like a separate little country, with its own dialect and local legends, the most famous being about Count Dracula. The Forest of the Night was very near Dracula’s castle, and Harry asked Severus if the rumors about the famous vampire were true or false.

Severus replied that he wasn’t sure. “In Transylvania, they blend myth and legend with facts so skillfully it’s hard to tell what is real and what is not. I have met wizards who would swear that Dracula really exists and others who say just the opposite. But I would say that given that vampires do exist, it is possible Dracula does too. And that he would not be likely to help us, so it’s best to avoid his demense altogether and head straight for the forest.”

They were resting upon a small set of boulders before continuing on to the Forest.

Hedwig flew on ahead and said she would scout before they entered the trees, she did not like going into a place like that unprepared. She was less tired than her two hawk companions because as a post owl, she was trained to fly long distances over all kinds of terrain and in all kinds of weather.

She circled the great forest, which extended for many miles and was bordered by the Transylvanian Alps on one side, noting that the wood was thick and dense in some spots and radiated an aura of warning. But not evil, Hedwig noted. Or at least, no evil that was not contained, for somewhere within the forest’s heart was a perversion Voldemort had created.

The owl flew silently, her broad pinions stroking the air and hardly disturbing it. A flicker of movement off to the east on the verge where the forest met the land claimed by Dracula caught Hedwig’s eye. She glided closer to see what it was that had caught her eye and saw to her horror, a pack of werewolves, some in human form, others in their misshapen wolfman form.

The werewolves seemed impatient, some were pacing, others glaring about and down the valley where the turrets of Castle Dracul were barely visible. The snowy owl hovered and caught several of them muttering about a trap they were eager to spring upon “that traitor Snape and the Boy Who Lived too.”

Alarmed, Hedwig turned and flew back to where her master and his mentor were resting. Harry! Severus! There are werewolves lurking near the forest. Looking for you!

Harry nearly fell off the top of the small boulder he was sitting on when he heard Hedwig’s news. “Bloody hell, Severus! How did they know where to find us?”

“How did who know?”

“The werewolves. Hedwig says she saw a pack of them near the forest and they were waiting for us.”

Severus felt his stomach tighten in fear. He blurred into Warrior so he could question Hedwig directly. How many were there, Hedwig? Who leads them?

The snowy owl told him all she had overheard. Their leader seemed to be a tall rangy man with gray streaked hair and a beard with pointed teeth. All of them seemed afraid of him. But I didn’t catch his name.

Warrior hissed angrily. That’s all right. I know who he is. Fenrir Greyback. That’s his pack of wolves out there. Lucius must have figured out I was a spy and sent Greyback after me.

Harry transformed, then asked, But how did they know to come here? We’ve got the only copy of the notebook that gives us clues about the forbidden objects.

I think it was in the nature of a lucky guess. Although, Lucius did know about the objects, we discussed them one time while I was a guest at his home, just after Voldemort died the first time. One of the places mentioned was around here, now that I think about it. The Dark One was fond of this part of the world, where the Dark Arts flourished, and vampires still roam at will. Warrior ruffled his feathers. He even has a base here, beyond the forest. Hedwig, where were they?

Near the eastern side of the forest, to the right. They looked very impatient.

Can we go around them? asked Freedom.

Yes. Since we have wings, fledgling, chuckled the owl. They do not know what they are dealing with.

Sucks for them, Freedom shrilled cheekily.

Don’t get overconfident, fledgling. Just because they can’t fly doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. If they have crossbows or some other missile weapon, they could shoot us down. Warrior warned.

Not if they have lousy aim.

Before Warrior could say anything further to Freedom about the red-tail’s reckless attitude, Hedwig interrupted. Come, you two. It’s nearly night and while I can fly in the dark safely, you two cannot manage half so well. And the werewolves consider the night their time as well.

Somewhat chastened by the snowy owl’s inescapable logic, Freedom and Warrior soared up into the air, flying a good thirty feet above the earth. They followed the owl as she flew back towards the forest, and she circled and they saw the pack of wolves, twelve strong, not including Greyback, pacing and whimpering like chained hunting hounds. But none of them would move until their alpha gave the order.

Freedom felt a sudden need to do a flyby, but he controlled himself. Now was not the time for foolish stunts. He carefully flew behind Hedwig as she slipped away into the other side of the forest. Then she began to descend rapidly.

Soon Freedom found himself among the trees, familiar ones, like oak and maple and ash and some beech and hazel. Others were new to him, but they all radiated a strange aura. It was not frightening , but it was rather unnerving. Freedom felt as though he were being watched, but every time he flew in a circle and looked beneath or behind him, there was nothing there. There was a great age to this forest, it had stood for over a thousand years, since before Dracula was a legend, and several of the trees had become entwined as they fought to reach the sun.

Warrior saw many entwined pairs of ash, hawthorne, and willow as well as upright oak and stately rowan. Small birds had been perched in the branches, but they had scattered at the approach of the three raptors. It was eerily quiet, save for the burbling of a nearby stream further off to the right. Beneath the canopy of the trees, the dark descended much quicker than it did elsewhere and Freedom felt the old fear return and he shifted back into Harry. Somehow the darkness was less frightening as a boy, perhaps because as a boy he could cast a Lumos spell and banish it, but as a hawk he simply had to endure it.

Warrior switched shapes as well, and in moments Severus was leaning down to peer worriedly at his ward. “Are you all right? It’s rather dark in here.”

Harry swallowed, then answered bravely, “I’ll be okay so long as I have some light and am next to you. Can I cast a Light spell?”

“Yes. But not too bright, mind. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.” Severus warned.

“Lumos!” The end of Harry’s wand lit up. Almost immediately, he felt the icy fingers of panic slip away. “That’s better. Uh, Sev? How will we know where to look for it? This place is huge, how can we find something that Voldemort hid?”

“The notebook said he had hidden it in a place where the trees speak on their own. Following that, we might have a chance of finding it.”

“I hope so. I just want to destroy the damn thing and then get out of here and go home.” Harry told him. “Bloody Voldemort! Why did he have to go and hide his stupid thingamajig in a place like this?”

“Because here is one of the last places someone looking for it might find it. Voldemort was not stupid, more’s the pity.” Severus said, then he beckoned Harry forward. “Let us go this way, towards the stream. At least we shall have fresh water for washing and drinking when we stop for the night.”

Hedwig soared silently overhead, even the close quarters of the trees did not hamper her too much.

They walked for a good fifteen minutes before they came up to the stream, which ran noisily over some white river pebbles and silt. The soil here was rich and a deep brown color, Severus speculated it would grow whatever was planted in it. It was too bad he couldn’t take a few samples back home to test. He was sure Pomona Sprout would love it. The forest floor was thick with hedges and creepers and thickets of mulberries.

Small animals scurried to and fro in the underbrush, fleeing the approach of two large threatening humans. Hedwig swooped down and caught an unlucky mouse for her supper, flying off to a nearby tree that overlooked the stream to eat it.

Harry knelt at the stream, dabbling his fingers into the water, and splashing some on the back of his neck and his face, which was chapped from the wind. He then cupped his hand and sipped some of the water. Severus was examining a rare species of plant called a red agate moss upon a tree, fascinated that it grew here, when there was a soft shushing sound and a voice that was curious and dangerous spoke.

“Trespassers! What do you here in the Forest of the Night without leave?”

From out of the thick underbrush opposite the stream emerged a medium-sized boy wearing tan leathers, his ragged dark hair bound back in a tie. He glared at the wizards that had invaded his home with suspicious amber eyes. He looked to be about seventeen, maybe a bit younger, his face was all sharp angles and a pointed elfin chin, he was tanned and lean. About his shoulder was what looked like a shoulder harness and Harry could see the unmistakable color of green fletching sticking up over his left shoulder. The boy was leaning on an unstrung bow stave and scowling in a most unfriendly fashion.

Harry started. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”

“I’ll ask the questions . . .if you don’t mind. This is my home. Outsiders are not permitted. Now tell me why you are here and if I find the reason good, I may permit you to stay.” The strange boy said haughtily.

“Permit us?” Severus raised an eyebrow. He slid his wand into his hand and glared right back at the newcomer. “You look like a strong wind could blow you away, boy.”

Stung, the boy drew himself up and his amber eyes flashed. “Shows how much you know, Hawk Man! We’ve been watching you since you first entered our territory. And you never even knew.”

“We?”

“Me and my pack. I am called Darkmoon and am alpha of my pack.”

Harry stiffened. “You’re a werewolf?”

Darkmoon spat into the dirt in disgust. As if that were an unspoken signal, more teenagers began to emerge from the underbrush, all of them wearing soft buttery leathers in mottled shades of brown and green, four of them had bows nocked and one, a slender girl, carried a dagger. Crouched near them were several huge silver and reddish brown wolves, snarling softly in warning.

“Pah! They wouldn’t have us, even though we’re half of their blood, the bastards! I’m no werewolf, stupid wizard. I’m a wolfen.”

“A wolfen?” Severus repeated, unfamiliar with that term. “I have never heard of your . . .kind before.”

“That’s ‘cause you and yours want us forgotten,” growled Darkmoon indignantly. “We’re beneath the notice or respect of wizards like yourselves!” The boy sneered again and spat into the stream.

“But what are you?” Harry persisted.

“We’re half-weres, the children of a werewolf and a human witch or woman. And we don’t take kindly to trespassers, like I said. This forest belongs to us, if it belongs to anyone.” Darkmoon snapped. “Why are you here? You had better have a damn good reason for coming into the Forest of the Night, or else!”

Seven or eight arrows were suddenly aimed at them, and the huge wolves crouched, jaws wide, ready to spring and Harry and Severus froze.

“Look,” Harry began softly. “We don’t want any trouble—”

“Too late for that, Hawk Boy,” laughed the wolfen tautly. “Now talk! Or shall I just kill you and be done with it?”

The sight of all those arrows pointed at him made Harry’s mouth go dry with fear. But he knew better than to show fear in front of a predator. Showing any kind of weakness might lead the wolfen to attack. So he drew himself up proudly and said calmly, “All right, but can you please lower your bows? We’re not your enemies, and I talk better without an arrow aimed at my throat.”

A part of him was amazed at how bold he was being, but the boldness paid off, because Darkmoon curled his lip and turned to his companions and called, “Silva, IndigoEyes, Winterknight, stand down. Eris, watch and if they reach for a wand . . . bite off their hands.”

A tall girl with silvery-blond hair and indigo eyes slowly lowered her bow. “As you will, sir!”

Another girl with the same color hair, slightly paler, and amber eyes also obeyed, though she cast the two a suspicious look.

The last to follow Darkmoon’s orders was a dark auburn-haired boy, he had forest green eyes and looked quite displeased. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sir. Wizards are cagey, we should just gut ‘em.” He kept his bow trained upon the trespassers.

Darkmoon spun and glared into Winterknight’s eyes. “Vlad, do as I say,” he repeated firmly. “We can always kill them later, if need be. Now lower your bow.”

The other bared his teeth for a moment, then dropped his gaze and finally lowered his weapon. “Don’t try anything funny,” he growled in slightly accented English.

“We mean you no harm,” Severus said, speaking in a soothing even tone, his hands held at his sides. “We are here to find an ancient magical object and we do not intend to stay any longer than necessary.”

Darkmoon looked skeptical. “Oh really? And what kind of object would that be? Something that will help you rule the world? Dominate your fellow man? You wizards are all the same. You think we’re dumb, but I’ve got your number. Who sent you here?”

“A prophecy,” Harry replied. “The prophecy of Two Hawks Hunting. We’re not like those dark wizards who came here before. We’re their enemies. The wizard who came here before, did he tell you his name?”

Darkmoon nodded tightly and spat upon the ground. “Their leader called himself Voldemort. And whatever he did caused the forest to wither and die when he was finished. Part of it, anyhow. The trees withered and faded away, all except the ring of guardian ash and oaks. And even those he polluted with his foul sorcery! The guardian trees used to speak and tell us stories, they have been here for centuries and more, they know much about the forest and its creatures, but after he was done, their voices were stolen and mute and they no longer recognized us when we came to them. They attacked us instead. And before they were never like that. Never!”

The boy’s eyes flashed.

“Voldemort pollutes all he touches,” Severus said gravely. “We know that all too well. We are here to try and put a stop to his madness. My name is Severus Snape, I am a Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And this is my apprentice and ward, Harry Potter.”

Darkmoon looked startled. “You teach at Hogwarts?”

“I do. I teach potions.”

The wolfen seemed impressed at that. “Huh. Never met a wizard teacher before. You any good?”

“I would say I am a competent instructor,” Severus began modestly.

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s bloody brilliant. One of the best potions instructors ever to teach at the school,” Harry declared proudly. “Though he can be damn strict in his classroom, and he doesn’t take any attitude either.”

“Ah. Like an alpha then.” Darkmoon cocked his head. “Harry Potter . . .I know that name from somewhere . . .” he thought hard, then he snapped his fingers. “Ah ha! You’re the one they call the Boy Who Lived, right?”

Harry nodded. “That’s me.”

“Because you survived the Death spell, right?” asked Silva, examining Harry curiously.

“Yeah, the Killing Curse. But don’t ask me how.”

“I don’t care what you survived, wizard!” sneered Vlad. “You’re not to be trusted. It’s because of you and yours—wizard—that we’re here. Well, you and our bastard werewolf sires.” He scowled angrily at Harry.

“Quiet, Winterknight!” rebuked his leader sternly, and the other subsided. “He’s partially correct, you know. Wizards haven’t treated us well, actually no one has, except maybe our mothers. Some of them,” Darkmoon amended softly. “Why should we trust you?”

“Because we’re here to rid the world of Voldemort and his kind,” replied Severus.

“We’re here to find a magical object and destroy it and by destroying it, prevent him from being resurrected,” Harry informed them, sensing that if he were not scrupulously honest, he would be signing his own death warrant.

“Resurrected? Then he’s dead?” Darkmoon demanded.

“Yeah. Last I saw, old Moldywarts was writhing on the ground, nearly cut clean in half by my talons. He was an Animagus, able to become a gila monster at will. But Sev and I killed him before he could change back. Only he won’t stay dead. His followers might try and bring him back, they can do that because Voldy preserved parts of his soul in objects and hid them so he could become immortal. Our quest is to find them and destroy them.”

“Why should we believe you?” asked Vlad suspiciously. “You could be lying.”

“They’re not,” interjected Darkmoon. “Use your nose, Vlad. We can smell deceit and they don’t bear the taint.” He sniffed pointedly. “Everything they said is true.”

Winterknight sniffed, then growled and scuffed his feet. “I still don’t trust them. It could be a trap.”

Suddenly, a small skinny russet wolf raced up to Darkmoon and crouched by his feet, whining.

Darkmoon looked down. “Urchin? What’s wrong?”

The russet wolf barked, in a strange sort of way, and whined again.

“Werewolves? Where?”

Urchin rose and growled, looking off to the east.

“Here in the forest? They’ve broken the treaty then.” Darkmoon spat, his eyes glowing with anger.

“Can we fight them, then?” asked Vlad, his eyes lighting up.

“They’re after us,” Severus explained. “They were waiting for us, but we escaped their ambush. Harry’s familiar warned us in time.”

“You brought them here, wizard?” growled IndigoEyes.

“Not intentionally,” Harry defended. “I don’t think they know where we are.”

Silva snorted. “They are werewolves, they can track you by scent. They may be mad and vicious bloodthirsty things, but they’re not dumb. Wish they were.”

Darkmoon continued questioning the wolf called Urchin. “How many? How far away are they?”

Urchin growled again, replying in wolf speak.

“Only four? About two hundred yards to the east? Huh. They have a high opinion of themselves.”

“Sir, permission to attack them?” cried Vlad.

“Granted. Follow Urchin. IndigoEyes, Stormstrike, Eris, go with him. Teach them what it means to cross a wolfen.” Darkmoon ordered. “I’ll escort our visitors to Sylvanor and then join you afterwards.”

“Sylvanor?” cried Winterknight in dismay. “You would bring wizards to our homes? But sir, that’s—”

“—my prerogative as your alpha,” interrupted Darkmoon. “It’s not up for debate. Go!”

Vlad Winterknight threw back his head and howled, the sound was both eerily musical and beautiful and also frightening. Then he blurred and in his place stood a large brown wolf with one white foot and a light beige ruff. Urchin rose and loped in front of him, head lowered, and whimpered.

IndigoEyes also assumed her wolf shape, she was a smallish silver wolf with black tipped ears and tail and was followed by another larger and darker silver-gray male wolf, who had been crouched beside her.

The big male gave a short warning growl as he looked at the two wizards, and Eris also became a deep red female with black guard hairs.

They all howled gleefully before following Urchin into the trees and within moments they were gone.

Darkmoon turned to Harry and Severus. “You are the first guests we have ever had at Sylvanor, but even so, you can’t be permitted to see the way to our village. Only wolfen may know how to reach Sylvanor.” He jerked his chin.

The air misted and the big frost-colored wolf beside Silva became a tall gangly youth with white-blond hair pulled back in a tail and green eyes. He cupped his hands to his mouth and hissed.

Or at least that was what it sounded like. Suddenly, something glittering shot through the air and buried itself in Severus’s neck.

The Potions Master lifted a hand to brush at his neck, then crumpled slowly to the earth.

Harry cried, “Severus! What did you do to him, you—?”

He never finished his sentence. He felt a sting in his hand, looked down and saw a tiny silver dart embedded in it. He looked up at Darkmoon, his eyes puzzled and accusing. Why?

“Insurance,” said the wolfen leader. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to die. It’s sleep sap. You’ll take a nice nap and wake up in Sylvanor.”

He jumped across the stream and the last sight Harry had before he passed out was Darkmoon’s soft leather boots.

The wolfen caught the young wizard before his head hit the ground and slung him easily over his shoulder. “Thanks, Fenris. Get the Potions Master. C’mon, let’s move! The sooner we get home, the sooner we can go and help Vlad with the dumbass werewolves.”

The big blond wolfen nodded and strode over to the limp Severus and picked him up as easily as he would have a child, putting him over his shoulder. He tucked the blowpipe into his belt and began to run through the trees in the opposite direction Vlad had taken.

Darkmoon and Silva followed.

* * * * * *

Two hours later:

Severus squinted, wincing at the bright light that hit his eyes. But he managed to open them a moment later by easing his eyelids up slowly, letting his eyes adjust gradually to the light. He blinked hard, then peered up at a slanted wooden ceiling where a small hanging lantern hung. He turned his head slightly, and saw to his relief that Harry was lying next to him on a wicker-framed pallet. He looked down and saw that he was also lying on something similar. There was a soft gray blanket tucked around him.

He started to sit up, but a warm, slender-finger hand reached out and pushed him back down on the pallet, firmly yet gently. He looked up and saw a young woman, looking a little older than Harry, with brilliant platinum hair and slanted amber eyes, silver flowers dangling in her ears, holding him down effortlessly.

“Please, do not try and sit up yet,” the young woman said, her voice pleasantly soft and soothing. “Sometimes the sleep sap on the darts can make you a little woozy and disorientated. So just lie still for a bit. It’ll pass in about five minutes. My name is Meadowsweet, I am Sylvanor’s resident Healer and historian, so to speak.”

“Pleased to meet you, Meadowsweet. I am Severus Snape.”

“I know. Darkmoon told me your name when he brought you to me.” She smiled at him. “Welcome to Sylvanor. You are the first outsiders we have ever had here.”

Severus nodded. “So I gathered from the way your . . .pack members reacted to me and to Harry, my foster son. You have an odd way of treating guests, knocking them out.” He looked anxiously over at Harry, who was still asleep.

“He will be waking soon. I’m sorry for that, but we have a lot of enemies, and Darkmoon was just being cautious and protecting us. He’s a good leader. He told me to trust you, said you were enemies with the dark wizards.” Meadowsweet reassured him, removing her hand from his shoulder and straightening. She was wearing a soft cream ruffled blouse and a colorful skirt of many layers—blue, silver, purple, pink and green. Plain black shoes encased her feet and about her waist was a long red sash with many pouches.

She looked like a gypsy child from her attire, Severus thought, though no gypsy ever had hair the color of spun moonlight. “That is so. We are here to destroy him, or at least a part of him. You call this place Sylvanor? From the Latin “sylvanus” meaning “wood or forest”?”

Meadowsweet nodded. “Yes. Darkmoon figured it was a good name for our home, seeing as we lived in a forest and our village is in the treetops.”

Severus gaped at her. Surely I did not hear that correctly. She said this house is in a tree! He started to sit up only to have the girl motion him back down. “I am not dizzy and I wish to sit up and see for myself what you meant by being in a treetop.”

“Sit up too fast and you will be,” Meadowsweet said serenely. “Trust me. I only spoke the truth, Severus. Darkmoon decided we were safest in the trees, so that’s where we built our homes. Don’t worry, they’re perfectly safe and sturdy, they are part of the tree trunk and connected by a series of walkways supported by long branches and ropes.”

“Part of the tree?”

“Yes. Arborsong, our plantshaper, made them so. He coaxed and sang them from the great oaks and now we can all live safe and warm and dry and not worry about flashfloods or rampaging alicorns or werewolves or vampires. You have the strangest look on your face, Severus. You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No. I was simply startled to discover that we are in a tree. I am used to being on the ground.” The Potions Master stated, heights did not frighten him, but being at the mercy of strangers did make him feel very uncomfortable, no matter that the girl looked as innocent as a day old lamb.

Meadowsweet laughed. “So were we, until Darkmoon showed us how much safer it was to live above the forest floor. He’s very clever, ‘Moon is. He learned a lot of his survival skills from his mum. But he’ll tell you that later, when he returns from chasing away those bloody werewolves.” The girl’s face hardened suddenly and her eyes glowed with a strange feral light.

“You don’t like werewolves much, I take it?”

Meadowsweet shook her head sharply. “No. We hate them. They might have sired us, but because of them we have no lives and no status, no anything. Your kind call us “half-human” and say we’re not fit to associate with regular people and all the werewolves want is for us to submit to them and be their slaves. That’s why wolfen were created, according to Greyback and his sort—to be their servants. Ha! I serve no one save myself!” She tossed her wild hair back. “He comes with his pack every few months or so and each time he tries to capture one of us or convince us to join him or even hunt us down to kill us when we refuse. I hate him! All of us do.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Ten now. Once there were twelve of us,” Meadowsweet answered. “But Araya and Flicker were killed . . .” She lifted a hand to wipe her eyes which were glistening with tears.

“Recently?”

“Six months ago, one of Dracula’s crazy vamps came here and Flicker was hunting solo, didn’t see the damn bloodsucker till it was too late. Even we can’t survive a vampire draining us down to nothing. Araya passed a year ago, she was killed by a dark wizard, one of those who worked for that butt-ugly necromancer called the Dark Lord.”

“What happened to the wizard?”

“He’s dead. Nobody hurts a wolfen and gets away with it,” said the little Healer, a fierce gleam in her eyes.

Just then Harry began to stir and Meadowsweet moved over to caution him not to sit up as well. Harry groaned and opened his eyes.

“Ooh Merlin! I must be dreaming. ‘Cause there’s a really hot girl looking at me,” he muttered aloud, not realizing he had done so until Meadowsweet burst out laughing.

“You think I’m hot? Really? Wow!” she giggled.

Harry went red as he realized she was not a dream image, but a real girl. “Uh . . .” he looked away, only to see Severus on the next pallet, watching him with equal parts of amusement and concern and he covered his face with his hands and groaned. “Aww . . .somebody hex me, please. I’m such an idiot.”

“Why?” Meadowsweet asked mischievously. “I think you’re kind of cute.”

Harry peeked out from behind his hands. “You do? Even when I say totally dumb things?”

The girl grinned. “Not dumb, just the truth. I’m Meadowsweet.” She held out a hand.

Harry took it, still fiery red and wishing he could sink through the floor. Why was it that around any girl except Hermione he became an utter buffoon? “I’m Harry. Nice to meet you, Meadowsweet. That’s an interesting name. Was your mum a Potions Mistress or something?”

“Not exactly. She was a Healer. And my name wasn’t always Meadowsweet, anymore than Darkmoon’s was.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we changed our names after we were brought here and we understood it was like being an outcast to get dumped here, in the Forest of the Night. Darkmoon said we needed new names, strong names, to show we weren’t afraid and all. But I chose Meadowsweet because I’m a Healer.”

“I like it. But . . .what’s your other name?” Harry asked curiously.

“Sasha Atwater was what my mum named me,” replied the wolfen. “But nobody here calls me that except Darkmoon sometimes. He knew me before we came here, he’s my cousin.”

She looked over at Severus, who was propping himself up on an elbow and said, using a tone that reminded both of them of Madam Pomfrey, “If you don’t feel dizzy or sick to your stomach, Potions Master, you can sit up now and even walk around a little. You might feel a little weak though, sometimes the sleep sap affects people that way.”

Severus carefully sat up, relieved to discover he did not feel sick or dizzy at all. He climbed gingerly to his feet and stood, looking about the Healer’s quarters interestedly.

The walls to the north and south were curved in a kind of ellipse, and had two round windows in them. The other two walls in the west and east were sort of slanted, and the roof was peaked, but not sharply. There was another partition and a door leading further to the west. This room was formed of a pretty golden grained oak, like honey poured from a pitcher, and when Severus walked over and felt the wall, it radiated a gentle warmth and was smooth as silk.

Even the floor was smooth and featured a pretty woven ragrug upon it. A table and chairs was set into one corner facing the doorway. Next to that was a long low shelf with some plates, bowls, cups, and silverware. Opposite that, against the far wall was a large shelf with all kinds of jars and beakers, they were filled with potion ingredients. Bunches of dried herbs hung from hooks upon the ceiling and over a large cauldron. Three more cauldrons of different sizes were stacked next to the potions cupboard. A small table and a stool were in front of the cabinet, upon it were arranged some sharp knives and a mortar and pestle. The items had clearly seen much use, Severus observed, but they were well-cared for and cherished. Next to the potions cupboard was a bookshelf with potions texts and Healing texts, a battered copy of Hogwarts:A History, and some Muggle books like the US Marine Survival Guide, A Handbook of Wilderness Training and Tips, Jack London’s White Fang and The Call of the Wild and a book called The Art of Archery and Bow Making.

“The US Marine Survival Guide? Where on earth did you get that?” murmured the Potions Master in astonishment.

“Oh, that’s not mine, it’s Darkmoon’s. It was his mother’s, she was a US Marine pilot. He asked me to keep a few books of hers on my bookshelf, it’s all he has left of her.” Meadowsweet said sadly. She pointed to the door to the west. “If you need to use the bathroom, it’s through there, the first door on the right. The second door is my sleeping quarters. This room is where I brew my potions and treat patients.”

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her. “I wouldn’t think you get much practice, considering you wolfen probably heal quickly.”

“Yes, that’s so, but we also get hurt fighting off vampires and werewolves and dark wizards who attempt to enter the forest. That’s why I keep a fully stocked healing lab up here. My mum always said to be prepared and I try to be.”

“Are all of you . . .like orphans?” Harry queried softly, also sitting up on his pallet.

“Yes.” Meadowsweet answered, but before she could go on, there came a sharp knock on the door.

A second later the door was thrust open and Darkmoon entered. His leather leggings looked rather dirty, as if he had been scuffling in the dirt, but otherwise he was unhurt. “Hey, Meadowsweet. We thrashed those mangy mutts good this time. Made ‘em run away with their tails between their legs, those that could still walk. Are they awake yet? I didn’t think sleep sap affected wizards that badly.”

“They just woke a few minutes ago, Darkmoon. I was telling them a little about our home here and how we came to be here.” The Healer wolfen said, somewhat shyly.

Darkmoon entered and came to stand next to his cousin, eyeing his two guests. “You want to know how we came here?” he demanded shortly. “We were throwaways, most of us. Unwanted and abandoned children, we were a Ministry cover-up. Most of us are the product of assault and such, our werewolf sires attacked and kidnapped our human mothers, witch or Muggle, it made no difference to them. Those who survived gave birth to us—wolfen we call ourselves, non-humans the Ministry calls us, or abomination, depending on who ‘s talking about us,” the young Alpha said angrily. “The one exception to that rule was me. My mom, Bethany, knew what my father was, he served under her in the US Marine Corps, he wasn’t part of Greyback’s pack at all. He would have married her, even though he was a werewolf, but he was killed in a plane crash before he could. He died before I was born. His name was Erik Harlan. Mom named me after him though, and she raised me on her own.”

“Is she . . .?” Harry trailed off awkwardly, not knowing how the volatile wolfen would welcome any questions about his past.

“She was killed in action during the Gulf War,” Darkmoon said quietly. “She was flying a chopper, trying to get to some of her men that had been wounded and was shot down. They say it was quick. I was thirteen and just starting to show my wolfen traits and I was sent to live with cousins of mine on my mom’s side of the family in England. Lacey Atwater and her daughter, Sasha—that’s Meadowsweet here. Mom used to tell me Lacey could do magic, I always thought she was kidding, until I went to live there and found out she was a witch.”

“You should have seen his face the first time my mum cast a spell!” Meadowsweet laughed. “He nearly fell over.”

“So sue me.” Darkmoon snorted. “I lived with Lacey and Sasha for a year, then when I was fourteen, Lacey got sick with something, it was a magical flu and she died. That left us minors and the Ministry officials came in and declared us non-human because of our were blood and abominations and they brought us here to the forest and left us. Dumped us like last week’s trash and never looked back.” There was a bitter note in the Alpha’s voice now and his eyes were hard and unforgiving. “They barely gave us time to pack a few things, the miserable bastards.”

“That would be consistent with Ministry policy,” Severus said, sneering. “If they can’t or don’t want to deal with an issue, they take steps to either shove it under the rug or ignore it and act like it doesn’t exist.”

“No kidding. Anyway, when we first got here, Meadowsweet and I pretty much survived by hunting in wolf form, until we found others like us—other wolfen who had been abandoned and put here by Ministry decree. Some of us, like Urchin, never even knew his mom, she died giving birth to him and he lived in an orphanage till the bloody wizards came and forced him to come here. Vlad’s mom threw him out when she realized he could shift and had inherited were traits, handed him over to the local wizard government and they brought him here. He’s Romanian. Most of us don’t have mothers anymore, or if we do, they don’t want to know us.”

The wolfen sighed and moved to seat himself at the table, motioning for the two wizards to sit opposite him.

“That’s rough,” Harry said sympathetically. He knew what it was to be unwanted. “But how did the Ministry know what you were?”

“Because a wolfen always has either dark auburn or silver-blond hair and amber or green or indigo eyes. Plus we’re stronger than normal and can change into full wolves. The attacks on our mothers were reported and documented, even the Muggle ones, so the Ministry knew when we were born, and that was how they kept tabs on us. As soon as we started to show signs of the wolfen nature, they came for us.”

“If my mum had been alive, she would have hidden us away and the Ministry would have never found us,” Meadowsweet said. “But she passed the Veil and we were left alone, two scared kids against adult wizards. They Stunned and tied us up and left us here—“like the rest of our kind, where we could live like the beasts we were.” At first we hated it, but once we met the other wolfen, we became a pack and a family. We built Sylvanor and learned to survive in the forest and defend our territory and now this is our home.”

“You built all this yourself?” Harry was impressed.

Darkmoon nodded proudly. “Arborsong made the houses for us with his plantshaping gift, pretty neat, huh?”

“Very. Can you do magic?” Harry asked.

“Not like you do, with a wand,” Meadowsweet answered. “All we need to do is focus our minds. And most of us have some kind of magic talent, like my healing skills, or Arborsong’s plantshaping.”

“Innate magic,” Severus murmured. “A skill that is dying out among wizards nowadays. The Animagus talent is innate magic.”

“My mom taught me a lot about surviving in the woods and stuff,” explained Darkmoon. “She was a Marine and they can survive almost anything anywhere. She taught me everything she knew and the rest I learned by studying books and spending summers at this Lakota camp where they taught you how to live like Sioux used to a hundred years ago, hunting and fishing and living off the land and all that.”

“Is that where you learned to make a bow and arrows?” Severus queried.

“Yeah. And how to make clothes out of leather and shoes and a whole bunch of other stuff. I used to complain sometimes when I was little about going there, but now I’m glad I did, ‘cause everything I learned there helped us survive here.”

“No knowledge is ever wasted,” Severus quoted.

Darkmoon agreed. Then he rose to his feet. “Now that you know a little about me, Meadowsweet, and Sylvanor, I want you to follow me to round house and tell the rest of my pack your story. Knight ought to have returned from trailing the ones who ran and made sure they left the Forest.”

“I hope you nailed their tails to a wall,” Meadowsweet snapped. “They broke the treaty by setting foot in the Forest.”

“They won’t do it again,” declared the leader of the wolfen angrily. “Nobody double crosses us twice. Even Dracula’s vamps aren’t that dumb.”

“You’re not afraid of the werewolves then?” Severus asked. “Some of them are coldblooded murderers.”

“I know. That’s why we want to keep them out of the Forest of the Night. The Forest has enough dark creatures in it without adding our stinking sires to the mix. There are things in this wood better left alone. As I’m sure you know.” He beckoned the two wizards out the door. “You coming, Sash?”

“I’ll be along in a minute, Erik. Go ahead without me,” called the Healer.

Harry stepped out the door and onto a long platform that appeared to rise and twist around the trunk of a gigantic oak tree. The platform extended across to yet another large tree, and was bound on both sides by a series of strong woven ropes that crisscrossed to form a kind of wall high enough to prevent someone from falling off the pathway. Harry could see more pathways twining through several other huge trees and other houses could be seen in the distance, all of them lovingly embraced by the oak trees they had sprung from. Each house had an overhanging canopy of lush green foliage, and each one was shaped differently. Some were round and others square or rectangular. All were unique, a blending of nature and art, functional and beautiful, and neither wizard had ever seen anything like them.

Just then, a long low howl broke the stillness and Darkmoon howled back. “That’s Winterknight, telling me they’ve returned.” He waved them down the pathway impatiently.

Experimentally, Harry stamped a foot upon the walkway, testing it. It remained as steady as the earth beneath his feet.

He took a few steps and found that his sneakers made a faint thumping sound when he walked.

Darkmoon glanced over his shoulder and said, “Come on, slowpokes. It’s perfectly safe, a herd of elephants could run on this.” He jumped up and down to demonstrate how sturdy the walkway was. “Let’s go, you can gawk at the scenery later.”

He whirled and strode lightly down the walkway, making almost no sound.

After a moment, Severus and Harry followed, relieved to note that even when a breeze came up, the walkway remained firm and did not sway.

“This is a remarkable piece of architecture.” Severus remarked as they walked. “I have never seen its like. But didn’t it occur to you that you could have lived in the forest as wolves?”

“Of course, and we did, for awhile,” Darkmoon called back. “But we’re not wolves, professor. Or at least, not all wolf. We’re people too, and we deserve to live like normal people. As much as we can, anyhow.”

“Very true,” agreed the professor, thinking what an injustice the Ministry had perpetrated upon these innocent children, all of whom seemed to be between the ages of sixteen and twenty. Once again, Fudge’s paranoia has cost lives. These children might have grown up loved and happy were they permitted to be placed with loving adoptive families instead of rounded up like a pack of vicious strays and tossed into the forest. They were probably hoping the wolfen would die here or revert to their animal selves, and that way they could absolve themselves of any guilt they felt at leaving children to the mercy of monsters and the elements.

Only the wolfen hadn’t died, they had survived, and more they had forged a community and a life of their own. Severus wagered that those pompous Ministry official, one of which had probably been good old Umbridge, had never considered that might happen. The Potions Master had to admire the wolfen’s resourcefulness and determination and cleverness. It would seem that they thrived on adversity, or at least made the best of it.

He turned to Harry and said, “How are you feeling? Whatever they shot us with seems to have had no ill effects upon me.”

“I feel all right. A little hungry, but otherwise okay. I wonder where Hedwig is? When we stopped at the stream, she flew off somewhere. I hope she’s all right.”

“Hedwig is a tough old owl. She knows what she’s about.” Severus reassured Harry. “She will find you, the bond between you is strong.”

Harry knew better than to doubt Severus’s words, for Hedwig always seemed to know just where he was. “Is that because she’s my familiar or a post owl?” he wondered aloud.

“Probably a bit of both.” Severus replied.

“What do you think of these wolfen, Sev? Do you think they’ll help us find it?”

“They may, once we convince them we aren’t going to use the object for any evil purpose. They certainly bear no love for Voldemort, werewolves, or the Ministry. Not that I blame them.”

They had nearly caught up with Darkmoon, approaching a large round house cradled inbetween a gigantic fork of a centuries old black oak tree. Like the other dwellings in Sylvanor, the round house was formed partially out of the tree itself, mystically shaped so the tree branches wrapped lovingly about the wall and roof, which was formed of an arching canopy of leafy green branches that overlapped, making a sort of cap of living greenery.

Harry just stared at it in awe, there was a serenity and harmony to this place that made him feel safe and protected and soothed his weary and anxious spirit. He glanced at Severus and saw that he too was affected by the aura that radiated outward from the round house. Several windows were set in the walls, so that the sunlight streamed through and created patterns upon the floor, Harry noticed as soon as they walked into the door, which was shaped like an arch with vines curling about it.

The interior was lit by a few hanging lamps, but mostly the sun itself provided the light. Benches grown out of the floor in a semi-circle surrounded a raised platform and a softly glowing charcoal brazier, which stood upon a tripod.

The rest of the wolfen pack were lounging upon the benches, but they straightened when Darkmoon entered with Severus and Harry behind him. Cocky Vlad cast the newcomers a scornful look, then went back to twirling a knife upon the tip of his finger.

Several wolfen, including a lanky boy with flaming hair cut short and spiked, looked at the two wizards with interest tinged with distrust. But no one said anything.

Darkmoon leaped up on to the dais and beckoned to Harry and Severus to come up also. Then the alpha of Sylvanor turned to his packmates and said, “Welcome, my brothers and sisters. I’ve called this meet for a few reasons, one of the main ones being the two guests who stand beside me.” He paused to clear his throat.

“Guests? Ha! Trouble is more like it!” cried Vlad angrily. “They brought the werewolves into the Forest.”

“It wasn’t our fault they followed us in,” Harry objected.

Severus shushed him, and he subsided irritably. That Winterknight was starting to really get on his nerves.

“Peace, Vlad. You know as well as I do that Greyback’s wolves need no excuse to invade our home. Severus and Harry just happened to be convenient targets. Besides, weren’t you complaining to me just last week that you were growing fat and lazy with no werewolves to chase away?”

Some of the other wolfen chuckled, and Vlad scowled and did not answer. He clearly did not approve of Darkmoon’s decision.

“Ha! We made them run all right,” said a slender platinum blond boy, he had his hair shoulder length with green and blue beads woven into it and was wearing fringed buckskins with a lightning bolt painted on the shirt. “All the way back to their dark one with their tails between their legs!”

“That’s hardly the point, Storm,” growled Vlad, amid a chorus of victory howls from the others. “No werewolves would have come here if it hadn’t been for them!” He pointed an accusatory finger at the two wizards.

“Aw, hush your yapping, Vlad!” ordered the large wolfen who had knocked out Harry and Severus with the blowpipe, Fenris was his name. “You whine more than a wormy pup! Least you didn’t get stuck back here on guard duty.”

Darkmoon growled sharply, low and menacing, and held up a hand. Immediately all the wolfen stilled and looked at their Alpha. “Better. As I was saying, I brought these two here for a reason. I know that some of you have issues with wizards, but I could tell they weren’t lying when they told me they were here to destroy that bastard Voldemort, and you all know that one is a menace that needs to be brought down.”

“Damn straight!” cried Eris.

“His slimy wizard goons killed Araya!” yelled Fenris, and his eyes gleamed with fury.

“We should have ripped out his throat when we had the chance, when they were all gathered there in the clearing,” Winterknight howled.

“Oh, sure we should have,” sneered IndigoEyes. “And just how were we supposed to do that, Mr. Brilliant Warrior? When they vanished into thin air before we could hold onto them?”

“Not all of them, Indigo,” Silva reminded her. “We caught the one who had sacrificed Araya and sent him to his ancestors.”

“Enough!” Darkmoon held up his hands and they quieted. “Voldemort or whatever he calls himself needs to die, we all agree on that. But wolfen are not wizards and we’re not equipped to kill a master wizard of his power. That’s why—”

“Says who? One good knife across his throat or an arrow in his eye will do for him same as any other wizard,” boasted Vlad.

He gasped as Eris elbowed him hard in the ribs. “Shut up, idiot! Let the alpha speak!”

“Thanks, Eris,” Darkmoon nodded at her gratefully and she beamed. He frowned down at Vlad, who scuffed a foot and looked away, shamed. “Anyway, like I was saying, we all know what Voldemort and his pack of dark wizards did to our forest last time they were here, a year ago. Not only did they kill Araya for their blood spell ritual, they also perverted the guardian oak and ash in Shadow Vale, making them twisted and their hearts full of hate so that they attacked us, we who had once been brothers and friends to them. Not even Arborsong could make them hear us after that.”

“The dark ones broke something within the trees’ hearts,” Arborsong said sadly. “They could no longer hear the forestsong, or understand me when I spoke, their voices were bound and their spirits fled or filled with darkness. Now they live in torment, hating without reason and guarding something that reeks of evil.” The slender plantshaper shuddered, looking ill.

“That something is what we have come here seeking,” Severus said.

“So you say!” sneered Vlad. “But how can we trust you? You could take whatever it is and use it to wipe us out. Isn’t that what you wizards want—to get rid of all the half-human abominations like us? Isn’t that why your Ministry put us here—so we could be locked away and you could be safe?”

Vlad rose to his feet and glared at Severus, his hands clenched into fists, a belligerent scowl upon his face.

Severus took a moment to gather his thoughts before replying. “My Ministry is run by fools and cowards who bury their heads in the sand whenever something comes along that they don’t like or are afraid to deal with. They denounced me and my apprentice here as mad when we told them Voldemort had returned. It was only after we had fought him in public in the Ministry itself that the idiots acknowledged Voldemort’s return and defeat. I understand your disgust and distrust of the Ministry of Magic, you have every right to loathe them for what they have done to you. But consider, I am not representing the Ministry. I am here on my own, fulfilling a prophecy that will end in the total destruction of Voldemort for all of time if I am successful. That is why Harry and I are here, to find the lost piece of Voldemort’s putrid soul and destroy it.”

“How can you destroy a soul?” queried Silva, puzzled.

“It is difficult, but if we can destroy the object the soul resides in then the soul will be destroyed,” Severus told her. “We have already destroyed several pieces, and this shall be the fifth.”

“Fifth?” repeated Darkmoon in dismay. “Just how many pieces are there?”

“Seven.” Harry answered.

“Why in hell would you want to break apart your soul?” asked Eris.

“To make yourself immortal,” Harry told her. “Voldy’s a twisted bugger. Not that it works all that well, but . . .he can be killed and return from the dead unless we find all those pieces. We know one is here, somewhere in the forest. We just don’t know where.”

Severus tapped his finger against his jaw thoughtfully. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would say the object may be in that place you mentioned . . .the one where the Death Eaters gathered last year and sacrificed your packmate. Voldemort would have spared nothing to ensure that his soul was protected. He even made a treaty with Dracula himself, making certain the vampires stayed away from the forest and did not hunt his Death Eaters.” Severus had read that bit of information in the journal as he was translating it.

IndigoEyes wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Yuck! Sounds like pond scum, making a deal with bloody Dracula. Then again, he sounds like the type the Count would be friends with. Dirt calls to dirt.”

“What’s a Death Eater?” Urchin asked timidly from the back row of benches.

“A Death Eater is a wizard who has pledged himself to Voldemort and believes in his unholy cause—that he should rule all of Britain and Europe,” answered the Potions Master. “I infiltrated them for many years, but now I am done spying and fight against them openly. We wish to ask if you would help us find the object he has hidden?”

“Why should we risk our necks for you?” asked Stormstrike.

“You do not have to,” Severus said evenly. “All we want is a guide to that place you spoke of where the trees were corrupted. We will find the object and destroy it. And then we will leave.”

“I think you should leave now, wizard,” bristled Vlad. “We don’t need your kind stirring up things best left undisturbed.”

“We can’t do that,” Harry burst out, unable to keep still any longer. “Don’t you understand? Voldemort is a threat to everyone, not just wizards. If he’s not stopped, he’ll destroy everyone. Including you. So you’ll be saving your own arse by helping us find what he’s hidden away.”

Severus groaned inwardly at Harry’s frank speech. Clearly diplomacy was not the boy’s strong suit. Damn it, boy, you might have aggravated the situation by saying what you did. Why didn’t you just keep quiet and let me handle it?

But to Severus’s surprise, a few of the other wolfen were slowly nodding and murmurs of agreement buzzed about the room.

“He’s right.”

“Yes, why shouldn’t we help them search out the object?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Fenris quoted softly.

“Well said, Fen.” Darkmoon approved. “I say that we offer Harry Potter and Severus Snape free passage to the Shadow Vale, and let them see if what they seek is hidden there. If they can destroy Voldemort then that’s one less enemy wolfen need to worry about. What say you?”

There was a chorus of howls of approval, all save for the sour and prickly Vlad Winterknight.

“I say you’re all fools!” he spat. “Let the wizards fend for themselves, like we had to. If I were Alpha—”

“Not again, Knight!” groaned Meadowsweet from the doorway. “If you were Alpha we’d all be living like kings in a palace, right?” She shook her head. “But you’re not Alpha, Vlad, Darkmoon is and I for one thank Herne the Hunter for that. You’d have us trying to fight the vampires for territory.”

“So? At least we could go somewhere besides this forest,” growled the other angrily.

“Like where?” demanded IndigoEyes. “Back to our loving mothers, who are either dead or who think we’re scum? To live with the bloodsuckers? We’re better off here, where no one bothers us. And if the wizards can make the Forest of the Night a better place for us to live, I say let them do it.”

“Indigo’s right,” Eris said. “A wizard created this mess, so let a wizard fix it.”

“Fine, but who’s going to show them the way to the Vale?” asked Urchin.

No one said anything for several moments, until Darkmoon spoke. “I will. The rest of you can stay here and guard the border and Sylvanor.” He looked at Severus and said, “On one condition. If I help you do this, I want your help in return. Agreed?”

“If it is within my power to do so, I shall help you,” Severus said. “Provided that help will not cause harm to innocents or my apprentice.”

“It won’t.” Darkmoon assured him. “The help I need is for my packmates and myself. But we can discuss that later. Right now I’m hungry and we need to hunt. Who wishes to stalk a deer with me?” He blurred into his wolf form and howled invitingly.

In a flash half the wolfen had also changed and frisked up to their alpha, biting him gently under the chin as a sign of respect, wagging their tails eagerly. Darkmoon accepted their homage proudly, before running to the door and opening it with a quick slap of one paw against the handle. Within moments, he and half the pack had raced off, down a spiraling set of stairs to the ground and away into the forest.

Harry looked up to find Meadowsweet at his elbow. The wolfen Healer looked pensive. “Something wrong?”

“I . . .yes . . .do either of you know what a snowy owl is doing here? One crashed into my window some fifteen minutes ago and gave herself an awful knock on the head. She appeared to have trouble seeing, though I don’t know why. I don’t speak owl. I know you wizards use owls as messengers, does she belong to you?”

“Hedwig! That’s my familiar!” Harry cried, panic erupting within him. “She’s hurt? Where is she? Why the hell didn’t you say so before?”

“Back in my house, that’s why I was so late, I was treating her,” Meadowsweet began, but Harry had already shifted into Freedom and was flying towards the door.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” Severus cried, when it appeared that the hawk was going to try and fly through the door in his haste to get to his familiar. “Don’t go off half-cocked, Harry!” He gestured and the door swung wide, allowing the red-tail to shoot through it and fly back to Meadowsweet’s hut. “I apologize for his . . . abruptness. He and his owl are very close and he’s very concerned over her. Though I can’t blame him, I would have been the same with my familiar.”

But Meadowsweet barely heard his apology, she was too fascinated with another aspect of Harry’s departure. “Is he a were too?” exclaimed the wolfen Healer. “A hawk were?”

“No, an Animagus.” Severus corrected. “We both are. My form is a hawk too.” Then he shifted as well and took to the air, his great black wings beating hard to catch up with his apprentice.

Below, Meadosweet became a lovely white wolf and followed the two hawks, racing swiftly down the walkway on silent paws, hoping that her healing skills were enough to mend the owl. She hated it when she lost a patient.

Freedom flew like an arrow released from a longbow straight through Sylvanor to Meadowsweet's house, reaching the Healer's dwelling a scant two minutes later. In a second he had returned to human form and was turning the latch and bolting inside.  "Hedwig! Hedwig, are you okay?"

Harry? I am here, upon the perch near the window, came the owl's soft hoot.

Harry rushed over to her, and found his formerly stalwart companion a drooping wreck.  Her feathers were askew and some were broken, she was huddling in as compact of a ball as she could get upon the perch and her eyes-her beautiful amber eyes-were dull and unseeing.  "Oh, Hedwig, no! You can't see?"

Not right now . . .no.  And my head is swimming and aches something fierce. I struck the window. . . I came looking for you, Harry . . .Need to tell you something important . . .Hedwig chirruped blearily.  Head is fuzzy . . .can't think straight . . .

Harry stroked her gently.  "Shh.  Don't talk, rest.  It can wait till you're better."

But the stubborn owl summoned all of her remaining strength and hissed, A post owl always completes a delivery. I discovered the place where the trees speak . . .it is shadowed by some dark force . . .I could feel it even as I flew, like a black sludge over my wings.  When I went to investigate . . .a tree . . .attacked me, Harry! It swatted at me with its branches, nearly knocked me out of the sky. I fear . . .I have injured my shoulder . . .That is why I couldn't stop in time and smashed into the window . . .I am sorry . . .

"It's okay.  I'm the one who's sorry." Harry said, feeling the old familiar pangs of guilt rise within him.  "I never should have allowed you to come with us.  You should have stayed home, where it was safe."

No . . .for then who-o-o would keep you safe, fledgling?  Severus cannot do it alone. The owl's eyes closed then, for she was exhausted and hurting.

Harry continued to stroke her, feeling a sick sharp pain in the pit of his stomach and a strong desire to weep like a little child.  Don't die, Hedwig! Please!

There was a sudden creak and the door to Meadowsweet's house was flung open to admit both Severus and the wolfen Healer. 

"I tried my best to stabilize her, Severus, but bird anatomy is not my strong suit, I'm afraid.  I was trained to heal people and learned how to heal wolves as well, but owls . . ."

"I have some experience with treating birds," Severus reassured her as he moved over to where Harry was standing.  "Harry, move over, so I can see what I'm dealing with."

Severus ran his wand over the comatose owl, muttering, "Hmm . . .a strained lateral muscle in the right wing, some trauma to the head and breast from the window, and a concussion and pressure behind the optic nerves.  That's why she's blind." He looked at Meadowsweet. "Did you treat her for shock?"

"Yes, I gave her  a bit of an Anti-Shock Draft, and bound her wing," she indicated the white strips tying the owl's wing to her side, which had gone unnoticed by Harry in his concern over the owl's sight. 

"Good. But we need to get that swelling inside her brain down," Severus said briskly.  "Which means I need to make a potion to reduce internal bleeding and concussions.  Where are your potions ingredients? Do you have aterna flowers and a tincture of willowbark?"

"Right here," Meadowsweet showed him where all her potions stores were and her cauldrons.

"Harry, come here and measure out two tablespoonfuls of crushed murtlap leaf," Severus ordered, setting up the small cauldron and filling it with water with a quick gesture.

Meadowsweet raised her eyebrows.  "Well, that was quick.  Usually I just use the rainwater barrel out back.  The water is clean and sweet."

"Next time I shall, but right now time is crucial," said the Potions Master.  "Here. Chop up this bloodroot, quarter-inch pieces, no larger."

While his apprentice and the wolfen chopped and ground, the Potions Master measured out various other ingredients and added them to the cauldron, stirring quickly or slowly, brewing entirely from memory.

"You're very good," Meadowsweet said, watching how deftly the Potions Master added things, a few drops of this with a dropper here, a double spoonful there. "Even my mother couldn't brew something this complex without a potions text."

"That's because he's one of the best Potions Masters in Europe, if not the best," Harry informed her proudly.  "Severus, I'm finished.  Can I add the murtlap now? "

"One moment," Severus held up a hand, counting off seconds in his head.  He gave the contents of the cauldron one more stir then nodded.

Harry tipped the ground murtlap into the cauldron and immediately a sweet cleansing aroma filled the room.  Just breathing it in made his spirits lift.

Soon after, Snape indicated that Meadowsweet could add the roots, then he stirred the mixture ten times clockwise and one and a half times counterclockwise before letting it steep for five minutes.

After it had cooled somewhat, he decanted it into a small vial.  "And now we administer the potion," he said.  "Harry, hold Hedwig still."

Harry came and held the owl while Severus expertly pried open the bird's beak and gave her two droppers-full of the Concuss-Ease Elixir. "There.  That will take care of any swelling or internal hemorrhaging.  You need to re-dose her every three to four hours, Harry.  I'll make up a Pain Reliever now and also an Anti-Inflammatory draft for her wing muscle."

"May I help?" asked Meadowsweet.  "I know how to brew those."

"Oh? Good.  Start on the Pain Reliever then, if you would." Severus ordered, and the three settled down to brew their respective drafts.

* * * * * *

Two hours later all the potions were brewed, Harry checked and saw that Hedwig was sleeping comfortably, and they heard the soft victorious howls of the rest of the wolfen returning. Meadowsweet tilted her head and smiled.  "They have brought back a deer.  We shall feast tonight." She indicated a pitcher upon the table.  "Would you care for some cold moonberry juice?"

"Moonberry juice?" Harry repeated. "What's that?"

"A juice made from moonberries, of course," Meadowsweet answered.  "I squeezed and pressed them myself.  The juice is very good, moonberries only grow here in the summer and can be picked only by the light of the moon."

She poured them all a mug of a rose-tinted juice.

Then she went to the small pantry and opened it, pulling out a loaf of a dark brown bread and a crock of something.  "Chestnut bread and honey," she announced.  "Sorry I don't have butter, but we don't have any goats or cows here, nor wheat so the flour made from chestnuts has to do for bread.  But how I miss regular wheat bread!" she sighed with longing, then spread honey upon a slice of bread and bit into it.

Harry and Severus seated themselves at the table.  "Thank you, Meadowsweet," the Potions Master said before spreading his own piece of bread with delicate clover honey. 

Harry, who had a slice halfway to his mouth, put it down at his mentor's frown and reminding nudge and said sheepishly, "Thanks, Meadowsweet for everything.  I'm glad it was you who found Hedwig and not one of the others, like Vlad."

"You're welcome.  But Vlad's not so bad, once you get to know him.  He might be a bit gruff and snippy, but then he's had little reason to trust wizards.  His mother was a Diviner, trained at some fancy academy for wizards somewhere in Russia, but when she found out Vlad was a wolfen, she threw him out quicker than you can say snapdragon.  Not only that, but she told the Ministry he was no longer her son, and disowned him legally.  So he has no love for your kind, and I can't blame him for it.  He feels that if your own flesh and blood can betray you thus, then why trust strangers?"

"That's understandable," Severus said.  "We don't wish to cause friction within your pack, Meadowsweet."

The wolfen shrugged. "Moon and stars, Severus, but conflict is part of life.  If Vlad wasn't complaining about you, it'd be something else.  He's got a good heart but very little patience and is happiest when he has something to unleash his anger on."

"Sounds like he could use a few anger management sessions, huh, Sev?"

"What do you mean?" asked Meadowsweet.

"Whenever I get really mad about something, Severus makes me spar with him-we put on gloves and box with each other, or punch a heavy bag.  It's a great stress reliever."

Meadowsweet looked thoughtful.  "I never thought of that. Usually when I am frustrated or upset, I go for a run in my wolf form or meditate. My mother was a big fan of meditating.  She said it cleansed the spirit like nothing else."

"She would be correct.  I practice meditation as well, and am teaching Harry," Severus told her, nibbling upon his bread.

It was quite tasty, nutty and flavorful and the honey added just the right touch of sweetness.  The moonberry juice was tart and sweet at the same time and yet was deliciously refreshing.  He savored it slowly, unlike his ward, who had gobbled down the first piece of bread and was now halfway through his second, as well as his second cup of juice.  Shaking his head at his apprentice's deplorable manners, Severus said, "Harry, you might want to pause for breath inbetween bites, the food isn't going to vanish."

"What?" Harry asked, and then nearly choked, causing Severus to smack him hard between the shoulderblades.

"And don't talk with your mouth full," lectured his mentor.

Harry flushed and mumbled, "Yes, sir."

Meadowsweet giggled.  "You sound like my mother, Severus.  She was always telling Erik-that's Darkmoon-to chew quietly and not slurp like a wild thing.  Of course, we were wild things sometimes, but Mum said that was no excuse for uncivilized behavior."

"Your mother was right," Severus said, then ordered Harry to drink some juice. "Slowly, this time."

Harry did, his face fiery, and concentrated on eating, too embarrassed to make conversation for the moment.

Once their lunch was through, Harry re-administered the potions to Hedwig, then Darkmoon came by, asking how everything was with their new guests.

"Fine, except Harry's familiar was injured, but Severus and I are healing her," Meadowsweet informed him.

"Good.  You can look out for the bird while we're gone, right?" Darkmoon asked. Meadowsweet nodded an affirmative.  The wolfen Alpha looked pleased. "Okay.  We had a great hunt today, brought down two fat bucks.  We'll have roasted venison tonight and wild rice and mushrooms at the feast.  And afterwards we'll leave for Shadow Vale." He was leaning casually back in his chair, tilting it so the front legs were up in the air.  "I figure the quicker we leave, the sooner we can all return."

"That is true," Severus agreed.  Then he eyed the wolfen's unorthodox pose and said, "You could fall over doing that."

Darkmoon smirked.  "Yeah, my mom used to tell me that.  Hasn't happened yet.  Superior balance," he said loftily.

"Humph!" Meadowsweet snorted. "Don't be so smug, Erik.  Because one day my foot might slip and shove you and your superior balance right on your behind."

"That'll be the day, Sasha." Darkmoon laughed, then righted the chair, his amber eyes twinkling.  "Well, I'm off, got to make sure Vlad's not sulking and stirring up trouble.  You know how he gets when his fur's mussed."

He rose and slipped out the door, moving like a shadow, with a grace Harry could only envy.

"It'll be a few hours till the feast begins," Meadowsweet declared.  "So we have time to talk.  Are all of the wizards at your school able to transform?"

"No, we're not all Animagi," Harry answered, having regained his equilibrium.  "That's what we call a wizard who can shift forms-an Animagus.  The plural is Animagi, from ancient Egyptian-magi meaning wizard and ani meaning animal. Sev and I are among the few who can do it.  My form is a red-tailed hawk and his is a goshawk.  But it's advanced magic and most wizards don't have the power or the will to master it."

"He transformed by accident and ended up breaking both wings the first time he attempted to fly," Severus told the wolfen. 

"Moon and Stars! That must have been awful!"

"It was.  I knocked myself out and forgot who I was.  Sev saved my life and nursed me back to health and when I regained my memories I transformed back and became his apprentice," Harry explained. 

They spent the rest of two hours discussing the way magic was taught at Hogwarts and what subjects were covered and Harry shared his experiences as a new teacher and laughed about some of the pranks his class pulled on him, because now it seemed funny, looking back on it.  "But when I was in the classroom, I wanted to throttle the little brats," he admitted, smiling.

"Join the club," Severus said dryly, and they all laughed.

"I would love to study with some real Healers," Meadowsweet said wistfully, her eyes darkening.  "But I know that's impossible, because I'm a wolfen and no Healer would ever take me as an apprentice. My mum taught me what she could, but it wasn't nearly enough.  There's so much more I could learn, but I have no one to teach me.  It's hard learning by trial and error, but I do the best I can.  Lucky for me wolfen don't get sick like regular humans."

Harry thought it was quite stupid for the Ministry to deny the wolfen something like a decent education, and said so.  "I mean, it's not like you're dangerous, like a regular werewolf, and go crazy during the full moon and try to kill people."

Meadowsweet smiled sadly.  "You and I know that, Harry, but the ones in power . . .believe the were blood taints us, that we're . .. unsafe and unclean, was how they put it when they dropped us off here.  "Live like the beasts you become, for that is all that you are," they told us, and that is how they managed to walk away without regrets."

"Because they thought what they abandoned was nothing more than a wild animal," Severus concluded, scowling.  "We two are very familiar with such prejudices ourselves, being who and what we are. Someday, the Ministry will regret what they have done here and elsewhere.  They cut off their nose to spite their face."

"All too true, Severus," the wolfen girl said, traces of bitterness coloring her tone. "But I have learned to accept it, for what else can I do? This is our life and we must somehow make the best of it.  Darkmoon believes someday that may change, but . . .I doubt it.  Unless something drastic occurs within the Ministry itself."

Privately, Harry knew the girl was right, having gone head to head with Umbridge and Fudge more than once.  Their paranoia was what kept the wizarding world in the dark even more so than Voldemort's reign of terror.  Ignorance and blindness were worse enemies than dark wizards, the boy thought sagely.   He had learned that lesson well.

The talk shifted then to Quidditch and some of the other extra-curricular activities at Hogwarts, like Gobstones and the Herbology Society, the Debate Club, and other things. Meadowsweet kept them busy asking questions about the four Houses and the pros and cons of each, soaking up every bit of information like a sponge.

By the time their conversation ended, Harry had gone through nearly three pitchers of moonberry juice to slake his thirst from a throat gone dry with talking.  As he got up to use the bathroom, he thought that Meadowsweet could give Hermione competition when it came to non-stop talking on one subject.  But I like her, she's funny and smart and it's too bad she could never meet Hermione, I think the two of them would be best friends in a heartbeat. 

* * * * * *

Darkmoon found Vlad leaning against a tree, one boot crossed over the other, idly paring his nails with his belt knife.  The auburn-haired wolfen bore a nasty scowl upon his handsome face and normally Darkmoon would have left the other alone to brood in silence and work his bad mood out on his own, but he dare not risk offending these wizards, and he did not trust his packmate not to quarrel with them, given the mood he was in.

"Penny for your thoughts, Knight."

Vlad looked up, bristling, until he recognized his Alpha, then his hackles lowered and he growled simply, "What do you want, Darkmoon? Come to peddle some more bull about how these wizards aren't like the others?"

"They're not, and you'd know it if you gave them half a chance."

"Ha! Not bloody likely, sir.  I've had a bellyful of trusting wizards.  All it ever brought me was grief." He spat on the ground and then looked away, the old hurt flaring like poison in his blood. 

"Vlad," Darkmoon began gently, sensing his packmate's unease.  "I know you don't trust wizards because of what your mother and those asses from the Ministry did to us, but I've spoken with Severus and Harry and they're as different form those Ministry bastards as night from day.  Trust me on that."

The other's green eyes blazed.  "I do trust you, Darkmoon.  It's them I can't trust. Don't you get it? Once they get what they want from you, sir, they'll disappear and forget all about their promise to help you. I don't like them and I don't want them here, sir.  Sylvanor belongs to wolfen and not humans."

"Vlad, they're not moving in here, only staying for as long as they need to find this magical object and then they'll leave.  But in the meantime, Knight, they're guests and I want you to treat them as such.  Got me?"  Darkmoon growled and bared his teeth, the Alpha resonance coming off him in waves.

"Yes, sir," whimpered the other wolfen, flattening himself against the tree trunk and lowering his head submissively.

"Good." The leader said, then clapped his subordinate on the shoulder.  "See that you remember it at the feast."

"Will they be there?" asked Vlad sullenly.

"Yes, now snap out of this blue funk you're in, Winterknight, because the look on your face could curdle milk, if we had any."

"Is that an order then?"

"Take it however you like, but don't start any trouble. When I'm gone, you'll be in charge of patrolling the border, since I know you're the best at spotting werewolf traps and tricks, but I'll pull you off and put Eris in charge instead if you start anything, Vladimir."

"You wouldn't! She's not half the scout I am, I don't care if she is descended from the line of Diana the Huntress like she says. I can out track her any day of the week and three times on Sundays.  How could you even think of putting her in charge?"

"I won't have to if you behave yourself. Don't make me kick your ass, Winterknight." The warning in the other's tone was unmistakable.

Vlad huffed, shaking his hair out of his eyes.  "Fine, O Fearless Leader.  I hear and obey, sir.  But even so, I don't think you should have brought them here.  What if they have a hidden agenda?"

Darkmoon laughed.  "Like what? Taking over our territory? Vlad, the only people crazy enough to live here, in the heart of the Forest of the Night, are us. Harry and Severus are here for one purpose and one purpose only-to find a magical object and destroy it.  A worthy cause, for what's one less dark wizard in the world?"

"Why should we care? It's not our fight, sir.  Let the wizards tend to their own and leave us out of it."

"Wrong, Knight.  The dark ones made it our fight when they killed Araya." Darkmoon said grimly.  "I'm not going to forgive or forget that.  And this way I can help bring that wicked one down before somebody else gets hurt. Nobody hurts a member of my pack and walks away."

"What if they hurt you, sir?"

Darkmoon shrugged.  "Part of the risk.  Don't worry, Knight, I'm not going to play hero and get myself killed.  But these wizards might be the chance I've been waiting for.  The chance to get us all a better deal and maybe even a better life."

"Ha! It's a nice dream and all, sir, but never trust a bargain with a wizard."  

"And how many bargains have you made with a wizard to know that?"

"None, and I intend to keep it that way." Vlad said shortly.

"Vlad, quit your bellyaching. I think these two actually know the meaning of honor. They're not all like her, you know."

Winterknight looked away, his expression as sour as if he had eaten a lemon, rind and all.  "I hope, for your sake, sir, that you're right."

So do I, Darkmoon added mentally.  "All right, you're dismissed. Remember what I said."

Vlad gave him a rather sloppy military salute that made Darkmoon roll his eyes and think exasperatedly, Winterknight, you'd make a lousy Marine, but you care about your family.  His pack was very close knit, they had to be, for their own survival, both emotionally and physically.  All of them were scarred by rejection and hurt by a world that no longer wanted them, and fearful that someday they would discover that they were worthless or worse, like their evil werewolf sires.  Well, all except Darkmoon, whose sire had been honorable and decent.  He wished he had known the man, it might have made things easier if he had some memories of a good father figure, instead of a hole in his memory.

Enough woolgathering, Erik, go and check on how Arborsong is coming along with the roasted deer and the vegetables and rice. 

After that he would patrol the village one last time and then he would be ready to leave. 

* * * * **

The feast went off without a hitch, as everyone, wolfen and wizard alike, filled their bellies with the savory venison roasted with wild garlic, thyme, and a bit of salt plus wild rice, mushrooms and other roots.  It had been a long time since the inhabitants of Sylvanor had eaten so well and whatever was not eaten was saved and the other deer was carefully hung and smoked in a hollow log with wood chips to make jerky for the lean times in winter when food was hard to come by.

Harry and Severus sat quietly at one of the long tables in the roundhouse, watching the other wolfen laugh and joke while they ate, and in that moment Harry could almost imagine he were back at school during dinner hour.  The only wolfen who approached them were Darkmoon and Meadowsweet, the others left them alone, even Vlad, whom Severus had pegged as a troublemaker.

Harry's face was shiny with venison grease, he had not thought he would enjoy the taste of the meat, but one bite and he found he was ravenous and ate until he could hold no more.  He knew he would probably regret stuffing himself later, but it tasted so good, he just had to eat it.  In fact, he couldn't recall food at Hogwarts ever tasting so wonderful and he wondered why.

"Because Arborsong knows his herbs and spices, that's why," pointed out the alpha. "What a chef he'd make."

The two wizards agreed, then Severus rose and said that they ought to rest before setting out on this new journey and told Darkmoon to wake them in three hours. He headed back to Meadowsweet's hut to sleep, for he knew Harry would need to be close by Hedwig, and they were welcome in the Healer's home.

The Potions Master set up their bedrolls while Harry spoke to his owl and gave her more potions, then settled down for a rest, knowing he needed it. This crazy quest was taking a toll upon him, loathe as he was to admit it, he was not as young as he used to be.  He started to meditate, sinking into a half-aware trance.

Harry went to settle upon his bedroll, only to find that his stomach was queasy and aching.  He went and used the bathroom, then returned to lie on his side, but his stomach refused to settle. He bit his lip, not wanting to disturb Severus over something so trivial as an upset stomach. You just had to eat that last piece, didn't you, Potter? And now you're paying for your stupidity. He scrunched into a ball and willed the pain to go away.  But it didn't and he groaned involuntarily.

Severus came instantly alert, sitting up and looking about to see what had made that distressful noise.  Meadowsweet had not returned and Hedwig was asleep so that left Harry.  He glanced over at his apprentice's bedroll and saw his ward curled up, face pale and teeth clenched, obviously in pain.

"Harry? What's the matter?" he asked, going over to him. One lean hand pressed against the boy's forehead. "Are you ill?"

"It's nothin', Sev. I just . . .overate like a dumbarse and now my stomach hurts."

"Ah.  Indigestion.  Stand up, please. Lying all hunched over like that will only make it worse."

"But Sev . . ." Harry whined as Snape tugged him firmly to his feet. "I'm never eating venison again."

"Say rather you ought to never stuff yourself again," his mentor snorted, then summoned a Stomach Soother from his kit and gave it to the boy. "Drink that. It'll relieve you of the cramps and bloating."

"Hell, Sev, you make me sound like I've got PMS or something," his ward grumbled, but downed the potion without protest. He felt much better immediately afterwards.  "Thanks, Severus."

"For what, brat?"

"This," he handed the wizard the empty vial.  "And for looking out for me, I guess."

"That is my job, Harry, protecting you. You don't need to thank me for it."

"I want to," the boy said simply, then he went and lay down upon his bedroll, his stomach no longer feeling as though it were about to burst, and fell fast asleep.

 Severus tucked the empty vial away in his kit and returned to his own bed, and this time he did not awaken until Darkmoon shook his shoulder.

* * * * *

Grimmauld Place

That same afternoon:

  Sirius opened the door to find Dumbledore standing on the doorstep, his purple fez set at a jaunty angle, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes making the Animagus wonder if the old man had taken some kind of Cheerful Draft.  "Albus, come in. I wasn't expecting anyone."

He stood aside to allow Albus to enter, making a quick flinging gesture at his mother's portrait before she could go on a rant about allowing Gryffindors to cross her threshold. 

"Hello, Sirius, my boy.  I was in the area and thought I'd stop over and see how you were doing.  Are you feeling better?"

"Yes.  Healer Sandrilas has said I'm almost recovered. He said that next week, barring any . . .episodes, I can return to light duty at the Auror Department.  Mostly filing reports and things like that, but in a month I might be able to resume normal field work." Sirius told the Headmaster, a faint smile upon his face. 

"Wonderful, my boy! I am so glad you are finally getting the chance to live a normal life.  And Remus? Is he at home too?"

Sirius beckoned the Headmaster upstairs and into the living room, where he called for Kreacher to get them tea and cakes.  He gestured for Albus to have a seat upon the  cozy sectional that Remus had bought to replace the outdated uncomfortable furniture Mrs. Black had been so fond of.  "Antiques," the werewolf had said in disgust.  "Pretty to look at but deuced uncomfortable to sit on.  Let's sell them." They had and made a good profit, enabling them to refurnish half the house  in a more modern and comfortable style. 

"Remus is out at the moment, having dinner with Tonks," Sirius said, seating himself next to the older man and fixing himself a cup of Black Bohea.

"Oh?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.  "Good, he deserves some time to himself.  Do I sense a little romance going on here?"

Sirius laughed.  "Perhaps, if Remus can ever get over his furry little problem long enough to allow Tonks to kiss him.  I've been giving him some pointers.  He never went out much in school."

"No, I wouldn't imagine he would have," Dumbledore remarked.  "And yourself? I see you are here alone."

"Right now, that's how I prefer it," Sirius said evenly.  Though he would never say so, he did not feel comfortable right now starting a relationship with any woman.  Though Healer Sandrilas had declared him mended, his psyche still felt raw and he did not want to push himself too hard just in case.  "How are things going with the Order? Any new leads on the remaining Death Eaters?"

"We managed to bring in a few of their more minor members and they are currently awaiting trial in Azkaban.  But Bellatrix, Lucius, and Pettigrew are still at large.  The Minister refuses to persecute Lucius, saying the Malfoy name is above reproach and an investigation of Malfoy Manor turned up nothing suspicious."

"Of course it didn't! Fudge is an idiot! Malfoy covered his arse, like always.  What, did he think to find a mask and robe hanging in Lucius's closet and the Dark Mark upon the wall?" Sirius sneered.  "The bounder knows how to slither away into the dungheap and come up smelling like roses, he always has.  I'm telling you . . .he's as guilty as Mordred plotting against Arthur, Albus."

Dumbledore nodded heavily.  "You and I know that, Sirius.  But without proof, we cannot accuse or arrest.  And right now he is in the Minister's good graces." He patted Sirius's knee.  "Fear not, my boy, our time shall come." If Harry and Severus are successful, we shall be rid of the shadow for good and all. Pity I cannot share that information with you, but secrecy is their best defense. 

"Let's hope it doesn't come too late," the other said darkly. He picked up a frosted chocolate cake and ate in two bites.  He didn't feel like talking about the Order's failure to capture Lucius anymore, it was a dead end that did nothing but give him a sour stomach.  So he switched topics instead.  "Have you heard from Harry lately, Albus? Is he getting on all right with Snape?"

Dumbledore nodded quickly.  "Yes.  I paid a visit to Harry's relatives at the beginning of the summer, and informed them of his new circumstances.  They were most . . .eager to comply with the terms I set for them."

"I'm not surprised," Sirius snorted.  "They treated Harry like last week's trash, from what he told me.  I hope you set them straight, Headmaster."

"I have," was all Dumbledore replied, but in his eyes burned cobalt fire and Sirius trembled a bit.

"Good.  And how's he doing otherwise? I had hoped he might write me . . .but I guess he's been busy," said the Animagus, a hurt note creeping into his voice.

"From what Severus told me, he has taken Harry on an extended trip to Europe, so that might be why he has not bothered to keep in touch with you," Dumbledore lied smoothly.  It was partially true, Severus would have stressed no communications while on the Horcrux quest, to prevent breaches in security, and the two would most likely have gone to the Continent at some point in the journey, retracing Voldemort's rise to power.

"Really? Old Snape finally decided to get out of the dungeon and see the world?" Sirius chuckled.  "I hope he remembered to wash his hair and dress in normal clothes, so he doesn't shock the natives."

"Sirius!" Dumbledore chided.

The Animagus had the grace to color a bit.  "Sorry, force of habit.  I'm glad Harry is enjoying himself, that's something I never would have been able to do after . . .what happened.  The kid deserves a vacation, and I'm happy Snape is treating him decently.  More tea?"

"Yes, I believe I will have another cup," Dumbledore gestured and the teapot poured another cup for him.  He stirred in four lumps of sugar and cream and took a sip.  "It is a fine evening for a stroll.  Would you care to join me?"

Sirius considered.  He had not been out of the house in four days, because the full moon had just occurred and Remus had been taking the Wolfsbane and sleeping away the afternoon and nights.  "Would you prefer human or canine companionship, Albus?"

The Headmaster looked at his former student shrewdly.  "That is entirely up to you."

"Then I'd like to go for a walk . . .as Sirius and not Padfoot." Sirius decided. "I need a breath of fresh air."

They finished their tea and then Dumbledore preceded Sirius down the stairs and out the front door.  The two men strolled along the Thames and chatted amiably about the latest Quidditch match, Britain had beaten Bulgaria, who had fallen off since Krum was no longer playing Seeker for them.  The night was cool and crisp and Sirius drew in great lungfuls of air, relieved to be somewhere else than enclosed by four walls.

They walked down to Hyde Park and fed the ducks paddling in one of the man-made ponds there and Sirius enjoyed the feel of the breeze upon his pale skin and in his hair, which he had trimmed so it was no longer scraggly.  Now he looked almost like his old self, a handsome disreputable rogue.  

He gazed up at the crescent moon just rising and thought, Wherever you are, Harry, I hope you're enjoying yourself.

* * * * * *

The Forest of the Night:

After bidding farewell to his packmates, Darkmoon morphed into a great black wolf with a crescent-shaped white patch on his breast that stood nearly as high as Harry's shoulder.  The young wizard gaped at his new traveling companion, never realizing until now just how big a wolfen was in lupine shape.  Darkmoon was the size of a small pony, all massive muscle and sinew, and yet as graceful as any deer.

The ebony wolf sat and flicked his ears at Harry and Severus questioningly.  

"It's not safe for us to fly in the dark," Harry explained.  "Hawks don't have very good night vision.  So we'll be walking until daylight."

Darkmoon dipped his head in understanding, then rose, shook himself briefly, and loped off into the trees to the northwest of Sylvanor.  

Severus shoulder his own pack and beckoned to Harry and the two set off after the black wolf, walking quickly and mostly quietly through the trees, following a dirt track bordered by a riotous tangle of berry bushes and gorse that had been cleared away from the path by Arborsong's talent so the wolfen could come and go easily from Sylvanor.  

Though when Harry glanced back, he saw to his utter shock that the trail behind was covered over by creepers and looked impenetrable.  He checked and called, "Sev, look at the trail behind us! It's gone."

The Potions Master did so and his eyes widened for a half of a second before he said, "That's a defense their plantshaper probably instituted to keep creatures from finding their way to Sylvanor.  Very clever."

"I'll say.  If I didn't know better, I'd say there was nothing back there except more gorse and trees."

"Which exactly what the wolfen want you to think." Severus said.  "Come along, Harry, don't dawdle."

The two continued walking rapidly through the trees, and Harry stuck close to his mentor, for the darkness seemed to want to swallow him up, it was almost a palpable presence, hovering in shadowy tendril on and about the trees, mocking him.  You're being ridiculous, Potter! he chided himself.  You're nearly sixteen and still afraid of the damn dark.

But he could not control his instinctive desire to curl up in a ball and hide, waiting for the coming of dawn.  Severus had allowed him to light up the tip of his wand just enough so they wouldn't trip over a root or a branch or other obstacle in the path ahead, but the illumination did little to banish the lurking shadows, and Harry felt the old fear rise and choke him.

He took several deep breaths, trying to stave off the panic fluttering in his chest.  One, two, three, four.  Breathe. You're safe, nothing's going to hurt you with Sev and Darkmoon beside you, and you're not trapped, you're moving and you can still see, you're not totally blind.  Pull yourself together, dammit, and act like a Gryffindor.  Anything but a scaredy-cat baby.  He gripped his wand in one white-knuckled fist and forced himself to look ahead, not glancing off to the side, and trying not to notice how the tendrils of mist curled about the tree trunks and branches, like wisps of smoke, or ghostly fingers.  

The air was thick and moist here, and Harry was soon sweating in his robes and long-sleeved shirt. But he dared not slow and ask for time to put his robes away and get a different shirt out of his pack.  There must be a reason why Darkmoon was moving so quickly through this part of the forest, and Harry knew that time was of the essence.

The werewolves led by Greyback were still out there, still searching for them or for the object they sought.  They must retrieve and destroy it before the werewolves found them.  There came a soft screech, as of an animal hunting or become something's supper, and Harry started violently, nearly knocking into Severus.

"Harry! Watch where you're going, for Merlin's sake!"

"Sorry.  I'm just . . .jumpy." He apologized, not looking at his mentor.

Severus slanted a glance at the young man, prepared to scold the boy for clumsiness, when he caught sight of Harry's parchment pale face.  "Are you all right, fledgling?"

"Fine."

But Severus ignored that answer, knowing perfectly well that Harry wasn't fine.

"Try again, Harry.  If you're fine, then why are you pale and shivering?"

"I said I'm fine!"

The other's eyes narrowed.  "Don't lie to me.  Now what's wrong?"

Harry stiffened and continued walking, his jaw clenched.  

Severus gave him five minutes before he caught his shoulder and said, "Harry, remember what we talked about before? In the glen? That it was all right for you to admit you needed help?"

"Yeah.  So?"

"I am here if you need me.  But I cannot help if you do not tell me what is wrong."

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry cried.  "You know . . .damn it all, Severus! You know . . .it's dark. . . I hate it . .it's all around me . . .smothering me . . .!" he began to gasp, his eyes growing wide as an animal's in a trap.

"Harry, listen to me," Severus said, speaking softly and calmly.  "Look at me." He put his hand beneath his ward's chin and jerked the boy's head up, making the panicked child look into his eyes.  "You need to stop panicking and breathe, child. I am here, the dark is not going to hurt you. There is nothing to fear from mist and shadows, Harry."

The boy continued to gasp and shiver, until Severus placed Harry's hand on his chest and said, "Feel my heart, fledgling.  Feel it beat.  Now breathe." He began counting aloud, and gradually the repetition made Harry's heart rate calm and he could breathe normally.

"Good.  Very good."

Darkmoon reappeared suddenly, puzzled at the delay, and gave a soft growl of impatience.

Severus did not turn about, saying only, "Just a moment, we shall be along directly." He focused upon his apprentice, saying evenly, "Now, look about you, Harry, and see the mist and shadows for what they are-mere air.  They cannot hurt you.  Lumos!" Severus lit up the tip of his wand, illuminating the trees to either side.  "See, they are gone."

Harry's emerald eyes blinked, and then he shook his head, shoving the terror that had possessed him back into the recesses of his mind.  Oh sweet Merlin, I nearly fell apart! How could I DO that?  I'm such a damn coward! He hung his head, mumbled, "I'm okay now, Severus."

"You are sure?"

Another quick nod.

Severus's hand closed lightly upon his shoulder.  "You have nothing to be ashamed of.  We all have our own demons, child."

Harry snorted derisively.  "Oh, sure.  Name me one person my age who still has nightmares about the dark and small spaces. I'm nothing but a bleeding coward."

Severus set his jaw.  "You are not.  You merely have a psychosis you need to work through.  We will discuss this more in depth when we get back home.  I can arrange counseling-"

"No!" Harry snapped.  "I don't need a damn shrink.  I can handle it."

Snape cast him a look of reproof.  "Denying there is a problem won't make it go away, Potter.  But now is not the time for us to debate this.  We shall discuss options later.  For now, I need you to renew your Occlumency shields.  Put them up and make them tight.  And stay within my sphere of light."

Harry obeyed, closing his eyes and Occluding.  Immediately, he felt the last vestiges of the panic subside. For now.  He opened his eyes and saw Darkmoon sitting patiently behind them and he went crimson.  He was sure the wolfen had witnessed everything and he wanted to dig a hole and climb into it and never come out.  Brilliant, just brilliant! What must he think of me now-that I'm some kind of weepy cowardly arse?

"I'm okay.  Let's go," Harry said, trying his best to act as though nothing was wrong.

Darkmoon whuffed an affirmative then turned and continued onward, his bushy tail waving as he trotted off.

Harry walked swiftly, as if trying to outrun his own embarrassment and disgust, though he stayed well within the light sphere cast by Severus's wand.  And he prayed fervently for the coming of the sun.  

Silent as a shadow, Severus strode beside him, occasionally darting glances at his ward, trying to monitor him without Harry knowing it.  And he cursed the Dursleys to deepest pits of hell and vowed to find a way to help Harry overcome this awful dread as soon as this quest was ended.  Provided they all survived.

Darkmoon called a halt at last, coming to a spot where a stream flowed inbetween some white pebbled banks and there was a rather large thicket nearby that provided cover for them from any beasts that happened by. They set up camp near the stream, for it was always prudent to be near running water. To Harry’s surprise, Severus took out the compact fold-up tent he had in his knapsack and set it up with a softly spoken command word.

Because it was a wizard tent, it was bigger inside than outside and was spelled against nasty and annoying bugs crawling or flying inside, like mosquitoes, ants, and spiders. Severus said that Darkmoon could share the tent with him and Harry, it was plenty large enough to sleep three comfortably, but Darkmoon just chuckled.

“Thanks for the offer, Severus, but I prefer the outdoors. I can sleep quite comfortably in my wolf shape, and not be encased by cloth if something should attack us. This part of the forest is relatively safe from large predators . . .the wyverns tend to lair up in the northern reaches, towards the mountains. Bears and murk cats are around here, but murk cats know better than to tangle with me,” Darkmoon said quietly, his amber eyes glinting.

“What’s a murk cat?” asked Harry.

“A large mottled magical cat that likes to hunt during the early hours of the morning. They have poison sacs in their claws and if they scratch you, you fall asleep, and that’s when they eat you. They’re mostly ambushers though, they like to lie in wait in trees and jump down on you. They’re lazy, though. Give ‘em a good fight and they’ll turn tail and run, they don’t like their supper to show teeth.”

“I’ll make sure to watch out for anything in the trees,” Harry said, glancing upward to the shady maple and oaks surrounding the camp uneasily.

Darkmoon laughed. “Relax, wizardling. There’s nothing about here, I’d know. This is still our territory, and predators know better than to hunt here uninvited. The only ones who disregard that rule are the werewolves Greyback sends here.” He curled his lip and showed a glimpse of his white teeth.

“Will it be safe for us to fly as hawks soon?” asked Harry, he was longing to take to the sky, he missed being Freedom.

“Yes, but not when we get to Shadow Vale. Then you’ll need to assume human form, because the trees there . . .something is twisted within them . . .and they attack anything that flies. Your owl knows that better than anyone.”

Harry settled himself upon the ground, grateful for the fire that Severus soon had crackling merrily, dispelling the lingering shadows and mist that hovered about the trunks of the trees. The Forest of the Night was well named. “Yes. I hope Meadowsweet will help her heal quickly.”

Darkmoon leaned against the trunk of a dark oak tree that overhung the campsite, his moccasin-like boots crossed one over the other. “Sasha’s the best Healer I’ve ever seen. If anyone can heal up your Hedwig, it’s Meadowsweet. She has a knack for it like I have a knack for making snap decisions and leading my pack.”

“Good because Hedwig . . .she really means a lot to me,” Harry admitted shyly. “She’s not just a pet, she’s more like a really good friend . . .one who thinks she’s my mum sometimes . . .if that makes any sense.”

Darkmoon’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “Makes perfect sense to me. Like I said, Sasha’s the best, she’ll make sure Hedwig is well before letting her fly anywhere. We should reach Shadow Vale by tomorrow evening, if you’re flying and I’m running in wolf form.”

“You think you can run as fast as a hawk can fly?”

“Harry, I’m a wolfen. My wolf form is super fast and I know this area like the back of my hand.” Darkmoon said, not boasting, but speaking matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Right.” Harry glanced over at his mentor.

Severus was busy making a pot of tea, though he was listening to the two boys chatter without being too obvious about it.

Harry lowered his voice an octave, then asked Darkmoon, “Uh . . .are you and Meadowsweet . . .uh . . .going out?”

Darkmoon nearly passed out. “What? You are kidding, right? Sasha and I are cousins—first cousins at that, and while she’s a great girl and pretty hot, I wouldn’t dream of dating her. She’s like my little sister. And where I come from, you don’t date your nearest and dearest.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, then wondered why Darkmoon’s words filled him with such a sense of relief. The way the two behaved around each other had made him think they might have been a couple, but Darkmoon’s words put paid to that misassumption. Harry was glad. He liked Meadowsweet, she was not only pretty but compassionate as well.

The wolfen smirked knowingly. “Plus, she thinks I’m a big pain in the ass sometimes. But she’s a girl, so what can you expect?” he shrugged lazily, walking over and taking the cup of tea Severus offered. “Thanks.” He folded his legs under him and sat Indian-style, on the ground next to Harry. “See, don’t be fooled by her looks and her talent, because Meadowsweet ain’t your average girl that like to be protected by a man. She’s as alpha as I am, and hates it when I go all overprotective on her. She can take care of herself, even though she’s a Healer, she can still kick your ass. Like my mom.” The friendly light in Darkmoon’s eyes dimmed, to be replaced by a dark brooding sadness.

Harry was quiet for a moment, then he spoke. “Sometimes . . .I wish I could remember my parents. But I was a baby when they died so . . .” He spread his hands. “All I have are pictures and Sev’s stories to go by.” He glanced over at his mentor, who appeared to be contemplating the stars while drinking his tea, and added flippantly, “Who thinks I’m a pain in the ass sometimes too.”

“You are. An enormous one,” his guardian drawled.

Darkmoon chuckled. Harry snorted. “You like me like that. You wouldn’t know what to do if I suddenly started to behave, now would you?”

“The shock would probably kill me.”

“See? And I don’t want you to die, so I’m not going to adjust my attitude . . .much,” he added quickly at a warning glare from his teacher.

“You two remind me of me and my mom before she left for the desert,” Darkmoon observed. “She was always ragging on me to quit giving her grief, like when I used to forget to tell her I was going for a run in my wolf form at midnight. “How many times do I need to tell you, Erik, let me know where you’re going?” she used to say.”

“A common failing among teenagers. Harry forgets that rule every other day.”

“I do not!” Harry protested. “Well, not since this quest started.” He shot Darkmoon a you-see-what-I-have-to-deal-with look. Then he changed the subject. “Darkmoon, do you wolfen have to change at the full moon like regular werewolves do?”

“Yes and no. Wolfen aren’t driven mad when we assume our other form, like a werewolf. That’s the thing most of you wizards don’t get. We’re not under a curse, driven to hunt and kill humans. We were born with the ability to change, and while we feel compelled to shift at a full moon, we don’t go all nuts and rip people apart. When I’m a wolf, I’m a wolf. I hunt and kill prey animals, like deer and rabbits. Not people.” He made a face. “That’s just disgusting. I keep my own mind when I change, I don’t lose it the way a werewolf does. Like your Animagus form.”

“I see. Then wolfen are more like Animagi than werewolves,” Severus surmised. “How old were you when you first changed?”

“Uh, about nine, I think. Mom and I were out walking in the woods in the afternoon and we scared a rabbit and I was watching it run and wishing I could catch it when all of a sudden I felt really weird and the next thing I knew I was a black yearling wolf and chasing that rabbit hell for leather. Didn’t catch it though.”

“And your mum? Was she like . . .freaked?” Harry asked.

“No. I think she’d been expecting something like that to happen to me sooner or later. I mean, my dad told her about himself, and maybe he figured I would get some of his abilities. I mean, yeah, she was surprised and all, but she wasn’t flipping on me and threatening to call a priest or saying I was an evil thing, like Vlad’s mom did when he first changed. She just waited for me to come back and then, when I shifted into Erik again, she hugged me and wanted to know if I hurt or anything.”

“Did it?”

“A little. But mostly the Change is painless. Mom was cool about that part of it, though since she was a Marine, she had to go and make up all kinds of rules about it.” Darkmoon rolled his eyes. “She was big on rules.”

“And you were big on breaking them?” Harry guessed.

“Some of them.” Darkmoon corrected. “I obeyed the major ones—like getting good grades, and no drinking or smoking, and keeping my powers a secret and all that. And I tried mostly not to talk back to her, ‘cause she hated when I copped an attitude and would nail my ass.” The wolfen shook his head. “I learned that the hard way. After I Changed, I was like so full of myself, all I wanted to do after school was go run in the woods, and I used to not do my homework and only half do my chores because being a wolf was way cooler than being a kid. One of my teachers sent some kind of note home and Mom found out and she was majorly pissed over it. She grounded me from my wolf form and I think I remember telling her that she couldn’t tell me what to do anymore or something like that and then she said she was still my mother and, wolfen or not, she could still wallop my ass, and she did.” Darkmoon winced. “Mom didn’t hit much, but that time she spanked me good. Not that I didn’t deserve it, I knew better than to talk to her like that. After it we talked, and I told her I was sorry and all, and she made me promise to quit running off and not doing my homework, and she gave me a set time where I could change and be a wolf after I did homework and stuff around the house for her, sometimes she worked late. She wasn’t afraid of me like those assholes from the Ministry. She knew I wasn’t an animal . . .or some kind of monster.”

“Of course not. You were her son.”

Darkmoon nodded at Snape. “Yup. She thought my powers were awesome. She used to tell me that if my dad had lived, he would have been proud of me. And that with great power comes great responsibility. She made sure I was prepared to live on my own though, just in case. I never knew it back then, but that’s why she sent me to that Indian camp every summer.” The wolfen’s eyes were far away. “When she died . . .and I saw those two Marines in dress uniforms at the door that day . . .it didn’t feel real, it felt like it was happening to someone else . . .it was like it was a dream and I’d wake up and everything would be normal again. But it never would be. I remember one of the officers kept asking me if I had anyone who could stay with me and I really didn’t, so he said he would stay the night and then make arrangements in the morning . . .I tried to tell him no, because I didn’t want to bother with hiding my shifting, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Guess I was in shock, ‘cause I didn’t argue, but later in the middle of the night I sneaked off and ran into the woods and spent the night as a wolf, howling at the moon. It really sucked. We had to wait for her body to be shipped back home and then we had the full military funeral and when her lawyer read the will, that was when I found out about my aunt and cousin over in England.”

“You and Harry have something in common then, for he was sent to live with his aunt and uncle after his parents died,” Severus observed, only then seeing the similarity between the two teenagers.

“Yeah, but your relatives were a lot better than mine,” Harry said feelingly.

“Let me guess. They acted like those Ministry yahoos and didn’t like the fact that you could do magic, right?”

Harry gaped at him. “How did you know that? Can you read minds too?”

“Nah. But your scent and your posture told me that you really didn’t like them and I remember reading in the Prophet once that you were raised by Muggles, but now you’ve got a wizard guardian . . .I just figured it might have been something like that. People are afraid of wolfen, so they’d be scared of magic too.”

“You’re partially right. My relatives weren’t just scared of magic, they hated it. And me too. I wasn’t even allowed to say the word around them.”

“They kick you out?”

“No. I left when Sev became my mentor and guardian.”

“Good. Nobody deserves to feel like crap for being what they were born to be,” Darkmoon said heatedly, clearly this was a sore point with him. “I’m sick and tired of being made to think I should apologize for being a wolfen, and I’m not going to roll over and show my throat to the Ministry because they’re scared of their own shadows. They thought the easy solution to their ‘furry little problem’ was to dump us here, like we were some kind of research project, but I never intended to spend my life here, like a minotaur in a labyrinth. I deserve better than that, we all do. We should be allowed to come and go as we please.”

“Why don’t you?” Harry asked.

“Because of the wards.” Darkmoon spat. “The Ministry put up some kind of magic boundary that wolfen can’t get past. I know, I’ve tried. We’re stuck here, like dogs in a cage, till the Ministry sets us free.”

“That’s wrong,” Harry said angrily. “You mean you’re stuck inside the forest, but the werewolves and vampires can still cross the boundary?”

“Yeah, because the Ministry didn’t care about keeping other monsters out, just us in. Maybe they hoped we’d all die from a werewolf raid and then they could forget we ever existed.”

“A lot of what the Ministry’s doing now is wrong. They didn’t believe me about Voldemort until Voldemort brought his Death Eaters to the Ministry and attacked me, and then Fudge had to believe me.”

“Typical bureaucratic bullshit.” Darkmoon sneered. “Figures. You know, I actually like you two, even if you are wizards. You don’t act all self-righteous and pompous like those Ministry officials.”

Harry grimaced. “That’s ‘cause we don’t like them either.”

“But at least they’ll talk to you and not assume you’re dumb because you’re a wolfen. They treated me like I was an idiot and couldn’t spell my own name.” Darkmoon said angrily. “The others too. That’s one reason Vlad hates wizards so much, because his mom was one and she cast him out, and then Wizengamut dumped him in here with the rest of us. Most of us don’t mind being here, over half of us are orphans, Urchin, my omega, lived on the streets since he was six, snitching food from dumpsters until the Ministry brought him here. Eris still has a mother alive, but she doesn’t like to talk about her much. When we all met each other and decided to make Sylvanor, we wanted a place where we could live in , like normal people.”

“How come you didn’t just stay wolves?”

“Because though the wolf is a big part of us, it’s not all that we are. Living as a wolf pack is fine during the winter, when we’re freezing our butts off and starving, but in the warmer months . . .Sylvanor’s lovely in the fall and the spring. And we need the time in the village to repair our weapons and make new clothes and stuff.”

“You learn all that stuff at that camp?”

“Yes. Good thing too.” Darkmoon wriggled one suede-booted foot emphatically. “I taught all my pack how to throw a knife and shoot a bow. Some of us are better than others, but we can all defend ourselves in whatever form we choose.”

“I know how to box a little. Sev taught me, it’s a great stress reliever.”

“Oh? Are you up for a spar then? I know some basics, but I’d pick it up better if I saw you doing it.” Darkmoon said eagerly.

“Sure,” Harry climbed to his feet then recalled that his gloves were still in Room of Requirement. “Aww, hells! I left my gloves back at school.”

Severus promptly transfigured some sticks into boxing gloves, then coached the pair as they sparred.

Darkmoon was quite good, fast and deadly and eager to learn what Harry knew. But after fifteen minutes, the sparring ended, for Harry was tired and needed to rest. He was also relieved that Darkmoon had not mentioned what had happened to him earlier, with his panic attack over the dark. Harry was surprised at that, for the wolfen did not seem the type to tolerate weakness, yet he spoke not a word of the incident.

“Okay, you two better get some sleep while you can. We’ll be moving pretty quickly tomorrow.”

“How about you? Are you going to sleep?” asked Severus.

“Yeah, eventually. But wolfen don’t need a lot of sleep like you humans. I can keep watch during the night, make sure no crazy critter comes calling. I doubt anything will, most animals avoid fire and so do vampires.”

“Vampires?” Harry repeated, alarmed.

“Yeah, sometimes Dracula’s coven of vamps come in here, but they haven’t done so since we kicked their asses last time . . .after Flicker was killed.” Darkmoon said grimly. “Don’t worry, Harry. I can take a vampire in five seconds, my teeth and claws are stronger than a werewolf’s, and if you behead a vamp, he dies. Or put a wooden-pointed arrow through his heart.” Darkmoon patted his quiver, which had six such arrows in it. “So go to sleep, I promise I’ll keep all the monsters away.”

“Cute, Darkmoon. Real cute.” Harry growled, pretending to be insulted.

“Watch it, Hawk-boy. You won’t want me to lose my temper.” The wolfen growled back playfully.

Harry was about to respond to this blatant challenge with another comeback, but Severus interrupted their posturing with a sharp, “Quit bickering, you two. Before I lose my temper.”

Harry subsided, muttering a quick, “Yes, sir.”

He was echoed by Darkmoon, who recognized a kindred spirit and had been raised to respect adult authority, unless said authority harmed him or his pack.

Severus turned and entered the tent, after telling Harry that as long as he was awake enough to start a quarrel, he was awake enough to wash out the tea kettle.

Harry went and got the tea kettle and rinsed it in the stream while the wolfen leader watched.

“He’d make a good Marine officer,” Darkmoon observed. “I’ll bet he knows how to kick ass and take names.”

“Does he ever! Misbehave with him and he’ll make you regret it forever,” Harry said feelingly.

“Oh? And how many times has he made you regret it?”

Harry spoke a Drying Charm and tucked the teapot under his arm before replying. “What makes you think I misbehave?”

Darkmoon cracked up. “Oh, come on, Potter! Give me some credit for brains here. You’re like Vlad, trouble’s shadow.”

“So were you, I’ll bet.”

“Now, we weren’t talking about me, were we?” drawled the wolfen. “Go, Hawk-boy, get some rest.”

Then the wolfen blurred and became the gigantic black wolf with the crescent mark upon his chest once again.

“Night, Darkmoon,” Harry called as he entered the tent and the big wolf whuffed in answer before settling down in the middle of the clearing alertly.

* * * * * *

After a hasty breakfast of warmed cinnamon buns and a bacon and egg sandwich, in Severus’s case, the two Animagi quickly shifted into their hawk forms and Darkmoon into his black wolf persona. The wolf looked up and then began to trot through the trees in a northwest direction, his long legs eating up the miles effortlessly. The trees in this part of the forest were mostly oak, ash, and maple, their trunks rising many hundred feet into the air and their branches long entwined in their quest to reach the sun. Sunlight filtered down in patches through the canopy of foliage overhead, dappling the forest floor with spots of light.

Darkmoon’s paws made hardly a sound as he ran, bounding over the occasional downed tree or scrubby bush as if they were nothing, which they weren’t to a wolfen, who could jump like the greatest steeplechaser in the Grand National. Deer and rabbits fled from the wolf’s approach, as did the single murk cat lurking above, and several songbirds panicked when the shadow of the two hawks fell across them.

Freedom and Warrior kept up with Darkmoon, flying just beneath the canopy, using the warm air updrafts to glide and soar. Nothing attacked or impeded them. They flew for what seemed like an entire day, always trying to keep the sleek black wolf in sight.

Darkmoon could have easily run all the way to the part of the forest the wolfen referred to as Shadow Vale, his were blood gave him triple the endurance of an ordinary wolf and the strength to keep a pace for at least two days without tiring. But he knew his wizard allies could not go on without rest and so he forced himself to halt when they were about halfway to the Vale.

Warrior and Freedom perched upon a convenient oak tree while the black wolf lay down beneath it, taking a short breather. Freedom felt a bit weary, so that he welcomed the brief rest, and he dozed while leaning slightly against Warrior.

The goshawk nibbled at Freedom’s head, trying in vain to tame the crest of feathers that would insist upon standing up in the back. Ah, fledgling. We have both come so far, and yet we have so far to go. But together we shall see it through and send Old Tom to hell where he belongs. Warrior continued his preening while Freedom dozed, cuddled into the larger goshawk’s wing. The goshawk peered down at the black wolf and his eyes whirled in anger. Another lost abandoned child, much like my fledgling. All of these wolfen are lost children, forced to grow up without families, ostracized for being born different. Cornelius, you have much to answer for, you damn ostrich. Denying to the world that Voldemort has come again while perpetrating your own heinous crimes. What other wretched secrets have you hidden, Minister? Someday, there will be a reckoning. As there was with Umbridge, so it shall be with you.

An hour later, Darkmoon rose, shook himself, and whuffed softly. Not far now, hawks. Only another hour. This part of the forest was the territory of the murk cats and eydrith—the cold drakes—who were distant cousins to dragons, except they lived in the earth and had no wings, and their blood ran cold as ice. But they preferred the night and would probably be sleeping at this time.

The black wolf slowed to a trot, skirting the valley where the drakes laired, keeping to the ridge above it. He could hear the River Arlo running below, the river had its origins deep below the earth, and it flowed nearly to Sylvanor. Water nymphs dwelled within and so did a kelpie, which made it unsafe to swim in unless you had a charm protecting you from a fae’s wrath or had placated them with an offering of jewelry or food.

Having slipped by the eydrith and the cats, Darkmoon continued on, hoping to reach the Vale before nightfall. Though he was perfectly at home in the dark, he knew his companions would be at a severe disadvantage, not to mention the fact that Shadow Vale, with its dark magic aura was best faced during the day, since the night time lent strength to dark workings.

Warrior glided lazily through the air, his wings and body were built especially for flying among wooded terrain, for goshawks were creatures of the woodlands and forests. The hawk’s bright eyes scanned the ground below, taking in not only the great ebony wolf running, but also the occasional mouse or rabbit or squirrel. He was tempted to stoop on a bevy of quail, but controlled himself. Now was not the time to hunt. He pondered what sort of magic he might face and what he could do to counter it as well as how to keep his impulsive fledgling from harm.

Freedom flew just below and to the left of the larger black and white raptor, he disliked the closeness of the trees, but forced himself to endure it. Now was not the time to go to pieces over small spaces, he reminded himself sternly. Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. Besides, the forest wasn’t a small space at all, and he was not trapped in a box or a cupboard. He concentrated on following Warrior and Darkmoon and wondering what the wolfen had meant about the guardian ring of ash and oaks. From the way the wolfen had spoken, it appeared that the trees might be intelligent, especially if they were able to talk.

For some reason, that thought conjured a scene in one of Dudley’s oft watched movies when he was a child—The Wizard of Oz. Dudley had loved it when the wicked witch had flown on her broom and threatened Dorothy and the cyclone picked up the house and dumped it down in Oz. He had delighted in making Harry watch the movie with him so he could point to the Wicked Witch of the West and say, “Look Harry, it’s your mum! See how ugly and nasty she is!” But Harry recalled the part when Dorothy was walking along the Yellowbrick Road and came to the place where the trees threw apples at her.

Wonder if these tress throw things at you? One of them swatted poor Hedwig, so I guess they’re not too friendly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to face the guardian trees, but he supposed he had no choice. If the Horcrux was there, they had to get it and destroy it.

The wind caressed his feathers and Freedom couldn’t help giving a soft trill of delight, flying relaxed and invigorated him at the same time. It was the ultimate rush, better even than playing Quidditch. Sometimes he wished he could remain a hawk forever. But he knew that was merely wishful thinking, since now that Severus was his guardian, he had a better life to look forward to, and someone who loved him. And as Sev was so fond of saying, his Animagus form should not be used as an escape for his problems. Once you defeat Voldemort, most of your problems will be over. But first you have to find all the Horcruxes.

Freedom noticed that there was an air of unease and foreboding the farther northwest they flew and the trees were changing from the lighter maple and cedar and gray oak to linden, ash, and black oaks. It seemed to grow darker and gloomier the further they went, and Freedom felt a shiver go through him and he flew even closer to Warrior, who did not appear to let the darkness ruffle so much as a tailfeather.

Abruptly, Darkmoon halted and sat down in the middle of the short track he had been running on. He gave a sharp bark, more like a yip than a bark. Warrior and Freedom spiraled down and shifted forms just as Darkmoon became a human again as well. “We’re almost at Shadow Vale, and I wanted to warn you that it isn’t safe for us to enter there in our animal forms. There’s a working about there that prohibits wizards in other forms from entering the vale, and the trees are spelled to repel any animals who ventures past the wards. As a wolfen I can cross the boundary in human form, and so can you two, I’d wager. Oh, and one more thing, these trees are sentient, and the dark curse on them makes them quite nasty. So I’d be on my guard of I were you. A large oak packs quite a punch.”

Both Harry and Severus nodded. Then Severus said quietly, “As long as you’re going to be our ally, Darkmoon, you need to know that if we are incapacitated, the object we came here to get must be destroyed. I have here in this case,” Severus pulled out the leather case in his pack with the vials of Curse Breaking potion, “A vial of a potion that will destroy the cursed object, if something should happen to either Harry or I, I want you to pour this in the cauldron in my pack and use the gloves you find there to handle the object and throw it in the cauldron. It will dissolve it. But under no circumstances are you to touch the object with your bare hands. It could hurt you very badly. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll finish what you started, sir, if I need to. I promise.” The wolfen said solemnly. Then he sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, follow me. We’re about to enter Shadow Vale.”

Wands out, Harry and Severus followed Darkmoon through the trees, feeling as if eyes watched them, but when they turned to peer behind them, nothing was there. But the feeling of despair and darkness increased and Severus laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder and whispered, “Occlude, Harry, and remember, this is not coming from you, but the curse which has been set over this place.”

Harry did as he was told, and immediately felt the weight of despair retreat. Darkmoon glided silent as a shadow over the earth, making Harry wish enviously that he could walk like a ghost. He wondered if it were a wolfen trait or could anyone learn it? But there was no time to ask, for soon they had crossed the boundary into Shadow Vale, and an icy wind swept down from the black trees and chilled the blood in Harry’s veins. He shuddered and forced himself to ignore it.

The wolfen had an arrow nocked to his bow and was poised and alert, ready for anything. This place always made his hair stand on end and it also made him angry, to see the beautiful ash, linden, oak, and rowan turned so twisted and misshapen and where there used to be birds and fairies fluttering along, now there was only the silence and the dark wind. Once this had been a place of beauty, but now it was hostile and the only beauty to be found was in his memory.

Severus shivered as he walked across the boundary, feeling the ward probing him and them permitting him to pass since he still bore the Mark upon his arm. Severus prayed that with Voldemort’s final demise, the Mark might vanish and he would at last be free of the shameful brand. The trees here were twisted and stunted, and many of them had odd protrusions and knobs along their branches, like carbuncles on a craggy old face. Some were bowed to the ground and still others were wrapped about each other in a terrible parody of love.

The ground was rough and stony and Severus stumbled, just barely managing to catch himself.

The wind rustling through the trees grew louder, until it sounded as if a whole forest of them were hissing and clacking and growling, branches rattling sinisterly.

The very air seemed close and thick, filled with fear. Harry gasped, and then one of the large black oaks suddenly twisted about, and a face—an odd brooding angry face—appeared in the bark. “Who dares to disturb our circle?” rasped the black oak.

“Intruders!” hissed another, this one a rowan.

The others also rustled their branches and seemed to radiate disapproval.

“Go away!”

“Leave!”

“You are not welcome here!”

More faces appeared in the bark of the linden, oaks, and ash and all of them were distinctly unfriendly. They had dark hollows for eyes that looked like pools of darkness, soulless and inhuman. They creaked and groaned and snapped their branches threateningly.

One huge black oak leaned down and shrieked, “GET OUT!”

The wizards were nearly blown over by the angry tree and only Severus digging his heels into the dirt prevented him and his apprentice from being bowled over.

“Calm down, Mr. Twig,” Darkmoon ordered. “If you answer a few questions for us, we’ll leave.”

“Questions? What questions would they be, little wolf?”

Darkmoon gestured to the two wizards.

“What are you guarding?” Harry asked. “And who made you like this?”

“The Master made us, the Master changed us, the Master gave us power to smite our enemies!” cried the trees, hissing and rustling, and their eyes seemed to bore into Harry’s soul.

“To guard what was given into our keeping for all time.”

“Oh. That’s nice, but . . .aren’t you sick of guarding it?”

The trees shuddered and waved their branches. “Insolent child! We are content, now disturb us no more! Go!”

“And if we don’t?” Severus challenged, making a sweeping motion with his wand. A blue shield sprang to life around both him and Harry.

“Go! NOW!” The black oak howled, sounding like branches scraping down the side of a house.

“Not till you surrender what is hidden,” the Potions Master ordered. “Your Master is dead and your guardianship over.”

“The Master! The Master! Dead? Blighted forever we are!”

“Not if you give up the object.” Severus persuaded.

But the cursed trees were beyond logical reasoning. Voldemort had perverted them into his own creatures and all they knew was to follow his last orders. “You shall not have it! No man shall!”

Damn, for once I wish I was a girl, Harry thought irreverently. Then he got an idea and chanted a brief, “Incendio!” spell, making a small flame appear on the tip of his wand. “Want to play with fire?”

“A burner! He dares to bring the Burning Flower back!” howled the trees, and suddenly they were all swinging their branches and trying to swat Harry, who jumped away and flung the fireball with all of his strength at the largest oak tree.

The magical fire licked at the black oak and it screamed in agony, and four large branches whipped down towards Harry with the speed of lightning.

“Down!” Darkmoon shouted, and lunged at the younger wizard, knocking him down just as the oak branches smashed into the ground, leaving large tracks in the earth.

Severus twirled his wand and chanted, “Inflammare maxima!”

A fireball much larger than Harry’s exploded from Snape’s wand and lit the trees nearest him on fire.

They writhed and struck at him, forcing him to dodge several branches that were flung at him.

“Nasty wizard! Hates you!”

“Did your Master go by the name of Voldemort?” Severus demanded.

“The Master! The Master bid us guard his special item!”

“Well, he’s dead and now your guardianship has come to an end!” Severus told them.

“Yeah, so give it to us or else,” Harry said, waving his wand threateningly, but inside he was feeling ill listening to the trees’ caterwauling. The smoke and smell was making him sick to his stomach.

Darkmoon had since climbed off him and now stood protectively next to him. “I’d suggest you do what they want, or else you’ll be firewood.”

More dead branches flew at them and for one moment it was as if the sky was raining deadwood. The branches bounced off Severus’s shield, but the blue forcefield was waning. Severus created a ring of fire about himself, Harry, and Darkmoon, hoping to keep the trees at bay.

Only he forgot that trees could move quickly and suddenly gnarled branches shot downward and grabbed him.

Severus found himself lifted into the air, a gnarled root curled about him. It coiled so tight he could not breathe.

“Severus!” Harry screamed and pointed his wand at the stringy root.

“No!” Darkmoon yelled. “If he falls from that height . . .” Severus was about twenty feet in the air.

“What do we do? We have to save him!” Harry could feel terror coursing through him. Not Severus! Not Severus! No more people shall die for me!

“What do you think we’re trying to do?” Darkmoon yelled back. He dipped an arrow into something in a pouch at his waist and concentrated and the head lit with a queer blue flame. The wolfen released it and it flew into one of the guardian ring and the whole tree caught. “You see, knotheads? That will be you if you don’t give us the professor.”

The trees moaned and groaned.

Suddenly Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. “Put him down!” he yelled, then he got an idea. It was a crazy and ludicrous idea, but Harry was desperate. He started chanting a spell called a Cheering Charm, in hope that the lullaby would make the trees calm. A feeling of peace and goodwill descended over the clearing, soothing the angry trees immensely.

The massive oak that had grabbed Severus lowered him down, but Snape collapsed, his ribs cracked and his nostrils filling with smoke.

Harry could feel the heat spreading and he quickly cast a Water charm, so that half the forest was not burning up. Then he cried, “Look, we’re not enemies. At least tell us where it is. It’s important.”

The large black oak sneered. “What is hidden shall remain so.” It seemed the most unaffected by the charm.

“Tell me where. Tell me where.” Harry chanted, putting more of his power into his voice, hoping to persuade them to release the staff Horcrux.

“Here. Here. Beneath the Father Tree.”

“SILENCE! WIZARDS BEGONE!” bellowed the huge oak, and suddenly the sense of peace was dispelled and the malevolent aura returned. The Father Tree leered at the prone Severus, who was gasping and trying to sit up and Harry, who was standing protectively in front of him.

“Back off, Woody!” spat Harry. “Or else you’re going to be kindling for my fireplace.”

“KILL YOU! TEAR YOU SHRED YOU!”

Two massive branches reached for Harry, who quickly erected a Shield Charm. “Protego!” His mind raced. The other trees had said the Horcrux was beneath the Father Tree, the same tree that was trying to kill him.

His shield buckled as the two huge branches struck it and Harry put a hand up instinctively.

“Harry . . .get out of here . . .” Severus gasped. “Summon the staff and then run!”

“No! I won’t leave you!”

Severus wheezed and turned to Darkmoon, whose teeth were bared in a snarl of defiance. “Take him away, wolfen! Once you have it, take him and go.”

But Darkmoon shook his head. “No can do, sir. Never leave a man behind. That’s a Marine code as well as a wolfen one.”

Severus groaned, his chest was agony. He passed his wand over himself, hoping he could heal himself enough to move, because the two crazy kids wouldn’t use the sense they were born with and save their own necks.

The Father Tree continued to pound down upon Harry’s shield, and wood chips flew all about ricocheting off the shield and several splinters embedded themselves in the Animagus’s arms. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, calling upon all of his power and then he yelled, “Accio the Dragoneye Staff!”

The earth quaked and shuddered and then it erupted in a shower of dirt and leaves. A slender staff incised with mystical symbols topped with a blue milky eye burst from the hole and flew straight towards Harry. Harry quickly jammed on a glove from his pocket and caught the staff one handed.

It felt heavy in his hand and pregnant with some evil pulse. He felt his scar flare and burn and he yelled as the pain stabbed through him. Suddenly his Shield Charm fell and a huge branch struck him a glancing blow, lifting him into the air and flinging him hard against a tree on the opposite side of the circle.

Harry hit a rowan hard and his head slammed into the tree. He crumpled at the base of the tree, the staff still clutched in his hand.

“Thief!”

“Traitor!”

“Kill him!”

Severus staggered to his feet. “Harry? Bloody damn hell, Potter!” he yelled when he saw what had happened. “Darkmoon, pick him up, quickly! I can’t, I’ m barely healed.”

Darkmoon darted across the ring and scooped up Harry and the staff, being careful not to touch the cursed wood. “Go, Severus! I’ll be right behind you!”

“Is he . . .breathing?”

“Yes. Now come on, I don’t fancy being torn to pieces.” Darkmoon panted, then he bolted for the outer ring of trees.

The trees sensed what he was trying to do and began to close the circle. But Darkmoon was not the alpha for nothing and he managed to avoid the trees’ trap, vaulting over the branches.

Behind him, Snape snarled and several trees exploded. “Rest in peace, now you are free.”

Branches swatted and scraped at him, catching in his hair and cloak, but he tore free and raced after Darkmoon. His heart was pounding crazily, but not just from adrenaline. Most of it was concern mixed with terror over his ward.

He must be all right. I did not come so far only to fail now. Please, Harry, I cannot lose you like I lost Lily.

There was a dreadful clamor behind them, trees screaming and branches exploding and snapping as they realized what was hidden was no longer there and they had no way of getting it back.

Severus clutched his side and ran doggedly away from the furious trees, thankful they could not lift up their roots and move. Darkmoon ran some ten minutes down the trail before halting. “Severus, are you okay? You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” the Potions Master growled. “I need to destroy this abomination.”

He pulled out the silver lined with lead cauldron and the box of Curse Breaking potions. Then he tugged on his gloves and gently pried the staff which had once belonged to Britain’s greatest wizard from Harry’s fingers. Harry was pale and unresponsive, blood trickled from a shallow cut on the back of his head and from his lip.

The Alpha wolfen cradled Harry close and murmured, “Damn, Hawk-boy, but you need my cousin bad. Hang in there, kid.” He cast an angry glare at the staff. “All of that for a damn piece of wood?”

The Potions Master nodded wearily. “And now I must shatter it.”

He held the staff, which had been carved from a sacred silver birch and incised with powerful runes, capped with a golden claw which held the famed white dragon’s eye, lengthwise over his head, regretfully. The Dragoneye Staff had once been a powerful tool for good, with it Merlin had done wonders to heal a land torn and broken by war. But Voldemort’s madness had perverted it and now the only way to destroy the fragment of his soul was to shatter the Dragoneye Staff.

“Fracta virga!”

He brought the staff down, reversing it so that it was upright and slamming it into the earth.

The Dragoneye Staff cracked and then broke into four pieces. A foul mist leaked out from the shards and the silvery wood turned the color of old blood.

But the force of the magical shattering knocked Severus to his knees, jarring his half-healed ribs, and pain shot through him, making him double over.

Darkmoon’s hand caught his shoulder. “Professor?”

Severus peered up at the wolfen, his eyes glassy. “Get . . .my potions case and finish it. Remember, gloves.” He held out his hands, which were encased by the mesh and leather gloves.

Darkmoon gently lay Harry beside his mentor and removed the gloves from the lean man.

No sooner had he done so, then Severus toppled backwards in a faint, the combination of using his magic and his injuries was too much for his body to take.

Darkmoon swore, then reached for the staff pieces.

Darkmoon opened the case with the vials of potion, there were only three left, and dumped one into the cauldron. He wrinkled his nose at the pungent acrid odor and thought, Ugh! Gross! No wonder this stuff can melt down cursed objects, it smells bad enough to knock out an eydrith with a single sniff. He gingerly picked up a piece of the staff and tossed it into the cauldron.

Immediately, the potion turned black and began to smoke foully and dissolve the piece of cursed wood. He threw in another one, but discovered that the potion barely dissolved it and figured he needed yet another vial. He emptied a second one into the cauldron and tossed in the third piece. As it too hissed and sparked and then dissolved away in a cloud of vile smoke and dark bubbling brew, Darkmoon felt the atmosphere of the forest lighten and grow easy again.

He drew in a breath, sputtered, then picked up the last piece of the Dragoneye Staff, which was the largest, with the dragon claw grasping the milky eye. He tossed it into the cauldron, only to discover there was not enough to totally dissolve the wood, and so he added the last vial of Curse Breaking Elixir, hoping that would be enough.

As the last piece of the Horcrux melted away, Darkmoon sensed a sudden shift in the aura of the forest. The darkness and despair and evil that had covered Shadow Vale and its surroundings was slowly breaking apart, banished by the destruction of the cursed staff. The wolfen Alpha grinned and let out a howl of victory. The forest is released from the darkness. I can feel the difference, the trees no longer will grow twisted and I think even the guardian ring will someday return to normal. The very air feels light and free. What the Wicked Wizard has done has been removed and after a cleansing ritual, the forest shall be as it always was. Still smiling, for despite the fact that he had been brought there unwillingly and kept against his will, he had come to regard the Forest of the Night as his home, Darkmoon turned and knelt beside Harry and Severus, feeling for pulses.

Still out cold. But your heartbeat is steady, both of you are breathing, and that's a very good thing. My people owe you a great debt. You have freed our home from darkness's taint, wizards. No, not wizards, friends . . .and perhaps more than friends when all is said and done.

He quickly dug a hole and poured the remainder of the Curse Breaking potion, which was only about a thimbleful, into it and covered it over. Then he tucked gloves, cauldron, and the now empty potions case back into Sev's pack.

Now I have to get you home. But even I don't think I can carry both of you together and still be able to walk quickly. Darkmoon mused, then shifted into his wolf form and threw his back and howled, summoning his wolves to him.

The howl echoed long and loud through the trees, powered by his need, and it reached Sylvanor in a matter of minutes. Fenris, Eris, and Vlad, who had been patrolling the border of the wolfen village, stiffened when they heard Darkmoon's summons.

Vlad turned to the tall platinum-haired wolfen and said, "Looks like our fearless leader needs a bit of a hand. Go, Fen! You too, Eris!"

"You're not coming?" Eris asked, shocked.

"Can't. I pledged to guard the border. But you can answer and will, she-wolf. Now move your ass!" Vlad ordered, and in his voice was the command of a Beta turned Alpha.

The two blurred into their respective wolf forms and took off, racing quickly through the trees, following the Alpha's Summoning. They would find Darkmoon unerringly, because that was how strong the bonds of the pack were under Darkmoon's leadership.

Vlad watched until their bushy tails vanished and then sighed. Ah, my brother, what HAVE you gotten into this time?

* * * * * *

Darkmoon pricked up his ears and heard the familiar patter of wolf paws over the ground. He wagged his tail as Fenris, the big silver and white wolf, raced up to him and licked him gently under the chin, saluting him in proper wolf fashion before blurring into human form.

"Sir, Fenris reporting in. What seems to be the problem?"

An instant later, Eris appeared, her dark red coat tipped with black glittering in the moonlight. After she had greeted their alpha herself, she too transformed and said, "So what's all the fuss, Darkmoon? You chip a tooth?"

The black wolf bared his teeth in silent laughter, then he too became a man. "If only. Sev and Harry are hurt and I couldn't carry them all by my lonesome, so I called you to help me." He indicated the two wizards, lying side by side, wrapped in blankets. "How did you get here so fast?"

Eris shrugged. "Both of us can hustle when we need to, sir. And Fen knew a shortcut."

"A shortcut?" Darkmoon raised an eyebrow while he knelt to pick up Harry.

"Ah . . .yeah. It's through the eydrith tunnels," Fenris admitted. "It's a little cramped and smelly and dangerous, but Eris and I can travel quick enough to be past them before they know what smell hit them."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier, Fen?" Darkmoon demanded sharply.

Fenris looked abashed. "Uh . . .forgot, I suppose. We tend to avoid Shadow Vale since the dark wizard cast that ritual." Then he sniffed. "Wow! It feels different here. Not as dark and gloomy." He looked inquiringly at Darkmoon. "You succeeded then?"

Darkmoon nodded. "We did, but now we must help them. Both of them have banished the dark aura and suffered in the doing. We need to get them back to Meadowsweet on the double."

Eris examined the comatose Severus and purred, "My, but he is fine. I wouldn't mind carrying him."

"He's too old for you and a wizard besides," interjected Fenris jealously.

"So? I like older men."

"He's practically ancient and he has a hawk nose besides."

Eris grinned. "So? It has character."

Fenris snarled and Eris tossed her head, she loved to tease him.

"Enough you two!" growled Darkmoon, for once not amused by their quarreling. "Get a move on, for the love of moonlight! We owe them and the least we can do is heal them."

Fenris grunted, flashed Eris a look that said they would discuss this later, then bent and lifted Severus over his shoulder. He wasn't too fond of wizards, but if Darkmoon trusted them, then so would he, and breaking the curse over Shadow Vale went a long way towards the wolfen's acceptance of Severus and Harry.

* * * * * *

Severus stirred restlessly upon the woven frame pallet stuffed with feathers, muttering unintelligibly, clearly dreaming of something unpleasant. Hedwig, who was perched upon the end of Harry's pallet, immediately flew to Severus and perched near his head, crooning worriedly. The owl was concerned over both of her wizards, both had sustained serious injuries, and though Meadowsweet had completed Severus's healing and patched up Harry as well, it still frightened the raptor to see them lying so still.

She sensed that it could hinder the healing process if Severus were not sleeping peacefully, and so began to soothe him with a raptor's lullaby. Sleep, Warrior, sleep. There is naught to fear, for I am here, watching in the night. Sleep, my dark hawk, let no dream disturb thee, my song shall console thee, let nightmares beware! Sleep, Warrior, sleep, may the Lady of Wings bring you peace.

As the owl hissed and hummed, the Potion Master's face grew less pinched and distressed and he finally sank into a deep restful sleep, all the lines on his face smoothing out, until he looked more youthful than was his wont. Hedwig nuzzled him gently and preened the dark hair before returning to do the same to Harry.

Meadowsweet had declared her wing and shoulder muscle nearly healed and she could fly again by tomorrow. She was relieved to hear that, but hoped that Harry's own recovery might proceed as well, and also Severus'. Harry tossed and turned, but did not wake, and the owl remained alert throughout the night.

* * * * * *

Meadowsweet was absent from her home that night, having been required to participate in the cleansing ritual Darkmoon insisted they perform. It would remove the last of the lingering influences of evil from the earth. Darkmoon lit smudge sticks of lavender and white pine and together he and his pack wafted the smoke all over the trees in Shadow Vale and themselves, while asking the blessing of the Creator. It was soon over and the Vale restored and Meadowsweet returned to her house to find Hedwig singing to a comatose Harry and Severus. The wolfen Healer smiled, checked on her patients, then bid Hedwig goodnight.

* * * * * *

A cool damp cloth was sponging his face, and it felt so good that Harry didn't want to open his eyes. He felt hot and sticky and his head was pounding like an anvil. Oh Merlin, no! Not another migrane, please! Been there and done that. The cloth worked its way down his face and under his chin, deliciously cool and refreshing, then made its way back up the other side and came to rest on his forehead.

Slowly, Harry eased his right eye open. The first thing he saw was a pair of familiar amber eyes gazing down at him. "Welcome back, Harry."

"Meadowsweet?" His voice came out hoarsely, but he could talk. He opened his other eye.

"How are you feeling? You sound like you've got a dry throat." The wolfen said, studying him. She handed him his glasses and he slipped the frames over his ears.

"How did I get here?" he answered, that being more important than how he felt at the moment.

"Darkmoon brought you back, Harry," Meadowsweet replied. "You had quite a concussion but you should be mended by tomorrow if all goes well." She fetched a glass of cool water and helped Harry sit up.

The water tasted wonderful and soothed his parched throat, but as soon as it hit his stomach, he felt it lurch and rebel. "Think I'm gonna be sick-" he warned.

The wolfen Healer grabbed a wooden bowl in the nick of time.

She competently held the Animagus' head while he vomited, Harry was so humiliated he wanted to die right then, but of course he didn't.

"Don't fight it," she whispered. "It's okay."

"S'not," he whimpered wretchedly, throwing up yet again.

"Head wounds nearly always make one nauseous," Meadowsweet said, and used the cloth to wipe his face afterwards. The young wizard avoided her eyes until she cupped his chin and made him look up at her. "Don't look like that, Harry. I'm a Healer, guys puke on me all the time."

"You must have some real winners for boyfriends," he said, a half-smile emerging upon his face.

"I don't have time for boyfriends, but look, now you're smiling." Meadowsweet chuckled, then moved over and mixed something in a glass and handed it to him. "Sip that a little at a time, it's a tincture of chamomile and other herbs that help settle queasy stomachs."

He took the glass without protest and drank, finding that it did not taste half bad. Then he glanced about and asked where Severus was.

"He is out taking a short walk about Sylvanor, he felt much better this morning and Hedwig has mended enough to fly as well."

"That's great!" Harry cried, his green eyes now filled with joy. Then he made a face at himself. "Guess I'm holding everyone back."

"Not at all," Meadowsweet disagreed. "Severus knows how badly you were hurt and wants to make sure you're well before going anywhere. So take all the time you need to get better, Harry. His orders and mine too."

Harry sipped his drink, touched yet again by his professor's concern. Meadowsweet bustled about the room, emptying the bowl into a refuse bin which would later be taken out into the forest and buried. She fetched some bread and cheese and honey from her pantry and began slicing up the cheese and bread, her skirts swishing about her ankles.

Harry eyed her appreciatively while she performed that simple task, finally finishing the tincture and wishing suddenly he wasn't so damned awkward around girls. But being The Boy Who Lived did not endow one with sterling conversational skills or the knowledge of how to talk to a girl he barely knew, but honestly felt attracted to. So he looked and said nothing until Meadowsweet approached with a plate of bread spread lightly with honey and slices of cheese.

"Where did you get the cheese?" he asked, nibbling on a piece, it was soft and mildly creamy with a sweet nutty flavor.

"Before the vamps broke their treaty by killing Flicker, we had a kind of barter system with them, we traded for cheese and a few other essentials, like needles and thread using furs and leather we had cured. For awhile, it worked, until the vampires grew too bold and decided to take what they had no right to. Now all we trade is insults and arrows." She spat upon the ground. "This cheese is the last of what they brought us, spelled by Arborsong to preserve it."

Her eyes flashed and harry recalled what Darkmoon had said about her having a temper and not always being a serene and gentle Healer. She was a wolf too and fiercely protective of her own.

To keep himself from asking any more awkward question, Harry resumed eating, slowly and carefully, his stomach had settled but the last thing he wanted was to spew all over again. As he chewed carefully and swallowed, Meadowsweet fetched herself her own lunch and ate. They had almost finished when there came a knock on the door and Darkmoon strolled in.

"Hi, Sasha. How's the patient doing?"

"Awake and eating," she replied, waving a hand at Harry. "See for yourself, cousin."

Darkmoon crossed the room to Harry in three graceful strides, moving as only a wolfen can. "Well, Hawk-boy, you look ten times better than you did last night. Didn't I tell you Meadowsweet is the best Healer?"

Harry nodded, setting down the remainder of his bread smeared with honey, because it was impolite to talk with someone while eating. "Yes, and thanks for bringing us back here. Was Severus hurt badly too?"

"Uh . . .he had some cracked ribs, I think, but Sash fixed him up. He's a tough python." He clapped Harry on the shoulder lightly. "You did good, kid. After you found the object, the aura about the trees in the Vale lessened and once I destroyed it, the whole area changed."

"Good, but you're sure the object was destroyed?"

"Positive. I saw it dissolve myself, though I used the last of that potion to do it."

Harry was horrified. "You used it all? But then that means-"

"We will need to make some more, as soon as I can gather all the necessary ingredients," Severus interjected, walking into the cottage, and making his apprentice jump.

The two wolfen, who had of course heard him come in, exchanged amused glances.

"Merlin, Sev!" Harry scolded. "You nearly made me jump out of my skin."

"You look a bit better than this morning," remarked the Potions Master, walking over and laying a hand upon his ward's forehead. "He feels a bit warm to me, Meadowsweet. Has he a fever?"

Before the wolfen could reply, Harry fastened a look of sheer annoyance upon his guardian and said pointedly, "He is right here in front of you, Severus, if you'd like to ask him a question."

"Don't get snippy, Potter. You might hide the fact that you still feel awful in order to be allowed out of bed sooner, and that's why I wasn't asking your opinion. Well, Healer?"

Harry seethed at his guardian's highhanded attitude, but said nothing in return because regrettably, he had done such in the past and Snape was right to be wary of his word when it came to admitting just how crummy he felt.

"He has a slight fever, Professor. Nothing to be alarmed at, it's common with stress and injury and should clear up in a day or two. Rest and my potions will see him right again."

Severus breathed a sigh of relief. Then he gave Harry a stern look and said, "You are to follow her orders and not give her a hard time, am I clear?"

"I wasn't! What's up with you?"

"I know you, fledgling," he said then, using the nickname to ease the sting. "You are a terrible patient and are forever trying to get up too soon."

"Ha! Look who's talking!"

Snape scowled. "None of your cheek, mister. Take your potions and rest. Don't worry about delaying our hunt because we need to take a breather. There are only two more objects we need to find and if one of them is where I expect it, we shall not need too much time to find it." He squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I used all of your potion up, Severus," Darkmoon spoke up then, to ease the clash of wills between them.

Severus waved off his apology. "You did the right thing, Darkmoon. It needed to be destroyed and you did so. That is what's important. Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome too," said the wolfen sincerely. "But you saved my home when you broke that curse and even my life. And that makes you both friends worth having."

Obsidian and emerald eyes met amber ones and shared a moment of mutual understanding that comes only from enduring great hardship together. Then Darkmoon glanced away and said, "I would like to have another brief meeting with all my pack, where I can honor you properly and also make a request of my own, will you be feeling up to that tonight, Harry? Or shall I wait?"

Harry considered. His head still felt muzzy and he was also tired, but he had never been one to let discomfort or pain stop him before. "No, I should be okay."

"Good. I'll see you around then." He smiled and then whirled about and headed for the door. "I have to run, Sylva and Urchin reported that the damn werewolves are starting to try and sneak past the boundary again. Looks like they need another lesson in staying on their own side of the wood again."

"Be careful, Erik!" Meadowsweet called after him. "I don't need two difficult patients to nurse."

"Relax, Sasha. I'll be fine. I'll call you all to the meeting around six o'clock." Then he was gone as quickly as he had come.

Meadowsweet laid a hand upon Snape's arm, using her unique gift to "read" him and make sure he was recovered. "You are mended, Severus. Just don't engage in any wrestling matches because those ribs are still tender," she told him, her eyes sparkling with good humor.

"I shall try to forgo that pastime," Snape remarked dryly. "Would you like me to go and gather more comfrey and cobwebs so that you can brew up more Bone Mend? I believe I remember you saying you used the last vial on me."

"Thank you, Severus, but I can gather my own ingredients," began the young Healer.

"Consider it my way of thanking you for saving my apprentice and myself," the Potions Master said firmly.

"Severus-"

"It is the least I can do, Meadowsweet," the wizard declared firmly and then he asked for an herb gathering basket, which the little Healer handed him. "Get some more rest, Harry," he ordered before striding from the hut.

The Animagus rolled his eyes. "Merlin's bones, but he treats me like I was five sometimes."

Meadowsweet giggled. "That's because he cares about you. My mum was the same whenever I took sick with something, which wasn't very often, but . . .it's the nature of a parent to be overprotective of their child."

Harry blushed. "I'm not his son."

Meadowsweet simply cocked her head. "Aren't you? He is your guardian, is he not?"

"Yeah, but . . .we're not related . . ."

"Blood is not what makes a family, Harry. It may help, but in the end it is love that binds us together." The wolfen said serenely. "Only Darkmoon and I are blood-related, but all of us in Sylvanor are family. A very opinionated noisy family but family nonetheless. And that is something the Ministry would have never considered could happen when they abandoned us here. Severus looks at you as the son he never had."

Harry coughed, uncomfortable with her perceptiveness. "But Meadowsweet, I already had a father . . .I never knew him because he died for me . . .but I still want to remember him and honor his memory . . ."

"You can still honor him, Harry, and accept Severus's feelings at the same time. There's nothing wrong with you having two fathers. I would give . . .almost anything to have a real father, like your guardian, rather than the monster who sired me." She said, and he was astonished to see tears glinting in her eyes. An instant later, she blinked them away. "Don't mind me, Harry. It's an old wound, that one, one that nearly every wolfen in Sylvanor shares, except Erik."

"I'm sorry," he felt compelled to apologize, even though he had done nothing to her. But the sight of her eyes luminous with tears wrenched something within him.

"Don't be. What's done is done." She sniffed. "I came to terms with what happened a long time ago. It scarred me, but the hurt has healed. It's only sometimes that it pulls and throbs . . .when I let myself wish for something I shall never have." A wistful look crept into her face, a look that he was intimately familiar with, having worn it all too often himself.

"I know what you mean, because I used to wish for a family from the time I was old enough to understand what the word really meant and to see that my aunt and uncle and cousin didn't consider me a part of theirs." He found himself telling her about the Dursleys then, the words just poured out of him like a dam bursting, and she sat silently listening until he was finished with the whole sorry tale of his unloved childhood-one that she comprehended as only another lost one could.

Then her hand closed over his, warm and comforting, and she gazed at him with a peculiar tender look and said, "We are more alike than I thought. You and I, we grew up too fast, learned to depend on no one but ourselves. And still, a part of us wishes to have had, just once, someone who cared for us like a father does. You have that chance now, Harry. Don't waste it."

Harry considered for a moment, then sighed. "But Sasha . . .I mean Meadowsweet . . .if I let Sev become my father, won't it be like betraying my real one? Sort of?"

"No. Because wouldn't your dad want you to be happy and loved?"

Harry considered. "Yeah . . .I guess so." Would James be glad that Harry had finally found someone to love and protect him at last? Or would he be angry that the man his son had chosen had once been his bitterest rival? It was all so very confusing! "I . . .uh . . .don't really want to think about this now. I'm all muddled."

"Very well. But don't reject Severus out of fear. Such a chance comes along but once, Harry. Trust me, I know." She touched his face and her touch was at once icy cool and burning hot at the same time. "Hmm. Severus was right, you ought to take a Fever Reducer and rest some more."

Harry was about to protest, but then he recalled that staying here meant he could see more of Meadowsweet, whose touch both soothed and excited him like nothing he had ever felt before. In fact, just looking at her made him quiver all over with longing. "Okay," he agreed, and she rose and handed him a blue potion, he gulped it quickly and settled back upon his pallet.

"Sweet dreams, Harry," she said in that soft voice he adored, before turning about to chop up some herbs for the Bone Mend potion. Her back was to Harry as she worked and his eyes stared at her dreamily, noting the way she swayed slightly, like a willow, and how her bright hair fell down her back, and the way her backside curved through her colorful skirt.

I hope I dream of you, Meadowsweet, he thought and smiled, a sort of sleepy wishful smile with a hint of naughtiness in it.

Then he found himself unable to keep awake and he snuggled into his blanket and slept. He slept the entire afternoon, right through Severus and Meadowsweet brewing a batch of Bone Mend, only waking because his stomach was grumbling and it was time for them to go to the meeting in the round house.

* * * * * *

When the Potions Master, Harry, and Meadowsweet entered the round house, they found every eye upon them for a moment. And unlike the last time, they were not wary and suspicious, but approving. Even Vlad Winterknight did not look so antagonistic. One by one, the wolfen nodded at them and Meadowsweet led them right up to the table where Darkmoon was sitting.

At their look of astonishment, the Alpha snickered. "You're not allowed to hide in corners anymore like unwanted guests. Not after what you've done. Now you sit here, at the Alpha table. Right, Meadowsweet?"

The wolfen Healer nodded, her earrings bobbing. "You have to earn that privilege, which you have, ten times over, when you broke the curse upon Shadow Vale."

Urchin and IndigoEyes came and served everyone seated at the table with Darkmoon dinner, which consisted of venison in a rich mushroom gravy, chestnut bread and greens with wild garlic and rice. Moonberry juice and water were served also and everyone ate heartily.

Harry found his appetite returned with a vengeance and he ate like a typical starving teenager. While he ate he snuck glances at Meadowsweet from beneath his lashes. The wolfen Healer was chatting with Darkmoon, reminiscing about their shared childhood in Britain, before the Ministry had come and ripped apart their lives.

After the dinner was done, Darkmoon stood to address the pack, and all talking ceased. The Alpha cleared his throat and spoke loudly enough to be heard throughout the round house. "Thanks to Arborsong and IndigoEyes for a wonderful dinner. I think you would be top chefs in any restaurant in the world, lucky for us you're here, so nobody has to eat my lousy cooking."

There came a round of chuckles as the wolfen acknowledged their Alpha's wit as truth.

"All right, settle down," Darkmoon ordered after a moment and his wolfen settled. "I figured now that we have cleansed the forest of any lingering evil influences and Shadow Vale has been restored to its original state, it was time to thank those responsible for it." He indicated Harry and Severus. "You all know that these two wizards came to Sylvanor as my guests and that some of you viewed them with suspicion, thinking they were like those Ministry assholes who locked us away here. But you were mistaken, because Harry Potter and Severus Snape broke the curse on Shadow Vale and freed the Forest of the Night from the influence of the Death Eaters. They have done what no other wizard before has ever done-helped us because it was the right thing to do."

A smattering of applause followed. Darkmoon held up his hand.

"They have proven my theory that it's still possible to negotiate with wizards for a better life, provided the wizards in question are open-minded regarding wolfen. You all know I love Sylvanor, that it has become my home, as it is all of yours, but I still think we should be allowed to mingle with the outside world if we choose.

"I have seen for myself that Severus and Harry are honorable, respectable, and loyal and it is my privilege to invite them into our pack as honorary members. Welcome, Warrior and Freedom!" Darkmoon gave a low howl of acceptance and it was echoed by all the other wolfen, even Vlad.

Harry was astonished and proud to be considered a member of Sylvanor, he admired the wolfen for their tenacity, courage, and integrity, among other things. He darted a glance at Severus and saw that his mentor also looked pleased. It was the first time either of them had ever been invited to be a part of a group that they respected and who respected them. It was an astonishingly heady feeling. Harry wagered that it didn't matter to Severus if the wolfen were considered outcasts by the rest of the wizarding world, for he knew the truth about them, and better to be a member of Sylvanor than a member of the hypocritical Ministry.

One by one, the other wolfen approached and gripped Harry and Severus's wrists in a friendly clasp and welcomed them.

Vlad grasped Harry's wrist briefly, but there was no rancor in either his eyes or tone when he said, "Welcome, Freedom, to Sylvanor. May the moon shine down upon you."

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.

Vlad gave a short nod and then walked away.

After the two newest members had been welcomed, Darkmoon turned to them and said, "Nominally, I'm your Alpha, but since you're not really wolfen, you aren't bound to obey me. However, I do have a request to make of you. Before I led you to Shadow Vale, you agreed to grant me a request of my choosing. I'm sure you can guess what I'm about to ask." Darkmoon drew in a breath. "When you return to Britain after you've completed your quest, I want you to speak to your Minister and tell him that we helped you defeat Voldemort. I want you to ask him to release us from the forest and allow us to live normal lives like the rest of you. You've seen us, you know we're not the monsters and fiends they think we are. We deserve to live free, and get a regular education and live like everyone else."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "That's quite a request, Darkmoon. What makes you think the Ministry will listen to us?"

"Hell, Severus, if you finish Voldemort, the Ministry wouldn't dare refuse you anything."

"He's right, Sev. You know how Fudge likes to cater to people with prestige and power, like Lucius Malfoy."

Severus snorted. "Merlin forbid I should ever turn out like Lucius. Very well, Darkmoon. Harry and I will try and grant your request and hope that Fudge is amenable."

"And if he's not, we'll convince him otherwise," Harry promised.

Darkmoon laughed. "You do that, Hawk-boy." Then he cuffed Harry playfully about the ear. "You up for a moonlit ramble or are you still feeling exhausted?"

"Uh . . .only a short one. I am kind of tired," Harry admitted.

"Good enough. Come on, kid, and let me show you how much fun walking in the moonlight can be. The dark isn't your enemy."

Just then, Hedwig swooped down and landed on Severus's shoulder, chirring happily.

"Hedwig, what on earth?" cried the Potions Master, for the owl was rarely demonstrative with anyone except Harry.

Meadowsweet grinned. "Aww, how sweet, professor! She says she is glad to see you up and about and hopes that you enjoyed the lullaby she sang to you."

"She what?" Severus actually flushed and then hissed in acute embarrassment, "Bloody meddling bird, I am not a child!"

"She says that you were having a nightmare and her singing calmed you," Meadowsweet translated, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight.

Harry and Darkmoon quickly turned and left, managing to hold in their mirth until they were outside and then they collapsed upon the ground, howling with laughter. Hedwig had sung Snape a lullaby!

"Your owl sure has moxie!" Darkmoon said, then cracked up. "Like her wizard."

"Got that right. Oh, I wish I had been awake to see it!" He promptly burst out laughing again. When he had calmed he asked how Meadowsweet knew what Hedwig was saying. "I didn't know she could speak bird."

"She can't, but she was awake and saw the whole thing. So she just . . .improvised." Darkmoon told him gleefully. Then he rose and blurred into the big black wolf and Harry followed, shoving his panicked initial response to the darkness into the back of his head. He was a wolfen and the night belonged to them. Besides, it was too fine a night to waste being afraid of formless phantoms.

Crabbe residence

North York Moors:

Vincent Crabbe finished mucking out Puck's stall and fed the nine-year-old white pony a carrot for standing tied so patiently in the shed. The Welsh mountain pony was a sweet-tempered pony, but he had a streak of mischief in him, like most ponies. Said streak often led the pony into doing things like unlatching his stall and the paddock gate and wandering off on the moor. Puck also liked to snatch loose clothing, like hats, off people's heads and nibble on scarves. He was clever and could do tricks like counting and spelling out his name, Vince's sister Morgana had taught him those. He had belonged to Vince and taught him to ride before Vince grew too big and now he was his sisters' pony. Puck had been schooled by Joanna Crabbe, Vince's mother, who had learned to ride before she could walk, and was an Equus-speaker, meaning she could understand and speak the language of horses. Vince had gotten his love of animals from Joanna.

"There ya go, lad. All nice and fresh for tonight." He untied the pony and led the gelding from the shed, Puck followed like a dog. There was a medium sized paddock surrounding the shed where Vince turned Puck out on warm days, and today looked to be particularly fine. "Here you go, boy. Enjoy the sunshine," Vince told the pony, and Puck trotted out into the middle of the paddock and began to graze on the sweet grass, his long forelock falling over his dark eyes.

"Vi-i-nce! You just ‘bout done with that pony?" called Morgana, his nine-year-old sister. "Ma says she's got lunch waitin', and isn't that girlfriend of yours from school coming over?"

Vince turned to see his little sister standing on the cobblestone path leading up the back door of the stone cottage, arms akimbo, her dark hair straggling free of its plaits. She was wearing her favorite pair of denims and faded yellow shirt with the saying Horse-tamer's daughter scrawled across it. "Whatcha want, imp?"

"Ma wants you t' come in for lunch. But I wanna know what's up with you and your girlfriend." Morgana giggled, her blue eyes twinkling. "Have you . . .kissed her yet, Vince?"

"None of your business, brat," he mock-growled, dusting off his hands on the seat of his jeans. He pulled out his wand and cast a quick Freshen-Up charm over himself, because his mother insisted all her children be neat and tidy when they sat down at the table for meals.

"Aww, come on! I wanna hear all the disgusting juicy details," Morgana begged shamelessly.

"Morgana, for the love of Merlin!" Vince groaned. "There's nothing to tell." Actually that wasn't true, but he wasn't about to tell his nosy kid sister that. Morgana's nickname in the Crabbe household was "Little Big Mouth" because she told everyone everything and no secret was safe around her.

"Is too! You can tell me, Vince."

Vince snorted. "Ha! Tell you an' you might as well run an article in the Prophet."

Morgana pouted adorably.

Just then a small tow-headed little girl stuck her head out the kitchen window, which was lifted up to admit the fresh air and sunshine and shouted, "Vince! Your girlfriend Marietta's here! That's a funny name. Does it mean she's gonna marry you someday?"

"Merlin's socks, Gwynna!" Vince groaned, smacking himself in the forehead. "D'you have to announce it to the whole moor?"

He stamped his trainers free of straw and headed up to the cottage, which the Crabbes had just moved into a month before. It was part of his father's plan to turn over a new leaf and make a fresh start for himself and his family, away from the influence of his former Death Eater acquaintances.

His baby sister, six-year-old Gwyneth, pulled her head back in and shouted, "He's comin', Ma!"

"One of these days I'm gonna hex her mouth shut, the little banshee," the stocky boy muttered.

"She's got a bigger mouth than I do," Morgana said, following.

"You both have the biggest mouths in Yorkshire." He paused upon the doorstep and ran his fingers through his hair. "How's my hair? Do I have any straw in it?"

Morgana studied him. "Nope."

"Do I look all right?"

"Uh . . .you look . . .like a dorky Magical Creatures vet," his sister sang, then she bolted away, laughing.

"Rotten brat!" he cried, running after her.

He chased her around the path to the front of the stone cottage, finally catching her as she fumbled with the latch on the front door.

He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder, ignoring her shrieks. "Who's laughing now, Little Big Mouth?" he demanded, giving her a pretend swat. Then he walked into the house, Morgana still dangling over his broad shoulder. "Hey, Ma! Got me a jackdaw here that needs her feathers plucked good."

Joanna, a pretty woman in her late thirties, was wearing casual riding leathers and a soft blue cotton shirt and expensive leather boots, she had her gold hair pulled back in a tail, fastened with a shiny turquoise clip. She looked up at her two offspring and sighed, accustomed to their frequent horseplay. "Put your sister down, Vince. I'll discuss her behavior later, when our guest is not present." She nodded gracefully at Marietta, who was already seated at the table, concealing a grin behind her hand.

"Okay, ma'am," Vince set Morgana down, and the girl made a face at him before running to get the seat next to Gwynna. Vince smiled at Marietta, who looked very summery in her pink flowery sundress and white eyelet sweater. "Hey, Marietta. How's your holiday been?"

"Hi, Vince!" she smiled back, and tossed her curly hair back from her face. "It's been pretty boring, except for coming here. My mum's been working a lot at the Ministry on some special project so she hasn't been home much, and my dad's away on business." She looked about at the spotless kitchen with its bunches of dried herbs hanging from the rafters and whitewashed walls and exclaimed, "You've got a lovely home. So peaceful feeling."

"Yeah. But we've only been here a month or so." Vince coughed awkwardly, then he sat down and reached for the pitcher of iced lemonade, kept cold by a Chilling charm. "Care for some lemonade, Marietta?"

"Thank you, I'd love some. Is it homemade?" Marietta floated her glass over to him.

"It certainly is," Joanna declared proudly. "It's an old family recipe, handed down from my great-grandma. I use only fresh springwater and the ripest lemons."

After pouring Marietta a glass, Vince served himself. "Where's Da and Danny?"

"Still at the forge," replied Joanna. She motioned for him to serve Marietta the sandwiches and crisps and salad upon the table.

"Goody, that means we can actually get a roast beef sandwich before Danny inhales them. He eats like a Hungarian Horntail," Morgana announced, before she grabbed a roast beef and Swiss with mayo off the platter.

There was also ham and Cheddar, cucumber and tomato, and chicken with pickles and mustard. All were cut into halves, stacked neatly on top of each other.

"Morgana! Is that a nice thing to say about your brother?" reprimanded Joanna.

"No. But it's true."

"Please forgive my daughter, Marietta. She tends to just say the first thing that comes into her head."

"That's why we call her Little Big Mouth," Vince added, chuckling.

Morgana stuck her tongue out at him.

Just then Gwynna asked softly, "Vince, you never answered my question. Are you gonna marry her someday?"

Vince nearly choked on his lemonade, the back of his neck turning a bright scarlet, as did the tips of his ears. "Err . . .ahh . . ."

"Well?" the child repeated. Seeing her brother struck dumb, she turned to Marietta and asked, "Are you? Is that why your name's Marietta?"

Marietta laughed, not unkindly, at the curious little girl. "Umm . . .well, maybe someday I might. And my name actually means "little Mary" in Italian. My mum is Italian, I was named after my grandma."

"Oh. That's cool. I was named after my grandma too," Gwynna said, beaming. "When are you getting married? Tomorrow? Will I get to wear a pretty dress and robes? I like purple n' pink the best." She indicated her lavender top and pink jeans.

"Aww! You're sweet!"

Vince had recovered from his fit and said, "She's sweet till she doesn't get her own way, then she's a monster. Right, Gwynnie?"

"Don't call me Gwynnie!" she snapped, then she turned back to Marietta and said, "I'm glad you're gonna marry Vince, ‘cause he needs a woman to keep him in line."

At that Marietta and Joanna burst out laughing.

"You tell him, Gwynna!" cheered Morgana.

Vince ground his teeth and wondered why he had ever been saddled with two bratty embarrassing little sisters.

The back door opened and Vince breathed a sigh of relief as his tall father and little brother entered the kitchen, evening up the odds between men and woman a little.

Vincent Crabbe, senior and his second oldest, Danny, who was as blond as his mother, and starting to fill out a little due to apprenticing with his mage smith father, greeted their guest cordially, before sitting down and helping themselves to the lunch upon the table.

"Hi, Da!" his two daughters chorused, running to him and climbing up on his lap.

"Hello, my wildwood princesses!" the elder Crabbe boomed, hugging his two youngest.

He ate while they chattered nonstop to him, and Vince asked Marietta if she would like to go walking on the moor after lunch.

"Oh, as long as you're going to be wandering the heath, lad, would ye mind collecting some herbs and plants for me?" Joanna asked. "My potions stock is running low." She handed him a list.

"Sure, Ma." Vince took the list with a sigh.

"I won't mind helping you, Vince," Marietta offered.

"Thanks," Vince said, then smiled as his viridian rain forest boa, Vera, slithered out from behind the stove and climbed up his leg, curling up about his wrist. "Hello, my beauty. Did you have a good nap?"

Vera hissed an affirmative, wrapping about her wizard's wrist like a living emerald bracelet.

"We'll take Puck, my pony, and put the baskets on him," Vince told the Ravenclaw girl.

"But won't he be afraid of Vera?" asked Marietta sensibly.

"Nah. He was spooked at first, ‘till Ma explained Vera was my familiar an' wouldn't hurt him. Now he's okay with her, as long as she doesn't try and crawl up his legs." Vince said, and resumed eating his sandwich, while Danny told their mother how he had learned to forge amulets out of silver today.

* * * * * *

They walked along the heather-blanketed moor together, collecting bunches of heather and meadowsweet and larkspur. As they gathered, Vince recited the uses of the plants, which he had been taught by his mother. "Heather for protection and luck, meadowsweet for scent and for upset stomachs, larkspur is good for an eyewash and to keep away fleas, Mum makes a spray of that for Puck, since the flies really bite in the summer sometimes."

Marietta was impressed. "You really know your plants, don't you? Funny, I never would have figured you for the herbology type."

Vince blushed. "Merlin, I learned about this stuff when I was little like Gwynna. Ma used to take me with her when she gathered herbs in the fields and the forest and I learned all about herbs, magical and ordinary ones." He knelt and plucked an odd bell-shaped red flower. "See this? A crimson bellsprout. It's used in drafts to cure hearing problems, especially in old people. You crush up the flowers and stems to release the juice . . ."

Marietta was fascinated and listened intently as Vince led her through the moor, picking all the herbs upon Joanna's list. Each plant was carefully stowed in the baskets upon Puck's back. The Welsh pony was very well-behaved, he didn't try to buck off the baskets nor did he try and eat Marietta's sweater.

Vera slipped off Crabbe's wrist and went hunting for voles, as a familiar, she could always find her wizard, and so Crabbe did not fear her getting lost on the moor. Good hunting, all!

"She is a wise creature," Marietta said.

"She is that." Vince smiled after the snake fondly. He crossed herbs off the list as he found them, none of them were difficult to find. "You know, snakes in Greece and Italy way back during ancient times were worshipped as being wise and intuitive creatures. It was believed they whispered medical cures into the priestesses' ears"

"I know. The priestesses of Apollo and Demeter kept snakes in their temples and said they gave them advice to help people heal. They were considered sacred and knowing the secrets of the earth."

Vince nodded. "Yes. But some people have forgotten that and think only of the evil serpent in the Garden of Eden, or the viper that strikes in the grass. Voldemort has turned the sacred serpent into a monster again. But Professor Snape said that we Slytherins had a duty to try and change that image, and show the rest of Hogwarts that the serpent could shed its skin and assume a new role, that of a counselor. He told us that we should use our drive to succeed to make things better, and not to take over the world, the way Old Moldy did."

"I agree. And you know something else?" Marietta said, stepping close to him. "There's one serpent that I'd love to let whisper in my ear." Her lips were inches from his own.

"Would you now?" he whispered huskily, his arms coming about her and drawing her gently to him. He bent his head and their lips met.

Their kiss was tentative at first, but soon changed into a fiery unexpected passion. Neither had ever felt such intense feelings before, desire licked through them like a grassfed bonfire, and their kiss deepened, became tender and fierce by turns. They drowned in the sweetness, the herbs forgotten by their feet and Puck's lead left dangling.

Vince felt as if the kiss lasted an eternity and at the same time was over far too quickly. When he made himself come up for air, he felt literally breathless and utterly wonderful. Marietta looked up at him, her eyes shining, her lips puckered delightfully, and said, every bit the impudent minx, "You know, Vince, that wasn't on the list of herbs. But I liked that part of the herbology lesson the best."

"Me too," the young Slytherin agreed, then he gave a sudden laugh. "You are something else, Marietta."

"So are you, Vince," she said, then linked arms with him and continued walking. "How about next week you visit my house? It's on the outskirts of London. There are more things to see there than just Diagon Alley, you know."

"Sounds like a grand idea, Marietta. I just need to clear it with my folks."

"I'm sure Mum won't mind. She's been pestering me to let her meet you."

They continued walking and the sweet smell of crushed meadowsweet and heather surrounded them.

* * * * * *

The Forest of the Night:

Severus led Harry, Meadowsweet, and Vlad in his wolf form through the forest. Severus needed to brew more of the Curse Breaking potion, and some of the rare expensive magical ingredients could be found here. "Normally, I must send away from them, for they are plants not native to Britain and found in remote locations," he explained to his apprentice and Meadowsweet. "But I saw two of the main ingredients for the draft here as we traveled to Shadow Vale, and see no reason why I cannot harvest them and brew a new draft at the same time."

It was for this reason Harry and Meadowsweet were accompanying him, so they could learn the correct procedure for harvesting everbloom pods and illareth flowers. Both plants were rare ones that were used in potions of protection and the everbloom was a key component in the Curse Dissolving Elixir. Vlad was along to guard them from any unexpected wild creature or werewolf that might attack the small group of magical botanists.

Severus led them about a mile or so down the path from Sylvanor , walking slowly and deliberately, examining the tall majestic oaks and rowan trees as he went. After about fifteen minutes he halted and beckoned the two younger ones over. "See there, inbetween the rowan's roots, beneath the larger burdock?" His finger indicated a rather spiky bright green plant with teardrop shaped purple flowers hanging off it. "The everbloom likes the shade, and the soil inbetween trees like oak and rowan. It only blooms every six months, however, and the best time to harvest it is now, at dusk, for it loves the nighttime best." He knelt beside the plant and pulled a small pair of shears from a pocket, sharpened to a fine edge.

"The pods are inside the cup of the flower, but you should handle the plant as little as possible with your hands, because continued contact with skin reduces the potency of the pod. So you cut the flower with shears, like so." He snipped the flower off the stalk and caught it in a small bowl. "To extract the pod you cut the flower open," he carefully slit the flower up the side with the shears. Then he spread apart the flower and revealed were five softly glowing milky lavender pods. "The juice from these pods is equal to about a ¼ c and all of the juice must be extracted. That is why it costs so much to buy this ingredient through an apothecary, because such care must be taken when harvesting."

He looked up to see how his students were absorbing the lesson, and found Meadowsweet listening intently to his lecture, but to his annoyance, Harry was gazing, not at the everbloom pods, but at the girl next to him, wearing what Severus often called a "dreamy mooncalf idiot" look, his eyes all glazed over with admiration for the young woman in question.

"Harry!" he rapped out. "Pay attention! Someday you may need to harvest these or brew the potion if I am not around and this is a critical point I'm making. Now focus!"

Harry immediately jerked his eyes off Meadowsweet, flushing guiltily. "Sorry, sir. What did you say?"

Severus gritted his teeth, but went over the lecture again. "Next time pay attention to me, not your classmate," he rebuked stingingly, and watched his ward turn the color of a cranberry.

Harry wanted to smack himself upside the head for being so bloody enraptured with Meadowsweet, and he also wanted to smack Severus for pointing it out so bluntly and embarrassing him past bearing. He stared at the ground instead, flushing and fuming.

"Very well then. I shall harvest two more flowers and then I will have enough for two vials of potion. It's important to never deplete all the flowers on a plant, because the plant will die. Always leave a few flowers to encourage the plant to bloom again."

"Severus, why is the plant called everbloom?" asked Meadowsweet.

"Its name is a bit of a misnomer. The name actually refers to how the plant blooms every six months, not that it blooms forever. Some apothecaries refer to it as glowpod, because of how the pods glow when exposed to the open air."

"Oh, I see. And how do you extract the juice?"

"With the flat side of a dagger, crush it, don't chop it. All of the juice will be extracted that way."

He carefully extracted the pods from two more flowers and then used a tweezer to put the pods gently in a pouch. Then he stood up, dusted off his robes and moved on down the path.

"The illareth flowers grow inbetween rocks and also like the shade," he continued his lecture, pointing out how the illareth was very delicate and needed to be harvested with tweezers, each individual blossom plucked carefully so as not to crush it. Those he left in the small bowl and sealed it with a spell. "Illareth must be added whole to the solution in order to gain the greatest effect, another reason why this elixir is so difficult to brew."

After gathering what seemed like an abundance of flowers, assisted by his apprentices, Severus declared it was time to return to Sylvanor and begin brewing the Curse Dissolving Elixir.

"Severus, why do the flowers have to be whole?" asked Harry, he had always wondered what the difference was between whole and crushed botanicals.

"Because crushing the illareth destroys the essence of the flower, and it is the essence which imbues the potion with the full curse dissolving properties," answered the Potions Master. "That's an intelligent question. It's good to see you're paying attention this time around, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded, then said quickly, "How long does this draft take to brew?"

"Three days, and I only have enough ingredients here for two vials. I shall show you the recipe when we return to the village, it is a complex potion and some ingredients can only be found in Britain and others here. I was not expecting our quest to use up all of my supply, these two vials must last us until I have time to brew more once we return to England."

"When will we be leaving?" Harry asked.

"As soon as the potion has been brewed." He caught his ward's look of dismay and said, somewhat sympathetically, "I am sorry, but we cannot delay our quest any longer. Our enemies are gathering and it is dangerous to linger here any longer than we must."

"I understand, Sev," Harry said, concealing a sigh. He knew how important it was to find all the objects before their enemies did, but he hated to leave Sylvanor, it made him feel at peace, not to mention Meadowsweet, who he wished to get to know much better.

Severus gave him a quick nod of approval, then began walking back towards Sylvanor, giving the two some privacy to say farewell and so forth.

Vlad ranged ahead and to either side of them, making sure no predator stalked them. The wolfen was amused at Harry's obvious infatuation-he didn't even want to assume it was anything more-with his packmate. He could understand how the wizard would be attracted to Meadowsweet, for she was quite pretty, though her no-nonsense attitude and stubbornness often intimidated any other male save Darkmoon. She ranked high in the wolfen hierarchy, both for her Healing magic and for her personality, which was that of a leader, but not overbearing, her authority was quiet, like a swift-running stream, but it could knock you flat given the right opportunity. For all her apparent gentleness, and she is gentle, she's not the submissive type at all, Vlad thought, chuckling inwardly. If he spent more time with her, he'd find that out real quick. There's steel beneath the silk and a wolf beneath the pretty girl. All of us know better than to get her hackles up, even me. She's Alpha female to Darkmoon's male, even though they're not mates.

Meadowsweet took Harry's hand and squeezed it gently as they walked behind Severus. "Go and do what you must, Harry. I will be here, waiting, as always. Your quest is more important than this feeling between us . . .for now."

He turned abruptly and gazed into her eyes, which had captivated him from the moment he had opened his eyes and saw her looking down at him. "I won't forget you, Sasha. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?"

She shook her head, her earrings chiming gently. "No. For you, and for Erik, I can be Sasha Atwater, the girl I was before the Ministry came and turned my life upside down. I was innocent then, and I am that no longer, having done things to survive that have stolen that innocence away."

"Like what?"

"I have killed, Harry. I am not always the gentle Healer. I have slain vampires and werewolves and once . . .a wizard who tried to harm me. There is blood on my hands."

"Mine too," he acknowledged softly. "I sent Voldemort to hell twice now. With luck, third time's the charm. It changes you, doesn't it?"

"Yes. But here, with you, I feel like that innocent girl I was back in England, who knew only love and only knew treachery and sorrow as an abstract."

"You make yourself sound old," he laughed. "And you're what, seventeen?"

"I feel old in here," the wolfen said, tapping her chest. "But with you, I feel seventeen."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a very good thing," she said. "I never thought I would meet someone not a wolfen who would understand the darkness within me and not be afraid."

He reached out a finger and gently traced the curve of her cheek, discovering that his shyness was not overwhelming, for once. "I've faced my own darkness, like you. It doesn't frighten me, not anymore. Sev taught me that there is always a light burning in the darkness, and if you let it, it can guide you home."

"He was your light, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. He helped me the way nobody else could. Mostly because he had gone through some of the same things I had."

She nodded. "I could tell. He has that look about him-the look of one who has walked into darkness and lived to tell the tale. That's one reason why I trusted him and Darkmoon too. Because he would understand the things we had done to survive and not label us monsters or abominations like those coddled Ministry arseholes. The closest they've ever come to darkness is when they dim a lamp, and yet they sneer at us for being what we are. A wolf knows there is a time and a place for everything."

"I wish I didn't have to leave." Harry said regretfully.

"Someday we shall meet again, Harry."

"You say that like you believe it."

"I do. There's always tomorrow for dreams to come true."

"I wish tomorrow was today." He said, then he ran his hands tentatively through her hair, playing with the platinum strands. "So beautiful, like moonlight spun into reality."

"You're sweet."

"Good thing, because that's about as poetical as I'm gonna get."

"You don't fear the wolf in me."

"Anymore than you fear the hawk," he murmured, then he dipped his head and their mouths met in an abrupt kiss.

Harry felt at first that he was fumbling, but then something, some instinct deep within him, took over, and suddenly he was kissing the wolfen maid with a gentle fierceness he had never known. His blood thundered in his veins and he savored the taste of her, she made him feel more alive than he had ever felt, it was both wonderful and frightening. Wonderful because he could feel how much she loved kissing him and frightening because he knew he could not afford a relationship and he was unsure if he would be able to return as he wished.

When at last they broke apart, Harry said, "If I had a choice, Sasha, I would stay."

She put a finger to his lips. "I know. But it's not the right time. Finish what you've started, Harry Potter. No matter how long it takes, I will wait."

"I'll talk the Ministry into setting you free. I hate seeing anything caged. That's why as a hawk, I'm called Freedom."

"It suits you, Hawk-boy," she chuckled. "Good luck to you, Harry." She kissed him back, a brief kiss filled with longing. "Fly high and fast and be safe."

"I'll try." He shook his head, a wry look upon his face. "It's funny, but I was never really comfortable around girls, except for Hermione, but she's more like a best friend and a sister. I looked at them and thought, how could I ever talk to them, how could I find someone who sees me for what I am, just Harry and Freedom, and not The Boy Who Lived? How could they understand the way I grew up when they had a normal childhood and not a screwed up mess? And then you were there, looking at me, when I'd just awakened from that sleeping dart, and I just knew you were it. Does that sound totally nuts?"

"No. It sounds like you trust your instincts, and for that I am very grateful. Come, we ought to be getting back to Sylvanor. I don't think it's a good idea to keep Severus waiting."

"No, that's a very bad idea, trust me. Race you back?"

"You're on!"

Abruptly she blurred into the white wolf and began racing full speed up the path.

"Hey! You never said you'd be racing as a wolf!" he protested, then he traded flesh for feathers.

Kree-aarr! He called challengingly, increasing his speed to within a hairsbreadth of his top flight speed, until finally he began to inch ahead of Meadowsweet, because the sky was not filled with obstacles like the ground.

The white wolf and the red-tailed hawk reached the tree village at nearly the same time, with Harry winning by a mere foot, his talons brushing the tree that formed the round house a scant minute before Meadowsweet's paws did.

Freedom shrilled a victory cry, then flew down and changed back into Harry. "That was fun! But you could have told me you were going to change."

"Why? The surprise was half the fun," she laughed, changing back. "You are wicked fast in that form, Harry." She gazed at him admiringly. Then she turned and began to walk back to her hut, beckoning to Harry to follow. "Hurry, Hawk-boy. Before your mentor gives us the razor side of his tongue, eh?"

Harry obeyed, he had no wish to ruin this perfect day by getting Snape riled at him.

They arrived back at Meadowsweet's home to find Severus already crushing everbloom pods. Wordlessly, he pushed a dish of the glowing pods over to them, along with a shallow bowl and two small daggers, and the two began pressing the juice out.

Harry vowed to focus on making this draft, for Severus was right, you never knew when you were going to need to brew something, and preparation was nine parts of a successful endeavor. He quickly began to squeeze the juice from the beans, drinking in the heady aroma of the juice and the sweet refreshing scent of Sasha's favorite flower.

Severus watched the two prepare the pods like the hawk he became, making sure no mistakes were made, for he couldn't afford any childish errors at this stage, the pods were too rare to be wasted. Thankfully, both seemed to have brought their raging hormones under control and were focused intently upon their task. He returned to adding the other ingredients to the cauldron already bubbling, lecturing quietly as he did so, until the potion was simmering, and then they all helped Meadowsweet clean up before going to sleep.

During the next three days while the Curse Dissolving potion was steeping, Harry spent the majority of his time with Meadowsweet and Darkmoon, telling them stories of Hogwarts and his adventures with Severus in Animagus form and how he had managed to kill Voldemort for the second time along with Warrior. Darkmoon was quite impressed and Meadowsweet also. He hunted with both wolfen in hawk form in the afternoons, and sometimes were accompanied by Vlad, who had come to gradually accept both wizards as part of his pack.

When Harry remarked upon it one afternoon, after Vlad and Meadowsweet had brought down a fat creature called a lithmeer, which was sort of a cross between a possum and a rabbit, but it could blend into the background like a chameleon, the older wolfen just looked slightly amused. "When you saved the forest and freed the guardian trees from the spell of the evil warlock, you became our allies. More than any wizard ever has been. You risked your neck for us, and that is deserving of respect. Plus, when Darkmoon made you pack, he also made you both brothers to me. And I trust him not to give me a brother who's a treacherous bastard. So . . .I'm nice to you. Mostly."

"Gee, thanks," Harry drawled cheekily.

"Watch it, Freedom," Winterknight warned, half-jokingly. "If you annoy me too much, I'll invoke my rank as Beta and kick your ass."

"Only if you can walk on the air."

"I can jump," the other said. "But at the same time I'll also protect you from anything that threatens you. Up to and including your dumb Ministry officials." The wolfen said grimly.

"Guess I ought to be grateful for small favors," Harry murmured, smirking. He had a feeling that the prickly wolfen would be a good friend to have in a tight corner.

"You should," put in Darkmoon, who was skinning the day's catch expertly. "Vlad almost never offers to protect non-wolfen, honorary pack or no. Unless they're little kids. One time a little girl wandered in here and Vlad was in wolf form and heard her crying . . ."

Harry listened while Darkmoon related the story of how Vlad had transformed and helped the lost child find her way back to the forest's edge and then told her to remain in one spot so her people could find her easily. He had also watched from the wood's edge until her frantic parents and other members of her village discovered her and took her home.

Harry looked at Vlad and said, "I never would have figured you for a hero, Vlad."

The russet wolfen snorted. "Hero, my ass. I just couldn't stand hearing the brat crying. Gave me indigestion."

The other two wolfen chuckled and so did Harry. It would seem Vlad hid a kind heart beneath his façade of tough wolfen. Much like someone else Harry knew well.

"Well, next time somebody needs rescuing, I'll know who to call." Harry couldn't resist teasing.

"You do, kid, and I'll bite you!"

Harry just laughed.

Though he would have loved to spend more time with the wolfen, especially Meadowsweet, all too soon the last afternoon came, and Harry had to bid farewell to his new friends. Darkmoon, Vlad, Eris, Fenris and Sylva had volunteered to be escorts to them while they left the forest, just in case the werewolves were lying in wait somewhere among the trees.

While Severus carefully bottled the two vials of potion and stored them away, Harry walked with Meadowsweet to the edge of Sylvanor, where a round bridge overlooked a large stream that flashed silver in the sunlight. It was as private as the two were going to get without leaving Sylvanor to wander in the forest, and Harry knew he only had a few moments at best to say farewell.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out something he'd wrapped in one of Snape's embroidered handkerchiefs-the man seemed to have an overabundance of them, Merlin only knew why, and had given several to his apprentice-and held it gently in one hand. "I'm really going to miss you," he admitted shyly. "So I thought maybe you'd like something to . . .uh remember me by. It's nothing special, just something I made last night. Sev helped me, actually . . ."

He handed her the small, flat, handkerchief-wrapped object.

"Thank you, Harry," Meadowsweet said, sounding like a child who had received her first ever birthday present. She carefully unwrapped the Slytherin-monogrammed cloth to reveal a lovely crimson feather quill, carefully wrapped with brown sinew along the shaft for a better grip and sharpened to a beautiful point. "Oh!" she exclaimed softly, her amber eyes glowing. "This is . . .why it's marvelous! It's a feather from a hawk, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's from me, one of my smaller tail feathers. I had Sev pluck it and then replace it with one of similar size and shape." Harry explained, rubbing his backside slightly.

"Did it hurt?"

"A bit." Harry hedged, actually he'd had a sore backside all night, as if he'd sat on a piece of glass, but he would rather be Crucio-ed than admit that to his girl. He'd tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable and sleep, until Severus had cast a Numbing Charm on him and gave him a few swigs of Dreamless Sleep. Then he'd slept like a baby. "But it wasn't too bad. And Sev spelled it so it'll always be sharp and not need trimming and be filled with ink too. That's why I didn't give you ink. You can write me, Sasha, if you want." He found himself blushing like a silly schoolgirl and looked away.

"Of course I want to!" she laughed. "I'll write as soon as you tell me it's safe for you to get letters. I love it, Harry! It's perfect and I will treasure it always." She gently ran the tip of her finger down the crimson feather, stroking it.

"It's just a quill."

"Wrong. It's a quill made by you, and therefore doubly precious." She gently rewrapped the quill and slipped it into a pocket of her tunic. "The handkerchief was from Severus, yes? I recognize the symbol of Slytherin House. Mum used to tell me about Hogwarts sometimes. She was a Hufflepuff." A look of terrible sadness passed over Meadowsweet's face. An instant later, it was gone. She reached into another pocket and withdrew a small square of white deerskin. "When I knew you would be leaving soon, I decided to make you a token . . .so you could look at it and remember me, and know that no matter how far away you are, I will still wait and think of you. I hope you don't think it's . . .too girly. Here."

Harry carefully unwrapped the petal-soft deerskin. Inside was a woven bracelet, braided with white fur and platinum hair, about a small polished moonstone. There was a small loop to put the knotted end through and cinch it. "This . . .it's your hair, right? And your fur from your wolf form?" he guessed correctly.

She nodded. "And the moonstone came from a necklace my mum gave me, the stone was loose, so I removed it and wove the hair and fur about it. I used to make friendship bracelets out of string when I was a little girl, my mum taught me how, so I just . . .thought it might remind you of me if I made one for you with some of my fur and hair." Now she was blushing too. "You don't have to wear it . . ."

"It's great. I really like it," he reassured her, then he slipped it on his left wrist and tightened the knot proudly. It glistened in the sunlight like a silver wisp of mist. "Whenever I look at it, I'll think of you, Sasha. Thanks." Then, because words seemed so inadequate to express his feelings, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

She tasted of honey and moonlight, kissed with cinnamon and the bittersweet tang of regret. He clasped her to him and wished like hell he never had to let her go. She felt so right in his arms, sleek and soft and she made him feel things he had never felt before . . .not even when he had thought himself in love with Cho Chang. Then, he had felt awkward and in awe of the Ravenclaw girl, and all he had dared to do was daydream about her, mostly. But this . . .this was to his infatuation with Cho like a bonfire was to a candleflame. The passion Sasha aroused in him was no tame little bit of puppy-love, no schoolboy infatuation. No, this was the stirrings of true desire, and the delicate beginning of a man's love for a woman he respects and admires.

And she responded to him, not with the tentative kiss of a girl unsure of what she wanted, but with all the passion and knowing of a woman who recognizes the other half of herself in the man before her. Her fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and she kissed him with reckless abandon, as if trying to imprint herself upon his very soul.

He gasped, then kissed her back again. Oh, Merlin! How I wish . . .we had more time! It's not fair. "Meadowsweet . . .Sasha . . .I would never leave unless I had to. You make me feel so . . .incredible." He whispered into her ear.

"And so do you, beloved. I wish you could stay too . . .but duty calls and you must answer."

"It's not fair."

"No, but what in life is? Destroy our enemy, Harry. Then return to me."

"I promise. I'll never forget you." He hugged her to him then, feeling a terrible wrenching pain in the vicinity of his heart, nearly the same pain as when he had thought Snape no longer cared for him. Only this was rawer, deeper, and it would not fade until he saw her again. "I . . .love you, Sasha. I love the girl and I love the wolf." The words fell from his lips, unbidden, but he knew as soon as he spoke them that he meant them.

"My sweet Harry. I love you too, Hawk-boy. And that is something I never thought I'd say. Not to a wolfen or to a wizard." She lifted her face to his and her brilliant amber eyes were luminous with tears. "Keep the bracelet. And know that somewhere the one who made it waits for you."

"I shall." He turned and looked at the wisp of silvery hair about his wrist, blinking hard. "Merlin, why does this have to be so damn difficult?"

"Because we belong together and goodbyes are always a pain in the ass." She replied, sniffling. "That's why I hate them."

"Me too." An errant tear slipped down his cheek.

She caught it on her fingertip. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," she quoted.

"You've read Shakespeare?"

"Of course. I wasn't always the wild woman of the wood, Harry," she chided. "My mother saw to it that I received a fine private education, with excellent tutors, she couldn't risk sending me to school for fear I'd change involuntarily, which happened a lot till I learned to control myself. I read nearly all of the Bard's work, he was a wizard with words. And he, like us, knew what it was to be parted from the one he loved." Her fingers moved up and ran through his hair.

"Yeah, most of his sonnets deal with lovers forced to part. I wonder who he left behind?" He leaned into her hand, and smiled. "God, that feels good. Don't stop."

She continued massaging his neck and head, murmuring, "Whoever she was, I hope he came back to her."

"What if he couldn't?"

"Then I hope she mourned him and then found a good man to spend the rest of her life with."

"Is that what you would do if I never returned?"

Meadowsweet shook her head. "No. Wolfen, like wolves, mate for life."

"Then I'll have to make damn sure I keep my promise, won't I?" he said tenderly. "Because you don't deserve to spend your life alone, Sasha love."

"We both deserve to be happy," she said firmly. "I used to think I was content with my life, until I met you, and I realized that what I had was only a shadow of what I could have. With you, I am complete."

"You were the last thing I expected to find here. I thought we would go into the forest, fight some bloody monster for the staff, destroy it, and go back home. Instead, we get ambushed, I get shot with sleep sap, and wake up to see you. You were like . . .something out of a dream . . .and yet I felt as though I knew you. Does that sound crazy?"

"No. Your heart is wise. It called to me and I answered."

"But . . .shouldn't it take longer?"

She looked puzzled. "Why? The heart knows what it knows. And it knows that I am yours and you are mine. Love is timeless, Harry. It can happen anytime. And what my heart loves today, it will love tomorrow, and for all of time. Don't be afraid, Harry. Trust your heart."

Could he? Dare he? Then he looked into her eyes and he saw the unwavering truth in them and he knew then this was right. "Okay. I will."

"Good. Now go and kick that bloody bastard's arse good, Hawk-boy." Then she kissed him one last time. "Until we meet again, Harry Potter."

He nodded, unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. But somehow it didn't matter, he knew she understood what he could not say. Reluctantly, he drew away and headed back to finish packing, giving her a brief wave. Then he hurried away, head lowered to hide the tears in his eyes, which remained despite his frequent attempts to blink them away. I will return, Sasha. By my magic, I promise you. Funny, when all those dead poets wrote about how it felt to be in love, none of them ever mentioned that it hurt like blazes to leave the one you loved behind. Maybe ‘cause it hurt too much to think about it.

* * * * * *

He was grateful that Severus didn't speak much to him when he returned to pack up his meager belongings in Meadowsweet's hut. He didn't have much to pack, but he lingered as long as possible over the chore, folding his clothes and shrinking them and rearranging books and other items. Anything to delay the inevitable.

Severus watched his ward covertly, out of the corner of his eye, noting the slight pallor in the boy's cheeks and the pain in the green eyes, despite the fifteen-year-old's attempt to hide it. Despite what some said of him back at Hogwarts, the Potions Master was not insensitive to others' feelings, and he remembered all too well what it felt like to walk away from one you loved and know it might well be the last time you ever saw them. At sixteen, he had lost Lily and a few years later, he had given up the brilliant witty apprentice Thea as well, because he had believed his duties as a spy conflicted with their relationship. He had believed she was better off without him, but even so it had not been easy to walk away from the only other woman who had ever seen him for Severus and not just a snarky Potions Master of irascible temperament. It had hurt just as much at twenty-one as it had at sixteen. To this day he missed her, and a part of him would always wonder what might have been.

The Potions Master studied his young apprentice, struggling with conflicting desires. Should he pretend he didn't notice Harry's misery, and allow the boy to come to terms with his sorrow himself, or should he ask what was bothering the boy and offer what poor comfort he could? He didn't want to embarrass the boy any further, adolescents were so touchy at that age, but he also knew that he would have given anything to have a friend to talk to after Lily had rejected him. He decided to test the waters a bit.

"Harry."

He looked up at his mentor, startled. "I'm almost done, Severus."

"I can see that." He coughed softly, wondering inanely how the hell other parents handled their teenagers in this situation. Would his prying make things worse? "You seem . . .upset about something. Would you . . .like to discuss it?"

The green eyes went wide and for one moment Harry wanted to sink into the floor. He noticed. Hell, Potter, of course he noticed. He notices everything, you ought to know that by now. Why are you so surprised? He's a master spy, for Merlin's sake! He fought the temptation to rub his eyes or crawl underneath the pallet his pack rested on. His first impulse was to blurt out, "No, I don't want to discuss it, you'd never understand how I feel." But scant seconds later he realized that was untrue. If anyone knew what it was like to have to give up someone you loved, it was Severus. And he had done it not just once but twice.

Licking his lips, which felt suddenly cracked and dry, he asked all at once, "Does it ever get any easier?"

"What do you mean?" Severus kept his voice low and even, yet with an encouraging note in it.

"Leaving. I never thought . . .it would be so damn hard." He sighed gustily and ran his hands through his hair, making it even more messy than usual. "Does the pain ever go away?"

Severus was quiet for a moment. "Eventually, it lessens," he replied, not wanting to tell the boy the whole truth and make him more miserable. Harry needed to be in a positive frame of mind for the rest of this quest, focused upon the task ahead, not mourning what was past. Doubt and depression might prove fatal. He walked over to where Harry was standing beside his bed, staring down at something, and gave the Animagus's shoulder a squeeze. "It isn't forever, Harry, though it may feel like it at first."

The boy looked up at him. "You would know, wouldn't you?" He shook his head slightly. "I promised to come back after all of this was over. "

"That is more than I ever did."

"You mean back in Rome, when you met that woman at the conference?" Harry clarified. "Why didn't you?"

"Because it wouldn't have been fair to her. I wasn't just a Potions Master or even a professor. I was a spy and a spy has no time for love."

"I think you were selling yourself short."

One raved brow arched. "You fall in love for the first time and suddenly you're an expert?"

"No . . .but maybe if you'd given it a chance . . ." Harry trailed off awkwardly. I cannot believe I'm having this kind of conversation with Severus, of all people. Maybe I'm still dreaming. "Did you ever . . .write to her after you left the conference?"

Snape shook his head. No, I was too much of a coward, my heart divided between her and my duty. It was far easier to walk away than to stay and risk losing my heart a second time. I was hardly every woman's fantasy, and she could have any man she wanted, why would she choose me, whose life was filled with deceit and whose heart belonged to another? "Fourteen years is a long time to wait for someone, fledgling. By now she's probably happily married with children or teaching in some university in Florence and has forgotten all about me. Unlike your Meadowsweet, Harry, she wouldn't wait for me and it's better off that way."

"You haven't forgotten."

Severus smiled self-deprecatingly. "The curse of a photographic memory, I'm afraid."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Harry argued. "Maybe it means you were meant to be together."

Severus snorted. "Harry, please. I am too old to go around begging an old flame to recall what was probably an amusing fling to her and nothing more. Unlike me she did not lack for companionship, half the young men at that conference had their eyes all over her." But she had eyes only for you, his traitorous heart whispered. She was barely aware of the way the other men were eyeing her up like a rare specimen of herb. He promptly told that part of himself to be still. "In any case, my loves or lack thereof, is not important. I made my choice long ago. Now you must make a choice too."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily. He can't ask me to give up Sasha. I won't!

"You have to choose to put away your feelings about Meadowsweet for the remainder of this quest, fledgling. You cannot afford to be mooning over her eyes or hair or . . .other things while you search for the forbidden objects, Harry. Your focus must be upon them alone, for a moment's distraction could spell your doom. Do you understand what I'm saying? The magic surrounding this next object is very old and powerful and it will exploit any weakness if given the chance. So for your own safety, you need to lock away your love for the wolfen. There will be time for love later."

"I won't forget her and I will keep my promise," Harry said stubbornly.

"Yes, I know. You have her token upon your wrist to remind you of your pledge. But for the love of Merlin, shelve your courtship for the moment, Harry, and remember why we came here and what we must do. You will need all your wits about you to find the next one."

"You know where it is then?"

Severus nodded. "I believe it is located in the place where Riddle grew up, the next entry in the journal mentioned ‘a place of beginnings and endings'. It also mentioned a place where the dead walked, and if that is what I think it is . . .we will need to brush up on your fire summoning skills. But first we must return to England and I am sure Fenrir Greyback is still lurking on the border, waiting for us, and we must be prepared to slip by him if we can. So, redirect your focus, Harry, because you can't return to her if you get killed."

"Okay, Sev. I'll do it. But . . .it'll be hard."

"Love is never easy, fledgling," the Potions Master said quietly, then he returned to finishing up his own packing, giving Harry time to reconcile himself.

Harry resumed packing, knowing that Severus's advice was sound, but resenting the fact that he had to give up the thing that made him so happy the moment he had found it. He wished none of this were necessary and he could be a normal teenage wizard, worrying about grades and whether or not he'd be allowed to go out on weekends and whatnot, instead of destroying the bits and pieces of a corrupt wizard's soul. He didn't want to end up like poor Severus, sacrificing everything for duty and then having nothing left but a lonely empty space in his heart. When's it our turn, dammit? He pondered angrily, shoving his extra robes inside his pack. When do you stop getting stuck playing hero and get to live your own life? He shut his eyes, and almost immediately, Meadowsweet's face appeared. He gritted his teeth and pushed the image away. Not now. Sev is right. Now is not the time. But someday, when Riddle is gone for good, then it'll be MY turn. I love you, Sasha, more than anything. Please don't forget me. Then he gathered up all of his newly fledged feelings for the wolfen Healer and did as his mentor had ordered. It hurt, and left a dreadful ache when it was through, like the phantom pain of a missing limb.

It's only for awhile, not forever. Just until this blasted quest is done, he reminded himself, then he cursed Voldemort roundly in his head for ruining his life once again.

* * * * * *

"Stay close," Darkmoon warned as they approached the border between the Forest of the Night and the lands belonging to Dracula. Thus far, the two wizards and the four wolfen had encountered nothing to impede their progress, and indeed the forest's entire atmosphere had changed since Harry and Severus had free the ring of guardian trees from Voldemort's binding. Mist and shadows no longer clung to the tree trunks and branches and birds now twittered in the treetops and squirrels and other small animals scurried through the undergrowth. Slowly but surely, the forest was awakening from its long winter sleep and casting off the gloom and darkness, returning to life. Granted, it would never be safe or tame, but it was no longer a place of cold and darkness, and the beauty that dwelled in its depths was no longer hidden. The dryads and nymphs that had fled in fear were slowly coming out of their trees, frolicking among the branches and giggling in the meadows, singing little tunes as they caught sight of the wolfen.

"Lord of Wolves," they trilled, giggling. "Come and play, Sylvanor's children. The sap in the oaks run freely again and spring has returned to the land."

"Later," Darkmoon told one bold nymph, who dared to swing down from a coiled vine and wrap her arms about him and kiss him smackingly on the lips. "I have a mission to complete first."

"You're no fun!" the tree sprite pouted prettily. "All work and no play, humph!" Then she leaped lightly into the oak above and vanished in a cloud of green sparkles.

Vlad and Fenris chuckled. "She fancies you, sir," said the auburn-haired Beta. "A lot."

"Aye, she had the hots for you, boss," Fenris yipped, his blue eyes crinkling merrily. "She was sweet too!"

Darkmoon rolled his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to hide his blush. "Dryads fancy anything male when their sap's running, you ought to know that. Come on, we've a ways to go before we reach the border. Stay alert now." He blurred into wolf form and trotted ahead, taking point.

Harry didn't dare comment, but he longed to twit the older boy about the wood nymph's infatuation with him, the dryad had been well . . .voluptuous, and not at all shy about taking what she wanted! He stole a glance at Severus and saw the Potions Master smirking too.

Eris and Sylva gave derisive yips. "Walking talking fluffheaded bimbos," said the silvery-haired wolfen, sneeringly. "Their brains are only able to hold a single thought at a time and right now all they want is a man."

"I wouldn't mind-oww!" Fenris yelped as Eris smacked him sharply upside the head.

"I ever catch you making eyes at one of those little treehuggers and I'll skin you and hang you out to dry," she growled at him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I wasn't serious, Eris, you know that," he said apologetically, realizing he had made a huge mistake admiring another girl in front of his mate. "You're the only girl for me, spitfire." He pulled her to him and kissed her hard then released her.

Eris looked mollified and Vlad groaned. "For moon's sake, you two! Quit your bickering before I tear strips off both of you! Now go scout with Darkmoon, Eris. I'll keep an eye on Mr. I'm-Only-Looking here. Sylva, go with her."

Her sister nodded in affirmation, then they became wolves and followed their leader, tails held high, clearly they didn't think the dryads were anything to brag about.

Winterknight cast a disparaging look at his brother wolfen, who flushed and hung his head, then became a large silver wolf, who lowered his tail submissively and then bounded off to scout to the right of the group.

"God strike me dead if I behave so idiotically over a woman," Vlad muttered, his bow half drawn, pacing next to Harry, utterly silent despite the twigs and dead leaves that littered the forest floor.

"You've never been in love then?" Harry queried.

"Never and I intend to stay that way. It's nothing but trouble. Look at Fen and Eris. Fen's a great scout, one of the best we have, but around his mate he gets all bubbleheaded and loopy. No thank you! If I want to lose all my brains I'll just run headfirst into a tree."

"Maybe you just haven't met the right girl yet," Harry teased.

Vlad made a gagging noise. "Listen, lover boy, just ‘cause you and Meadowsweet are all lovey-dovey doesn't mean the rest of us have to become brainless sheep and chase after skirts. I need a girlfriend like I need a plague of fleas."

And with that, he changed as well, becoming the russet and white wolf in an eyeblink, effectively putting an end to that conversation.

All banter ceased, however, when they drew near the border, and the wolfen went on red alert, for the border was where their enemies roamed. They were about fifteen yards or so from the forest verge when Darkmoon, who had transformed back and was walking next to Severus and Harry, stiffened and held up a hand.

The two wizards froze into immobility and Darkmoon tilted his head and sniffed the wind. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl. Then he hissed, "Werewolves! Close, not more than ten feet away."

"How many?" Severus whispered, barely audible.

"Nine or ten, I think. Be ready to transform and fly. The others and I will distract them long enough for you to get past the border." Darkmoon instructed.

"But how can you handle ten or twelve werewolves?" Harry protested. "There are only five of you."

Darkmoon clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Little brother, leave the werewolves to us. We were born to fight them. I can take down two at once if I need to, and Vlad is almost as good a fighter as I am and Fen, Eris, and Sylva aren't pushovers either. Don't worry, Hawk-boy. You just concentrate on getting your butt outta here and go tell the Minister about us, how we helped you destroy that bastard Voldemort." He clasped Harry's wrists in a warrior's farewell. "Good luck, kid."

Then he turned to Severus and gave him the same warm clasp. "Take care, sir. Watch your back, and may the moonlight shine upon you."

"You as well, Erik. We will let our Minister know we owe the wolfen a great debt." Severus returned the clasp, then stepped away.

"When you hear me howl, you'll know it's time to transform," Darkmoon said, then he shifted into the black wolf marked with the holy crescent moon of the Goddess they worshipped, Selene, daughter of Night.

The black wolf crouched, teeth bared, an eerie snarl emerging from his throat. The amber eyes burned with battle fury and all the fur upon his back stood up, making him appear twice as large as he really was.

The same snarl was echoed from four other throats. It made Harry's skin prickle, for the sound was utterly hair-raising and filled with wild savagery.

All around them they heard terrible growls and howls as the werewolves scented their mortal enemies and close their circle about them.

Severus's hand gripped Harry's shoulder. "Wait for Darkmoon's signal," he murmured softly in the tense apprentice's ear. He fought to keep from going for his wand, for the werewolf noises were putting him on edge, and he struggled to push the old fear to the back of his mind. He knew Darkmoon's advice was sound, and he trusted the Alpha's instincts. But even so, the howls sent shivers down his spine. "Bloody damn werewolves!" he spat.

Harry's hand came up to clasp his own briefly, and he took comfort in that touch.

Then he heard an owl's soft hoot and Hedwig glided in to perch above their heads.

"Get ready to fly, Mistress Softfeather," Severus told the snowy owl.

Hedwig blinked her beautiful eyes in answer.

The werewolves were visible now, stalking up and down, prowling on misshapen hindlegs, crooked and clawed and sprouting dirty gray fur. They were a terrible parody of true wolves, with humped backs and shoulder filled with muscle and huge maws filled with razor teeth and eyes that burned with cunning and madness. Their snouts were pointed and their tails were bare save for a furred tuft at the end. They were mostly a steel grey in color, and the biggest was a mottled grey and black, with a large swath of grey down his back and tail. His eyes were a sickly reddish yellow, and when he caught sight of Darkmoon he threw back his head and howled.

The sound echoed through the trees, full of madness and hatred.

"Greyback," Severus growled, his black eyes burning. His grip on Harry's shoulder tightened painfully.

Darkmoon sprang suddenly, moving with unbelievable speed. He slammed into Greyback and bit down hard, his teeth just missing the throat as Greyback quickly turned his and brought up a clawed hand. The wolfen bit hard into the werewolf's shoulder instead, then released and spun away to grapple for a better hold. As he did so, he howled, long and low, and that was the signal for the rest of the pack to join.

Eris, Fenris, Sylva, and Vlad all sprang out of the trees and attacked the remaining werewolves, keeping them occupied and away from the two Animagi, who had already blurred into their hawk forms and streaked into the sky.

Hedwig too, took off from the tree and joined them in the air.

Freedom hesitated, looking down at the wolfen fighting the werewolves, they were tangles of silver and russet and grey fur, all fangs and claws. Blood flowed from lightning quick slashes and darkened the loam crimson. Yet, incredibly, the outnumbered wolfen were holding their own.

The big wolves were swifter than their werewolf sires, able to turn and twist like dervishes, and their jaws were extremely powerful. Freedom saw Sylva bite a werewolf's hand and snap it like a twig, leaving the monster screaming in agony until the she-wolf sprang in and silenced it forever with a quick bite to the jugular.

Fenris and Eris double-teamed one, hamstringing it between them and then closing for the kill.

Vlad finished off his opponent in moments, then went for another trying to jump Darkmoon from behind. The werewolf never even knew what hit him. Vlad bounced off two tree trunks and used the momentum to slam right into the nasty creature, breaking its neck in a single bite.

Freedom! Come, don't waste the time they've given us! Warrior called, and the red-tailed hawk reluctantly turned and followed the large bird out of the forest and into the sun-drenched meadow beyond.

Fight well, my friends! Kree-arr!

The sun dazzled the red-tail's eyes for a brief instant, he had grown accustomed to the filtered light of the forest. He blinked and squinted, it felt odd for there to be so much light, but then his pupils adjusted and he could see without a problem.

Below was the Forest of the Night, the vast wilderness spreading outward all the way to the Carpathian Mountains. And off the east was the gray pile of stone that was Dracula's castle. It loomed over the horizon like a great brooding vulture.

Freedom narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what that large black cloud was hovering over the castle. It appeared to be moving forward at a very accelerated rate, and there was no real wind to propel it. Uneasy, he called to Warrior, Warrior, what's that? It's moving toward us.

The goshawk paused, ready to scold his fledgling for dawdling instead of flying. His amber eyes turned in the direction Freedom was looking, and he nearly fell out of the air in shock. Great Merlin's ghost! That's a murder of maldecorvae!

It's what? A murder of what? Freedom screeched, suddenly able to make out individual forms in the cloud now. Warrior, they're birds! A whole flock of birds!

Maldecorvae are some of the nastiest birds you'll ever want to meet, Hedwig hooted, her eyes whirling in alarm. They are gigantic crows with beaks sharp as swords and they live to rend and tear and kill things. I have heard that Dracula keeps a murder of maldecorvae in his castle. I guess the rumors were true.

Now Freedom could see the giant crows, each one the size of himself or a little larger, flapping hard towards them. Their eyes were red and seemed to glow with a fiery light. They were also screaming, a low eerie caw that grated on his sensitive eardrums.

He shrieked back at them in challenge. Come on, you black devils! I'm ready for you!

Warrior came and bumped him roughly. This is no time for foolish heroics, fledgling! Fly! We cannot hope to defeat so many. There are over sixty of them, I think. Fly!

Freedom did not bother to question his mentor then, but spun on a wingtip and began flying away from the dark horde as swiftly as he could.

The maldecorvae followed, croaking out a harsh chorus. Blood and meat we see before us. Such a treat, we who never have enough to eat, now have a free meal! Come here, little hawks, and play with us. Play Fight and Flight and see us teach you the real meaning of predator and prey! Caw! Caw!

Freedom wriggled his tail insultingly at the maldecorvae. Eat this, you filthy carrion-scented winged rats. Rats with wing is all you are! Catch me if you can, gliders!

Then he put on an extra burst of speed, giving him at least a four wingspan lead.

Freedom was the fastest flyer of the three raptors, though Severus had the most endurance and Hedwig was the quietest and the most agile.

The three tore across the sky, using every scrap of speed they possessed to stay ahead of the maldecorvae flock, whose numbers blotted out the sun when they flew in front of it for a moment. The gigantic crows could not fly fast but they were relentless and starving. Dracula kept them in iron cages and fed them about once a week and only released them when he was requested to do so or wished to hunt with them. Perpetually hungry and half-mad from being the pets of a notoriously cruel vampire, the maldecorvae would devour anything that moved, human or animal without a shred of remorse. Scores of Transylvanian mothers had terrified misbehaving children by threatening them with the maldecorvae, "If you're bad the maldecorvae will come and peck you to death." They were also known as the eyes and ears of Count Dracula, a reputation that was justly earned.

Warrior had thought the maldecorvae might stop once they reached the border of Transylvania, but the maleficent crows showed no signs of slowing. Some of the birds were faltering and dropping back, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

The goshawk put on a fresh burst of speed, praying that there was some kind of ward set up at the border to keep the rapacious birds at bay.

But when he crossed and Freedom and Hedwig right after, he turned his head halfway around and saw, to his dismay, that the murder of maldecorvae was still coming, the sound of their wings was like the thunder of some gigantic heart, and the harsh caws and screeches sounded like a legion of the damned released from the bowels of hell.

The goshawk did a quick count of the birds, and came up with fifty, still terrible odds. Fly, fledgling! He urged the faltering Freedom, who had also glanced back, and was stricken with fear at the sight of so many sword-sharp beaks and ragged claws. The maldecorvae's eyes glowed an unnatural blood-red and the sunlight seemed to be absorbed into their dull black feathers.

Freedom flew hard, forcing his wings to catch every bit of wind they could, straining his muscles to the utmost. The maldecorvae's strident eager cries echoed in his ears and filled him with terror, and he used the fear to drive himself to even greater speeds. The crows could not match him for sheer speed, it was his single advantage over the evil birds and he used it ruthlessly.

A winglength behind came Warrior and on his opposite side was Hedwig, flying silently and surely. The mere sight of his companions made his heart quit panicking.

They passed out of Transylvania and into Romania and still the maldecorvae followed relentlessly.

The three flew for over an hour, fighting the sudden wind gusts that sprang up from the Carpathians. Those proved a blessing in disguise, however, for the maldecorvae were not good fliers and some of them were thrown off the pursuit by a tricky wind gust. Even so, Warrior sensed that if they did not do something drastic, the maldecorvae would catch them eventually, and exhausted from flying, would mob them en masse and destroy them.

He glanced at Freedom, who he could clearly see was tiring, and then at Hedwig, who still looked fresh, her training as a post owl holding her in good stead. We have no time to keep flying like witless hummingbirds. We must take some of them down, and maybe that will convince the rest that we are not easy prey.

He circled abruptly, trilling at Freedom, Freedom, fly ahead. Fly hard and don't question me.

But Warrior . . .

Obey me, fledgling! One of us must get free of this trap and live to destroy the final Horcruxes. Remember your oath! The goshawk snapped. Now, go! And he flew right at the startled red-tail and nipped him hard on the tail.

Freedom squawked indignantly and flew swiftly away from the goshawk as ordered.

Warrior looked at Hedwig. Do you think you can take some down with me, Hedwig?

It will be my pleasure to send those stinking buzzards to hell, Warrior! Hedwig hooted eagerly, her amber eyes burning.

The two began climbing into the blue vault of the sky, talons curved, waiting for the maldecorvae to come by.

Freedom spun about in the air, angry at being ordered away like a child, but he did not attempt to join the battle. He knew Snape's reasoning was dead on target. He knew he should be flying as fast as he could west across Romania and then south to Italy, where the warm breezes of the Mediterranean would soothe his weary wings.

Yet he could not bear to leave his companions without knowing how they fared.

So he hovered, and watched as Warrior and Hedwig engaged the murder of maldecorvae, marveling at the sheer speed of his mentor and familiar as they hurtled down upon the black cloud from on high.

The maldecorvae were unprepared for an attack from their prey, and were caught totally off-guard. Talons and razor-sharp raptor beaks tore and snapped and bound tight. Maldecorvae screeched and black feathers rained down upon the earth amid splatters of blood and crushed and broken bodies.

Before the maldecorvae could group together and attack the two larger birds, Warrior and Hedwig were climbing into the air again, and though they tried, none of the crows could manage to catch the two before they reached the pinnacle of their climb and then dove like streaks of lightning upon them once more, the hawks' wickedly sharp talons and beaks taking a devastating toll upon them.

Within the space of five minutes, Warrior and Hedwig had slain or knocked out of the sky twenty of the giant birds. They were battered from the maldecorvae's wings and had sustained several minor cuts and slashes from the crows' beaks and sharp claws, but nothing serious. Both the owl and the goshawk knew how to handle themselves in a close quarter combat, and could turn and spin at a moment's notice, avoiding a maldecorvae's strike and returning one twofold.

Freedom watched in awe as the two raptors tore the flock apart, reducing it to tatters. He had never seen anything like the battle that raged across the skies of Romania, with the remainder of the crows trying to harry the snowy owl and her goshawk companion and the two flying shoulder to shoulder in diving sorties that took the red-tail's breath away.

I never knew Hedwig could fight like that. And Warrior, I knew he was good, but not that good. Merlin! Half the damn flock is either dead or scattered. Wish like hell I could go and help, but Warrior will kill me if I disobey him. And I did promise to do what he said, no questions asked, when it came to a fight.

So, with a heavy heart, Freedom turned away from the battle and began flying south west, trusting in the skills of his companions to see them through the battle safely.

Warrior and Hedwig made one last lightning sortie before noticing the maldecorvae were starting to scatter at their own shadows and deemed them beaten enough. By mutual silent consent, hawk and owl turned and flew after the young red-tail, weary and aching, but triumphant.

Hai, Warrior! We showed those sneaking carrion eaters who was boss, no? Hedwig hooted happily, despite the lost feathers and cuts marring her snowy breast.

Indeed we did, my lady. The black cowards are flying away with their tails between their legs like whipped curs. Back to their dark master to cringe and whine about how they failed to capture three raptors. Come, let us find the fledgling and then a place to rest. I am more tired than I thought I would be.

The two caught up with Freedom in ten minutes and then the three sought a place where they could sleep in safety, for all of them were exhausted.

Finally, Hedwig spotted a large barn and they flew in through the loft window, there to roost above the lowing of cows and goats, sleeping soundly through the night and into mid-morning.

Upon emerging from the barn, they hunted for a rabbit and some shrews before finally continuing onward.

They had almost reached Rome when they noticed that their pursuers had returned, only this time there was not only maldecorvae, but werewolves on their track as well.

The harsh shrieks of the maldecorvae filled the air, that was the first warning the three raptors had that the giant crows had found them once again. Freedom hissed, partly in annoyance and partly in fear. Blast and damn! How did they find us again? I thought we gave them the slip.

Apparently, they are more relentless than I first thought, Warrior replied, clicking his powerful beak meaningfully. And more numerous. They still outnumber us ten to one.

Can we outfly them? Hedwig asked, increasing her speed.

After flying for over three hours? Doubtful. I am nearly at the end of my endurance and so too is Freedom, Warrior admitted candidly. Our best bet is to find a place to hole up for awhile. He began searching for a hidey hole as he flew, doing his best to ignore the taunts and screams from behind him as the maldecorvae sensed their prey weakening.

There! Look, Warrior, I see a crevice in that rock face, Freedom shrilled, flying down to a slender opening in a cliffside.

Just before he flew into the opening, Hedwig squawked at him to wait, that she would check it out first and make sure it was safe. Wait here, she ordered, then glided silently into the crevice.

Her eyes quickly adjusted to the semi-darkness and she saw that it was a small cavelet, about three feet wide and four feet high, but it was dry and impossible for a maldecorvae to enter without getting pecked by either raptor. She spun about gracefully and called, Come in, hawks! It's safe. Good work, Freedom.

Freedom preened a bit at the snowy owl's praise, and flew in to land next to her on a slender spit that hung out from the right wall. Warrior followed moments later.

A good choice, fledgling. We shall be comfortable in here. Only one of us must keep watch in case the filthy carrion tries to enter here.

I shall take first shift, Hedwig volunteered. I am less tired than you are, I am used to flying long hours as a post owl. You two rest.

If you're sure, Hedwig?

Very sure, Warrior. Take a breather. Hedwig flew up near the crevice and perched upon the floor, watching to see if any maldecorvae came after them.

Warrior settled wearily upon the rocky ledge next to Freedom and began to preen himself, paying special attention to his wings.

Freedom too was tired, but he did not want to sleep just yet. He had a few questions for his mentor. Warrior, I was wondering, why didn't we just Apparate when the maldecorvae came after us before? Wouldn't that have been quicker and safer?

Warrior paused in reordering his feathers. Normally, yes. Apparition usually can't be traced. Unless you happen to be Marked by Voldemort. As I was.

What do you mean?

I mean that when Voldemort branded his thirteen most loyal followers-or what he thought were the most loyal-he marked not just our bodies, but our Apparition signatures as well. Apparition, like any spell, contains a thread of a wizard's mage aura, but usually it occurs so quickly that it's almost impossible to trace. Voldemort was a control addict, he wanted to keep tabs upon his most faithful all the time, so he somehow used the Dark Mark to tag our Apparition signatures, making them stand out. That way he would always feel when we Apparated to him or Disapparated away from him. So it's not safe for me to Apparate, since Lucius and Bellatrix or any Death Eater could track me.

It can't be blocked?

No, because in order to counter a spell you must first know what it is, and only Voldemort knew what spell he used to create the Mark and how to remove it. The Mark has faded since he has died a second time, I am hoping that once he dies forever, the Mark will vanish. But in the meantime, I dare not reveal our destination by Apparition. So we fly.

Oh. Damn paranoid Voldy. That really sucks.

Yes. Warrior carefully groomed his opposite wing.

At that moment they heard the savage howls and yips of Greyback's werewolves, who had followed the maldecorvae, and now were gathered outside the rock face, scratching and springing up to claw and bite at the rock, but they were unable to get up high enough to reach the crevice.

Freedom was so startled, he nearly fell off the ledge. Werewolves! Bloody damn hell! How did they find us?

Mostly likely by following the maldecorvae, Hedwig answered, peering out the crevice at the milling werewolves below. There appeared to be about five of the ravenous creatures, including their leader Greyback, though he seemed much the worse for wear.

Freedom swallowed sharply, feeling as if he had a bone lodged in his crop. Then . . . does that mean that Darkmoon and the other wolfen are . . .dead?

I would hope that were not true, said Warrior, moving over to give the agitated red-tail a comforting nibble. How many weres are there, Hedwig?

The snowy told him.

Is that mangy Greyback there? Freedom queried.

He is, but he looks like he is on his last legs, from what I can tell, Hedwig replied. He has huge half-healed slashes all over him and he is favoring his left foreleg. He is the one Darkmoon attacked, is he not?

Yeah, I think so. But if he's alive . . . Freedom trailed off, not finishing the sentence. He prayed that Darkmoon was not lying dead somewhere, being mourned by the rest of his pack. Anything but that.

Greyback is a coward, son. If he was getting his tail whipped, he probably took the first opportunity he could to flee. Warrior consoled the agitated red-tail. And from what I saw just before we left the Forest, Darkmoon was doing some serious ass kicking.

Hush, you two! I can almost make out what they are saying, Hedwig chirruped excitedly.

The two hawks hushed and then came over to huddle beside her and listen to the werewolves' conversation, which they could understand since the weres spoke English, having changed back into their human forms.

"Next time I see that bloody whelp Darkmoon, I'm going to rip out his guts with a sharp hook and eat them while he watches, I swear by Mother Night!" Greyback snarled, holding his left arm close to him. His face was a mess of scratches and bruises and one eye was swollen shut. His shirt was rent and torn, and there were bruises and a deep cut across his chest. None of the injuries were bleeding any longer, but they were sore and inflamed and they hurt like blazes.

"Yeah, they grow too bold, those little pups," barked another, this were was tall and slender and looked as if he had not participated in any fight. "We lost seven to them. And none of us escaped without some kind of injury, boss."

"No kidding, Ash," sneered his leader. "I know we'll heal in a day or two, but still . . .we should have been able to take those punk upstarts. Instead they ended up kicking our tails. Grrrr!"

Most of the weres looked ashamed and angry, but none of them contradicted their leader. The wolfen had inherited the best traits of both of their parents, and were extremely tough opponents, quicker, stronger, and more intelligent than their werewolf sires.

"We were lucky we escaped when the maldecorvae came," said a smaller werewolf, he had long blond hair pulled back in a tail and his right hand was bandaged.

"Yeah, lucky," Greyback growled, furious that a wolfen barely half his age had managed to beat him up so badly. "Dracula could have come himself, but no, he had more important business to attend to than catching a few renegade wizards. He only sent the maldecorvae to honor the treaty he made with Voldemort. Treacherous vampire!" The werewolf spat on the ground. "But his pets proved useful. At least we've found that Potter brat and his owl and the Potions Master."

"Animagi," whimpered a small man with a large scar across his face. "I never heard that Snape was an Animagus."

"Well, he has to be, since he's with Potter. And Master Lucius said that two hawks, a red-tail and a goshawk, attacked and killed the Dark Lord. That has to be Snape. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Aye. But how do we get them, Lord Greyback?"

"We wait for them to come to us, idiot!" Greyback curled his lip and cuffed the other across the ear. "Pay attention! They can't get out without getting past us, although remember you're not to permanently injure either Snape or Potter. Lucius wants them for himself."

"What about the owl?"

"Tear her to shreds. Tasty meal, owl."

Freedom though he would heave, he was so disgusted by the weres callus attitudes. They were discussing his familiar as if she were a roasted chicken. It made him both sick to his stomach and furious. Why that miserable son-of-a-bitch! That's totally disgusting!

Language, young one! Warrior scolded. He may be utterly revolting and deserve to be hit repeatedly with the Cruciatus Curse, but that does not mean you have to swear like a sailor.

Yes, sir. Sorry. Freedom apologized quickly, not wanting to repeatgetting his mouth washed out with soap the way he had last term for swearing at Severus. At least Darkmoon is okay. Sounds like they walloped those werewolves good. He glanced at the snowy owl and the goshawk. What do we do about getting out of here? Any ideas?

A few, but first we should try and get a few hours of sleep, Warrior suggested. Hedwig, wake me in about four hours, I'll take over and then you can sleep. I'll wake Freedom for the dawn shift and after the sun is up, we can try and figure a way past them.

Sounds like a good plan, Warrior, the snowy hooted approvingly. She resumed her post at the crevice while the other two birds flew back up to perch upon the stone ledge.

In no time, Freedom was nestled against Warrior's dark bulk and the elder goshawk had placed a wing about the smaller hawk, and tucked his head into his chest. Both were asleep in seconds, worn out by the chase and the flight.

Hedwig remained alert through the dark hours of the night, watching the crevice and fending off any curious or determined maldecorvae with wings, beak, and talons. After having taught several of the crows a lesson, the maldecorvae kept their distance, and Hedwig was able to wake Severus for mid-watch without worrying about maldecorvae invading. Then she cuddled up on the ledge next to a sleepy Freedom and tucked her head beneath her wing.

Warrior pondered their dilemma while he watched the crevice and the werewolves below, who were still awake and squabbling over a carcass of some kind of mountain goat, arguing over who got to eat next after Greyback. Greyback finally settled the quarrel by savagely biting the rump of one of the pack and the ears of another.

The goshawk could also make out the beady red eyes of the maldecorvae, some of whom were perched in the scrubby trees and about the rocks below, waiting patiently for their quarry to show themselves. In spite of himself, Warrior shivered. The maldecorvae gave him the creeps. He knew the tales of the great birds, knew that they might not be quite as smart as your average falcon or hawk, but they were dangerous if they struck en mass and mobbed you, and the thirty out there were more than capable of doing so if given the chance.

Not for the first time, he wished he could cast spells in hawk form. We need some kind of cover, like a thick fog or a steady drizzle, to hide us long enough to get through the cordon they've set up. But I can't feel any cold front or air pressure building up.

The goshawk remained watchful all the rest of the night, waking Freedom with a gentle nip at dawn to take over. Wake up, fledgling. It's your turn to guard the entrance. Watch it and if any crow tries to get through, drive them back.

Freedom chirruped an assent, then went to assume his post.

Hedwig awoke about midway into Freedom's shift and flew down to keep the hawk company on watch. You look troubled, fledgling.

I am. I don't know how we're going to get out of this one. We're surrounded.

Do not despair, Freedom. We post owls say, where there's a will, there's a way. We simply need to figure it out. She eyed the werewolves and crows thoughtfully. What we need is a distraction, a decoy, to draw their attention away from the crevice and enable us to slip away.

Yeah, but what kind of decoy?

The best kind. A visible one, answered the owl. It is almost full morning. In another hour we should wake Warrior. She peered again at their enemies. Some of them looked bored and sleepy. They grow restless. If we are to get by them, we need to do it soon.

An hour passed and Freedom flew over and nudged Warrior awake. He told the goshawk what Hedwig had said. That's true, but what kind of decoy can we make that will do the job?

There is no need to make anything, Warrior. I shall be the decoy, Hedwig declared.

Freedom gave a soft screech. No way! You can't do that, Hedwig! It's too dangerous. I won't let you.

The snowy owl fixed the young hawk with a fond exasperated look. I am aware of the danger, my wizard. But I am the only one who will be visible enough to draw them away quickly and I have played the injured bird before. You two need to get back to England as quickly as possible, there is no telling what the Death Eaters have been plotting since you've been gone. Out of all of us, you are the ones who can fulfill the prophecy. You must live to do so. I am the most expendable.

No you aren't! Freedom declared hotly. You're my familiar and I won't have you dying for me!

Freedom, that is not your choice to make. I respect you as my wizard, but in the end every familiar must choose his or her own destiny. This is my choice, fledgling. Nobody hurts my wizard.

Freedom shut his eyes, feeling his heart start to break. Please, Hedwig. There must be another way.

There is not. I knew when I came with you that I might need to risk my life for you. Such is the duty of a familiar, to aid her wizard even unto death.

No! Dammit, Warrior, tell her she can't do this.

I have no control over her actions, son. Besides, she is a canny old bird and I think more than a match for those buzzards and mangy mutts out there.

Warrior is right, Freedom. In order to hurt me, first they must catch me, and I am not the fastest among the Hogwarts post owls for nothing.

I still don't like it.

You don't have to. Only honor my choice. The owl said serenely.

Freedom huffed, angry and miserable. But in the end he knew they had no other choice. Okay. But you'd better return to me.

I shall if I am able. Though it may take me a day or two. Look for me in Dover. And good hunting, my hawks.

She flapped up to the crevice and Freedom followed. Fly safe, Hedwig. May the wind bless you.

She nuzzled him affectionately. Then she darted through the crevice and out into the open air, hooting loudly.

Hey, carrion brothers! Look whoo-oo dropped in for breakfast.

She swooped low, clawing at a werewolf, nipping at another, making the pack go crazy trying to grab her. But she was too quick, swooping and climbing effortlessly, her white pinions brilliant against the cloudless sky.

The maldecorvae came out of the trees in a rush, crying for her blood and she flew hard and fast to the east, leading them away from the direction Freedom and Warrior needed to go.

Come, Freedom! urged the goshawk.

The two hawks burst from the crevice like dark bolts of wizard fire, soaring up into the sky and away west before the werewolves could turn and spot them. In moments they were heading for Rome at a lightning swift pace, their wings beating hard, using the wind to help them as best they could, but their hearts heavy within them for their gallant companion.

* * * * * *

Hedwig rolled, tucking her wings tight against her and spinning away from a maldecorvae's rush, the dagger-like claws just missing her vulnerable neck. Caw! Caw! Arrarrk!

She ducked away from another of the black winged menaces, dodging a spear-like beak aimed at her eyes, then climbed higher and dove down among the trees, trying to buy herself some breathing room.

The heavy branches of the conifer and ash sheltered her, she flew swiftly and silently among the branches for several minutes before the maldecorvae caught up to her again. Then she broke cover and soared into the sky once more.

The werewolves howled in glee when they caught sight of her and chased her hard. Rocks and pointed sticks hurtled through the air, one of them narrowly missing her right wing. Another clipped her tail, but not enough to knock her down from the sky.

She hooted in derision at the pack. Is that the best aim you've got, mutts?

A maldecorvae flew at her and she pulled up, striking at the crow with talons extended. Her talons were much larger than her opponent, and they fastened upon him like a vise, piercing his vitals in seconds.

The maldecorvae wailed a death cry and tumbled from the sky. Then she flew on, gliding on an updraft, always making certain she stayed within line of sight of her pursuers.

It would be a long hard chase, but she would lead them a merry dance through the hills of Rome and Tuscany, allowing the two wizards the time they needed to fly to Calais and across the Channel to home.

* * * * * *

Three days later

The cliffs of Dover:

Freedom scanned the sky for the fortieth time in an hour, desperately searching for a familiar white shape. Nothing. The sky remained empty of everything except low lying clouds scudding across the Channel. There had been no sign of either the owl or their pursuers, and the two hawks had managed to set a record pace, reaching Calais in two days. They had paused to rest there and then continued across the Channel and now they had been sitting here upon the cliffs waiting for Hedwig.

Warrior returned from a brief sortie and landed next to the agitated red-tail with a thump.

Anything?

No. I am sorry, Freedom. But we must leave soon. Every hour we delay is another hour that could be spent finding the last two objects. Lucius and Bella are searching for them too and if they find them before we do . . .

Freedom whirled upon the elder bird angrily. Is that all you care about? Finding the bloody objects? My familiar is out there somewhere, maybe dead, and you don't seem to give a damn!

Warrior's eyes flashed and his beak snapped inches from the other hawk's head. Don't presume to tell me how to feel, boy! I know very well what sacrifice Hedwig made for us. The least we can do is to honor it and not make it be for nothing. And that means finding what we set out to find and finishing our mission. That may sound cold and hard to you, but remember this is war, and people die. Even familiars die.

Freedom flinched away from his mentor. I never should have let her go. This is all my fault.

Warrior nipped him sharply on the back of the head. Stop that! How many times must I tell you-you are not responsible for the choices others make? Hedwig chose to be a decoy, chose willingly, knowing the risks involved. Now we must honor her choice, fledgling, and keep going. To do less would mean her sacrifice was for naught.

You don't understand.

No? Think you this is the first time I have ever lost a companion or a friend? You know better, Freedom. I have lost many I care about. More than I wish to remember, and yet I cannot forget it. And it hurts no less now than it did the first time.

Freedom hung his head. He could hear the sorrow in the goshawk's voice, rough-edged yet no less poignant. I'm sorry. I just wish . . .it were me instead of her.

I know. Warrior gently nudged the other hawk. I shall wait for nightfall and then, if there is still no sign we must go.

Freedom merely nodded once, and then trained his eyes across the Channel.

Please, Hedwig. Please come back to me. What would I do without you?

The wind picked up, ruffling the brown plumage, and still Freedom remained staring stubbornly out to sea, hoping to see a speck of white coming across the Channel. He could not bear to think that she was gone forever. But time passed and the sky began to darken and still the snowy owl did not return.

The first stars of evening had begun to emerge and Warrior shook himself and looked towards the sea. Still no sign. His heart sinking, he made his way to where Freedom was still perched, a silent lonely figurehead.

Freedom-he began, his voice apologetic, regretful.

The red-tail continued staring out across the whitecapped water stubbornly. Just a few minutes more. Please, Warrior. Just wait-Kree-eearr! Look! Do you see it?

The red-tail suddenly took off into the sky, screeching. Hedwig! Is that you?

A tiny white dot flew slowly across the Channel, and as Warrior watched, hope flaring anew within him, it grew larger and larger, until it resolved into a snowy owl, making her way wearily over the water, coming back home at last.

Hedwig was so exhausted that Warrior and Freedom had to fly wingman, one on either side, just in case she faltered, they could support her. Freedom was nearly delirious with happiness and relief, he felt like flying rings and doing barrel rolls in midair.  But he controlled himself, because his familiar was exhausted and wouldn't appreciate such antics.  He did, however, allow himself to tell Hedwig how grateful he was that she had returned to him. 

Hedwig, I'm so glad you came home.  I thought . . .I mean . . .I was worried that the damn maldecorvae might hurt you or worse,: he managed to get out, because for some reason his throat had a lump in it and he could barely talk around it.  Hawks couldn't cry, but Freedom knew that if he had been Harry at this moment, he would have been bawling.  I'm just glad you're okay.

So am I, fledgling.  Did I not promise I would return to you? Hedwig said softly.  I always keep my promises.  As far as I am able, that is.  But oh, I am so tired! My wings feel like two stones.

Here, lean on me, Warrior offered generously, flying beneath her so she could rest her wing upon his back.  I am sure once you are rested, my friend, you will have some tale to tell.

The snowy owl chirruped.  Indeed, professor.  I shall have a wonderful action tale to entertain you.  Once I sleep for twenty-four hours, that is.  I haven't slept since I flew out of Italy, save for the occasional quick nap.

Merlin, Hedwig! You must be exhausted! Freedom exclaimed, alarm showing in his amber eyes.

The snowy hooted reassurance at her young hawk companion, they had almost reached the cliffs, and Hedwig quickly landed.  They were standing on top of one of the rocky promonitories overlooking the Channel, and Freedom and Warrior landed also, then shifted back into human form. 

Harry knelt and coaxed the weary owl upon his arm, she immediately tucked her head beneath her wing and fell asleep.  She was slightly larger and heavier than an ordinary owl, since the wizards bred her kind to be stronger and sturdier, weighing about 8lbs and having a 3 ½ foot wingspan.  Her beautiful white plumage was speckled with dark gray spots on her back and wings, as was common for a female snowy.  She felt a bit awkward on his arm, but Harry didn't mind carrying her at all.

"Sev, where are we going?" he asked his tall companion.

Severus glanced briefly at him as he walked down the cliff path, his boots tapping rhythmically over the rock.  "To an orphanage upon the outskirts of London.  But first we must rest.  We are all tired and need to harbor our strength, for if I am right, this retrieval will be the toughest one yet, and we cannot afford to make a mistake.  I will talk more about this when we have reached somewhere less exposed."

"I understand," Harry said, and continued to follow his mentor, Hedwig cradled close.  "Do you think the werewolves are still following us?"

"Most likely.  They didn't let a little thing like a body of water stop them before," Snape answered, agilely avoiding a pointed rock in his path.  "That is why we must find a safe place soon.  Greyback might not be the brightest, but he is persistent, and he prides himself on always bringing down his quarry.  After almost being killed by Darkmoon, he will not rest until we are his prisoners."

Harry shuddered.  Then he walked faster, all his senses alert for the howl of a werewolf.  But all he heard was the soft shush of waves and the cry of sea birds and the wail of the wind over the water. 

* * * * * *

Hogwarts

Trelawney's Tower:

Sybill Trelawney woke at her usual time of six thirty AM, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Without her thick glasses she was very myopic, almost blind and she quickly summoned them onto her face before sitting up and putting on her colorful paisley wrap and setting the teakettle on her small stove to boil.  As she carefully portioned out a special blend of Morning Time tea into a pretty Dresden china cup, she felt her head start to throb and her eyes grew unfocused.

She seated herself in her kitchen chair with its poufy embroidered cushion with a thump, grabbing the edge of the table hard and staring down into the teacup.  The tea leaves rearranged themselves into patterns, patterns that she interpreted without conscious thought. A shudder went through her and then she spoke.

"They shall be hunted upon all sides, until the end is nigh, darkness stalks them unseen, but a steadfast and true heart shall overcome all.  Thus I have Seen and so it shall be!"

With that last declaration, shouted to the empty room, Sybill jerked awake from her trance.  She put a hand to her head, blinking owlishly.  "Dear sweet Merlin and holy Cassandra, Mother of Prophetesses! I've had another vision."

The kettle was whistling like the Hogwarts Express, and the seer quickly summoned it over to the table and it poured itself into her cup. She had only been out long enough for the kettle to boil this time. Sometimes, depending on how the vision affected her, she could be tranced for several minutes.  She added two sugar lumps and some milk to her tea and stirred it.  That was one of the benefits of seeing in tea leaves-they could be drunk afterwards.

Visions usually tended to make her muzzy afterwards, but the tea helped clear her head and she could recall what she had spoken of with crystal clear clarity.  There was no doubt in her mind who the vision pertained to-she had seen Harry Potter and her colleague Professor Snape fleeing from a pack of werewolves. And then Death Eaters joined them in the hunt. Sybill knew what they were from the silver masks they wore.  Seeing them had made her terrified, but she had been unable to close her eyes and had to see the vision through till the end.  And then she had seen two possibilities. In one, Harry and Severus failed and Voldemort returned. In the other, they succeeded in their mission, but only after much sacrifice.

Still, it was something. 

After draining her mug, she rose and tossed a handful of Floo powder into her fire.  "Dumbledore's office!" She stuck her head through the emerald flames and called, "Albus, are you there? I must speak with you.  It is urgent!"

There was silence in the room, save for the snoring of some of the sleeping portraits of former Headmasters. 

"Albus!"

Abruptly, some of the snoring ceased and in a minute the Headmaster came to stand before the fire.  "Sybill? What is wrong, my dear?"

"Albus, thank goodness you are here. I . . .I was making tea and I Saw a vision in my tea leaves."

"Did you? What about?"

"It concerned our two hawks." Sybill said, then she came through the fire.  She stumbled upon the hearth and Dumbledore caught her before she sprawled upon the floor.

"What about them, Sybill? Are you sure it was a true vision?"

"Yes.  Very sure.  I had to come tell you immediately." Sybill gasped, her eyes wide.  Then she repeated verbatim the message of her vision.   "They shall be hunted upon all sides, until the end is nigh, darkness stalks them unseen, but a steadfast and true heart shall overcome all.  Thus I have Seen and so it shall be!"

Dumbledore listened and nodded, looking pleased.  "You have done well, Sybill.  I think you are finally growing into your gift. A steadfast and true heart shall overcome all.  Then there is hope."

"Yes. I saw two pathways, Albus, and depending on how strong their hearts are, the outcome is their choice.  Albus, you must warn them.  Write to them immediately."

Albus looked grave.  "Do sit down, Sybill. Have a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you." The seer declined with a wave of her hand.

"I would write, but you see, I do not know where they are."

Sybill pressed a hand to her forehead.  "Then just send the letter addressed to the recipients wherever they may be and somehow the post owl will find them."

The old wizard shook his head ruefully.  "It is too early in the morning, I am not awake yet.  Of course, you are right, Sybill.  I shall get to it directly." He sat down at his desk and began to write a short missive to both of his wandering hawks. But he did not sign it, just in case someone on the other side managed to intercept the letter.

Once Albus had sent the letter off with Seraphina, his most experienced Hogwarts owl, Sybill relaxed and smiled at the man who had rescued her from a life of poverty and obscurity so long ago. "I do hope they will be all right, Albus."

The Headmaster reached over and patted her hand.  "Have faith, Sybill.  Those two are some of the most tenacious and resourceful people I know, not to mention magically powerful as well. Voldemort always thought I was the one to fear, but he was mistaken.  It was always Severus and Harry he should have feared. My watcher and my redemption. Together they shall accomplish the impossible, and teach death to die."

"I suppose I should learn to trust my own predictions."

"You should.  Your gift is strong, my dear, if a bit erratic. I have always known that, my girl. Now how about a spot of breakfast? Poached eggs and bacon sound good?"

Sybill, who was not a picky eater, agreed, and Dumbledore summoned Dobby to fetch it for them and the two dined companionably, as they used to when Sybill was Albus's apprentice.

* * * * * *

 A wooded clearing

Somewhere in Dover:

Harry's arms ached something fierce by the time Severus found them a place far enough away from the cliffs, surrounded by a stream on one side and a thicket of thorns on the other, that he declared safe enough to rest in for a day or so. The elder wizard showed Harry how to cast the ward circles around the campsite, and then Harry spoke the word to set up the tent and placed Hedwig on her perch inside of it. The owl barely stirred.

 Meanwhile, Severus started a fire and heated up some more of Twixie's instant food packets-the elf had packed enough to feed a whole House-and brewed a pot of Mystic Relaxing tea.  Harry emerged from the tent a few moments later, changed into more comfortable lounging pants and a shirt, and found Snape drinking a mug of tea, sitting crosslegged on the ground, watching the stew in the cauldron bubble before flicking a finger idly, making the long wooden spoon stir itself. 

"Sev, I really want to learn how you do that.  Wandless magic, I mean." Harry said wistfully, accepting the mug floating before him gratefully.

"Yes, I had planned to teach you that eventually.  It is a long process and most people cannot master it without months of study.  However, since there is a chance, better than even, that Greyback's pack shall find us again, you need to be prepared to fight them off. No hesitation and no remorse. Otherwise they will kill you. You must let the hawk free if you fight them, Harry.  Meaning you need to act and not think."

"Will you teach me some spells then?"

"I shall, for you need to be able to defend yourself if need be.  But first we should eat and then I would like you to read a few entries of Riddle's journal.  They will provide you with insight into the madman's psyche. It's always best if you know your enemy."

"Sure, Sev.  Whatever you say." Harry would have agreed to run naked through the Great Hall singing "We Are the Champions" for a chance to learn some real battle magic.  He dished up the stew and there was silence in the clearing save for swallowing and chewing. 

Once they were full, Severus took Riddle's journal out of his pack and let Harry read about Tom Riddle's childhood growing up in Wool's Orphanage.

 Entry one

Feb 14, 1934

Today is Valentine's Day.  Stupid holiday.  Mrs. Cole, our matron, said we all had to make cards for each other and be nice to someone today.  Makes me want to hurl. It's so fake, the other kids don't like me and I don't like them either.  I've always known I was different.  They say I'm unnatural, because I know things without being told.  I can make animals do what I want and snakes talk to me sometimes when we go on field trips into the woods and stuff.  I'm smarter than half of them too, I ace all my lessons and some of the others are so dumb they can barely read their own names.  And now she thinks I'm going to be nice to them! Ha! Nice to fat Bobby Anthony, who stole my pudding last week, nice to snotty Marsha Lindross, who tripped me and made me fall into a puddle, nice to Billy Stubbs, who said my mum was nothin' but a two bit streetwalker who was unlucky enough die after she'd had me. 

I hate all of them and someday I'm going to make them all regret being so mean to me.  Someday. I already got back at the pig Bobby, I made him sick to his stomach just by wishing it, all night long, and I made that snot Marsha's hair turn puke green. I can do things like that when I want. It's what makes me different. I like it.  I don't want to be like the rest of them.  They're so stupid, always worried about following rules and getting adopted and where they can find work when they grow up.  I don't need anyone, the strange power inside me is growing and I'm going to use it to help me become powerful, like a rich banker or a lord-and then people will serve me-Tom Marvolo Riddle. Just wait. One day people will fear me, and tremble at the sound of my name. 

If only I had a different name.  Tom is so . . .common.  I wish my name were something else. Mrs. Cole says I'm named for my father, Tom Riddle, whoever he was.  Did he have powers like me? He must have, because my mother died and she wouldn't have if she had powers.  He must have died too, because I'd be with him else and not here in this stinking rat hole.

Hmm . . .maybe I'll make old Billy a Valentine's Day card to remember . . .

Harry paused, thinking about the picture Tom's words painted for him.  Here was a young boy, unwanted and unloved, in whom magic had just begun to blossom, much like he had been.  But while the teasing Tom had endured stirred compassion within Harry, the way in which the young boy reacted to it made him shiver.  Even at the tender age of nine, Tom had possessed a vengeful arrogant spirit, one that longed to dominate and control others. 

"He enjoyed hurting others," he said, half to himself.

Severus glanced up at him over the rim of his tea cup.  "Oh, yes. There was something twisted and wrong within him.  He enjoyed seeing people in pain, and enjoyed more the fact that he had made them hurt and afraid. How far along are you?"

"Just read the first entry."

Severus snorted.  "That's only the tip of the wand.  Read the rest."

Harry returned to the journal.

Entry two

The same evening:

That rotten tattletale baby Billy told on me! Said that I gave him a Valentine card that had bugs inside it and now there are ants and spiders all over the orphanage. It was funny to see him go all weepy and scream though, and all the girls were screaming and running too, out of the lunch room and down the hall. Girls are always afraid of creepy crawly things like that. But Billyy screams like a girl and I laughed at him for it.

"I'm gonna tell! It was you who done it, Tom."

"Prove it," I say.

"That's your initials there-T R" he says. "You freak, I'm gonna tell Mrs. Shipley and Mrs. Cole and they'll put you away in a madhouse. That's where you belong-an asylum!"

I was so mad that I punched him a good one right in the nose. "You go ahead and try and I'll put you in the hospital!" I yelled, then I kicked him hard in the balls.

He really screamed like a girl then and fell on the floor.

"Looks like you won't be tellin' nobody anything," I sneered and walked away. 

Only to get hauled to the matron's office an hour later because Billy shot his gob off.  Now I'm in real trouble. Old Cole had been hitting the gin again, I could smell it on her breath. Probably been drinking in remembrance of her husband, who died in an auto accident years ago. "You know you're not supposed to fight with the other boys, Tommy," she scolded me. I hated it when she called me that. "I asked you to be nice to someone and what do you do? You put bugs in his card and punch and kick him."

"But Mrs. Cole, he was being mean first," I told her, acting all put on and innocent. That usually fools her into thinking I'm sorry. 

Only this time it didn't work. 

"No excuses, boy! Maybe Miss Crabtree was right and I have been too easy on you.  I have had nothing but complaints from other monitors and children about you this past month.  And now this! Spiders and ants loose in my home! Disgusting!"

"It was a joke."

"A joke! Infesting your home with bugs! And then beating up poor Billy that way. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

Ah, damn.  I'm in real trouble when she uses my full name. I hung my head, giving her my best puppy dog look.  "I'm real sorry, Mrs. Cole." Then I tried to influence her like I can do most times.  But the power wouldn't come.  For the first time ever, it had failed me. 

"Humph! Not as sorry as you're gonna be, my boy," she slurred, then she reached inside her desk and pulled out a ruler.

I backed away. No way was I going to let her touch me with that. I'm almost ten, too damn old for her to treat me like a sodding first former and wallop me.  I turned to run from her office, but she grabbed the back of my jumper and held on tight.  "None of that, boy.  This time you're going to get a good thrashing."

"No! Please, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again." I looked into her eyes, furious and scared, usually no one ever catches me out, and I tried to push against her mind.  You don't want to do this.  Let me go. Let me go.  But her mind was all pickled by stupid gin and she was mad and I couldn't make her release me and next thing I knew I'm across her knees getting my backside walloped.

It bloody hurt and I cried in spite of myself and wished I could turn the ruler into a snake and make it bite her. I HATE you! I HATE you! I thought over and over while I cried and wriggled.

"Now go to your room and think about what you've done, you naughty boy. And no dessert for you either."

So here I am in my room, lying on my stomach on my bed, and I'm thinking, all right.  Thinking that maybe it's time old Cole learned not to mess with me either.  She wasn't my mother, she had no right to spank me.  And she didn't even bother to let me explain what that slime Billy had said to me that made me do those things to him. It wasn't fair. He ought to have gotten thrashed too.

No matter.  They'll get theirs. Bad things happen to those who cross me.

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at those last words, and he quickly moved to the next entry.

Entry 3

The next afternoon:

That bugger Billy woke up in the middle of the night yelling about somebody drowning him and woke half the dorm too and the night monitor, Miss Fizzby too. It took her half an hour to calm him down.  She even let him hold his pet rabbit, Scamper.  I pretended to be asleep, but I smiled into my pillow. Sending him bad dreams was only the beginning.

I waited till everyone was outside playing before I snuck back into the orphanage and commanded Billy's dumb rabbit to put its own head in a noose and then I floated it up to the rafters and watched it strangle. That's another thing I can do, move objects without touching them.  Comes in handy sometimes. Like now.

I left and made sure the monitors saw me playing marbles with a few other kids, younger ones who were too scared to tell me to go away if I wanted to play with them.  I acted like I was having fun, smiling and laughing like I really enjoyed this boring shite game.  But the monitors were fooled and it was worth it in the end.  I won five sticks of gum, a penny, and a neat-looking rock off the little bastards.

Then it was time for supper and we all were lined up and marched into the dining hall, same as always.  I slid carefully onto the wooden bench, for I was still sore from old Cole's ruler, but I didn't show it. I never did.  I was still mad at myself for having cried during it, guess it was the shock, ‘cause I was hardly ever thrashed.

Tonight there was bread with drippings and cabbage leek soup and potato pork pie. One of the better things we ate here.  Guess Cole didn't drink away all the food funds yet. I began to eat, anticipating the look on Billy's face later when he went back to the dorm and saw what remained of his precious Scamper.

Billy nearly went spare when he saw the dead rabbit, screeching and wailing like a baby and Miss Fizzby too, she nearly fainted.  It was a huge outburst, and while all the other kids were busy being horrified, I snitched several items from a few who had made fun of me. A yo-yo, a penny whistle, a ribbon from Mable Throckle's dead mum, all of them found their way into my pockets and then I put them in my secret wooden box and hid them deep inside my wardrobe. 

Everyone was still going on about the dumb rabbit and Billy was carrying on like his arm had been cut off.  I shot him a glare.  See, Billy, that's what happens when you don't keep your trap shut and tell on me.  Happy now, tattletale?

They finally got the rabbit down with the help of Joe the handyman and his ladder and were trying to figure out how the rabbit had gotten there, when Billy sobbed, "It were Tom! He done it!"

"That's a lie!" I cried.  "How could I have? I was outside playing marbles, right, Miss Fizzby?"

"Yes, I saw you myself.  Billy dear, you shouldn't accuse someone of something without proof. Now, come, you've had a shock, let me bring you to Mrs. Helsa, she'll give you something to make you sleep." She led him away to the infirmary and Joe took the rabbit away to bury it.

Some of the kids shot me dirty looks and whispered behind their hands, but they shut it quick when I glared back warningly.  They knew better than to cross me.

I went to bed, thinking that next it was old Cole's turn.

I closed my eyes and concentrated hard.

I set the bitch's office on fire with her in it.  It was reported later as a case of spontaneous combustion after the firemen came and put it out.  Cole went to the hospital, she was burned and half-dead from smoke.  That would teach her to lay a hand on me. 

I slept like a baby after they took her away and we were allowed back inside.

Old Cole returned after a week or two however, and she never thrashed me again, and there were rumors for months about how the fire had started, but no one ever figured it out.  Magic leaves no trace, you see.

"Bloody hell, Severus!" Harry exclaimed after coming to the end of that page.  "He nearly killed that matron because she punished him.  And he killed that kid's rabbit because he crossed him." Harry looked revolted.  "That's . . .sick.  Really sick.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised, given what he became, but . . .he was a nine-year-old kid.  And he was already wicked and evil and terrible."

"Yes.  As I said before, he was born twisted, without remorse and conscience," said Severus grimly.  "You'll note all he cared about was revenge, killing the rabbit and nearly killing Mrs. Cole mattered nothing to him. And he was cunning enough to cover his tracks."

"Tell me about it.  And he could use some kind of mind control even then. But how did he keep the journal hidden?"

"Keep reading. You'll find out."

"And to think, I almost felt sorry for him in the beginning, with the way the other kids teased him." Harry muttered. "I mean, it sort of reminded me of the Dursleys."

"I can see how that would do so, and I'll admit it reminded me a little of my own days with my father as well, but neither of us ever reacted with such coldblooded hatred against our families and nearly burned our house down for revenge or killed innocent animals, now did we?"

Harry shook his head.  "Sometimes . . .sometimes I used to think about running away from home, but nasty as they were, I'd have never used my magic to hurt them." He rubbed his scar unconsciously.

"Much as I feared and hated my father, I could not bring myself to hurt him with magic, no matter how much he might have deserved it. And there lies the difference between us and Voldemort," Severus said.  "We had scruples, he had none."

Harry resumed reading the journal, and each consecutive entry made him more and more happy that the dark wizard was dead.  The incident with the rabbit and the fire was nothing compared to the time young Tom had lured two of the other orphans into a cave when they were on an outing at the seaside.

Entry 30

July 12th, 1935

I knew the cave was something special the moment I spotted it while I was walking down by the seashore.  It called to me in a way I couldn't explain, like a dark voice echoing in my head, and suddenly I knew I had to explore it.  But that meant sneaking away from the others for a while, and us older kids were in charge of two smaller ones, Cole's stupid rules again.  Trying to give us responsibility or some such rot.  Like I cared about the two whiny brats who were following me around, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were their names and the last thing I wanted to do on holiday was mind the bloody kids.

But the annoying buggers followed me everywhere and I couldn't ditch them without Cole finding out and I didn't want to deal with any of her lectures right then.  So I decided to take the two seven-year-olds with me into the cave. I had to go inside it, there was something calling to that secret part of me-the part that made me better than all the rest of the orphans I was forced to co-exist with.

"Whatcha doin', Tom?" asked Dennis, he was a towheaded brat with a loose tooth, looked like he'd been born in a bin, he was all dirty from playing in the sand. 

"Going exploring, what's it look like?" I said shortly.

"'Sploring?" Amy lisped, coming up to me too.  She was a little thing with freckles and frizzy red hair that was always coming undone from the braids the monitors tied her hair in.  They thought her lisp was "charming" and "cute".  Me, I thought it made her sound like a dumb-arsed idiot.  "Can I come too, Tom? Can I? Can I? Pwease?"

I rolled my eyes.  "Only if you promise never to tell where we go," I bargained.  "Otherwise you can stay here and watch for land sharks."

"Land sharks?" repeated Dennis. "What's that?"

"They're sharks that can come up on land, burrow real fast through the sand and . . .bite off brats like yours feet," I told him seriously.  "And you know what?" I lowered my voice. "One was seen here not two days ago.  It was in the paper."

They squealed, the little idiots, buying my make-believe story hook, line, and sinker.  Little kids are so gullible! They'll believe anything if you act like it's true.

"Pwease, we'll be good, don't leave us here, Tom!" cried Amy, throwing her arms about me.

"Get off!" I snapped, pushing her away.  I hated when kids touched me. "Shut up and quit sniveling and promise me to keep your gob shut and you can come."

They promised and I started into the cave, which was jutting out into the sea and we had to walk on a sandbar to get to it. We climbed over a few rocks and Dennis fell down and scraped his knee and started to whine, but I snapped that if he didn't shut it, I'd leave him there and he sniveled and obeyed me.

Inside the cave it was dark, until I concentrated and made light.  That was a new ability of mine and real useful for when I wanted to sneak around at night, both in the orphanage and out of it.  The light magic lit up the entire cave, which had  a large pool in it and some kind of big island projectile sticking up out of it, like a kind of stone basin. 

It was damp and sticky and there was a strong smell of fish and rotting seaweed.

Amy held her nose and whined. "Eeew! Stinks in here! Like dead fish!"

I ignored her and kept walking.

The call was as strong as ever and it was pulling me towards the island in the center of the lake.

"Tom, I don't like this place," whimpered Dennis.  "I wanna leave."

I spun on him and grabbed him and shook him hard. "Listen, you little whinging bastard.  You wanted to come with me, and now you have, so you can just suck up and deal with it. Act like a man and not a pansy-arsed little girl, got me?"

He nodded, shivering and I let him go and said, "Stay here, I want to go out and see what's over there on that rock." I pointed to the island.

"But how you gonna get there?" asked Amy.

I shrugged.  "Swim, of course."

I really didn't like water much, but I could swim if I had to and there was no other way for me to get to the island. I could feel whatever it was calling me and it was driving me crazy.  Come to me.  Come to me.

So I jumped into the water, it was warm and smelled like rotten fish and felt scummy, but I forced myself to just ignore it and start swimming.  I was careful not to get any water in my eyes or mouth, no telling what diseases I'd come down with. After about seven minutes I was at the island and climbing up the white rock studded with crystals to the stone basin. 

When I looked inside, I saw a beautiful golden and silver dagger with a huge ruby in the pommel.  My eyes went wide. Hell, this must be worth a bloody fortune! If I took this, I'd be set for life.  And I could feel it speak to me in my head. 

Take me up. Use me. And I shall give you your heart's desire.  Take me. Use me.

So I picked it up and I immediately felt the magic flow into me, changing me, making me strong, powerful. I laughed aloud, for it felt so good.  The dagger sparkled in my hand and I knew then that I could never sell it.  It was special, like me, and I had to keep it and hide it. 

I tucked it firmly inside the waistband of my trousers and then jumped into the water.  This time I swam like a fish and the water didn't make me want to lose my lunch. It felt like bathwater and in no time I was at the shore, where the pesky brats waited, mouths hanging open like dying fish.

"What did you find, Tom?" asked Dennis.  "Anything cool?"

"Can we see it?" Amy looked at me with big eyes.

I closed my hand over the dagger.  I felt a surge of power go through me and the dagger hissed into my mind that it was hungry.  Blood. I need blood. Feed me.

The dagger's need throbbed through me and I would have done anything to make it stop.  "Okay, shut it," I muttered to the knife, wondering where I could get blood to feed it.  My own wouldn't work as well, I sensed that instinctively, it wanted another kind. The innocent kind.

And suddenly I knew what I had to do.

"Come here, you two." I ordered, grabbing the brats by the shoulders. "We're going to play a little game.  It's called Native Sacrifice and you're going to pretend I'm a native that's going to cut you up and eat your livers for breakfast." I took out the dagger and held it up, it glistened in the light.

They both started crying then, but I just sneered at them.  "It's a game, stupid brats.  Now give me your hands."

I pricked each of their hands with the dagger and it seemed to gain some kind of strength from the blood. The blood was drawn into the dagger's surface as if it were a sponge.  Amy and Dennis's eyes were glassy and unfocused, and I let the dagger drink its fill before I tucked it away again and slapped the brats awake.

"Come on.  Time to go.  And remember, if anyone asks, you were just exploring. Got it?"

They nodded, pale and shaking, and I dragged them back out of the cave.

I had gotten what I had come for.  That dagger was going to prove very useful.

That night, the two brats developed a fever and kept babbling about knives in the dark and blood, but the matron put it down to fever dreams and didn't question me. 

I was careful to hide the dagger along with my journal under a loose floorboard beneath my bed. I even made a sort of Look Away charm over it, so no one would ever find my hiding place.

The monitors never figured out why the kids became sick and they were never the same after the dagger had drawn their blood into itself. They were always disorientated now, scared of nearly everything, but I made sure they wouldn't talk about anything ever by showing them the dagger.  They never did, and eventually Cole quit asking them what happened and asking me too.

At the bottom of that page was a hastily scrawled note.  The Dagger of Discord, as I have discovered it was called, was a powerful cursed object and one that I had to hide away when Dumbledore came to the orphanage to collect me.  I knew I couldn't keep it on my person while going to school, its aura was too great, and Dumbledore might find out. 

So I placed it back in the cave and promised I would return for it one day.  I kept that promise.

The journal ended there abruptly, and Harry set it down and rubbed his eyes.  "Merlin, but I could use a good stiff drink!" he blurted before he thought better of it.

But Snape did not scold him.  Instead the other simply gave him a look of understanding.  "I take it you read about the cave and how he used those children to feed that cursed object?" The Potions Master's face was hard and grim.

"Yeah. It made me want to rip out his throat and puke all at the same time." Harry grimaced.  "Sick bastard. I don't even want to think about what he used that dagger for.  You ever, uh, see it? When you were spying?"

Severus shook his head.  "No.  Which leads me to believe he had another use for the dagger.  A more permanent use than a ritual bloodletting to fuel his dark castings."

"You mean he made it into . . .?"

"Yes.  The Dagger of Discord would have suited him perfectly, fulfilling his need to use objects of value or meaning in order to create a receptacle to house his soul. He was vain and arrogant, he would not have made the object anything, even though he could have. The dagger had a long and bloody history, a history of betrayal and death going back before the time of Merlin." Severus cleared his throat, going into what Harry sometimes called "lecture mode".  "It was said the Dagger of Discord was created when King Agamemnon of Mycenae sacrificed his own daughter to summon wind to let the Greek ships set sail for Troy.  The shedding of Iphegenia's innocent blood by her father caused the gods to curse both Agamemnon and the dagger that took her life.  The dagger became known as the Dagger of Discord, bringing discord and betrayal to sworn friends and destroying anyone who used it.  It was said that because of the dagger, Agamemnon started that fatal quarrel with Achilles and nearly lost the Trojan War. Afterwards the dagger vanished, until it reappeared centuries later in the court of King Arthur and brought more misery and death in its wake.  The dagger was directly responsible for destroying Camelot and causing an almost irreparable rift between Lancelot and Arthur and the dagger eventually killed Arthur when wielded by his son Mordred, who had been given it as a gift by his mother after she stole it from Lancelot, and it immediately poisoned his mind against his father and made the boy betray and kill him.  When Camelot fell, the dagger vanished again.  It was rumored that it slew Caesar on the steps of the Senate, wielded by Brutus, once Caesar's loyal friend.  But always it has caused destruction.  The Ministry has labeled it a Very Dangerous Dark Object and has never been able to find it."

"You sound as if it's . . .alive."

"In a way it is.  The curse is such that it is semi-aware, and after drinking the blood of so many innocents, it has grown very powerful.  I have a feeling that it called Voldemort to rescue it because it had grown tired of sitting in that cave for centuries and wanted to start trouble once again.  Based upon the clues in the next section-Look to the dagger in the dark for a riddle hidden therein-I am almost certain the next object we must look for is the Dagger of Discord."

"Bloody hell."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter.  And if that is the case, you must be infinitely careful when searching for it.  The slightest touch of your skin on it may allow the curse to invade your mind and turn you into an instrument of evil, so wear your gloves at all times when we go to the orphanage, am I clear?"

"Crystal, Sev.  But why would you think it's in the orphanage now? Wouldn't it seem more likely that he returned to the cave and hid it there?"

Severus frowned.  "No, because the dagger did not like being hidden there.  That was why Riddle was made to come back and retrieve it once he was not in school.  And the cipher I broke states that the object was hidden in the place of beginnings and endings-Wool's Orphanage fits that criteria."

"Wonder if he still hid it under the bed?"

"Wherever it is hidden, we must find it and then destroy it." Severus said firmly.

"Yeah, I figured as much. Brilliant deduction there, Sev."

"Watch it, mister." His mentor mock-scolded.

Harry just smirked. He loved to rile the Potions Master with his cheeky attitude on occasion.   Then he handed the journal back to the master wizard and said, "So, when do I learn how to defend myself, oh wise mentor?"

"After a decent night's sleep.  I don't want to risk losing my head or my hand because you're too tired to concentrate properly. Bed, Harry.  Now."

"Blazes, but d'you have to make it sound like I'm five? Couldn't you just say something like, I don't know, you better get some sleep, Harry, so you're nice and rested for our lesson tomorrow?"

"I could," Snape conceded. "But the other way suits me better."

Harry shot him a look.  "You just like ordering me around."

Severus raised an eyebrow.  "Why, Potter, wherever did you get that idea?"

"You know, Sev, if you weren't my mentor and my guardian and all, I could tell you to go shove it and jump off a bridge, that I'm almost sixteen and don't need a bedtime like a little kid."

"True.  But then you wouldn't be having lessons in defense tomorrow, you'd be scrubbing cauldrons." Snape returned smoothly.

"What cauldrons? We're not in school."

"The ones I would summon here just for you, apprentice. Bed, Harry."

The boy made a face.  "You're a terrible guardian."

"I know.  Makes you wonder what kind of foolish fledgling would agree to let me be one."

"Me too.  Maybe he was under a curse," Harry agreed, then he started laughing when Severus scowled.  "Had you going there, didn't I, Sev?"

"Impudent brat! I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because I'm your impudent brat and you'd be bored stiff if I became one of those obedient good kids. Right?"

"Get to bed, Potter."

"Admit it, Sev.  I'm right."

"Now, Potter.  Before I lose what patience I have left."

"Aww, c'mon, Severus.  Say I'm right."

"You're pushing it, boy.  Now get!"

"Three words, Severus. Harry, you're right. That's it. Three little words."

"One more word and you'll be grounded for the rest of the summer, I mean it!"

"Okay.  Merlin!" The look in the other's eye could have made a dragon run for cover.  Harry rose and went into the tent.  Then he stuck his head out and called, "Good night, Sev.  Sweet dreams." He ducked inside, laughing.

"Why you-" the Potions Master sputtered. "I ought to make you scrub my entire house with a toothbrush for that bit of impudence, Harry James Potter."

A muffled "Sorry, sir, I take it back," came from inside the tent.

"Don't make me come in there, young man," warned his guardian. Really, the boy's cheek knew no bounds!

This time there was no cheeky reply.  Severus waited a moment or two before rising and making sure his apprentice was sleeping and not because he was concerned the boy might have nightmares and need Dreamless Sleep.

He found the boy sound asleep on his bedroll, scrunched into a ball.  Severus straightened out the blanket and smoothed back the hair from Harry's eyes.  Then he permitted himself a small smile and whispered, "Pleasant dreams, my impudent brat."

An instant later he was slipping back outside to finish his tea. Had he glanced back, he would have seen his ward crack open an eye and grin from ear to ear at being proven right.

The next morning, Harry listened, rapt, as Hedwig related what had happened to her after she had diverted the maldecorvae back in Italy.. . .I flew for many winglengths, a very long way, before the bloody crows stopped chasing me.At first, I had to turn and fight with talons and beak nearly every two or three winglengths.It was hard, I have not fought like that since I trained with my old teacher, Master Swift Wind, who was the owl combat instructor at Hogwarts.

Harry coughed as he drank his tea at that statement.“You’ve got such things as combat instructors in the Owlery?”

Indeed we do.Post owls are exposed to many dangers as we deliver mail, Harry.We must learn to fly through any kind of inclement weather, including hail and lightning, for the mail must always be delivered, such is the post owl motto. And often we can run into other animals who regard us as tasty snacks, like griffins or rocs or cats. So, we are taught when young fledglings how to defend ourselves should we be attacked by any number of creatures, including other flying predators. But most often our greatest advantage is our flight speed.We can fly three times as fast as an ordinary owl, and some of us, like myself, even faster when we push ourselves.Few birds or other flying magical creatures can catch a post owl at top speed.Hedwig said somewhat smugly.She was perched up a low hanging branch of a beech tree that overlooked the campsite, telling Harry and Severus her story.

The Potions Master was stirring a cauldron of cinnamon oatmeal, listening to the owl as he did so, he found her account fascinating.He could now, like Harry, understand the language of raptors and other birds if he listened carefully, due to prolonged exposure in his Animagus shape.He was very grateful for that, as he did not have to shift into Warrior in order to understand Hedwig when he was in human form now.

“Go on please, Hedwig,” he said, stirring more vigorously as the porridge thickened. It was early in the morning, around eight o’clock, neither he nor Harry were late sleepers and both seemed to wake up early, without the aid of an alarm clock.

Anyway, the maldecorvae, being magical themselves, did not have to rest as frequently as an ordinary bird would have, and they kept up with me, for the most part.Occasionally five or more would attempt to mob me, trying to knock me out of the sky by beating and pecking at my wings and face.But I kept diving and rolling and using that maneuver you hawks are so fond of, the stoop, to keep them at bay.I believe I killed a good many of them before they quit chasing me.And the werewolves were following, howling and screeching like harpies from the abyss, but I flew too high for one of them to attempt to catch me.

By the time that loutish beast Greyback realized he was being led upon a wild dodo bird chase, he had gone miles out of the way, across Austria and into Russia.Oh, how he bellowed and screamed then, and gnashed his teeth and ripped out his fur! It was great fun to see him act just like a cross little baby! One that needed a good spanking, I might add!

Here both wizards chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“What happened then, Hedwig?” asked her wizard.

Then he tried to backtrack, but it was too far and he used some kind of magic, I think it may have been a Portkey, to leave there.But where he went, I did not know, and I feared he would try and ambush you, so I flew as quickly and as hard as I could towards the Channel.I must say, I was so relieved and happy to see you both alive and well.

“So were we to see you,” Severus told the owl, giving the porridge one final stir, adding a handful or two of raisins, and then dishing it up to Harry and himself. “I am glad you were too clever and feisty to get caught.But I’m wondering now where is Greyback?”

Harry took the bowl Severus handed him and began to eat, blowing carefully upon the hot porridge.“Maybe he went to report back to Lucius and got in trouble?”

“Yes, that is possible,” agreed Snape, seating himself near his apprentice and eating his own breakfast. “Lucius will not be too pleased to learn that Greyback failed.Which is why after breakfast I will be teaching you three combat spells, ones that you are to use only when your life is in grave danger. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Harry agreed, and started eating at top speed.

Severus fixed his ward with a stern look.“I am serious, Potter.These spells are deadly if misused, any of them can kill, though they are not Unforgivables.Two are my own inventions, the other is a standard attack spell used by Aurors. We will be using practice dummies as targets. And be warned, using your magic to harm will drain you quicker than almost anything else, so choose your spells and battles wisely.I had hoped to avoid confrontation with the werewolves by traveling quickly to the orphanage, but if they are already here, then we might have to fight before or after we arrive there, so I want you to be prepared.”

“I will be, Sev.”

Severus gave him a nod of approval.

Just then a strange owl circled overhead, she was a dark brown Great Horned Owl, before she shot downward to land upon Severus’s shoulder in a thunder of wings.

Seraphina! Hedwig hooted in greeting.

Good morning to you, Hedwig! Seraphina replied to the other owl, then she turned to Snape and hissed, Greetings, Master Severus and Master Harry.I am happy to see you are well and not injured.I bear a message from Headmaster Dumbledore. She held out her leg for Severus to remove the message cylinder from her foot.

The professor gently removed it and apologized for his lack of owl treats.

Seraphina ruffled her feathers and gave a low hoot of amusement.Do not wo-o-rry so, Warrior.We do not expect treats from our brothers-in-feathers, that is for humans, who often do not appreciate the service we perform for them.I am only glad that I reached you when I did, I set out from Hogwarts around seven o’clock in the morning, I believe, but the Headmaster said the message I carried was very urgent.

“Thank you, Seraphina.” Severus told her.“Freedom and I appreciate your timely flight.”

You-whoo are most welcome! And now, I must be off again, I have a batch of new post younglings to train.Farewell, my brothers and sister, may the winds favor your wings and the Wind Lord guard you.Then she launched off of the professor’s shoulder and was airborne in a few wingbeats. In another minute, she was gone.

“What’s the letter say?” Harry asked impatiently.

“Wait a moment and I will tell you,” Severus rebuked quietly, then broke the seal upon the cylinder and extracted the rolled up message. He opened it and read the following line aloud.“They shall be hunted upon all sides, until the end is nigh, darkness stalks them unseen, but a steadfast and true heart shall overcome all.Thus I have Seen and so it shall be!”

“What does it mean? And who is it from?”

“It is, I think, another prediction made by Sybill Trelawney, and the note is unsigned, but I can guess who sent it to us.”

“Dumbledore,” Harry answered his own question.“I guess that means the werewolves will be coming after us again, huh?”

Severus frowned.“Yes, and perhaps the Death Eaters as well.But there is hope, for a steadfast and true heart shall overcome all.We must keep that in mind, Harry. Remain focused and true to our purpose and ourselves and we shall succeed.”

Severus’ encouraging tone made Harry feel much better, despite the prophecy’s grim warning.If Severus was not intimidated by the prophecy, then he would not be either.“’Course we will.Together we can do anything,” he said, sounding more confident than he actually felt.The feeling of foreboding he had that first night in Little Hangleton had returned full force, but he resolutely pushed it aside.Worrying about what might be was not going to help anything.

“Are you finished with breakfast, Harry?” Snape asked.At his nod, the professor banished the remainder of the porridge and packed up the tent and the cauldron and dishes with a flick of his wand.

Another flick and a small stuffed doll with a red X upon its chest flew out of Severus’s pack.“Engorgio!” Snape pointed his wand and the doll grew to a lifesize dummy and Snape used a Sticking Charm to fasten it to a large oak some ten feet away.

He turned to his apprentice.“Come over here beside me, Mr. Potter.Wand out and pay attention.” When Harry had obeyed, standing next to him, Severus continued.“The first spell I’m going to show you is one Aurors commonly use when they are trying to bring down a large number of dark wizards at once.It is a Blasting Curse, and when done properly, can blow a hole in a building or even knock one down, if the wizard casting knows how to place it where it can do the most damage.If a person is hit by a Blasting Curse, I am told it is very much like getting hit with a hand grenade.” He leveled his ebony wand at the dummy.“When you cast a spell like this, it is always important to remember to aim first before you cast, proper aim can be the difference between life and death. So . . .aim and then speak the following incantation—Confringo!”

A tiny ball of light shot out of Severus’s wand and struck the red X upon the dummy and the dummy exploded into fragments.There was a loud ka-boom! Afterwards and wood chips as well as cloth batting rained down on the clearing.

Snape lowered his wand and gestured and the dummy reformed and returned to the same spot upon the oak tree.“And that is what a properly aimed Blasting Curse can do.”

Harry whistled, then shivered when he thought of what one could do to a human being.Suddenly he wasn’t quite as excited about learning battle magic.But he squared his shoulders and said gamely, “Can I give it a go?”

“Certainly. Remember, aim first, then speak the incantation.”

Harry sighted down his wand, as if he held a rifle, till he was focused upon the red X and then concentrated hard and yelled, “Confringo!”

For a single minute nothing happened.Then a small glowing ball of light shot out of his wand and impacted upon the dummy.

It exploded again, only his spell did not reduce it to specks like Snape’s had.The pieces were much larger, but still it had worked.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Severus said.He reformed the dummy.“Try it over.”

Harry did.

This time the dummy burst into tinier pieces.

Snape had Harry cast the Blasting Curse several times more, at the ground near the tree, at a bush, and again at the dummy.Each time Harry grew more confident and sure of himself.

“Good.Now for the next spell.This one is one of my personal ones, I invented it during my sixth year, since at the time I feared being killed by Voldemort and wanted a way I could defend myself.It is called Sectumsempra, and is designed to cut an enemy multiple times deeply, so quickly that if not countered immediately, the victim of it could die from blood loss.The Latin meaning of the spell is “always cut”.You can cast this spell nonverbally, so your enemy can be taken by surprise, but since we haven’t covered that aspect of magic yet, I shall teach you how to cast it the normal way.”

“But why can’t I learn it silently?”

“Because that way would take more time than we presently have.When we have more time, after this quest is finished, then I shall take all the time you wish to teach you more Defense and wandless and nonverbal magic. It’s a shame that Dumbledore never thought to prepare you by having you trained before.”

“Guess he forgot,” Harry shrugged, not up to trying to fathom the ancient wizard’s mind.“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good. Now, aim, focus, and say Sectumsempra!” Severus said, casting the spell aloud.

Instantly, huge gaping rents appeared on the dummy, all across the chest and stomach of the stuffed body.Stuffing fell out upon the ground.

“There, now you can see what it would look like if you were hit with it.”

“Looks like it’d bloody hurt.” Harry winced.

“It would.As if you’d been sliced open by a half a dozen swords,” Snape said matter-of-factly.“Aim the spell at an appendage, such as an ear or a hand, and it can slice it off. That is why I never teach this spell to any student unless it is absolutely necessary.”

Harry felt his stomach do a flipflop at the thought of making somebody’s hand fall off.He didn’t know if he could cast this.He pointed his wand at the dummy, aiming for the stuffed doll’s heart, and spoke the spell.“Sectumsempra!”

A single slash appeared upon the dummy.

“Again, Mr. Potter.And put more force behind the casting.Concentrate!”

Harry cast again, with marginally better results.

“Your will is wavering, that’s why the spell is fizzling at the end,” Severus reproved.“Close your eyes.Now imagine maldecorvae attacking Hedwig and ripping her apart.Imagine werewolves overrunning Sylvanor and Hogwarts and hurting Meadowsweet and your friends.You hear them calling for you in your mind, begging you to save them, and you have seconds in which to do it.”

So compelling was Snape’s voice that Harry nearly believed the phantom imagining was real.

“Now open your eyes and attack the enemy, Potter!”

Harry’s eyes snapped open at Snape’s barked command and he cast Sectumsempra without thinking about it, and this time the dummy sagged and slipped down the tree, sliced to ribbons.

He gaped at the ruined mess of cloth. “I . . .did it.”

“With the right motivation you can cast anything.You weren’t putting enough of your will behind the spell before, you were thinking too much.You must learn to react and not think in battle. Do it again.”

The dummy was reformed and Harry cast Sectumsempra again and again, until sweat dripped down his forehead and his body felt as if he had been pummeled ten rounds in a boxing match.When he began to get dizzy, however, Severus made him sit with his head down between his knees for five minutes.

“Why am I so tired?”

“Because battle magic is very draining, summoning all that anger and will is hard, especially at first.” Severus explained.“If I had more time, I’d be pushing you to work through this, but I’m going easy on you for now.You need to be able to use magic when we reach the orphanage and you can’t if I exhaust you. Rest for two more minutes, then I’ll show you the last spell.”

Harry nodded dully, thinking he didn’t want to know what a real training session was like if this small one made him feel like he’d been run over repeatedly by the Hogwarts Express.Now he understood why most wizards didn’t use battle magic that often.

“Up, Potter.” Severus beckoned him to his feet. “This last spell is another one of mine, to be used as a last resort, because it can harm both friend and foe if you cast it in an enclosed space, like a room.It’s called Firestorm.”

Severus showed Harry how to do the complex twist and snap movement the spell required before saying the incantation aloud.“Incendia tempest!”

The dummy immediately burst into flames, a swirl of flame came smashing down from the heavens and hit it, turning it into ash in an instant.

“Holy Merlin!”

“Now do you understand why such spells are not to be taken lightly?”

The flames burned hot for another half second before Severus chanted the counter and they went out.

As before, he mended the dummy and set it up again for Harry to use.

This spell was the most difficult of the three, requiring precise wand movements as well as tremendous will.It took Harry ten tries before he finally got everything correct and cast the spell.

His tunnel of fire was not as large as his mentor’s but it was respectable enough, considering Harry was not even a sixth year yet.Severus told him he had done a good job.Harry cast that spell once more before Severus called a halt.

“Rest for another ten minutes, then you’ll learn the counters.”

Harry prayed he could stay on his feet and not disgrace himself by passing out.The brief rests served to keep the exhaustion at bay, but just barely.When Severus beckoned, Harry pushed himself to his feet with a groan.

Severus ignored it, and said, “The best way to learn counters is by seeing another perform them and then copying them.So . . .I want you to cast a Blasting Curse at me.”He walked over to the tree where the dummy was and faced Harry.

“Say what? Sev, I can’t do that! What if . . .what if I miss?”

“You must.I shall block the spell, Potter. Have no fear of that.Now do it!”

Reluctantly, Harry raised his wand, pointed it at Severus, shut his eyes and cast the Blasting Curse.

“Open your eyes dammit!” Snape cried.“You can’t observe a bloody thing with your eyes shut, Potter.”

“Oh.” Harry felt like an idiot.He opened his eyes.

“Why were you doing that?”

“Because I can’t cast a spell like that at you, Severus,” he admitted softly, ashamed.

Snape sighed. Then he waved his wand down himself and suddenly a dementor appeared in his place.“Is that better?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“Thank Merlin!” Snape said snarkily.“Cast, Potter!”

Harry drew in a deep breath and cast.

To his immense relief, the spell was deflected. Snape sent it off through the trees to impact harmlessly on the ground.

One by one he cast the battle spells at Severus and one by one Snape deflected them with a lazy flick of his wand.“Watch closely, Potter!” he ordered, when it seemed that Harry’s attention was drifting. “See how I move my wand a quarter turn—thus!” he demonstrated again, slowing down the movement so Harry could study it. “And turn my wrist inward, like so.”

Harry concentrated, trying to absorb the lesson into his head despite the weariness that was threatening to consume him. You HAVE to learn this, it’s important.If you don’t learn the counters you’ll be dead when you face a real Death Eater. He drew upon the old reserves of stubbornness and endurance he had within him, that he hadn’t tapped since the summer before when he lived with the Dursleys.He had often done work when he was toppling over from hunger and exhaustion, or sick to the point of fainting.A little tiredness was nothing, he reproved, and made himself concentrate harder.

“Show me what you’ve learned, Potter!” Severus barked.

Harry lifted his wand and repeated the counters for all the spells, one after the other.

Severus watched and corrected him where necessary, then had him perform the counter until it was perfect, or as near to perfect as Harry could come to it.After another hour, Snape called a halt and allowed his apprentice to drink some water and eat an energy bar he had packed.Harry was grateful for the respite.

“How did I do?” he asked while he munched the bar, which was made from oats and honey and cranberries.

“Not bad for a first session.You should be able to hold off a wizard throwing a curse at you long enough for me to get there and finish him off.” Severus told him honestly.

“Sev, did it . . .bother you the first time you uh . . .cast a spell like that for real?” Harry asked hesitantly.He didn’t want the elder wizard to think he was a wimp.

“And killed someone, do you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes.It is one thing to practice battle magic upon a dummy, quite another to cast it at a human being and see what it can really do a flesh and blood opponent.” Severus replied, settling himself on the ground next to his apprentice.“The first time I cast Sectumsempra upon a fellow Death Eater I was eighteen and we were supposed to be on a mission to stamp out the dissent in a village much like Hogsmeade near Cornwall. My companion, who does not deserve the dignity of a name, was having a wonderful time torching houses and terrifying women and children and old wizards to death.I was supposed to join in, but I couldn’t bring myself to, and so I watched until I couldn’t stomach it any longer, then I waited until his attention was elsewhere and I cast Sectumsempra upon him.He bled his life out in about five seconds.I burned his body and scattered the ashes and then I left.The other wizards and witches must have thought I had gone insane.”

“Then what happened?”

“I went and reported our mission was a success to Lucius and that the Death Eater had been killed by another wizard.Then I went back home and spent the next three hours being violently ill. I could still recall the way he looked after I had cast it, because of my memory, I could not forget it, and every time I thought about it, the memory returned and I was sick all over again.”

“Did that happen a lot?”

“Frequently.I am not a man who enjoys inflicting pain and death, Harry.Killing holds no satisfaction for me.I kill when I must, because if I do not, it may mean my life, or the life of an innocent person.Like the goshawk, I kill in self-defense, but never for pleasure.Battle spells are not meant to be easy to cast.You should always consider what you do before you raise a wand and intend to kill.But if it is a clear-cut case of kill or be killed, do not hesitate.For those you face will have no mercy upon you whatsoever.They are mass murderers and stone cold killers all and they would not bat an eyelash if they killed you.But afterwards, I will be there to hold your head if you need it.There is no shame in being sick after your first battle, Harry.Most people are. Killing should hurt you, it is no small thing to take a life. But by the same token, you should not brood over it, if it was necessary to preserve your own life or the life of another.”

Harry finished off his energy bar and water then stood up.“I feel better now.Thanks for telling me that, Sev.I thought . . .maybe you might think I was a coward because casting Sectumsempra and Firestorm made me feel sick.”

“A coward? There is not a cowardly bone in your body, boy.What you felt is normal for a fifteen-year-old boy who has never used battle magic before.I would be worried if you didn’t feel that way.” He gave his apprentice a brief pat on the shoulder.“Come, fledgling.Lessons are done for today.Now we need to fly.”

And with that, Snape blurred into Warrior and shot into the sky, free of earthly constraints and at one with the wind.

After a moment, Harry joined him, and Warrior flew towards London.

* * * * * *

 It took nearly a day for them to reach their destination, Wool’s Home for Orphans, on the outskirts of London, near Cheapside.Back when Tom Riddle was a child, the orphanage had been in a semi-respectable part of town, but in the years afterward, the neighborhood had fallen into disrepair and disarray, until it was little better than a derelict district filled with boarded up tenements and condemned buildings.It was the haunt of the homeless and the desperate, thieves and drug dealers, and those willing to make a quick pound from another’s misfortune.

Severus knew the area well, he had come there seeking shady wizards before, but even so, he insisted Harry and he not attract attention by dressing in regular clothes.“Those who live here will happily slit your throat for your shoes,” Severus said, indicating Harry’s trainers.“So . . .we must blend in.” He pointed his wand and transfigured Harry’s jeans, trainers, and shirt into worn-out ragged facsimiles.

Harry looked down at himself with interest.“Neat! I look like Oliver Twist or something.”

Severus raised an eyebrow.“As you should.We shall go unremarked.” He pointed his wand at himself and his smart black outfit became grungy and worn. He ran his wand down his hair and it took on its once-greasy appearance again.“Muss up that hair of yours, Mr. Potter.This once, it will be an asset.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether to take that as an insult or a complement, and just did as he was told.Severus rubbed a handful of dirt upon Harry’s face and the front of his shirt, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Good.A grubby street brat.” He beckoned Harry to follow him into Cheapside.

Harry hesitated a moment, looking upward for his familiar, and breathed a short sigh of relief when he saw a faint speck flying overhead, but not close enough for anyone to observe that she was an owl.

They walked down past burnt out buildings and street corners where lights had been knocked out or stolen.Street signs were bent or non-existent, and the pavement was cracked and broken, filled with garbage in some spots.Odors of tobacco and sewage and rotting food filled the air, and Harry had to fight not to gag.

“Breathe in and out ten times,” Severus hissed out of the corner of his mouth.“You’ll get used to it.”

Harry did, praying he wouldn’t puke right there. But eventually his nose became desensitized to the stink and he could walk about without feeling like losing his breakfast.He slouched slightly when he walked, and tried to ape Snape’s casual walk.

Severus walked without apparent hurry, head lowered, and a nasty scowl upon his face.His hair hung partially in his eyes and he looked like a disreputable bum just coming back from the pub.

They passed a few other people, but no one even looked twice at them.Harry did not know how Severus knew where to go, but he followed doggedly, trusting his mentor’s instinct.They walked for several blocks, and the building grew even more shabby and unkempt.

Wool’s Orphanage was behind rusted wrought iron gates, one of them hung half off its hinges and creaked mournfully in the slight breeze that was blowing.The path up to the orphanage was choked with weeds and the building itself was worn and the gray brick was cracked and crumbling.All the windows were broken, some were shattered totally.The orphanage was clearly abandoned, and Harry shivered as he stared at it.It had the look of a haunted house, empty and brooding, sinister and dark.

Harry hated it on sight, and he nearly felt sorry for Riddle, having to grow up in such a severe cold atmosphere.Until he recalled that perhaps the orphanage had not always been so.This was fifty years hence, after all. “Sev? Do you feel . . .like there’s something evil about this place?”

To his relief, Snape did not sneer at him for asking that question.“Yes.There is an aura of evil and death about this place.” He reached into his pack and withdrew the Curse Breaking gloves from his pocket.As he slid them on, he gestured for Harry to do the same.

Harry obeyed, and then drew his wand, though the gloves made his grip a bit unsure and slippery.Still, he knew the reason why Severus wanted him to wear them—the Dagger of Discord could prove deadly if touched with bare skin.

“Put up your Occlumency shields, Harry.”

“Why?”

“It will help you deal with the evil aura and block any attempts the Dagger might make at influencing you.”

Harry closed his eyes and summoned his shields in his mind.When he felt them snap into place, he opened his eyes and said, “Okay, Severus.I’m ready.”

He followed Snape through the gates and up the path to the orphanage on the hill.

Severus muttered a charm and the door to the orphanage swung silently open.

Inside, the foyer was thick with dust and electrical wires hung from the ceiling, where light fixtures had been removed.There were holes in the wall, which had wallpaper peeling from it and something had made a nest in one of the floorboards, which creaked ominously beneath their feet.They walked down a dingy hallway and paused beside a worn staircase.

“Up there would be the dormitories,” Severus said, lighting up the place with his wand.“To the left of here looks like a dining hall and to the right is probably offices and perhaps the monitors’ rooms, if they boarded here the way some did.”

“This place gives me the creeps.Where should we start?”

“We start by casting a Finding Charm, Harry.I am betting Riddle hid the dagger in here, but we will find it faster if we use magic instead of stumbling about like two drunken louts.” Severus intoned the charm softly.

Almost immediately, he felt a swift tug upon his wand.It was leading upstairs.“This way.” He began to carefully climb the stairs.

Harry swiftly came behind, stifling an amused giggle.I’ll be damned! Maybe he really did hide the bloody thing under his bed, like he did when he was a kid.How utterly stupid.Guess he never thought anybody would find this journal and be able to break the code.Arrogant sodding prat!

He stumbled upon a step and barely caught himself.Flushing at his clumsiness, he continued onward, envying his mentor’s careless grace over the worn treads.His hands were sweating inside the gloves, but he dared not remove them.As he traveled upwards, he noted that the feeling of dread seemed to increase, as if something did not want them here, disturbing it.

It was an almost palpable presence, worse even than the ghosts of Riddle House.Go away! You are not wanted! It hissed at him.Leave, and trouble this place no more!

Harry forced himself to ignore the feeling and the whispered voice.It was probably just nerves.At last he was at the top of the stairs and Severus was entering a room two doors down on the right.His wand cast eerie shadows across his face, making him look even more sinister and frightening.“In here.”

A frigid wind seemed to ruffle the tattered curtains at the cracked windows as Snape opened the door to the dormitory.Eight beds lined the left wall and opposite them were tall highboys, all of them in various states of disrepair, some of them broken apart.The beds all had broken legs and sagging ripped mattresses.There was an odor of foulness in the air—a stench of mildew and rot and urine, as if an animal had used the place as a toilet.

Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste.He saw Snape’s nose twitch as well, but the Potions Master was too busy with following the direction of his spell to let a thing like a bad odor deter him.He moved down the row of beds till he came to the last one in the row, then he dragged it away from the wall, almost out into the middle of the room.

“Is it there?” Harry asked, hardly daring to breathe.

“Perhaps.” Severus halted, then shrugged off his pack.“Harry, get the potions case out with the Curse Dissolving potion inside it and the cauldron.If my spell is right, the dagger is here, and we must be prepared to destroy it swiftly before it attempts to subvert one of us.”

Snape moved over to where the bed had been, there was a dark rectangle in the dusty floor where the bed had been.Severus tapped the floor with his foot, and heard a hollow echo.“Something is down there. Beneath the floor.”

He used the same spell he had in Gaunt House to shrink the floorboards.

Harry hurried to Severus’s pack and withdrew the potions case. He opened it to check how the vials had held up and was happy to find the potions were still intact.

He looked up to see Severus kneeling down and sticking his hand into the space left by the shrunken floorboard. He pulled out a flat wooden box, like a cigar box.Then he began casting detection charms upon it.

The box appeared to be unwarded.Severus was immediately suspicious.He carefully opened the box.Inside the box were a yo-yo, a whistle, a penknife, and a bag of marbles.

Severus stared at the junk and nearly threw the box down in disgust.Then he took another glance at the child’s box of toys and began to chuckle in reluctant admiration.“Genius! Hide something valuable among ordinary things of little value, and disguise it to look like nothing special at all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, coming over to see what Severus had found.“Huh? Looks like a bunch of kids’ toys.Where’s the dagger?”

Severus put out a gloved hand and picked up the penknife.“Here.”

Harry looked confused.  “Uh, Sev.  That’s a penknife.  You can get one at any two-pence store.”

“So you can.  It’s something nobody would give a second glance to.  Which was how its master wished it.” Severus touched the tip of his wand to the penknife and said sharply, “Revelaro! Finite incantatum!”

A blue mist surged out of the penknife and it began to waver and spin about on Severus’s gloved palm.  

Harry watched, sickened and fascinated, as the penknife suddenly blurred and then became the jeweled golden Dagger of Discord.  It lay on Snape’s palm, the ruby in the pommel winking malevolently at Harry, or so it seemed to the young wizard.  “You did it, Sev!”

Severus looked rather pleased.  “Harry start putting the vial in the cauldron.”

Harry moved over beside the open case and removed a vial from it and loosened the stopper.  But before he could do much more, an awful hissing and groaning filled the room, and the floor exploded in a shower of wood chips and dust.  

“Down!” Severus shouted.

Harry threw himself to the ground, completely forgetting about the open vial in his hand. He felt the solution start to spill out of the bottle and onto the floor before he could prevent it. “Ahh! Bloody damn hell!” he swore, but before he could move, there were things coming out of the floor, things that were composed of rotting flesh and nothing more, their faces misshapen, filled with rotting teeth.

They advanced swiftly upon Harry and Severus, gnashing their teeth and howling for blood, their hands ended in long claws.  Harry crawled backwards, chucked the empty vial at the advancing things and scrambled to his feet.  

“Sev! What are these things?”

“Inferi.  Animated corpses brought to life by dark magic,” Severus snapped.  “Prepare to defend yourself, Harry.  No mercy.” The expression on the other’s face was harsh and grim.  

“Sev, the potion spilled—” Harry began, moving closer to his mentor, but his words were drowned out as nearly twenty inferii surged forward, hands crooked into claws, mouths gaping wide, howling angrily.

Harry pointed his wand and intoned a Blasting Curse, just as an inferi lunged for his throat.

The undead thing was blown backwards, and only dust remained.  But more came to take its place, until they were surrounded by the foul creatures.
 

 And the Dagger of Discord began to glow, hissing a strange refrain inside Harry’s head.  See me.  Take me. Use me.  Free me from this place.  Take me up and I shall make you master of the world.

Harry shook his head, then leveled his wand again, prepared to cast Sectumsempra.  The inferi closed in, teeth bared, hissing and wailing savagely.

The stench of the half-decomposed bodies nearly made Harry gag, even as he sighted on an inferi closest to him and cried, "Sectumsempra!"

Large gaping wounds appeared upon the inferi's torso and legs and the undead thing staggered, but quickly regained its equilibrium and came on, its face twisted into an awful parody of a smirk, eyes burning hellishly with rage.  Harry quickly conjured a Shield Charm just as the inferi swiped at him with one long clawed hand.

A few feet beyond, Severus cast a hex that made the floor into a puddle of goo, sticking some of the advancing zombie creatures to it and then he summoned lightning and blasted them into pieces.  Harry wished he knew more offensive spells like that.  Severus looked over at his ward and noticed the inferi attacking Harry was dripping a viscous green sludge from where the Sectumsempra had struck it. "Harry! Aim the spell at their legs and arms!" he shouted. "Cut them off and they won't be able to move for a time! It'll slow them down!"

There seemed to be over a hundred of the undead things in the orphanage with them, though Severus knew it was probably only half that number. Still, even that number would be enough to finish them if they didn't fight back mercilessly. Inferi were a dark wizard's guardian of choice for treasure troves because they did not need to sleep, eat, drink, or use the bathroom. And they would fight whatever came near them to the death.

"Got it, sir!" Harry called back, then stepped back until his back was touching the wall, dispelled his Shield, and then cast Sectumsempra again, this time aiming the spell at the inferi's legs and arms.  No sooner had he cast it, then the inferi howled and fell over, all of its limbs severed.  Harry grinned.  "Take that, you bastard cousin to a mummy! All right, who's next?"

Several of the creatures clawed and shoved each other, struggling to reach the defiant wizard, who stood fast, hitting an inferi with Sectumsempra over and over until he felt dizziness wash over him. Coughing, Harry summoned back his Shield and paused for breath while the inferi swarmed over their fallen companions, uncaring.  Mindless and filled with the rage and hate their creator had given them, they knew but one thing, that which they had been ordered to guard had been stolen and they must fight the intruders until either they or the wizards were slain.

Harry, safe for the moment behind his shield, observed in a sort of haze that more of the inferi were going after Severus than himself.  The Potions Master was fending off over half of the zombie creatures, his face a mask of intense concentration, making each blast from his wand count.  But even the veteran Snape could not keep them all at bay forever, and Harry wondered why the inferi were not swarming him too, especially because he was the weaker of their opponents. 

Then he caught a flash of a ruby light and a glint of gold and suddenly he had his answer.

The Dagger of Discord.  Severus held the dagger, so they went after him.  Scores of inferi were closing in on his mentor and a sudden desperate gambit occurred to Harry.  "SEVERUS!" he screamed, trying to be heard over the unearthly shrieks and wails of the undead.  "Throw the dagger to me!"

"Why?" he saw Snape mouth more than say.

"It'll draw the bloody zombies away for a time!" Harry yelled, he could feel his hands start to sweat inside his gloves.  "Do it! I'll catch it and transform and then you can blast the lot of them!"

Severus had only seconds with which to act, he knew he would be overrun by the fetid creatures soon if he did not cast Firestorm or some other heavy hitting combat magic.  He had held off until then because he did not want to risk Harry being caught in the effect, but he soon saw that there was sense in his apprentice's suggestion.  Snape flipped the dagger upright, then spun and threw it at the boy, praying Harry's Quidditch-honed reflexes would allow him to catch the bloody thing.

The dagger soared overhead like a glittering golden comet, then slapped into Harry's gloved palm a second later. 

The Gryffindor Seeker closed his hand about the cursed artifact quickly, he had caught it left-handed, but as he grasped it, the gloves made his grip slip and the side of the dagger touched his cheek briefly.

It was a fraction of an instant, but the cursed object needed no further urging.  Harry felt a twinge of pain, as if a bee had stung him, but he barely noticed, he was too relieved that he had caught the dagger and he quickly shoved the cursed knife into his robes and transformed into Freedom. 

The red-tailed hawk shot upwards towards the ceiling, shrieking defiance at the inferi, who immediately swarmed over the spot he had been standing in.  Kree-aarr! Severus! Hit them hard, sir!

Severus bared his teeth in a triumphant grin upon hearing Freedom's battle cry.  Now we shall see who is a match for whom.  Gathering all of his remaining energy, Severus cast Firestorm.  "Incendia tempest!"

The column of fire that roared down from the heavens was like a bolt of divine justice.  It slammed into the inferi with terrific force and set the lot of them ablaze.  Their unnatural flesh smoked and shriveled, burned and blackened, and they writhed and felt death claim them at last.

Severus however, remained untouched by the maelstrom that raged about him, since he had created Firestorm to do no harm to the caster, making the caster impervious to heat, smoke, and fire, for the duration of the spell.  Flames licked about his feet, but not a stray spark ever touched his robes.

The fire ravaged the inferi like a spark in dry grass, sweeping through their ranks without mercy.  Soon the first and second rank had fallen, burnt to cinders, and the stench was awful.  Clouds of smoke drifted up, nearly obscuring the Potions Master from view. 

Freedom had to narrow his amber eyes to see his mentor through the billowing black smoke, and he was grateful that a hawk had no sense of smell.  But then his eyes fell on something else, the battered and burnt potions case that had held the last vial of Curse Dissolving potion.  The case was burnt almost to dust and the vial had cracked and the precious potion had dribbled out onto the floor, irretrievably lost.

No! Oh no! Bloody damn hell! Freedom screeched in horror.  Without the potion, how can we destroy the dagger?

Severus glanced up, saw Freedom hovering, then transformed himself into Warrior and flew up to join the smaller hawk.  Get clear of here, fledgling! This whole place is about to go up!

Unlike the time at Gaunt House, Freedom did not bother arguing, he obeyed without question.  The red-tail turned and flew hell for leather out of the inferno that had once been Wool's Orphanage. A red and brown streak emerged from the stairwell and flew straight out one of the ground windows, barely escaping a nicked wing from a jagged windowpane. 

Warrior was right on his tail, he closed his wings and squeezed through the hole in the window, opening them just in time to avoid crashing into the ground and flying about three wingbeats away before transforming into Severus. 

No sooner had the professor's boots touched the ground, Snape had his wand pointed at the orphanage and quickly chanted the cancellation of the Firestorm, knowing that all the inferii had been roasted like weevils in an oven. As the flames died, he could hear the wail of sirens in the distance and knew the Muggle law enforcement would be coming to investigate. 

"Freedom, change back and let me have the dagger!" Severus called, he did not want the ancient object in Harry's possession any longer than necessary. 

Freedom circled, strangely reluctant to obey his wizard, but then his common sense reasserted itself and he landed and shifted back.  Wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve, Harry gasped, "Sev! You all right?"

"Fine, thanks to your quick thinking.  Now let me have the dagger.  Where's the potion?"

Harry reluctantly handed over the dagger, he felt oddly possessive of the object, though he couldn't fathom why.  "Uh, Severus, I've got bad news.  The one vial I had spilled when the inferi came out and I threw myself on the ground.  Then I couldn't get to the case with the other one and the inferi surrounded me.  When you torched the place, you burned up the other vial."

Severus swore profusely, then shook his head.  "Bloody damn bad luck."

Harry hung his head, feeling like it was somehow his fault. "Sorry, sir."

"Apologies won't help," Severus snapped, feeling exhaustion settle about him like an icy mantle.  "What's done is done.  We must try and reach Hogwarts so I can make more of the potion, all my ingredients are there." He quickly swathed the dagger in a piece of cloth ripped from his cloak and stuck it deep inside his pack, resisting the whispering voice that called for him to use it.  He shoved the seductive murmur away and Occluded firmly.

He was just about to tell Harry to Occlude as well when they heard the eerie howl of a hunting wolf close by.

Harry froze, he knew all too well what that howl meant.  "They've found us again, Sev!"

"I know. Look there!" Severus pointed, and Harry saw several shadowy shapes prowling outside the iron gate. 

Their eyes shown demonic red and their misshapen bodies sent a shiver through the young Animagus.  One of them flung itself against the gate, its muzzle worrying the iron bars, howling and snarling. 

"Transform, Harry!" Severus ordered.  "We must fly fast and hard."

Harry obeyed, and within moments, two hawks were flying away from the orphanage, and the lead werewolf let out a great howl of dismay and turned to pursue the birds across Cheapside. 

Hedwig, who had been napping upon a lamppost nearby, woke at the terrible cry of the werewolf and joined the hawks as they flew by.  So they have struck our trail again, the bloody nuisances! She hooted.  Was your mission a success?

Warrior gave an affirmative screech, then concentrated on his flying, for hawks did not have an owl's night vision, and it had become dusk while they had been searching the orphanage and battling the undead. 

Instinct drove him to seek a more lighted area of the city, but Warrior refused to endanger innocents by leading werewolves in a frenzy to them, and so he turned away from the bright welcoming lights and flew towards the outskirts of the city.

Freedom matched his mentor wingbeat for wingbeat, quivering slightly every time he heard the spine chilling cry of the hunting werewolf.  He was careful to stay near Warrior and Hedwig, who showed up against the darkening sky like a white ghost.  

None of the avians spoke, each of them was too busy trying to fly as quickly as they could away from the werewolves who dogged their tail feathers.  They flew away from London proper and to the north and west, seeking a place with plenty of trees and cover so they could rest. 

Unfortunately, the commercialism of the present day era had left very little trees and such around and so they had to fly for over an hour before they came to a scrubby excuse for a wood near a tiny stream.  Both hawks were exhausted and their wings were like lead, but Hedwig declared that this was as good as a cover as they could find this close to city limits.  They could no longer hear the werewolves and supposed they had shaken the mangy beasts for now.

Once he had changed back, Harry felt his legs fold up beneath him and he would have landed hard on his bum if Severus hadn't caught him. 

"Easy there, fledgling.  Last thing you need is to get a bruised posterior on top of your other cuts and exhaustion." Severus eased Harry down to a sitting position.

"Huh? What did you say?" muttered the other, he felt half-asleep, and dizzy.

"Never mind. Rest now." Severus soothed, kneeling down and removing his potions kit from his pack.  He took out a clean cloth and began washing his apprentice's soot-blackened face and neck, which had a few small cuts from splinters on it. After anointing the cuts with some salve he gave Harry a Calming Draught mixed in some cool water in a cup.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired.  And . . .odd," Harry replied.  "Where's the dagger?" For some reason, he longed to hold the dagger again.  Take me. Use me.  And I shall make you master of all you desire.  He blinked and shook his head, he felt all muddled and weary.

"Here," Severus patted his pack.  "Don't worry, I shall hold onto it until we reach the school."

"I can carry it some of the time," protested Harry, a slight whine creeping into his voice.

Severus ignored it.  "No. It's best if you do not, young one.  The dagger is very powerful, it lives to corrupt young souls like yours.  It will have a harder time with me." Severus chuckled grimly.

"But Sev-"

"No, Mr. Potter, and that is final. Finish your water and get some sleep." Snape began, then thought better of it, and took out a slightly smushed ham and cheese sandwich and gave it to Harry. "Eat that, you need to replace the energy you burned up casting.  Then go to sleep."

Harry took the sandwich, staring at it as if it were cow dung.  "I'm not hungry."

"Eat anyway," his mentor ordered implacably. He took out another sandwich, this one was chicken with pickles and lettuce and forced himself to eat it as well.

Harry took a nibble and as soon as he had tasted the sandwich, found he was ravenous. He devoured the sandwich and the Potions Master wordlessly handed him another.

When they had eaten their fill, Severus again told Harry to sleep.

"But what about you? Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Don't worry about what I will be doing, Harry." Severus began abruptly, then halted at the crestfallen look the boy sent his way.  He is only concerned over your welfare, Severus, his conscience rebuked.  "I will sleep when I have cast a few wards and concealment charms over the dagger."

"How can you have anything left after all that battle magic?" Harry groaned.

"I did not use all of my reserves, the way you have done," answered the professor. "And I am older, my reservoir of magical energy is larger and deeper than yours right now."

"I don't get it."

"You are too tired for me to give you a lesson on how a wizard stores power, fledgling.  I shall explain tomorrow when your brain is functioning again. Now, Occlude your mind, Harry James Potter, and go to sleep."

Harry closed his eyes and began to do the meditative breathing and find his center. He was strangely distracted, thoughts of the dagger kept intruding upon his thoughts, bringing with it a sharp longing. He pushed those thoughts away and started to concentrate on breathing. 

Severus watched for a moment, then slipped the wrapped Dagger of Discord from his pack and began casting several concealment charms about it, for the dagger had a history of summoning unsavory characters to it, and Severus wanted no more battles this night.  He finished and thrust the dagger back inside his pack.

He had just enough energy left to cast warning wards about the small clearing before dragging out his bedroll and falling down upon it.  "Hedwig, please keep watch," he called to the snowy owl, who was perched overhead.

She hooted back an affirmative.

Severus curled up on his blanket, weariness hitting him with the force of a sledgehammer.  He looked over at Harry, who had finished Occluding and was now asleep upon his bedroll.  Good.  At least he is protected from the dagger's influence, the Potions Master thought just before falling asleep.

Little did he know that while Occluding kept Harry safe from any outside influences trying to get inside his mind, it could not protect the Animagus from something that was already within him.

In the dark of the night, Harry dreamed, his face oddly flushed and hot with sweat, of a hidden garden with a fountain running through it and a profusion of flowers, both the comforting English roses and lilies and petunias of his childhood, but also the more exotic tropical ones, as well as honeysuckles, impatiens, rhododendrons, and many others. 

He was sitting on a stone bench carved with cherubs, bathing his face with some cool water.  He had come a long way, but now he was safe, here in the garden amid the flowers and fruit trees. He turned and found a glass of sweet guava and coconut nectar beside him and drank thirstily.  When he had finished the glass he rose to rinse it in the fountain, he felt refreshed and pleasantly sleepy.

Suddenly, the sound of feet was heard coming down the cobbled path and Harry straightened. Had his enemies found him again? But no, for coming down the path was a small child, a girl no more than five, wearing a pretty dress of gold tissue with a small ruby tiara upon her golden curls. Her plump face was pale and drawn and her blue eyes were wet with tears. She looked like a princess from out of a fairy tale, Harry thought. A princess in distress.

"Help me, please!" she wept, huge tears falling down her face. "He's after me!"

"Who's after you?" Harry cried, drawing his wand.

"A bad man. He wants to steal me away. Will you help me?"

Her eyes gazed up at him pleadingly and he couldn't resist the desperate frightened look in them.  "Yes. I'll protect you."

"Thank you!" she burst into tears.

That did it. He could never resist kids who cried. He knelt down and said, "Hey, you're okay now.  My name's Harry, don't be afraid."

She drew closer to him, her chubby arms reaching out and twining about his neck. "Hold me, Harry.  I'm so cold. Hold me tight and don't let go. It's so cold here. And I'm afraid."

"Shh." He hugged her to him and pulled his robe about her, nestling her in its folds. "I've got you, you're safe with me."

"I know. Hug me," she entreated, and put her head trustingly upon his shoulder.

He picked her up then and brought her back to the bench and sat down, cradling her close.  "It's okay, princess. I'll protect you from the bad man. What's he look like?"

The child hiccupped. Then she whispered, "You'll see." And she smiled, a fierce possessive little smile, though Harry didn't see because she had her head against his shoulder. "So easy. So very easy," she hissed, low enough that the wizard could not hear her. And then she nestled close to Harry and her blue eyes turned a bloody crimson.

Harry did not know how long he sat there holding her, it could have been anywhere from a minute to an hour, but all of a sudden she stiffened and wailed, "He's coming! I can feel him!"

"Where?"

"There!" one tiny finger pointed and Harry saw the shadow of a tall man in a black robe appear at the edge of the path. "Save me, Harry!"

"Give the girl to me, boy," the dark sorcerer rasped, wand held menacingly before him. 

"No! What do you want her for?"

"To destroy her." The other sneered, and Harry could have sworn he had seen that sneer before.

"Go to hell!" Harry cried, and then he cast Sectumsempra.

But the dark sorcerer deflected it, and laughed mockingly. "Pitiful.  Step aside, boy, and let me have her."

"No! She is under my protection, and she belongs with me." He raised his wand to cast another spell, but then felt the ground shudder and suddenly he was falling . . .

"Harry, wake up! Drink this," Severus was shaking his shoulder, and holding out a cup of something that smelled very much like coffee.

Harry blinked and opened his eyes, then started violently, jostling Severus's arm so that the hot coffee sloshed over the cup and landed on his arm.

"Harry, for the love of Merlin!"

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Are you hurt bad?"

"I've had worse," the Potions Master sighed. Then he handed his apprentice the cup and rubbed at his arm.

"Sorry.  I just . . .was dreaming and you were in my dream . . .sort of . . .it looked kinda like you . . ." Harry shook his head, not wanting to discuss how the dream Snape had tried to kill him and a little girl. He sipped the coffee, finding it dark and rich and it gave him a jolt of energy as soon as he swallowed.

"A nightmare?"

"No.  It was just weird, about a garden and stuff . . ." Harry shrugged, ignoring the whispered voice in the back of his mind, Save me, Harry! He's a bad man.  "Not about . . .about those inferi last night."

Severus merely nodded. "I know you didn't have nearly enough sleep last night, but we must leave soon. Hedwig says Greyback has picked up our trail. Finish that all, it has a few drops of a mild Energizing Draft in it.  It will give you energy enough to fly for about two hours before we'll need to rest." He caught Harry's pointed look and said, "Before you ask, yes I have used it as well, and no, it is not like a Stimulant Draft, it will not make you addicted or depressed.  You will need to sleep after it wears off, however."

"Okay, I'll drink it," Harry said, striving to keep the annoyance from his tone. Really, must Snape hover so, and treat him like some kind of toddling baby? He was almost sixteen, by Merlin's shorts!

He blew on the contents of the cup and drank again, finishing the mug a few minutes later.

Hedwig flew into the small culvert, hooting softly.  Hurry, hawks! That Greyback is pushing his remaining wolves awfully hard and they will be upon you soon!

Severus had the mugs and cauldron packed away in a wave of his wand and then shrunk his pack and transformed.  Harry did likewise with his bedding and changed into Freedom, catching an updraft a moment later and exploding into the sky with a satisfying screech.

Only to be scolded by Warrior.  Hush, you foolish fledgling! Or do you want to tell every living thing in a fifty foot radius that there's a red-tailed hawk about?

Freedom felt slightly ashamed of his outburst, and flicked a wing at the older goshawk in an apologetic gesture before flying northwest at a rapid pace, the potion in his blood giving him energy in spades.  Damn old fart! Always on my tail for everything.  Bet I can outfly him though!

For some reason outflying the uptight goshawk made Freedom very pleased.  Nor would Warrior be able to scold him for showing off since they were supposed to be flying quickly away from the werewolves, whose low howl of anger could be heard far below.  Bloody werewolves! Why can't you just leave us alone?

They flew straight as the crow flies for about an hour, and twice Freedom thought they had lost them, but somehow the werewolves remained on their track.  Hedwig offered to play decoy again, but Warrior refused, saying that was a trick that could be played only once and he didn't want them to separate.

Freedom reveled in the newfound swiftness and energy he had acquired, using the brisk air currents to fly faster and longer than he had ever flown before.  The wind hummed and caressed him and he felt wonderful, as if he could conquer the world.

Conquer the world? Huh? I don't want to conquer the world, just live a normal life with Severus,  Freedom thought, puzzled as to why his thoughts kept straying down paths best left unexplored. 

Do you? hissed a dark voice in his subconscious.  Do you really want to live with someone who is always scolding you for everything and never lets you do anything fun?

Freedom's wingbeat's faltered as he considered, then picked up again as he replied to himself, That's not fair, we haven't had time to have a normal summer at all, hunting these bloody dark objects.  And he only scolds when I need it.

The dark voice purred, all sweet reason, Ah. And did you deserve to be sneered and mocked all those years at school? Did you deserve to feel humiliated and angry? Don't you remember what it was like?

And then he did remember, he remembered the days when he and Severus were at odds, and potions was the class he had dreaded above all, because his teacher was out to get him, and the only thing he learned there was how to scrub a cauldron till it shone and how to dice up rat spleens and write lines.  The memory made him wince, but still he tried to push it away.

That was in the past. It was over and done with and Snape had admitted he was wrong and Harry had forgiven him.  Hadn't he?

He wants to hurt you, control you. Can't you see that?

Freedom shook his head.  No, that was wrong.  Warrior only wanted to protect him.

Not so.  He wants all the fame and glory for himself. And the recognition for destroying those objects. That's why he won't let you carry the dagger. He wants it for himself, the selfish bugger.

Freedom tried to argue back, but he kept seeing Severus's face in his mind's eye as he took the dagger from him back at the orphanage, and it had been relieved and the other had been most insistent that the dagger stay with him.

He said it could corrupt me. He was only trying to protect me.

That's what he WANTS you to think.  He only cares about protecting his own skin.

Freedom quivered.  He had used to think that way about his mentor once, before he got to know him as a person during those weeks he had spent as Severus's familiar.  What if that first impression had been right? What if Snape had his own agenda and was just using him?

Like Dumbledore did.  He lied to you too.

Severus isn't like Dumbledore. 

No? He is Dumbledore's creature . . .his spy.  He knows well the art of betrayal. Do not trust him.

Freedom felt as if he was flying through a fog, all of his thoughts were muffled in cotton, they swirled and meandered through his brain like leaves in a windstorm and he could not get a grip on them.  Confused and upset, he flew silently above a large stretch of forest-they had reached the border of Wales.

Come, Freedom.  I think it is safe to rest here for a moment, perhaps hunt a bit. Hedwig called and then she and Warrior headed down into the trees. 

Freedom followed, still confused and angry at Warrior.

He soon found there was plenty of game in the forest and caught himself a fine rabbit, which he devoured happily all by himself. For some reason he kept seeing an image of himself attacking Warrior and killing him and he quickly pushed the disturbing image aside. He was tired and wanted more sleep, that was why these disturbing images were occurring.

He carefully cleaned his talons and preened his feathers, carefully removing all traces of blood from them before he rejoined his companions resting in the branch of an oak tree. Hedwig glanced over at him fondly before she tucked her head into her chest and slept. Freedom cast her an amused look before eying the big black goshawk with his absurdly snowy chest feathers. 

Warrior had his head beneath his wing, but he lifted it when Freedom returned, chirping a soft, Had a good hunt, Freedom? Or do you need me to catch you a vole?

Warrior's comment had been teasingly meant, but it rubbed Freedom the wrong way and he snapped, For your information, I caught myself a rabbit and don't need your help.  I'm not some fluff-brained sparrow!

Warrior clicked his tongue at him.  Relax, fledgling.  You're tired and out of sorts if you're taking offense at my little joke.  Sleep.

I'm not tired.

Stay awake then. But don't come whining to me that your wings ache after only flying an hour later on. Warrior said and then turned his back pointedly and went to sleep again.

I won't. I'm old enough to know when I need to sleep and when I don't.  And I'm not even the slightest bit tired.  Not at all.  The red-tail told himself firmly, yet four seconds later his amber eyes had closed and he was dreaming again.

"Potter's been crossing lines since he came to this school," sneered Snape to Dumbledore after it had been revealed that Harry's name had been placed in the Goblet of Fire. . .

"Turn out your pockets, Potter! You were seen in Hogsmeade today where the Headmaster specifically forbade you to be.  Now turn out your pockets and let me see what you have hidden there!" Severus glowered, badgering him until he showed the professor the blank parchment that was the Marauder's Map. . .

Snape's robes swished about his ankles as he walked between the rows of cauldrons, eyeing students like a vampire eyes a tasty morsel. He stopped before Harry and looked down at the small second-year, his patented sneer in place. "Potter, what do you call this?" he dipped the stirring rod into Harry's cauldron and it came out dripping with brown gunk. "I seem to remember assigning you a Calming Draught, not swamp sludge. Did you even read the instructions, Potter, or did you just have the brilliant idea to toss everything in, stir it up, and hope for a miracle?"

"N-No, sir. I don't know what happened, sir-"

"Fortunately, I do.  Your swelled head got in the way of learning proper method and instructions and now you've lost 15 points from Gryffindor. Evanesco!"

He banished the contents of Harry's cauldron and moved on, leaving Harry glaring furiously at him. Greasy bat! The only things in your head are potion ingredients and insults.

Freedom twitched and shivered in his sleep, not liking the memories he was forced to relive, but his mind kept dredging them up until finally he woke, still cranky and out of sorts.  Sulkily, he flew off the branch and back into the open sky, ignoring Hedwig's question of how he was feeling.  He felt like bat guano, but refused to discuss anything with either of his companions, it wasn't like they could help him anyway. 

* * * * *  *

Below, the five remaining weres in Greyback's pack sniffed the air for any lingering scent of hawk, but were stymied for the moment by a cool breeze blowing from the south, which blew the scent away from their large nostrils.  They were crouched beside  the oak tree the three avians had rested in not an hour past, prowling and scratching furrows in the damp earth with their claws.

"Grrrr!" Greyback snarled, showing huge crooked canines and he reached up and left deep claws marks in the ancient tree in frustration. "How could you lose the scent after all this time, Mayhem?" He glared at a slightly smaller werewolf who had dark fur that stuck up in tufts all over him, but he was the best tracker in the pack, his nose was so sensitive he could track prey through the air.

"I . . .dunno, sir." Mayhem sniffed long and hard, there was something in the air that reminded him of . . .burnt steel, a sharp tang that made him drool upon smelling it. 

"Anything?"

"Well . . .there is something . . .but it doesn't smell like hawk."

"Then quit smelling it!" Greyback whirled and nipped Mayhem hard on the ear, drawing blood.

"Owww!" the younger were yelped, cringing and showing his throat briefly in submission.

"Ah, quit your ki-yii-ing, you big baby. That didn't hurt.  Lucius ain't paying me to lose the trail now." Greyback pointed out mercilessly, sneering as Mayhem whimpered and tried to stem the blood dripping from one ear with a cloth one of his other pack members handed him.  Lucius had been livid when Greyback had used the Portkey to return from Transylvania without either wizard or the Horcrux, and had threatened to cast the Cruiciatus Curse upon him if he didn't move his arse and fetch the two rogues back immediately. Greyback felt the tips of his ears burn as he recalled the way the aristocratic wizard had treated him.  "The Master never tolerated failure in his subordinates and neither will I. Now find them or find out just what it feels like to have your guts twisted inside out. Understood?"

Then he had given the werewolf a glare from that magicked orb of his and Greyback found himself showing his throat and agreeing to whatever the sly bastard said.  He was still smarting from Malfoy's highhandedness.  Even Voldemort had never treated Greyback like a hired dog. The Dark Lord had respected the master werewolf as a wizard should. Greyback bristled and imagined that one day he would get the arrogant lord of Malfoy Manor alone and he would teach the bugger the real meaning of pain while he ate Malfoy's liver when the man was still breathing.

The bastard's wild hawk hunt cost me half my pack, thanks to those damned wolfen. Ah, guess I can always find more children to bite and bring into the fold.  Have to find some older ones though, so they can keep up with the rest of us. Greyback licked the blood from his lips then turned and looked at Mayhem.

Mayhem sniffled, then gave a low howl of victory. "Sir, I found it! I found it!" he yipped.  Actually, the hawk scent was overridden by the odd metallic taint, but Mayhem did not say so. He had a feeling that by following that scent they would find their quarry.

The strange odor burning in the back of his throat, Mayhem sprinted off through the trees, his unnaturally long legs making quick work of the miles of terrain ahead of them.

"Bloodfang, Destruction, Doom, and Plague, fall in!" Greyback barked and the rest of the pack obeyed. 

They did not worry about being seen, because they could run so quickly that they were mere blurs and any Muggle who did catch a glimpse of them wouldn't be able to tell what he was looking at. Muggles were like sheep, they never noticed anything unless it was right under their nose.

Greyback ran with his tongue slightly hanging out, tasting the breeze.  He wished that bloody Snape was not an Animagus with wings, that way he could taste the terror and fearscent when he closed with him, the fearscent intoxicated the big werewolf almost as much as fresh blood. It was too bad that Lucius had forbade him to harm Snape or the Potter brat, for he would have loved hearing Snape scream when he ate him, one tiny bite at a time, saving the heart for last. Or better still, making the bloody traitor watch while he ate Potter first, just thinking about it caused the werewolf to salivate, and flecks of foam flew off and struck a tree as Greyback raced past.

* * * * * *

  "A wizard is born with a certain capacity to use and store magic," Severus explained as they rested briefly at mid-afternoon, they were nearly to Yorkshire now and thus far heard no sound of pursuit.  As promised, he was telling Harry about how he could cast battle magic and other magic without totally exhausting himself. "Dumbledore really ought to have a class in Magical Theory at school, you should have learned this as part of your magical studies long before." Severus rolled his eyes and sighed. "However, the old coot is a traditionalist, and would keep to the same classes offered in his time, no matter that in his time, young wizards had the benefit of magical tutors before they went to school to explain all of this, except for the Muggleborns, of course, who had to struggle through on their own, poor sods, until they received a mentor. However, I digress." Shaking his head, the Professor returned to his original topic.  "Generally speaking, the stronger you are magically, the greater reserve you have within you, it's usually proportionate to your magical strength.  However, there have been a few cases of wizards having much greater reserves than power, and these wizards could often give another wizard the power they had stored, through a mental link. They were once known as Conduits, and often served the great wizards when they undertook a major working."

"Willingly? Or were they slaves?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Most were willing, back then it was considered an honor to work with a great mage, such as Merlin or Godric Gryffindor or Lady Rowena Ravenclaw. A few, however, were made "permanent servants" as they called it, and served their master wizard or witch their whole life. It is rumored that Conduits helped shape Hogwarts and the wards about the grounds never could have been made to last so long without Conduits assisting their mage masters."

"Really?" In spite of his lassitude, Harry was starting to grow interested in this topic.  "I never read that in Hogwarts: A History."

"Humph! I am surprised you even read it at all.  Or did you simply listen while Miss Granger read the important bits to you?" Severus asked knowingly, and Harry reddened, caught out.

"Okay, I only skimmed it, but Hermione never mentioned anything about Conduits or whatever."

"That book does not contain all there is to know about the castle, Harry. The one who authored it and those who added to it later on probably felt no need to mention the role of the Conduits, since those who helped build the castle were long dead and looked upon as useful tools by most purebloods, not people."  

"But that's just . . .wrong. You mean to tell me that wizards died to make Hogwarts safe from dark magic and they aren't even listed as a footnote?"

"Yes. Have you never heard the saying-the victory writes the history? It was true then as it is now.  There is much in our world that has been hidden, buried away beneath lies and half-truths.  The more you study, Harry, the more you will find that to be true."

"How did you find out about Conduits then?"

"I read a few books on the nature of magic in the Restricted Section and talked to Argus Filch."

"Filch? But he's a Squib. What does he know about magic?"

"He may not be able to use the gift, but he knows more about theory than over half the students who have ever attended Hogwarts, including you, Mr. Potter," Snape rebuked. "Argus is the last Conduit now living at Hogwarts, a fact known only to myself and the Headmaster."

Harry gaped. "Is that why he never leaves the school?"

"Yes. He signed a contract with old Headmaster Dippet that he would remain at the school as steward and serve as Conduit to the Headmaster of the castle for as long as he lived.  And so he has, to this day. In return he is given room and board and a stipend, he can venture as far as Hogsmeade, but no further, and the Headmaster protects him from those who are prejudiced against Squibs."

"But . . .that's just . . .he's stuck there forever . . .No wonder he's such an old crab.  How could he agree to that?"

"We all do what we must, Harry, to survive. Our world is not kind to Squibs and Conduits." Severus said shortly.  "Argus figured he had to make the best of what he had, and better a place to sleep and eat and a roof over his head than living hand to mouth on the street in Diagon Alley. He chose it, Harry, he was not forced."

"Could he ever be freed?"

"Perhaps, were a new Headmaster to take over and agree to release him from his contract." Severus alluded.  "In any case, as a wizard grows older, his capacity to store magic increases in proportion to his magical ability, and so I am able to store a great deal of magic in my personal reserves, more than you are, since you are only an apprentice.  Think of your magical reserves as a kind of . . .car battery, to use a Muggle term. When you are young, you only fill the battery halfway, but as you grow older and more skilled, you can fill the battery to the fullest and tap into it as needed. But be warned, should you ever exhaust your reserves, you will be weak and ill and unable to cast spells until you recover.  But that only happens when you use magic beyond your capabilities or are in a life-threatening situation. Casting spells appropriate for your level of knowledge and power will never even touch your reserves.  Do you understand now why you were so exhausted and I was not quite as bad last night?"

Harry nodded, satisfied with the explanation, but a tiny part of him whined that it was unfair that his mentor was stronger than he was. 

You can be the master.  I can make it so, whispered that tiny voice, and harry felt a quiver run through him and he glared daggers at Severus when the older man's back was turned, resentment and jealousy surging up from some dark place deep within.  Good, because I won't ever be a slave.

Severus turned back around to suggest that they continue on, they had rested for a good hour, when once again the chilling cry of a werewolf on their track drifted through the trees and echoed off the hills.

"Damn it to hell!" Harry exploded. "How do they keep finding us? I thought you warded the dagger!"

Severus scowled, resenting being taken to task like a schoolboy by his own apprentice.  "Mind your tone, Mr. Potter.  I do not know how they keep finding our trail, but the point is moot. I cannot spend the energy right now to increase the wards, since I need to be able to fly without breaking my wings." Then he blurred into Warrior and launched himself skyward.

If he'd let me carry the dagger, I could ward it better, Freedom thought angrily.  But no, he treats me like a sodding baby or an idiot.  His need to hold the dagger was growing with every passing minute, until he felt like stooping down on Warrior and tearing his feathers out until he agreed to let him hold it. 

An instant later, he was horrified, and a part of him, the part that was still Harry Potter, was babbling, What the hell is wrong with me? I don't want to hurt Warrior. Why do I feel so . . .disconnected . . .so angry . . .everything's in a mist . . .

But his weak protest was drowned out by the surge of anger and resentment and somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a little child laughing Fooled you, he fooled you, can't ever trust a wizard, never ever.

Freedom flew harder, pushing himself till his wing muscles burned and ached with fatigue, unsure if he was trying to outfly the werewolves on the ground or the voice within that encouraged him to hate and fear his mentor.      

The werewolves pursued them relentlessly, seemingly able to run without ever growing tired, and the grueling pace was beginning to tell upon all of them, even the veteran post owl.  Warrior could tell the stress of the chase was wearing on the young red-tail, for Freedom was flying erratically and yet when the older raptors offered to let him rest upon their wings for a brief time, he irritably snapped that he could manage on his own and rebuffed them. 

Warrior was tempted to give him a nip for his insolence, but restrained himself, recalling how touchy he had been at that age, and how anxious he was to be seen as capable of fending for himself.  Adolescents are so touchy at that age, and he's under more pressure than any adolescent I know.  Still, when this is finished, I shall make it clear to him that at home, that kind of attitude will not be tolerated. The goshawk gazed down and saw, to his dismay, five werewolves leaping through the tall moor grass.  You will be hunted on all sides, until the end is nigh . . . a fragment of Trelawney's prophecy floated through his head and he huffed and forced his wings to beat faster.  Of all the times for the Seer to be right, why did it have to be now?

It wasn’t until almost midnight that the hawks and owl managed to shake off the werewolves. Twice Freedom and Warrior had attacked the one werewolf that was leading the hunt, leaving vicious talon scores on the wolf’s shoulders and head, but nothing the beast wouldn’t recover from. A werewolf’s hide was magically tough and very hard to penetrate, even with a hawk’s talons. But they could not spare the effort it took to attack the werewolf repeatedly, they were outnumbered and weary from flying and the most important thing right now was to evade pursuit and reach Hogwarts. So they contented themselves with brief sorties and harassment, and saved the bulk of their energy to fly.

Severus was almost certain that the dagger’s influence was the reason the werewolves kept finding them. But he needed to find a safe place to rest before casting any kind of strong concealment ward over the blade. Such things were delicate and took much time, especially trying to veil an object that was so ancient and strong in dark magic. It would require all of his skill as a master spy.

Finally, they reached a lonely heath very close to the border between Northern England and Scotland, very few settlements were there, it was mostly kept wild as part of an act of conservation by the British Parliament. The hawks discovered an ancient cairn of stones and decide to camp near it, though not too near, even though Snape was sure the place was not haunted.

Hedwig volunteered to play cat and owl with the werewolves, keeping them busy long enough for Severus to veil the dagger more tightly. The Potions Master thanked the snowy avian and then made camp. “Eat something and then rest, Harry.” He told his exhausted apprentice, who had been sullen and uncommunicative all day. “And don’t forget to Occlude your mind. Would you also set up wards as well? This veil and masking might well take me all night.”

Harry fixed them some soup and sandwiches, blessing the foresight of Twixie in giving them food and drink that could be prepared easily, almost without thought, and yet was nutritious, filling, and tasted good. Although, Harry hadn’t had much of an appetite lately, he put it down to the stress of the flight and lack of sleep, he always got that way when he was stressed.

After eating, Harry went to set the wards about the camp, grumbling a bit because he was out of practice and tired. He glanced over at where his mentor was sitting cross-legged on the ground near the small fire, the Dagger of Discord resting wrapped in cloth on his knees. Severus was muttering spells and making passes with his wand, and magic was drifting over the blade in small whorls and sparks, like diamond dust glittering in the darkness.

Harry felt his gut clench in longing as he saw the dagger. I wish it were mine. It wants me. It needs me.

A terrible need pulsed through him then, and for one awful instant he was tempted to dash across the clearing, snatch up the dagger, and fly away with it. He stared at Severus with a mixture of awe and hate on his features. A moment later he blinked and rubbed his eyes, unsure what had just happened.

Must have zoned out for a moment. Ah well, it happens and I’m almost too tired to walk straight. He waved his wand one more time and then felt the last ward snap into place. Done. Now I can rest. Right then his bedroll on the hard ground was looking like Nirvana.

He closed his eyes and tried to find his center, but for some reason tonight the peace of meditation eluded him and he gave up after a few moments, watched his mentor through bleary eyes for a brief time, and then put his head down and slept.

* * * * * *

Once again, Harry was in the beautiful garden, listening to the fountain splashing and whispering its sweet song as he sat on the stone bench. The air was redolent with the scent of tropical blossoms, the heady perfume made him cough and when he breathed it in, he felt slightly dizzy and muddleheaded. But the blossoms were so sweet that he really didn’t mind. He leaned back against the bench, the stone back felt as comfortable as the soft leather couch back in Gryffindor Tower. This time he could hear the distant sound of birds twittering, though he felt too lazy to try and understand what they were saying. He dozed briefly in the sun, content and happy.

“Harry! Harry!”

He jerked awake to see the little princess come running towards him, her little ruby tiara askew, her cloth of gold dress a bit muddy about the hem, but her eyes were as bright and her smile as sweet as ever. She catapulted into his arms without hesitation. “Did you miss me?”

“Lots,” he replied, and discovered that it was so. Holding her made him feel . . .complete, as if he had an itch and had scratched it. “How are you today?”

She made a face. “Not good. I feel all smothered. I hate this dress,” she gestured to her gown. “And these shoes. They’re too tight.” She kicked one small foot against the bench, it had a tiny golden shoe on it. “Help me take ‘em off.”

Harry hesitated, something told him that wouldn’t be such a bright idea. “Uh . . .maybe you’d better keep them on. Your parents won’t like you walking without shoes.”

“Who cares? It’s just my garden. Please, Harry? Please?”

Her eyes gazed entreatingly into his and he felt himself melting, unable to resist the beautiful child. “Okay.”

He bent and tugged off first one shoe and the other.

“Thanks!”

An odd cold wind began to blow through the garden. Harry frowned. “Looks like a storm is coming.”

The princess shrugged. “Looks like.” She clung to Harry, looking down the path and her smile was one of triumphant wickedness.

* * * * * *

In his sleep, Harry stirred and rose, his eyes were open, but he was not awake. His consciousness had been subverted by an ancient evil and he was almost wholly under the influence of the Dagger of Discord. The dagger was wrapped in spelled cloth, Severus had just finished enchanting the cloth so it would hide the ancient blade and had fallen asleep right after. It rested in the bottom of the Potions Master’s pack.

It was furious at being bound and it sought to free itself from the smothering veils the professor had cast, using the most readily available tool it had to hand, the apprentice it had seduced in dreams the previous night. It sent out its tendrils again, weaving its way into the boy’s subconscious, subtly encouraging the boy to rebel and deceive his mentor.

Harry walked, silent as a shadow, across the camp and knelt beside the slumbering Severus. Almost unconsciously, he opened Severus’s back and rummaged through it, searching frantically for the dagger. Once he had found it, he clasped to him, hugging it tightly. At last. You are mine! He began to unwrap it, freeing it from the magically binding cloth that held it.

The wards about the dagger did not react to him because he was not a dark practitioner, which was what Severus had set them for. Bewitched though he was, still his aura was not stained with blood and death, and so the wards permitted him to take the dagger and unwind the cloth.

* * * * * *

“What have you done, you idiot boy?” thundered the man in black, his robes swirling menacingly about his ankles.

The princess shrank into Harry’s chest, shaking. “Don’t let him take me, Harry! I want to stay with you. I belong with you. Only with you.”

“Shhh, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Keep her safe?” sneered the dark sorcerer. “You have no notion what you’re dealing with. That’s what she wants. You clasp a viper to your breast, boy.”

“Shut up! I won’t let you hurt her! Now get out!”

The black sorcerer laughed mirthlessly. “Not until I have done what I was sent to do. The . . .girl dies or you do. Make your choice.” His wand was pointed directly at Harry’s heart.

There was something that nagged Harry about the other man. Where had he seen that face, heard that voice, before? It was awfully familiar.

The princess began to wail. “I don’t wanna die! Help me, Harry! Don’t let him kill me like he killed your mother.”

“My mother?” Harry repeated in confusion.

“Yes, he killed her!” the princess cried. “He promised to protect her and then he betrayed her to his dark master. She died trying to save you, but for him that would never have been necessary.”

“You lie!”

“Do I?” the princess asked innocently. “Harry, who do you believe, that dark twisted man or me?”

Again, Harry hesitated. A part of him wanted very much to trust the little child, the innocent one he had vowed to protect, and yet another part was urging him to trust the black sorcerer.

But the child’s accusing words echoed in his head.

He killed your mother!

The mother he barely remembered, who he had always longed for.

He felt his eyes blur with tears.

A little hand came up and patted his face.

“Poor Harry!” the princess crooned. “Don’t be sad. You’ll always have me. Never let me go.”

“Stop! Don’t you see what she’s doing to you?” cried the dark wizard.

“She told me the truth! You’re a traitor. You killed my mother.”

“Listen to me—”

But then the princess started crying, and her loud wails drowned out the rest of the wizard’s words.

“He wants to kill me, Harry. You have to stop him.”

“How?”

“By killing him first,” answered the princess, still wiping tears from her eyes.

“Kill? I was just going to . . .err . . .drive him off.”

“No, that won’t work. I’m sorry, but you have to kill him. Only then will I be free.” She gazed up at him and once again he became ensnared. “Set me free, Harry. Kill him, the wicked old bat, and set me free.”

Harry gulped, but he found he could not help but obey. He set the princess on the ground next to him and drew his wand.

* * * * * *

Back in the real world, the wrappings fell away from the Dagger of Discord and Harry clasped it in his hands. As soon as his fingers closed about the hilt, the magic in the ruby flared, covering his hands and the blade with a deep red glow, like that of old blood.

At last! You have come! Child of prophecy, you belong to me! the Dagger sang, its voice the high wild tone of the mad and damned. Take me. Use me. I hunger. I need blood to sate my appetite.

Slowly, Harry stood and holding the dagger in one hand, turned to the sleeping Potions Master. Still unseeing, he walked silently to Severus, who was sleeping on his back, relaxed and unaware of the mortal peril that hovered over him.

Give me blood! Sweet, hot, and filled with magic! Ah, yes! I am parched and wasted. Strike, boy! He is the enemy, he wishes you harm and wishes to keep me for himself, the dagger purred.

Harry shook his head. “No! You belong to me.”

Just so, there was immense satisfaction in the dagger’s tone. Now . . .kill him and learn the meaning of true power, Harry James Potter. Do it! KILL HIM!

The command sent Harry lunging forward, the dagger gripped so tightly in his hand it might have been welded there, as the will of the ancient evil artifact possessed him utterly.

He lifted his arm, the dagger aimed directly at the rising and falling chest of his mentor.

Severus stirred, some instinct calling for him to wake. He opened his eyes.

Saw Harry standing over him, opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, and then there came a flash of gold as Harry, his face a mask of hate and rage, drove the dagger into his chest.

The agony in his chest was so great that Severus feared he was finished, but by some miracle, Harry had not struck a fatal blow, or at least not one that would kill instantly. Harry pulled the dagger out, his eyes glowing a hideous red in the moonlight, the golden dagger glowing with Snape’s lifeblood and magic, and the only words Severus could form before fainting from the pain were, “Harry . . .why?”

An instant later he passed out, and Harry was left staring at the dagger and watching the Potions Master bleeding all over his bedroll. The apprentice blinked, staring down at the blood welling over his mentor’s chest and back to the dagger in his hand. Blood on my hands. So much blood. Too much.

Severus’s eyes haunted him, as did the words he had spoken moments ago.

Harry, why?

The blood ran down the dagger and over his hands and suddenly Harry shuddered, waking fully from the dream that had possessed him.

He cried out in horror at the sight that met his eyes. “Severus! No! Oh NO!”

He was stunned, his mind spinning in confused circles, like a rabbit in a snare, around and around. The dagger seared his hand and he gasped, but could not make himself release it. Inside his head, he heard the accursed thing laughing, celebrating the fact that it had killed the dark sorcerer that had bound it. What once was light is now dark! What once was bound is now free! All thanks to you, little wizard! My pretty little boy, how I do love thee!

The words were like a silken caress, but they carried thorns within them, and Harry was sickened to his soul by what he had done. “No . . .no . . .no . . .” he moaned, whimpering and shaking like a palsy-ridden elder, tears welling in his eyes. “Oh Merlin help me!”

Harry, what has happened? You sound distressed. Hedwig called, returning from her late night mission on soft wings. The snowy owl took in the horrifying scene below her and let out a sharp shriek of anger mingled with terror at the sight of her wizard holding the bloody dagger before him, while at his feet lay the dying Severus.

No! What HAVE you done, Harry James Potter! the owl screeched. Then she dove upon the stunned wizard, her talons closing hard upon Harry’s hand, biting deep, forcing him to drop the Dagger of Discord.

Harry yelled, for his hand was now marred by four deep talon scores, they bled sluggishly, but the dagger was now lying upon the dirt and he could at last separate reality from the dreamscape the dagger had created in his mind. “Hedwig, I . . .I didn’t mean to! Honest . . . I didn’t!” he began to sob.

The owl flew up and boxed him hard across the face with a wing. Stupid boy, this is no time for tears! DO something to fix what you’ve done, by Athena’s Grace! He’ll die else!

“But . . .what about . . .the dagger? I can still hear it!” Harry rubbed his cheek, it stung like blazes.

Leave the dagger to me, Harry! I shall take care of it. Now see to Severus! Hurry! She gave him a sharp nip on the ear then flew down and grabbed a corner of the spelled wrapping and dropped it over the glittering blade, which was unmarred, having absorbed the blood into itself. But it still hungered for more. Harry, take me up. Wield me. I shall make you master of the world, a wizard more powerful than even Dumbledore.

Harry gritted his teeth, for ignoring the sweet voice was like having his teeth ripped out by the roots. Severus. Got to help Severus. Blood all over, what spell stops the bleeding? He tried to recall Severus’s lessons in anatomy, and the spells he had taught him that healed while in Sylvanor. Gulping back nausea, he picked up his wand and chanted a Blood Halting Charm.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the blood stopped pumping from Severus’s shoulder. The Potions Master was waxen, he had lost a tremendous amount of blood, but he still breathed. Harry gathered some cloths from Snape’s potions case and pressed them to the awful wound, which was puckered and red about the edges. He intoned a Sticking Charm, then rummaged inside the case for a Blood Replenisher.

Cradling the Potion Master’s head in his lap, he began to try to get Severus to swallow the potion, biting his lip hard to keep from screaming. “Don’t die, Sev! I’m sorry . . .so very sorry . . .!” he said, the words a litany of self-recrimination that seared him to his very core. He had nearly killed his mentor, and if Severus died, then he would be a murderer.

He didn’t even notice that Hedwig had managed to clasp the Dagger of Discord in her talons and flown off towards the stone cairn with it. His head was pounding and he could barely breathe, the guilt lodged in his breastbone was smothering him, as were the tears that seemed to flow endlessly down his face.

But his hands were steady as he coaxed the potion, a sip at a time, down Severus’s throat. Sniffling, he stroked the man’s throat so he could swallow without choking, recalling the silky voice instructing him in how to treat a comatose patient weeks ago. At last the vial was empty and Harry just crouched there, his green eyes wide, looking at the man he had nearly killed, and the empty vial in his bloodstained fingers.

He could see the flutter of Snape’s chest, which was still smeared with caked blood, and suddenly his gorge rose and he bolted a few feet away to heave violently into the grass. It’s normal to be sick the first time you’ve taken a life. I’ll be there to hold your head if you need it. Harry gasped, choked, and threw up again. No, you won’t. Because I’ve nearly killed you. God, oh, God. Severus . . .what have I done? How could I have listened to the dagger? How?

He tried to remember what had prompted him to use the dagger but all he could remember was some image of a garden, and a fountain, and a little girl whom he had promised to protect and all of that was twisted up with hating Severus for being such a greasy-haired long-nosed git who constantly berated him in potions and mocked him and who . . .Stop it! Just stop it! He’s not like that anymore, you know he isn’t, he’s your mentor . . .more like a father really and look what you’ve gone and done to him. Take a good long look, Potter!

He forced himself to look at the tall wizard, who was still gasping and pale as death upon the ground and felt sick again. Had the dagger punctured a lung? Was that why Snape was breathing so shallowly?

He was in pain, Harry thought dully. Well, of course he is! How would you think he’d feel after getting a dagger stuck through his chest? He sneered at himself. Maybe he should give Severus a Pain Reliever? Yes, that would make him feel better. Harry almost burst into hysterical laughter at that thought. Not ten minutes ago he had attacked and nearly killed his teacher and now here he was worrying about making the professor feel better. What horrible irony!

He moved to get the potion from the potions case and only then felt the pain from his own injured hand. He glanced at it and saw four deep parallel scratches down the back of his hand, almost touching his wrist. Hedwig. Hedwig had done that to him when she had returned and found him standing over Severus like the suspect in a murder mystery. Only there was no mystery about who had nearly murdered Severus Snape.

Harry saw again the blood and the dagger and felt the strange triumphant delight when he had attacked Severus. He found himself retching again, but his stomach had nothing left in it to expel. Evil. Severus was never evil. It was always me. Something within me, like in Voldemort. I listened to the dagger and I betrayed him.

He spat into the grass, then fumbled with the vials in the case, locating the ones labeled Antibacterial Elixir and Pain Reliever. He found a soft cloth and took it over to where Severus lay, twitching and groaning. Gritting his teeth, Harry canceled the Sticking Charm and cleaned the awful wound with the purple Antibacterial Elixir. He was grateful Severus was not awake to feel its sting. Then he re-Stuck the bandages back into place and tried to get the Pain Reliever down Severus.

But the Potions Master could barely swallow and most of the potion dribbled out between his teeth. “Come on, Sev. Take this. Please.”

What are you doing to him? Hedwig hooted sternly, landing upon a branch right above their head.

He jerked up, startled. “Hedwig! I . . .I’m just trying to give him a Pain Reliever.”

The snowy owl regarded him suspiciously. How do I know you aren’t still under the influence of the dagger, Harry? Move away from him.

“Hedwig, I’m not . . .I swear . . .”

I cannot take the chance. Now move away. Don’t force me to hurt you again.

Miserable, but understanding Hedwig’s reasoning, Harry drew away, recapping the vial of Pain Reliever and shoving it inside the case. He scowled at his hand, then took a cloth and dumped the remainder of the purple potion on it and began to swab out the cuts on his hand.

The potion burned like fury, but Harry welcomed the awful stinging. He deserved to be in pain, as Severus was in pain. He had caused this mess, after all. Finding another cloth inside the case, he wrapped it about his hand.

Then he huddled down under the tree and shivered. “Where’s the dagger? You didn’t leave it just any old place, did you?”

No. It is hidden and I shall not tell you where. How is he?

“Not good. He’s still alive, but I don’t know how to heal this kind of wound. I wish Meadowsweet were here. Or Madam Pomfrey. What can I do, Hedwig?”

Be still and don’t listen to any more daggers, the owl snapped. I want your word that you shall sit here and not move until I return. I shall try and find help, though this place is so remote, there might not be any wizards about that can help. Still, I must try. Have I your word?

“Yes. I promise, upon my wizard’s honor and magic.” Harry agreed, his voice thick with unshed tears. He clasped his arms about his knees and put his chin on them, his green eyes bleak and filled with loathing. He watched Severus, counting the rise and fall of the man’s chest. One. Two. Three. Four. Breathe, Sev. Like in meditation. I didn’t Occlude my mind like you said, I was tired, I forgot, and that . . .thing got inside my head and took me over. Possession, I think it’s called.

He shuddered again, watching as Hedwig took wing and sailed off into the darkness.

The circle of light cast by the fire was barely enough to illuminate the campsite, and shadows crept over the edge to where Harry was sitting. The wind rustled the grass and the trees and he shivered uncontrollably. An ill wind that blows no good. Like me. Shadows and misery wrapped about him like a winding sheet, holding him fast, as all his old fear of the dark returned. But he did not move closer to the fire. He deserved to dwell in darkness, for he had destroyed the best thing in his life. A choked whimper emerged from him and he ground the heel of his hand into his eyes. But his eyes were dry. What he had done . . .it was too deep for tears. He recalled telling Meadowsweet that Severus was the light in the darkness that had shown him the way. What will you do now, if the light has gone out? Who will you run to then? Who will hear you crying, alone in the dark, if not Severus?

He knew the answer. No one. Only Severus had ever heard the mute unspoken plea. And if he were gone . . .I shall let the darkness take me. What’s the use of fighting any longer?

He shut his eyes and saw the little girl again, the child he had thought needed his protection but instead had used him. Hug me, Harry. Hold me tight and never let me go. Kill the bad man for me, Harry.

He jerked awake, sweat pouring down his face. No! I won’t listen to you! You made me try and kill Severus!

Did I? I am just a tool. Your hand wielded me, Harry. You wanted to kill your mentor, admit it. You wanted him dead so you could be free of him—free of his tiresome rules and restrictions, free to do what you wanted for a change. Admit it.

Harry shook his head, trying to banish the seductive heartless voice from his mind and heart. No! I never wanted that! Not really . . .Get out of my head! Get out!

Terrified, he slammed his head back against the tree. Maybe he could drive the damn dagger’s voice out of his head that way. Crack!

He saw stars and tears filled his eyes.

Beyond him, Severus thrashed and moaned, in the grip of a high fever brought on by shock and the curse the dagger carried.

And Harry could do nothing save watch. His heart felt as if it were about to burst, but he remained where he was, respecting his oath, weeping bitter tears in the darkness.

Harry . . .why?

Severus’s last words echoed unendingly in his head and he whispered to the night and the moon and the dying man, “Forgive me, Sev.”

Then he threw back his head and screamed silently SEVERUS, PLEASE! DON’T DIE! PLEASE!

His mental cry of anguish did not go unheard.

A few moments later, Harry heard a rustle and a snap of a twig and he tensed. Had the werewolves found them again? If so, Harry did not care. Let them come and tear him apart, for if Severus died he would be no better than they and he could not bear it. He bowed his head, waiting for the snarl and snap of fangs upon his neck, claws at his throat.

The grass rustled again and something moved out from the darkness and into the light of the dying fire.

Harry did not look up.

Then a voice spoke, but it was not Greyback’s deep growl.

“Harry? Professor Snape? Is that you?”

Harry froze, then slowly dragged his gaze upward to meet the startled hazel eyes of Jace Witherspoon.

"Jace? What the hell are you doing here?" Harry sputtered, astonished at seeing the young Slytherin he had taught potions to and played a prank of epic proportions on the insufferable Malfoy with. 

"I could hear you calling from all the way over at my place, about ten miles from here. And so could my dad and our neighbor, Tristan Cantrell." Jace explained. "We're all readers, see, and you were, uh, kind of yelling really loud, Harry."

"Sorry." Harry blushed, embarrassed. "But Professor Snape is hurt bad and I need help and-"

Before he could finish there came the awful strident howl of a hunting werewolf.

"Ahh . . .damn it to hell!" he exploded. "They've found us again, the bloody menaces!"

Jace looked alarmed.  "Who has? Those sound like . . .werewolves."

His outline seemed to waver for a moment.

"They are. They-LOOK OUT!" he screamed.

A werewolf sprang out of the shadows, teeth bared and claws gleaming, right at the smaller wizard.

Harry went to hex the creature, but then saw that it went right through Jace and landed on the ground in front of Harry.

"Huh? How did-?"

He felt something tap him lightly on the shoulder. "Shhh! It's a mind trick, making him see what isn't there."

Harry watched in amazement as the confused werewolf went in circles, whining and snarling and biting at the air.  He glanced down at the spot where he thought Jace was and hissed, "Are you invisible?"

"Nope.  Just using my talent to make you not see me," Jace informed him.

Now they could hear the high-pitched growls and snarls of the rest of the wolf pack as they attempted to locate Severus and Harry. It was unnerving, hearing them so close, yet not seeing them, because they couldn't see or smell them. Harry felt like he was surrounded by a legion of ghosts.

The single werewolf abruptly threw up his head and howled, then raced off into the darkness as abruptly as it had come.

"Jace, what just happened?"

"I sent it off on a wild phantom chase," the other chuckled.  "It thinks it's chasing you across the moor."

"So how did you find me again? By following my . . .um . . .thoughts?"

"That and your owl, Harry.  She found us picking some nightblooming jasmine in our garden, my mother and I, and she told us Professor Snape was in trouble and so were you and we ought to come immediately."

"You can understand birds?"

"No, but my mother can. She's an Animagus too. Her form is a kestrel."

Beyond the circle of the firelight, the howls, yips, and snarls of the werewolves crescendoed, then faded as the werewolves were led away from their true quarry.

"Can you help Severus? I mean, Professor Snape?"

"We'll certainly do our best, lad," said a tall man that looked like an older replica of his son, down to the inquiring hazel eyes. He was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with sleeves that billowed out and were gathered at the wrist, rather like a pirate's. Black breeches and long boots completed the outfit, he wore a silver chain about his neck with a large red jasper pendant shaped like a teardrop upon it. 

"That's my dad, Jace Witherspoon II," Jace announced, suddenly appearing.

"Just call me Jasper. Everyone does. And you must be Harry Potter.  Pleased to meet you," Jasper introduced himself and  shook Harry's hand before asking, "What's wrong with your teacher, lad?"

Suddenly another man, this one was stockier with dark hair cut close about his ears, broad-shouldered, and dressed in casual jeans, work boots and a plaid hunter's shirt, popped into view. "Those mangy sons of Set won't be returning here anytime soon. By the time they realize what they're chasing isn't real, they'll be halfway to Lancashire."

"And that's Tristan."

Harry noticed that Tristan had penetrating blue eyes and wasn't using a wand either. Another reader then.  "Sev was hit by a cursed dagger and I don't know what else to do for him, sir," he told the elder Witherspoon.  "I think . . .he's dying." He felt himself choke up.

"Not Professor Snape!" cried Jace in dismay.

 Jasper knelt and put his hand to Snape's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak, but there.  Harry was right though. The professor needed immediate medical attention. 

Hedwig flew overhead, hooting in alarm.  Harry, you must leave immediately! I saw Death Eaters coming.

"We've got to get out of here!" Harry cried.  "My owl says she saw Death Eaters heading this way."

"Calm down, lad," soothed Tristan.  "I can misdirect them while Jasper there stabilizes your teacher. If we attempt Apparition with him so badly hurt, he could die.  Apparition ain't easy on the body, y'know, ‘specially when you're hurt bad. Drains a lot of your reserves."

"Oh.  What about Sidelong Apparition?"

"Mostly the same." Tristan closed his eyes and lowered his head.  "Three of ‘em. Nasty buggers.  Why don't you go play in traffic, boys?" A few minutes later he opened his eyes.  "That takes care of them." He sounded very pleased. 

"That's . . .incredible," Harry murmured.

Tristan shrugged.  "Reader trick. Even young Jace here can do it."

Harry looked back at where Jasper knelt, making a few more passes with his wand over the comatose Severus. Then he conjured a stretcher, levitated Snape on to it and said, "Okay, I'm set. I've muffled him as best I could, so the Apparition won't drain him any.  Hopefully my wife will be able to cure him." He looked over at Tristan and the two younger wizards. "Tris, can you handle both of them at once?"

"Got no choice, have I?"

"Uh, I can morph into my hawk form if that'll make it easier," Harry offered.

"Yes.  Good thinking," Tristan said approvingly. "Get your stuff then."

Harry quickly gathered up the rest of his and Sev's belongings and Tristan shrank them and Harry put them in the pockets of his robe.  From far away, they could still hear the echo of a hunting werewolf.  Harry shivered, thinking how lucky it had been that the Witherspoons had found them before the werewolves had.  He rubbed Meadowsweet's bracelet and thought sadly that if she were here, Severus might be well by now.  And probably ready to kick my arse up and down the British Isles. Then he blurred into Freedom and perched upon Tristan's shoulder.

A second later, Jasper Apparated with both hands on Severus's stretcher, vanishing in a surge of blue light.

"Ready?" Tristan asked.

Freedom bobbed his head yes, then called to Hedwig, Meet me at the Witherspoon's house, okay?

Will do, Harry, the snowy owl cried, then she turned and flew off to the west.

Tristan took hold of Jace, and concentrated.

An instant later Freedom felt as if a giant hand had picked him up and whirled him through space and time, spitting him out moments later in the yard of a small picturesque thatched cottage. 

It looked like something out of a fairytale, all silvery gray stone with a golden thatched roof (it was spelled to be waterproof, fireproof, and insect proof, Harry learned later) and a green door with a round window in the top of it. All the windows were either round or square, with flower boxes beneath them. There were primroses, wild flowers, and heather in the boxes, which were also painted green. A cobbled walk led up to the door and to either side of it were hydrangea bushes and a large yew tree was on the left side of the lawn, opposite a rowan.

Harry drew a deep breath, the air was fragrant with flowers and had an air of peace about it that soothed his aching raw spirit. A small split rail fence ran about the property, though ivy was entwined about some of the posts. 

"Here you are," Tristan said when they had arrived, releasing Jace's arm. The boy looked slightly green.

"I hate Sidelong Apparition," he muttered. "Makes me want to puke."

The red-tailed hawk flew down and transformed into Harry. "I know. I used to feel like my stomach had turned inside out." He grimaced.

"You'll get used to it eventually," Tristan chuckled.  "Well, guess I'll be getting on home. Left my wife and kids still asleep when your dad called me."

"Thanks, Tris. See you later!" Jace waved, then his neighbor Apparated away, leaving the two boys alone in the yard. "Come on, Harry. Let's get inside. It's getting cold."

Inside, the cottage was toasty warm from the roaring fire in the stone fireplace. A black cat with a white crescent moon on her forehead was curled up asleep in a basket next to the hearth. "That's Eclipse," Jace said. "She's my new familiar."

The cat blinked open brilliant green eyes, gave a soft  mew, then went back to sleep.

"Where's your dad and Severus?" Harry asked, looking around.

He saw a plump long sofa in a soft teal shade, flanked by two handcarved oak tables with swirled lamps on them that glowed softly with an inner light. Up above, a globe also shed more light. The floor of the cottage was hardwood polished to a golden sheen, with several rainbow-colored rag rugs on it. On the walls were odd curiosities-a crossbow, a fish skeleton, a carved ivory icon, a woven tapestry of an apple tree and the three Graces.

"This way, in the spare room." Jace led the way across the main room off to the right, down a short hall lit by more glowing globes, and into a small bedroom done in shades of moss green, teal, and heather accents. The walls looked as though they had been hand painted with sprigs of heather. A window faced east, but it had the curtain drawn.

Severus lay upon the only bed in the room, pale and drawn, his breathing still labored.  He looked, Harry thought, stricken, like death warmed over.  Harry quickly raised his Occlumency shields, not wishing the readers to catch any stray thoughts about how he was to blame for Sev's predicament.

The Potions Master's shirt was unbuttoned, and a slender woman with blond hair the color of summer wheat was examining him, gently probing the wound on his chest and frowning. She was wearing a heather-colored robe and looked extremely concerned.

"Well, Grace? Can you mend him?" asked Jasper. He was standing next to the pine armoire, leaning against it, his hazel eyes bright with worry.

"The wound has been treated and that is easy to fix," answered Jace's mother, waving her wand over the Potions Master.  "But the curse was transmitted along with the wound and that . . .is not so easy to break.  I need to know what caused this wound on him before I can try and counter the dark magic within him."

"I can tell you what caused it," Harry said then.

The woman turned to face him and Jace.  "You must be Harry Potter, right? Jace told us all about how you helped him during the year," Grace said warmly. "My name is Grace Witherspoon. Welcome to my home. What happened to Professor Snape?"

"He was stabbed by a cursed dagger. The Dagger of Discord."

Grace went pale. "Great Merlin and Artemis have mercy! That dagger is one of the worst cursed objects in history.  No wonder he's like this." She glanced down at Severus and shook her head sadly.

"But you can help him, right?" Harry pressed.

"I . . .there is very little I can do to remove the curse on him right now, Harry. I can arrest it for a time, slow it down, but eventually it will consume him. Unless . . .the dagger is destroyed. And that may prove well-nigh impossible. The dagger protects itself well. Many have tried to destroy it and all have failed. The dagger subverts nearly all it comes into contact with, or so the tales say."

That's for damn sure! Harry thought bitterly.  "What if . . .I knew of a way to destroy the dagger?"

"How? A spell, even a shattering charm, would not destroy it totally."

"But a Curse Dissolving Potion would."

"I have never heard of such a potion."

"Severus taught me how to make it. I just need the ingredients on this list." He pulled out a recipe tucked into his pocket.

Grace examined it. "I have most of these, but a few . . .are quite rare."

"I know. We were trying to get to Hogwarts, because Severus has the rare ones in his lab, but . . ."

"I could fetch them from the school, but even if you did make the potion, Harry, what use will it be without the dagger?"

"I . . .might know where the dagger is," Harry hedged.  If I can get Hedwig to tell me.  "Could you . . .arrest the curse or whatever so I have time to find it?"

"Of course," Grace said, sensing that there was something Harry was not telling her, but she did not pry. The boy was clearly at the end of his tether, filled with despair and fear for his mentor.  "Jace, fetch me my Stasis Cloak, you know where it is, in my trunk."

"Sure, Mum. Be right back."

"And mind you be quiet, Jilly's asleep."

Jace went out of the room, moving like a shadow.

Grace tapped the wound on Severus's chest with her wand and spoke a charm to mend deep cuts. Within moments, the dreadful wound was healed.

But Severus still shivered and groaned, lost in a realm of shadows, fighting for his life against an insidious evil.

Harry went to him and grasped one long fingered hand in his own. Don't give up, Sev! Please stay with me, even though I don't deserve you. Please! The prophecy will fail without two hawks.  And . . .I need you. He blinked back tears.  Then he tore his gaze away from the comatose figure in black and asked, "Who's Jilly?"

"My two-year-old daughter," answered Grace.  "You can meet her tomorrow, Harry."

Jace returned with a long shimmering iridescent cloak in his hands. Harry had never seen anything quite like it, not even his Invisibility Cloak was this fine. "What will that do?"

"The Stasis Cloak will put anyone who wears it or has it draped over them into a stasis sleep for weeks.  The cloak can be removed and then the wearer will wake, but while in stasis the curse will be frozen in time, unable to do anything more than what has already been done."

"What has it done to him?" asked Harry fearfully. Did he really want to know?

"It's difficult to say, but I think the dagger has made him relive some terrible memories and scarred his psyche, more than it was. I would recommend a session with a Mind Healer once the curse has been broken."

"Mum made the Stasis Cloak," Jace declared proudly. "She's an enchantress. Anything she enchants lasts forever."

Harry looked up at the witch with respect. "Really? Wow!"

Grace shrugged modestly.  "It's my talent. An old skill, it used to be taught at Hogwarts but has since been removed from the curriculum." She took the Stasis Cloak and spread it out over Severus.

The cloak elongated to fit the tall man and wrapped about him like a shroud. Then it began to sparkle like a thousand diamonds were caught in its folds.

Harry could feel the magic pulsing from it even across the room.

And he saw Severus's face smooth out and slip into a peaceful rest.

"There.  He will remain so until I remove the cloak," Grace said. "Jace, why don't you show Harry where the bathroom is so he can take a hot shower and then go to sleep? He can stay in your room, your father will transfigure a bed for him."

"All right, Mum." Jace turned and beckoned Harry out of the room.

"Wait." Grace said. She snapped her fingers and a vial of a smoky gray potion appeared in her hand. "Take this before you go to bed, Harry."

Harry took it and said, "Dreamless Sleep potion."

"Yes. You are a good apprentice, to recognize it on sight."

"How did you know . . .?"

"Jace told me you were Professor Snape's apprentice and ward.  I didn't read your mind," she reassured him.

"Oh." Now Harry felt even more awkward and embarrassed.  Flushing hotly, he quickly followed Jace.  "Thank you, Mrs. Witherspoon."

"Call me Grace, dear. Everyone does."

Jace led him back through the den and into another hallway to a bathroom done in shades of cream and woodtone accents. Leaves of all kinds and sizes were painted over the wall.  Thick towels were folded upon a towel rack and Harry took his pack from his pocket and enlarged it so he could get his pajamas and toothbrush and other things.

"I'll meet you in my room, it's the first door on the left, okay?"

"Fine, Jace." Harry felt as if he were about to fall over, he was so tired. He carefully set the vial of Dreamless Sleep on the vanity and started the shower. When he looked up from that, he saw that Jace was gone and the door had shut so quietly he hadn't even noticed.

The hot shower was heaven after so many weeks of washing up in cold streams or using Freshen Up charms.  Harry scrubbed himself with a liquid soap that smelled like pine and sandalwood.  It reminded him of the woods and he clutched the sponge to him and wept silent tears of guilt and remorse.  He tried to pretend he wasn't crying, that it was only water, but the tears were bitter and did little to ease the hard knot inside of his chest.

He soaked in the shower for fifteen minutes before finishing up and heading into Jace's room, the potion clutched in his fingers. He was very grateful for the Witherspoons' rescue of him, and tomorrow he would tell them so.  Then he would find Hedwig and see if she would tell him about where the dagger was hidden.  But right then, all he wanted to do was fall upon the bed that Jasper had transfigured from one of Jace's socks and sleep for a year.

Jace was sitting up on his bed when Harry entered.  "You're tired, aren't you?"

Harry yawned in response.  "Sorry. I'm just . . ."

"It's okay. We can talk tomorrow. I hope Professor Snape will be all right. I really like him as my Head of House. The school wouldn't be the same without him. G'night, Harry."

"Night, Jace." He was so tired that he gulped the potion and nearly choked from swallowing it too fast. It hit his system like a sucker punch to the gut and before he knew it, he was coasting into the realm of sleep and was sleeping soundly before his head touched the pillow.

And no sinister little girl disturbed his dreams that night.   

"Wake up, Jace! Wake up! It time to giddup!" a little voice sang loudly while bouncing up and down upon Jace's bed.

Harry, who was sleeping opposite his friend, cracked open an eye and saw a little blond moppet in a flower pinafore sitting next to Jace, practically yelling in his ear. Harry didn't think Jace could sleep through that, and he was right.

Jace sat up, rubbing his eyes and groaning, "Jilly! How many times have I told you not to wake me up, huh?"

"But lookit! Sun's out an' it morning," the two-year-old pointed out, one finger indicating the window next to his bed. "See? See?"

"Mmmhmm.  Wonderful.  Now why don't you go wake up Mum and Dad?" Jace suggested slyly.

"They's up. Now it your turn," Jilly said.

"Okay. I'm up."

She turned then and pointed to Harry, who quickly scrunched his eyes closed. "Who that?"

"My friend Harry. He got here last night, while you were sleeping."

"From kool?"

"Yeah, from school. Now shush, he's sleeping."

Jilly peered intently at Harry. "No, he not, Jace. He awake. I feel it here," she tapped her chest emphatically.

Jace sat up.  "Harry, are you awake?"

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes all the way. "I am now." He sat up, wondering how bad his hair was sticking up.

Jilly was grinning. "Told you!" she sang.  "I felt him, Jace! I felt him right here," she crowed, banging on her chest.

"What does she mean, she felt me?" asked Harry, puzzled.

"Jilly, say hi to Harry." Jace ordered.

"'Kay. She slid down off Jace's bed, went over to Harry and climbed right up onto the bed and into his lap. She then threw her arms about the Boy-Who-Lived and hugged him, kissing his cheek as she did so.  "You are nice. Sad and hurt, but nice. I like you," she declared happily.

Harry blushed, he didn't know what to do, he had never had a small child cuddle him that way.  Matter of fact, he had never been cuddled this way by anyone he could remember.  At first, the unfamiliar weight of the child in his arms felt strange, but soon Harry relaxed and even began to enjoy the sensation of holding a warm, slightly sticky child in his lap. "Thanks.  My name's Harry."

"I Jilly," she tapped her chest for emphasis.

"Pleased to meet you, Jilly." He looked over at Jace who was looking like he was about to start having a giggle fit any minute.  "What does she mean, she felt me?"

"Jilly's not a reader like the rest of my family. She's got a rarer talent. She's an empath, that means she can sense other people's emotions.  She doesn't mean to but sometimes she forgets, please excuse her."

"You mean she can feel what I'm feeling?" Harry repeated, somewhat dazed.

"Yes," Jace said and at the same time Jilly answered, "Yup, I can. You is sad and upset and ‘fused. Why?"

"I'm what? ‘fused?" Harry looked at Jace blankly.

"She means confused," Jace explained, chuckling. 

"Oh."

Jilly peered up at him and Harry saw that she had eyes the same color as his own, a beautiful emerald green. "But why is you, Hawwy?"

"Well . . .I feel like that because . . .my . . .guardian is hurt badly and I'm . . .worried he might . . .not make it."

"That's the other man whose staying in the spare room, Jilly," Jace told her. "His name's Severus Snape. He's my potions teacher."

"I saw him. Mum showed me." Jilly said. She put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Man sleepin'. He very sick."

"We know, imp." Her brother said.

She turned around and hugged Harry. "Don't be sad, Hawwy. Mum will make him better. You need to feel happy."

And suddenly Harry did feel happy. He felt a sudden surge of happiness and hope flowing through him as the little girl hugged him, and it was like nothing he had ever known before. He gasped and stared at the little girl, a smile of wonder and joy creeping over his face.

"Do you feel better?" she asked, her eyes shining.

"I do. I feel better than I have in . . .weeks."

"Jilly, did you project at him?" Jace asked, frowning.

The little girl squirmed and looked slightly guilty. "But Ja-a-ce . . .I just wanted to help. Hawwy feels better now."

Jace shook his head. "Jillian, you know you're not supposed to just project feelings at people."

"It's okay," Harry murmured. "She did make me feel better."

"I know. But . . .she has to learn she can't use her talent without permission. It's part of the Code."

"Are you mad at me, Jace?" Jilly asked, looking pitiful.

"No, just . . .don't do it without asking again, okay?"

"'Kay." Then she beamed her brilliant smile at Harry and he felt as if the sun had come down out of the sky and chased away all the shadows.

 At the same time he was concerned that he might taint this beautiful innocent child, and he was surprised the little girl hadn't sensed the evil within him, the taint of the dagger upon his soul. How was it that she could sense everything he felt and yet not that?

Perhaps she was too young to know what evil felt like.

Just then they heard Grace calling, "Jilly? Where did you get to?"

"Here, Ma! I waked up the boys!" her daughter answered.

"Jillian, you didn't!" her exasperated mother appeared in the doorway. "I told you to let them sleep."

"But Mummy, it morning time. That when you get up!" the child pointed out with merciless logic.

Grace just shook her head.  "I'm sorry, Harry. I had intended for you to have a bit of a lie in, but my scamp of a child had other ideas."

"I'm hungwy, Mummy," Jilly announced. "Can we eat now?"

"Yes, go and see what your dad's cooking.  Maybe he needs your help."

Jilly jumped down from Harry's lap and ran out of the room, calling, "Dad, I is cummin' to help!"

"Thanks, Mum. I was wondering how we were going to get rid of the little pest." Jace said.

"Harry, if you're still tired, you can go back to sleep."

"No, ma'am. I'm fine. I'm used to getting up early. I'm a morning person." Harry said truthfully.  He was also afraid to go back to sleep, lest he dream about what had happened.  It was better to be awake and start getting the ingredients for the potion.

"Very well then. Come in for breakfast once you're ready." Then she left and shut the door behind her.

Harry quickly rummaged through his pack and found a clean shirt and jeans.  As he dressed, he remembered something he had wanted to ask Jace last night, but had been too tired to start a conversation then.  "Jace, that reader trick you and your dad and Tristan did with the werewolves . . .why didn't you use it on Malfoy when he was busting on you?"

Jace pulled on his sneakers before replying. "Because the only time a reader is allowed to mess with another person's mind that way is if you're in danger of losing your life.  Altering a person's perception like that is forbidden according to the Reader Codes. It's considered unethical."

"Oh.  Those Codes sound like they're really strict."

"They are.  But they have to be, ‘cause a couple of centuries ago, readers were feared and hated. We had a few that misused their talent badly, and that made other wizards not trust us.  The worst of them used mind control to turn people into their slaves, worse than a bonded house elf, because the only way to break the bond was to kill the reader or the servant, or the reader agreed to release the person.  And those never would release their servants. They held groups of people in thrall to them and could use their mind powers to charm their way out of arrest. They called themselves the Mind Lords.  It took a group of readers to finally bring them down and after that we established our own Codes so renegades wouldn't be able to do stuff like that again. And so we wouldn't have to worry about being labeled as Spy Eyes and Mind Rapers. All readers swear to abide by the Codes when their talent emerges fully, and that's why we never read another's mind without permission. Unless we're little and don't know any better or can't control ourselves.  That's why a lot of us readers tend to live in small communities. Like this one."

"How many readers are there?"

"Here, in the Forest-on-the-Moor? Six families live here, it's quiet and everyone around here knows how to shield their thoughts and it's far away from any city, which is a real blessing.  Readers don't like crowds or a lot of people.  It really taxes our shields and gives us a headache."

"Did you have one at school?"

"First week I did, till Professor Snape gave me a Headache Remedy and taught me how to layer my mindshields." Jace bit his lip, suddenly looking less like a wise wizard and more like a twelve year old boy.  "I really hope he pulls through, Harry. He's like one of my favorite teachers."

"Me too.  If I can manage to brew the potion and find the dagger . . ."

"But didn't whoever stabbed Professor Snape take the dagger with him?"

"Yes, but then he dropped it when he . . .ran and my owl hid it somewhere, just before the werewolves came," Harry said, careful to speak no word that was not true. 

Jace nodded, sensing that Harry felt very uncomfortable about this topic. Clearly there was more than he was saying, something that he was keeping back, but Jace respected his friend's privacy and did not pry. Harry was very upset and Jace didn't want him to feel worse. It must be terrible for the orphaned teen to contemplate losing another whom he was close to.

"Well, why don't we eat breakfast and then maybe I can help you gather ingredients."

"You won't mind then?" Harry asked, surprised. Ron would have sooner shaved himself bald then offered to help make a potion.

"No. I like potions, unlike most wizard kids." Jace said, then he led the way into the kitchen, which was next to the den.

The most mouth-watering smells were coming from the kitchen, as Jasper flipped sausage patties and made something Grace called an omelet pastie, which was scrambled eggs, cheese, shredded potatoes and fried onions inside of a fried pastry crust.

They practically melted in Harry's mouth, and when asked how he liked them, replied, "This is like the most incredible breakfast I ever had. How do you make them?"

"Ah, an apprentice after my own heart," Jasper laughed. "So you like to cook, Harry?"

"Yes. I always cooked at home."

"I'll give you the recipe. I made them kind of as a mistake . . ." Jasper went on to tell Harry about running out of ground beef and substituting it with eggs instead and thus the omelet pastie was born.

"That's the best mistake you ever made, Dad," his son said.

"Mmm!" agreed his daughter, crumbs all over her front and some cheese on her face.

Grace waved her wand and the crumbs vanished and so did the melted cheese. She then encouraged Harry to eat more.

Harry did, thinking how Grace reminded him a bit of Molly Weasley. Did all mothers worry about kids' eating habits?

"Harry, that list of ingredients you need from Professor Snape's lab," Grace began after he had eaten his third pastie and sausage.  "I know you can Floo into Hogwarts and get them yourself, but Jasper said there were werewolves and Death Eaters hunting you."

"Yes, but Mr. Witherspoon, Jace, and Tristan drove them off."

"Jasper, please.  We did misdirect them for a time, and they won't be able to track you because we Apparated, but they could still be searching for you regardless and one of the first places they might go is the school. That was where you and Severus were headed, right?"

"Yes."

"We figured it might be best if one of us went and got the ingredients from the potions lab," Grace said. "You can stay here where it's safe, our wards are first class, and start preparing the rest of the ingredients you'll need. Are there wards on Professor Snape's lab?"

"Yes, but I know the password," Harry said. "All of his potions ingredients are labeled in alphabetical order."

"Thank goodness, because trying to find ingredients in the lab of a disorganized Potions Master is hell," Jasper remarked, wiping his face with a cloth.

Harry would have protested needing any help a few months ago and insisted on going himself, but over the course of this quest he had come to realize that he shouldn't have to do everything himself and he could ask for help when he needed it.  It was nice to have some adults he could depend on and Grace and Jasper seemed trustworthy individuals, like their son.

"So, which of us shall go back to Hogwarts, dear?"

Jasper smirked and said, "You seem to need more remedial lessons than I do, Grace, so you should go. Plus, you know your way around a potions lab better than I do."

"All right, then you get to mind Jilly and finish my article for the British Readers Institute.  They want to apply for a grant to the Ministry to set up some classes for younger readers who weren't born into a family with the talent."

"You mean, you don't have to have a parent who's a reader?" Harry asked.

"Not always. Most of us do, though, since the talent seems to be passed on easier that way. But I've met a few readers who, like Muggleborns, have parents who have no mind talent at all." Jasper said.

"And that's really hard on a child when their talent first starts to emerge. A fledgling reader can go crazy from hearing everyone's thoughts unless they develop natural shields or have a tutor to show them how to create mind shields." Grace said, her face serious. "So I hope the Ministry agrees to fund the Institute."

"I'll do my best to convince them, luv," Jasper promised.

Harry hoped so too, though given the Ministry's record so far . . .he didn't hold out much hope.

Once they were done with breakfast, Harry showed Jace the list of ingredients and the boy went down to the potions storeroom in the basement to find them while Harry went and checked up on Severus.

The Potions Master was still under the cloak's enchantment, looking peaceful and rather like a wax effigy in repose. Harry went to stand near the bed, not touching the older wizard, simply looking down on him.  Remorse and regret nearly throttled him.

Oh, Sev. I've apologized about a million times to you in my mind, but I would give everything I own to just have you hear me say it aloud. I don't know how this happened, except that maybe I was weak and stupid, but even so it doesn't excuse what I did. I know that. And I'm going to make amends. Grace said I was a good apprentice . . .but she doesn't know the truth.  But somehow, I'll make you well. I didn't come this far to fail now and it's only right that I fix what I did to you.  I'll make you proud of me, Sev, and show you that I'm your true potions apprentice.

He coughed and wiped a hand across his eyes, irritated at the way he seemed to be shedding tears at the drop of a hat all of a sudden. He never used to cry before.  Then again, he had never almost killed the man he regarded as a surrogate father either. So he could allow these brief moments of weeping . . .as long as he was alone where no one could see.

He started when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Harry? I'm sorry, but I need that list of ingredients," Grace said softly.

"Right." He fumbled in his pocket and handed it to her. "I've underlined the ones he has in his lab in red. He told me to do that, just in case . . ."

"Something should happen?"

Harry nodded mutely.

Grace's heart went out to the distraught youngster, whose pain and guilt was so evident she could see it even without her talent.  "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

"It was," he whispered.  "I'm the reason he's hurt."

"No.  The dagger is to blame. Not you."

"How do you know that?"

"because I have done studies on the major cursed objects in our world and the Dagger of Discord is number one on the list of most evil and subversive objects. I'm sure Severus knew that. Whatever you've done, child, I'm sure it is not unforgivable."

"You're wrong."

"And do you think you are the only apprentice to make a mistake? Ask Severus that question when he wakes."

"Are you reading my mind?"

"No.  I don't need to. Your guilt and shame and pain are there in your eyes for those who know how to look." Then, because he aroused her mothering instincts and because he looked so lost and hurting, like a broken-winged fledgling, she wrapped her arms about him and held him close.

Harry stiffened at first, but the feel of her arms and her scent, like lilacs, felt so good that he relaxed and allowed himself to be held, for the first time in a long time. And if a few more tears escaped from his wayward eyes, neither of them noticed.

A moment later, Grace released him, then said, "I shall be back as quickly as I can. Will you need my help brewing?"

"I . . .no offense, but this is something I need to do on my own," Harry told her quietly. "For him and for me."

"I understand." She said, thinking that his brewing the potion was like a kind of redemption for him, a way to remove the haunted look from his eyes forever. "Best I get started. Soonest gone is soonest returned."

As she turned about, she almost bumped into her husband. "Grace, I was wondering if you had your Amulet of Communication on? Just in case you needed help, you could call me, since your mind voice won't reach me at such a distance."

"I have it, Jasper," she removed a similar silver chain with another teardrop-shaped red jasper stone on it from underneath her shirt.

"Good. Then I can relax. Well, as much as I ever can with our whirlwind baby girl."

"Give her a colouring book and some of those sparkle crayons and she'll be happy for an hour," Grace suggested.  Then she kissed him lightly and Flooed off to Hogwarts. 

Harry looked curiously at the pendant about Jasper's neck. "Jace told me you invented that amulet."

"I did. Inventing it was one of the best things I've ever done, it's how I met Grace. I came up with the idea of using my talent to enable people without a reader's gift to speak with each other silently and instantaneously, but it was Grace who helped me make that idea into reality with her gift of enchantment. She's an amazing woman, my wife."

"How come more people don't have one then? It seems like it'd work so much faster than posting a letter."

"Ah, well, you see, the amulets are expensive to make and even though I am the clear inventor of them, my patent is still pending with the Ministry. Bloody bureaucrats love to tie everything up. But we've sold a few to our friends here and to other wizards in London and so forth. Each amulet is paired with another of the same size, shape, and stone. When an amulet is activated, it links first to its pairmate and then can be keyed to another's amulet if you want. Kind of like a Muggle phone number."

"You know about phone numbers?"

"Ah, I take it Jace never mentioned I was a half-blood?" Jasper chuckled. "I'm familiar with Muggle culture, Harry. And now, I believe I need to find my child and start writing the rest of that grant."

"Good luck, sir."

"Jasper, Harry, Jasper. Sir is for my grandfather, not me." He walked down the hall and Harry went downstairs into the basement to see how Jace was making out.

He found the younger boy had gathered all of the more common ingredients, like vinegar, cockroach carapaces, rowan bark, and ground unicorn horn and placed them upon the workstation.  The basement was neat and clean and smelled of earth, since it had been hollowed out by magic and sealed with a spell to prevent moisture and bugs from getting in.  There were slate flagstones in the floor and a long low table with a rack for vials and tubes and stirrers on it, as well as knives, and several marble and wooden mortars and pestles. Cauldrons of all sizes and materials were stacked neatly against the far wall and there were several shelves of potion ingredients in jars and bags and a large apothecary box containing more ingredients as well. There was also a sink and a stack of cloths, aprons, and goggles upon the counter.

The room was lit with several hanging lamps, such that anyone working down here would be able to see without a problem. There was a strong smell of herbs in the air, but it was not unpleasant.  Harry immediately felt comfortable here, the way he did in Severus's private lab back at school. 

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "Hey, Jace. How's it going?"

"Fine, Harry. I've almost gotten everything," the other answered cheerfully. "This looks like a really complex potion though."

"It is, but I've brewed it before." Harry said, though he had only done so under Snape's eagle eye.  Never by yourself and never with such need, a small doubting voice taunted in the back of his mind.  Now he was sorry he had not paid closer attention back in the Forest of the Night when Severus was showing him how to harvest the ingredients, instead of looking at Meadowsweet.  Someday I might not be there and you'll need to learn how to brew this on your own, Severus's silky voice haunted him.  How did you know, Sev? Do you have a bit of the Sight too, or was this just another of your "always be prepared" speeches?

Either way it did not matter. Harry knew he was the only one who could brew the potion with any degree of accuracy and he had to do so promptly, before Voldemort was resurrected by the Death Eaters. For that was their main goal, to bring back their dark master, and they would stop at nothing to accomplish it. I will not fail, I must not. I will do this and prove that I'm worthy of being Sev's potions apprentice. He believed Harry had inherited Lily's gift for potions. Now Harry would put that belief to the test.

He breathed in and out several times, centering himself, the way he did when he meditated, or used Occlumency.  When he was certain he was calm and focused, he began to re-read the recipe and start preparing all the ingredients Jace had gathered, measuring and chopping and grinding.  Jace watched, recognizing that Harry needed his own space and would not wish help right now, and so he did not offer any, but remained observing off to the side silently. He was impressed with the deft way Harry handled the ingredients and the precision he displayed in grinding and chopping them finely.  It took much patience and concentration to correctly prepare these ingredients, Jace knew that all too well, even though he was only a first year still. 

Jace cocked his head, sensing his mother's presence. She had returned with the illareth flowers and everbloom pods the potion required and was now coming down the stairs to the lab. Her delicate footstep did not rouse Harry from his trance and he continued preparing the ingredients as if under an enchantment. He had been working for over a half-an-hour without stopping.

Grace took in the sight of the young potions apprentice working with a feverish intensity and her son observing and gave Jace a short nod. Has he been down here the whole time I have been gone? she sent.

No, not the whole time, but most of it. Did you find what he needed, Mum? Jace sent back.

Yes. Professor Snape has an extensive lab and supply of rare ingredients, it makes me envious, Grace admitted with a rueful mental chuckle. She moved over to set the basket of illareth flowers and the container of everbloom pods upon the table where Harry was working. 

He looked up briefly and said, "Thank you, Grace." Then he returned to his work, pouring the required amounts of water and vinegar into the cauldron and then placing it over the fire, making sure the fire was not too high or too low. Once he had added several ingredients and stirred it the requisite number of times, he began extracting the everbloom juice from the pods with the flat side of a knife, crushing the pod and releasing an astounding amount of juice.

Once that was done, he carefully added it to the cauldron, breathing in great gulps of the fresh scent.  He then added the illareth flowers, stirring  once, twice, nine times in all. 

Three was considered a lucky number by most wizards and so nine was triply so and the potion Harry was trying to create needed all the luck it could get.  It was odd, but as Harry was grinding and extracting the juice, he felt as if Severus were nearby, hovering over his shoulder and whispering corrections in his ear. A nice even motion, Potter. Not too fast or too slow. 

When you chop, angle your knife so it cuts better, and always cut away from yourself and never put your fingers in front of the blade.

Harry listened to the half-remembered advice and felt less alone and terrified that he would mess up and ruin the last chance he had to destroy the dagger for good. Now that all the ingredients were added, the potion had to steep for three days.  He straightened, one had going automatically to the small of his back.  He was stiff and sore from bending over a table and a cauldron for over two hours.

But he did not whine.  Anything he suffered was worth it if he could destroy the dagger and restore Severus to health.

Only then did he see Jace, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away, his hazel eyes bright with curiosity. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"Yes. I wanted to see how you brewed it." Jace replied. "Are you hungry, Harry? Because I'm starving and my mother's calling us to come and eat dinner . . .it's chicken a la king tonight."

"I've never eaten that before," Harry said, but that didn't matter either, for he was hungry enough to eat an acromantula.

"You'll like it." Jace reassured. "My mother's a good cook, but not as good as my dad."

The two bounded up the stairs, but just before they reached the top Harry halted and turned around.

"Huh? Where are you going, Harry?"

"Back to clean up. Severus would have my hide if I left his lab like that," Harry said, then froze.  This was not Severus's lab and he was not watching his apprentice, waiting for him to remember his instructions.  A sudden pang of sorrow smote him and he felt tears sting his eyes. To cover them, he hurried down the stairs, calling over his shoulder, "Tell your mum I'll be right there, okay? I just need to put everything away."

He drew his wand and intoned a Neaten Up charm and soon the lab was shipshape again, all save for the bubbling cauldron of Curse Dissolving Elixir.

Harry remained looking at it for a long moment, praying that it would turn out all right.  I'm sorry, Severus. This is all my fault. Yet somehow I must make it right again. I want no more deaths on my conscience.

He blinked away the threatened tears yet again, ignoring the small voice that hissed he just ought to let himself cry and be done with it. Then he headed upstairs to join the Witherspoons for dinner.

* * * * * * *

That night, he found himself in the rather awkward position of reading Jilly a bedtime story, one called Magnificent Merlin and his Magical Laboratory. It was not just a children's story, but also a teaching tool for would-be wizards and witches that taught the child through the story about basic potions and ingredients and how to harvest and prepare them. The book was finely illustrated and showed Merlin making a few different kinds of potions and each ingredient was labeled beneath the picture.

Harry would point to one and ask, "What's this?"

Jilly would answer, "A unicorn horn," or "A snake fang," or even "Jasmine, that's a flower. Mummy grows it in her garden. It smells pretty."

Harry was astonished that such a small child could recognize all the ingredients, until Jace popped his head in and said, "She knows all of them so well because we've read this one about a hundred times. It's her favorite story."

"Oh." Harry said, feeling rather foolish.  "But still, she's got an amazing memory for a little kid."

"I do?" Jilly looked up at him.

"Yes. Better than some students I know at school," Harry told her and was rewarded with one of her sunny smiles that never failed to warm him inside.

They continued reading until Jilly's eyes were beginning to droop and then Jace told Harry to stop and he tucked his sister in and whispered, "Good night, imp."

Then Harry and Jace went into Jace's room and then Jace asked Harry several questions he had been meaning to ask since he had heard Harry's voice in his mind the other day.  "What were you doing all the way out here, Harry?"

Harry hesitated, uncertain of how much to reveal to the younger wizard. Severus had always maintained that you should never tell anyone your entire mission, just in case, because what one did not know could not be gotten out of you. "Uh, it's a long story. But it has something to do with stopping the Death Eaters for good and all. I can't really tell you much more, Jace, because Severus says it needs to be kept secret."

"I understand. I really hope you succeed."

"We will. At least I think we will." Harry said with more confidence than he felt.

They talked of other things, safe things, like what classes Jace could take as an elective next term and Harry even allowed himself to imagine what his curriculum would be like if he made it back for next term.  He just hoped that Dumbledore hired a competent Defense teacher for once. Harry was glad to have a friend to talk to about normal teenage things and also grateful that Jace did not pry into what had occurred with Severus and the dagger, the way Ron or Hermione might have.

That night, Harry felt he could sleep without the aid of Dreamless Sleep and so left the vial Grace had placed upon his nightstand untouched.

He sank into slumber easily enough, and spent the better part of three hours dreaming peacefully. But along about three AM, his dreams took a turn for the worse, and he began to cry out and thrash about in his sleep, kicking off his covers and begging Severus to live . . .and to forgive him.

Jace woke up then, alarmed by his friend's suffering, and he could not help but overhear Harry's words, spoken in a halting broken tone.

" . . .sorry, Sev . . .so sorry . . .I didn't mean it . . .so much blood . . .don't die, Severus please!"

Jace slipped from his bed and moved over to Harry's bed, trying to decide if he ought to wake his friend. As he looked down at Harry, he noted Harry was sweating, moisture was dripping down the other's face.

Wait a minute. That's not sweat . . .it's tears. He's crying . . .in his sleep.  Jace had never heard of anything like that before and he felt both fear and empathy for the older wizard, who was obviously suffering the torments of the damned.

" . . .forgive me . . .Severus . . .I didn't know . . .it was the dagger . . .it came to me in dreams . . ." Harry's face twisted, as if in unbearable agony, and he whimpered and sobbed, lost in the realm of dreams laced with blood and guilt.

Jace stared, stricken.  Oh, sweet Merlin have mercy! The dagger . . .possessed him. And I think . . .it was he who attacked Professor Snape, not some Death Eater. Oh blessed Gaia! What a horrible thing to have done and to live with.

Shaken to the core of his being, the young sorcerer returned to his bed and huddled beneath it, tears of empathy streaking his own cheeks.  Eventually, Harry stopped thrashing and sobbing, and lapsed into sleep.  But Jace remained awake, his mind replaying everything Harry had said and not said since his arrival and it took him a long time to fall asleep.

* * * * * *

The first thing Harry did upon waking was to check on Severus. Beneath the cloak, the Potions Master appeared to be sleeping, his face calm in repose.  "It's almost ready, Severus," he whispered. "I tried my best and I think I've succeeded in making the Curse Dissolving Elixir.  One way or another, I will destroy the dagger and break the curse in you. By my magic, I so swear!"

Then he went down to the lab to see if the potion was still simmering and to stir it gently.  It looked like the right consistency and color.  Not too thick, and a deep blue and silver.

Jace was quiet at breakfast, but then, so was Harry.  He felt tired and not inclined to talk much, not even to Jilly.  The two elder Witherspoons allowed him to be quiet and did not seek to badger him with questions or attempt to make conversation. This was not because they did not care about him, but because they respected his privacy and trusted that Harry would talk when he was ready.

Jace asked Harry if he wanted to go flying, and Harry agreed, shifting into Freedom.  The two flew about the property and over the houses of Tristan and another family, the St. Angelo's. It was then that Freedom saw Hedwig, dozing in a crooked limbed apple tree behind the Witherspoon house.

Relief washed through him that the owl was all right and did not appear to have taken any harm from hiding the dagger or confronting the werewolves once again.  Having Severus gravely injured was bad enough, Harry doubted if he would have been able to cope with Hedwig being hurt as well.

It was funny, but since discovering his Animagus form and going on this quest, Harry had learned a great deal of respect for birds and his familiar in particular. Before he had rather taken the owl for granted, treating her more like a winged mail carrier than a companion.  But no longer. Now Hedwig was like family.

He was tempted to wake up the owl and beg her to either show him where the dagger was or retrieve it for him.  But then he decided it might be best to wait until the potion was finished before asking Hedwig about the dagger. The owl might be more willing to cooperate then.

Jace pondered whether or not to confront Harry about what he had overheard as he flew next to the red-tailed hawk.  It made him uncomfortable, carrying such knowledge, and yet he did not know how he could bring up the subject without causing problems.  He did not want to quarrel with Harry, nor make him feel uncomfortable, he had respected the older boy ever since Harry had been his substitute professor in potions and helped him with Malfoy. 

Finally, Jace decided to wait before speaking with his friend about what had really happened.  Perhaps after the potion was finished, he would speak his mind.  But until then . . .He flew one more long loop before heading down to the ground.

The red-tail followed and then changed to Harry.

"You're not bad on a broom, Jace."

"Not as good as you."

Harry shrugged. "I'm good because I practice a lot. Flying is the best thing. It relaxes me."

"Same here," Jace said, noting that some of the strain in the green eyes was less evident now.

The two headed into the house to get a drink, each one harboring a secret from the other.

* * * * * *

On the morning of the third day, Harry went and checked the potion.  It smelled and looked as it should and he allowed himself a rare grin of pure triumph and delight. I did it! I brewed my first master level potion alone. I wonder what Severus would say if he knew.

He imagined the Potions Master patting him on the shoulder and telling him how proud he was.

For several long minutes he remained so, staring down at the potion, and then he put out the fire and headed upstairs.  It was time to find Hedwig and try and convince her to reveal the location of the dagger.  Harry shivered as he climbed the stairs, for he knew this confrontation might be unpleasant, to say the least.  But to cure Severus, he would endure anything.  Even Hedwig's beak, talons, and razor tongue.

It was a gorgeous sunny day, the perfect day to soar upon an updraft and fly till he was tired, Harry thought wistfully as he stepped out the front door of the Witherspoon cottage.  It was not a day to quarrel with one's familiar.  Nevertheless, Harry was sure a quarrel was in the offing.  Biting his lip, he blurred into his hawk form, reasoning it had always been easier to talk to Hedwig as Freedom, even though she tended to treat him like her fledgling as a hawk.  As a hawk he was more confident and less prone to knuckle under pressure from authority figures, the way he tended to do when he was human.  He pondered for a moment why that was so and decided it was because he had been conditioned at an early age by the Dursleys to obey authority figures.  But when he had woken up in Snape's lab as a hawk, he had forgotten all the lessons he had learned as a human, and as a hawk he was much more aggressive and inclined to argue and much more independent.  But which was the real Harry? The hawk or the human? He had thought long and hard about that after transforming back and decided that both aspects were him, the independent impudent Freedom and the quiet self-conscious teenager. 

But now he needed the hawk, not the human, and so he became Freedom. As soon as he had shed flesh for feathers, he sprang into the sky and was airborne in two wingbeats.  Catching a thread of wind, he glided above the cottage, searching for the snowy owl.  Instinct told him that Hedwig would not stray far from the house, a familiar tended to want to stay close to her chosen wizard and then too, she was in unfamiliar territory and would stay near a safe place to roost.

Sure enough, he spotted the distinctive white and gray speckled plumage after about a minute.  Hedwig was sleeping in the crook of a large rowan, dozing away the morning, as was her wont if she had been hunting all night. Freedom hesitated, waking up Hedwig was always a chancy thing, you never could tell if she would wake cranky or not.  Still, this was an emergency, and he dared not delay breaking the curse over Severus. 

Filled with determination, the red-tailed hawk slipped silently down a windstream and landed next to the snowy upon the branch.  Hedwig? Please wake up. I need to talk to you.

The snowy owl stirred, fluffing her feathers and her head rose several inches from her downy breast. Whoo-oo?

Hedwig, it's me, Freedom.  I need to talk to you, it's really important. He kept his tone low, owls had excellent hearing and there was no need to screech like an ill-mannered crow or a maldecorvae.

One great yellow eye opened and slowly Hedwig shifted, until she was looking right at Freedom.  Yes? What is it? What has happened now?

I finished it finally. The potion.

Hedwig's other eye opened and now she stared at him with both orbs.  What potion?

The potion to destroy the dagger.  The Curse Dissolving Elixir.

What about Severus? How is he recovering?

Freedom hesistated, then replied sadly, He's not. He's under a stasis spell for the time being, until I can destroy the dagger and break the curse over him before it destroys him.  It's the only way for him to get better.

The dagger's curse has affected him as well, Hedwig said darkly.

Yeah, I guess so.  How come it hasn't affected you?

It has started to, Freedom. Though I did not touch it directly, I carried it to the stone cairn long enough to hear its voice in my mind and feel it try to snap the bonds that bound me to you.  It did not succeed, but it made me feel upset and uneasy and that is why I have not come to you recently.  I wished to be sure that I acted of my own free will.

Oh. Are you sure you're okay?

Yes, fledgling. I am fine.  This potion you made, will it be strong enough to destroy the Dagger of Discord once and for all?

Yes.  I made it exactly the way Sev taught me back in Sylvanor. Freedom began to nibble and preen his feathers nervously. 

Have you been Occluding your mind?

Yes. Every night, only it doesn't help with the nightmares.

What nightmares?

The ones of Severus dying.

Ah.  It would seem you have regained your conscience then.  Will you not tell me what happened to make you attack your mentor like that?  The wizard I once knew would have rather cut off his right hand than harm a friend, much less his guardian.

Freedom hesitated.  This was the moment he had been dreading.  I was . . .possessed by the dagger, Hedwig, and I never knew it. It came to me in dreams, making believe it was a little girl running away from some evil wizard.  I didn't know that at the time of course.  All I thought was that she was a little kid in trouble.  She asked me to protect her and I agreed.

Thus ensnaring yourself, Hedwig hooted.

Freedom shuddered, recalling how persuasive the dagger disguised as the helpless little girl-the damsel in distress-he thought derisively-had been.  He had fallen neatly into its trap.  But I didn't mean to, Hedwig! I don't even know how it managed to get inside my head. I was shielded when we found the damn thing.

The snowy owl thought for a moment.  From what I understand about the dagger, it works its evil best when you touch it flesh to metal. That was why I never allowed my talons to touch it, but picked it up with the cloth Severus put about it.  Was there ever a time when you touched the dagger with your skin?

I . . .can't remember. Except when I picked it up just before I . . .stabbed Severus, Freedom admitted, able to say the words in hawk form better than he would have as a human. As a human he would have been overwhelmed by guilt and tears, but hawks do not feel guilt like a human and hawks have no tear ducts either. 

There was no time before that when you touched the dagger? Think!

I'm trying! Quit yelling at me! Freedom snapped irritably.

Think harder! ordered the snowy owl imperiously.  This is important.  Do you wish to save Severus or not?

Of course I do! How dare you suggest otherwise?

How dare I? If I recall, I saw you standing over him holding a bloody dagger. How do I know you're still not under its influence?

I'm not, okay! If I were, would I have wasted time brewing that potion? You're just going to have to trust me, Hedwig.

That is easier said than done, the owl said sadly.  Do try and remember, fledgling. Her tone was now less abrasive and more encouraging.  She loved the young wizard with all of her being and it had nearly broken her heart to see him the way she had that fateful night, lost to darkness and committing one of the worst crimes, killing one's mentor.  She had suspected the dagger had sunk its talons into him, for she knew he was not an inherently evil person, nor one driven easily to anger and violence.  Even so, she had acted to preserve the life of her comrade, though hurting Harry had been something she had to steel herself to do.  But that was not Harry that night, that was the dagger's creature.  How can I be sure this is not some trick? How can I trust him again?

Freedom knew that Hedwig was wary of his motives, and that made him sad, for once the snowy owl would have trusted him implicitly.  The dagger truly had sown discord among the three companions, as its name had warned.  Could the trust they had shared ever be whole again? Freedom thought back to the day they had discovered the dagger in the orphanage.  The day the inferi had attacked in a surprise ambush from beneath the floor, making him spill the precious Curse Dissolving Elixir.  He recalled the battle and how the inferi had all converged upon Severus, because he was holding the dagger, and they were bound to guard it.  Then Harry had told Severus to throw him the dagger, to try and draw some of the inferi away and Severus had tossed the dagger overhead and he had caught it . . . but something had happened in the instant he had caught the dagger . . .

 But my hand slipped, a little, because of my gloves, and the dagger . . .it cut my face . . .just a little cut, no big deal . . .I barely felt it . . .but even a shallow cut was enough to give it access to my mind . . .oh Merlin!

Freedom jerked his head up.  Hedwig, I remember now! It was when we were fighting the inferi in the orphanage . . . he quickly related the events to his familiar.

So . . .that was how it did it.  From what I can figure, perhaps the dagger meant for you to slip, it would have sought the first person available to use for its own evil purposes and you were there waiting.

Like a goose ripe for the plucking, Freedom said bitterly.

Don't be too hard on yourself. You are not the first the dagger has ensnared. But perhaps you shall be the last.

Will you bring me the dagger then? Please, Hedwig. I have to destroy it. Only then will I save Severus. He can't die, Hedwig. Not after all we've been through.  I won't have it. Please help me. Freedom pleaded, though begging was not something the proud raptor did easily.

Hedwig was silent for several long moments.  I . . .don't know about this.  I believe you did not willingly stab Severus, but the fact remains that the dagger influenced you to a great degree and even though you claim you are free of it, how can I know that is true? How do I know that this is not a ruse to get the dagger back into your hands and use it to finish the job you started? The Dagger of Discord is legend even among owls. We call it the Cursed Golden Talon and every owlet knows to beware of it. 

Freedom hung his head. I swear to you, by all I hold dear, that I am not the dagger's servant anymore.

Ah, Freedom. If only I could trust you.

You can, dammit! I think the dagger's affected you too, and made you suspicious of me.  It loves to create problems between friends.  Trust me, Hedwig.  You always did before.

Hedwig gave him a grave look.  That was before you nearly killed your mentor with a cursed dagger. I need time. Time to think.

We don't have time, Hedwig! I don't know how long Sev can stay under the stasis cloak and I want the damn dagger destroyed as soon as possible.

I am sorry, but I cannot risk you getting possessed by that thing again.  If I am to fetch it for you from its hiding place, I must have no doubt in my mind that you will destroy the blasted thing. Completely, utterly, and irrevocably.  And right now . . .I am not sure if I trust you.

Look, if you won't trust me, will you at least listen to one of the Witherspoons? They've been with me the whole time I've been here, watching me make the potion.

Hedwig looked unconvinced.  Will they vouch for you?

Yes, I think so. Let me go and ask. With that, Freedom flew down out of the rowan and circled the cottage before landing and going inside to talk to Jace and his mother.  Grace was an Animagus, a kestrel, and she might be able to talk Hedwig into fetching the dagger, and Jace had watched him brew the entire potion from start to finish and could vouch for his determination and dedication in making it.

But he halted upon the threshold of the cottage, realizing that neither Witherspoon knew the truth behind what had happened that night. He had been too ashamed and afraid to admit the truth, fearful that once they found out what he had done, they would throw him out, unwilling to harbor a murderer in their home. Or an attempted murderer.

For one instant, he panicked. How can I tell them? They'll hate me.  They won't understand. How can I admit that I was possessed and nearly killed Severus, that there was no Death Eater that got away?

For several long moments he stood there upon the porch, his hand gripping the doorknob, feeling his stomach churn with renewed anxiety and fear. I have to tell them. I have no choice. Gathering all of his vaunted Gryffindor courage, a pale and shadowy thing when compared to his dread and fear, he turned the door handle and went inside the cottage. 

He found Grace sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the Prophet. Jace was yawning and just finishing a large bowl of porridge and he could hear Jasper reading to Jilly in the den.  He had passed them on his way to the kitchen, but they had been so engrossed in their book they hadn't even noticed and he had been so focused on finding Jace that he had barely paid attention to them either.

He stopped just inside the kitchen and remained standing there, shifting from foot to foot.  He felt like a hawk faced with a hunter's gun or a deer caught in a car's headlights, paralyzed with fear and unable to think.

With that uncanny intuition readers possessed, both Witherspoons looked up at the same moment.

"Harry, is something the matter?" Grace asked, her eyes filled with compassion.

"Did you find your owl?" Jace asked.  "Is she all right?"

"Yes, she's fine.  She's why I'm here." He released the breath he had been holding. "I . . .have something to tell you.  You aren't going to like it and you'll probably hate me after, but please, hear me out."

"Why don't you sit down?" Grace invited.

Harry moved towards a chair, though he felt as if his legs belonged to someone else. He sat down.  Then he began to speak, quickly, before his nerve failed him.  "You know how I told you that the dagger was what stabbed Severus and almost killed him? And you all thought a Death Eater had done it? Well, that wasn't true. The truth is . . .that it was me who attacked Severus with the dagger.  It was  controlling me . . .I never would have done it else . . .it got inside my head and took me over in my dreams, and then in real life as well. While I was . . .under its influence I . . .nearly killed Professor Snape."

He waited for the gasps of outrage, for Grace to stand up and order him out of her home, for Jace to call him a filthy murdering traitor. 

Instead there was silence.

Slowly, Harry raised his eyes and looked at the two wizards.  Grace did not look revolted or disgusted or even angry. Her blue eyes were dark with sorrow.  And Jace . . .Jace looked almost relieved.  Harry could not fathom why.  He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

At last Jace spoke. "I know, Harry. I've known for a few days now."

"How? You promised you wouldn't read my mind," Harry cried defensively.

"And I haven't." Jace said evenly. "You talk in your sleep. Especially when you dream.  That night . . .you dreamed about what happened . . .and it woke me up. You kept apologizing to Professor Snape over and over . . .and you said you didn't mean it . . .that the dagger made you . . .that was when I knew."

"And you didn't say anything to me?"

"No.  I didn't know what to say.  And . . .I'm a Slytherin. We don't pry into each other's business and readers even less so. I figured if you wanted me to know you'd tell me."

Harry was flabbergasted.  Had it been Ron or Hermione who had overheard him saying such things . . .both of them would have been all over him the next day, demanding to know what was going on.  They would have never been able to keep their curiosity or their silence for so long.  He told Jace as much and the Slytherin laughed.  "That's because they're Gryffindors.  Most Gryffindors can't keep a secret to save their life. But Slytherins can go to their graves with a secret if necessary."

Harry nearly smiled at that.  Severus was a prime example of that trait. Who knew how many secrets the Potions Master clutched to his heart? He looked at Grace.  "You don't look surprised either. Did Jace tell you?"

"He didn't need to, Harry," Grace said softly.  "I could sense you carried a great burden within you.  I could see it in your eyes. The eyes are the windows of the soul."

"And you saw a murderer in mine, didn't you?"

"No, Harry. I saw a young boy drowning in grief and guilt and yet determined to help someone he cared for very much.  When you mentioned the dagger, I could guess what had happened.  As I told you before, the Dagger of Discord has a long and bloody history of subverting innocents. I am an enchantress of the first rank, I learned of the dagger long ago during my apprenticeship, as do all who have my talent, so that we never attempt to create such a thing.  Through all the souls it has corrupted, the dagger has become, in a way, self-aware.  It knew what it was doing when it chose you to be the vessel for its murderous desire, child.  It loves corrupting innocents best, taking what was pure and destroying it with greed and resentment and hate.  But it didn't succeed, Harry."

He blinked. "But . . .how can you say that? I took the dagger up and I stabbed Severus."

"But not killed him." Grace pointed out. "Had you been the dagger's catspaw fully, Severus would have died that night.  But something in you resisted and the dagger could not make you kill your mentor. And as soon as you realized what you had done, you rejected the dagger's poisoned words, didn't you?"

"Hedwig made me drop the dagger. I couldn't let it go."

"And what did you do then, Harry Potter? Did you immediately try and grab the dagger? Or did you try and save your mentor?"

"I . . .tried to save Severus. But I'm still tainted by the dagger, Grace."

"Yes, but not the way you would be if you had succumbed fully.  Evil touched you, but it did not mark you for its own."

"How do you know that?" Harry cried in anguish.  "How can you be sure? I don't even know myself."

"Because of Jilly," Jace answered.  "When she crawled in your lap and hugged you, she empathically read you.  And if you were what you say you are, she wouldn't have come within ten feet of you.  She might be only two, but she knows a bad person when she feels one.  You can't hide evil from an empath. They always know."

Harry looked skeptical.  "When did she ever meet anyone who was evil?"

"On Platform 9 and ¾'s, at King's Cross.  My parents brought her along to say goodbye to me and because they couldn't leave her alone.  And we bumped into Lucius Malfoy on the platform.  Jilly took one look at him and started to scream. She called him a bad man and wouldn't even look at him. Jilly never reacts like that around people, she was laughing a few moments before, waving at all the people, until Draco's father banged into us.  And you know what he is, don't you?"

"A Death Eater."

"He claims not, but I trust my daughter over anything that slick-talking viper says any day of the week," Grace said, her blue eyes stormy.  "When I asked Jilly why she was crying and screaming, she said the bad man scared her, made her feel all cold and dark.  That's as accurate a description of the aura of a dark wizard as you can get from a two-year-old.  But not you, Harry."

"But the dagger possessed me!"

"Yes, but only for a few moments.  And it had to trick you into hurting Severus, you didn't agree willingly.  And that made all the difference."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Were you the dark wizard you think you are, my wards would have stopped you from entering my house. And you walked right in."

For the first time since that dreadful night, Harry felt a seed of hope begin to sprout within him.  "You . . .really believe that?"

"Not believe, Harry. I know. Evil cannot live in the unwilling heart."

"Will you . ..tell Hedwig that? Because she won't give me the dagger until she trusts me not to fall under its spell again."

"Of course. Where is she?"

"Outside, in the rowan."

Grace shifted into her kestrel form and flew out the window.

The two boys followed.

The kestrel had reached Hedwig by the time they got outside and though Jace could not understand avian speech, Harry had no trouble and translated what the two were saying. 

Hello, Hedwig and welcome to my home. I am Dawnfire.

Well met, Dawnfire. Forgive me for not introducing myself before, Hedwig said.

You have had much to think about.

Yes, after what has happened, it's a miracle I am not molting.

I have come to speak with you on behalf of your wizard.

Has he told you what he has done?

The kestrel bobbed her head.  Say rather what the dagger has made him do.

He wishes me to fetch the dagger from where I have hidden it and let him destroy it.  But . . .I am afraid.  What if it influences him again?

You don't trust your wizard?

I . . .did once. But now . . .I do not know. Hedwig sounded lost and confused.  He claims the dagger no longer has him in thrall, but how can I take that chance?

I shall vouch for him. Listen, winged sister, and you will see why. Dawnfire told Hedwig what she had told Harry. 

Those are all valid points, but still, I am uneasy. Hedwig admitted.  Once I never would have doubted his heart, but now . . .

His heart is still as it was. Steadfast and true. My daughter has looked into it and has found no darkness.

The owl made a chuffing sound of disbelief.  You would trust a child with this?

There is no better judge of character than an empath. Dawnfire answered serenely.

Hedwig considered for a few minutes longer before at last nodding and saying, I shall fetch the dagger, tell Harry to have the potion here on the lawn when I return. I think the best way to ensure he does not succumb to the dagger again is for me to destroy it myself.

I do not think- the kestrel chirped, but Hedwig had already taken flight. Dawnfire gave a soft screech and flew down and became Grace once more.  "Harry, Hedwig has agreed to fetch the dagger. She wants you to bring the cauldron with the elixir out here."

"What for?"

"Because she wishes to destroy the dagger herself."

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "It's my task and I'll do it. I have to do it. Otherwise I'll never be free of it. And I'll never know . . .if I was strong enough to break its hold over me.  I can't live like that, Grace.  The dagger almost destroyed me . . .almost destroyed Severus . . .and whatever relationship we had . . .No, if anyone destroys the Dagger of Discord, it will be me."

He drew himself up to his full height and in his eyes was a determination and pride she had seen in few adult wizards.  "I'm nobody's pawn. Not ever again." He Summoned the cauldron with the potion inside it with a wave of his hand. As soon as the cauldron settled to the ground, he walked over beside it, then he summoned yet another article from his bag.

His Curse Breaking Gloves soared into his outstretched palms and he pulled them on.  There was no hesitation in his actions now. He knew that what he was doing was exactly right.  Hedwig meant well, but she did not comprehend the depth of his guilt and his need for redemption.  Nor his need to lay to rest for good and all the ghost of the dagger.   

Jace goggled. "You can do wandless magic?"

"A little bit. Severus promised he would teach me more when we got home . . ." he trailed off, feeling himself choke up. If I still have a home after all this is over. If he still wants me.  Don't think about him, Harry. Don't think about what he looked like, with blood all over the ground, or how he looks now, trapped in time. Don't think about it. What matters now is destroying the dagger. You need to focus on that. He closed his eyes, and took three deep cleansing breaths.  In his mind's eye he saw again the little  princess, with her ruby tiara and gold tissue dress.  And then he deliberately erased her from his mind.  Goodbye princess, I won't be used ever again. I am finished and done with you.  No more sinister tricks, I see you for what you are, and I won't be manipulated by your lies. He carefully raised his Occlumency shields.  Then he opened his eyes.

Grace eyed him knowingly, and so did her son. "Have you put on all your armor then?" she quipped.

"Yeah," he replied, giving her a half-smile, for in a way he had. The shields and his determination were like armor against the dagger's wicked thrust, protecting his psyche from its bite. 

Now there was nothing to do but wait for Hedwig's return.

Merlin, but he hated waiting! The minutes seemed to drag on endlessly, becoming hours in an eyeblink. He rocked back slightly on his heels, feeling his palms begin to sweat inside the gloves.  He forced himself to be calm.  He could do this, he had to do this. The dagger must be destroyed by his hand.

Beside him, Jace scanned the sky for the snowy owl, but the sky remained empty of all save clouds. Wait, was that a cloud moving? Yes . . .Hedwig was returning, holding a flat wrapped package in her talons. She flew slowly but with purpose towards them.

Harry had seen her as well, and he pointed a finger at the cauldron and conjured a minor shield over it. Then he waited until Hedwig was overhead before calling, "Hedwig, bring me the dagger.  I'm the one who has to throw it into the cauldron."

The snowy  hovered, hissing in agitation. No! That was not the plan, Harry. I dare not let you have the dagger. What if it takes you over again? Let me do this.

"It's not your task, Hedwig. It's mine. Remember the prophecy.  A steadfast and true heart shall overcome all?  I need to do this, Hedwig.  Trust me. It's not like the last time. I know now what to beware of."

But the owl stubbornly remained clutching the dagger.  She could feel it vibrating beneath her talons, it realized its peril and urged her not to let it go.  Harry, let me destroy it.  Before it wakes fully and entraps you again.

"Trust me, Hedwig. You said before I would have never knowingly harmed Severus. I know what the dagger is capable of. And I know what I'm capable of. In order to break the hold of the dagger on him and myself, I need to be the one to destroy it. The hand that held the weapon must be the one to unmake it."

"He is right," Grace said suddenly. "That is how the worst curses are broken."

He held the dagger once and look what it did with him. Do you really want to chance that happening again, Mistress Witherspoon? What if he runs mad and tries to kill your son? Or your daughter?

"He won't. Trust your wizard, owl. He was seduced into darkness, he did not choose it."

Hedwig screeched in frustration.

"What if we shielded him too?" Jace said.  "We're readers and that dagger mind controls people, sort of like the way the Mind Lords used to, centuries ago. But readers defeated them because they couldn't get past our shields. Because we knew how to combine them. Right, Mum?"

"My son is correct. If we combine our shields and weave them with Harry's, the dagger will not be able to penetrate his mind." Grace said.

Harry opened his mouth to protest. Hush, child. We will only do so if you are in danger of the dagger possessing you. Until then we shall monitor you only, Grace sent.

"Okay," he said aloud. "That'll work."

Hedwig considered. It was a difficult decision. Did she dare put the object that had sowed so much dissent within reach of her wizard again? She did not want him hurt and did not want to be responsible if he hurt others because he could not fight off the dagger's command. But perhaps with the aid of the readers . . .Oh, Harry. I trusted you once. Dare I trust you again? She peered deeply into his emerald eyes, which were gazing directly at her. 

In them she saw an iron determination, sorrow, regret, and a strength of purpose that overrode everything. They were the eyes of a warrior intent on overcoming all odds and wining the field. There was no trace of longing or evil within them.

A true and steadfast heart. Trust me. 

She could feel the dagger stirring, and it began to urge her to take it and fly away, far away.  Hide me. Save me. Do not give me to him.

It was that last which decided her. The dagger was afraid, and trying to influence her as well.  But she was no more of a pawn than her wizard. She shrugged off the urging. Very well. I will do what you wish. Catch!

She released the dagger and it tumbled through the air.

Harry snatched it up with his right hand, then canceled the spell over the cauldron.

As soon as his fingers closed about the dagger, he could feel the evil presence within it awaken and scrabble at his shields, whimpering and begging to get in. Don't leave me alone! Please, Harry! It's cold and dark and I'm scared, cried the dagger in the voice of the little girl of his dreams.

Harry flinched, then tightened his shields. That won't work this time. Now shut up and get out of my mind! You're not some helpless child, you're evil incarnate.

Am I? But you promised to protect me, Harry, the dagger sobbed. You lied! You lied to me!

No, you lied to me! he thundered silently. You tricked me into almost killing my mentor.

Huh. That dried up professor with all of his rules and regulations? Who needs them? He's so stiff with discipline it's like he's got a stick up his arse! He only took you in because he had to. Do you really believe he loves you? The son of his rival? A Gryffindor brat? Do open your eyes and see the truth, Harry. You're nothing but a burden, something he is forced to endure. As soon as you're of age, out the door you'll go. Good riddance, Potter!

You're wrong. Severus loves me.

Has he ever said so? No. And what do you think he will say when he wakes up? Will he forgive you, do you think? After you nearly killed him?

Harry trembled, sweat beading his brow. The dagger was bringing out all of his old inadequacies, all of his doubts and fears. Among them the fear that Severus would reject him and he would be as he was before-without a true home or a family.

Don't listen to it, Harry, Grace sent.    

Severus will understand. He would never abandon you. Trust him, Jace sent comfortingly.

Harry recalled all of the times Severus had risked his life for him, and all the times he had been there for him when no one else even had noticed he was in need. He recalled Severus calling him his child in Italian and saying he would always have a home with him, no matter what. Yes, Sev might be angry with him when he woke up, but he would never cast him aside.  Not after all they had been and done to each other. 

This is the dagger . . .doing what it does best. Trying to split apart the ties that bind.  But I will not let it. Never again! I know you, I see you for what you are-deceiver, trickster, liar with an innocent face-and I reject you! You're nothing but a scared soul hiding in the shadows, afraid to face the light, incapable of understanding what truly binds people together-love, loyalty, and trust. But love most of all.

He gathered up all of the love he felt and threw it at the dagger and the spirit within it shrank back and withdrew, wailing, into the dark. 

Then Harry lifted the dagger and flung it into the cauldron.

The potion frothed and turned a deep black, bubbling with the force of the cursed object, and Harry could swear he heard the dagger howling in agonized fury as the potion dissolved it. The stench from the cauldron was so awful that all three wizards staggered away, coughing and retching and even Hedwig flew up to perch high in the rowan's crown.  

Billows of greenish black smoke emerged from the cauldron and it began to gyrate wildly.

Tensely, Harry watched, for this had never happened before with any of the other Horcruxes.  Then again, none of the others had the same level of evil within them at their core.

The cauldron shivered and some of the potion, which was now a foul black sludge, slopped over the edge and landed on the ground with a hiss.

CRACK!

The cauldron had split in two.

"Great Merlin!" Jace cried.

Coughing, Harry shifted into Freedom and flew above the remains of the cauldron, trying to see through the thick acrid smoke.  

Grace summoned a breeze and as the smoke drifted away, Freedom could see the remains of the potion slowly soaking into the earth and not a glint of gold or a flicker of ruby could be seen.  The Dagger of Discord was no more.

The curse about Severus was broken.

Freedom flew high in the air, straight up into the rising sun.

Then he spun and closed his wings, diving at a tremendous speed down to the earth, shrieking a victory cry.

Kreee-eearr!Severus lives!

"Is it safe to remove the cloak now, Grace?" Harry asked, his face filled with uncertainty, anxiety, and trepidation.  He desperately wanted her to say yes but at the same time he was terrified that Severus would wake up, take one look at him, and order him away.  So pervasive was this fear that it made him feel ill. 

"Yes, the curse is broken now that the Dagger of Discord is destroyed." Grace reassured him.  "However, it may take Professor Snape a while longer to recover from the effects of the curse."

"What do you mean?"

"That was a powerful curse, Harry. Breaking it only means he will survive, it does not repair the damage done to him magically, physically, and mentally.  I will be able to tell more once he wakes." The enchantress said, and then she spoke a soft word and set her hands upon the Stasis Cloak, whisking it off the Potions Master.  Removed, the cloak's magical light faded and it became a piece of clothing once more.  Grace folded it into a square and handed it to her son. "Jace, put it away for me."

But Harry stepped in front of the younger Witherspoon. "I can do that, Grace. Where does it go?"

"In the study, in the rosewood trunk in the far right corner." Grace answered, surprised that Harry would volunteer for anything that took him away from his mentor right then.  "The password to open it is  magic's heart." She drew her wand.  "I shall cast some diagnostics while you are gone. He should begin to wake soon from the stasis."

Harry slipped from the room, cradling the cloak close.  He knew he was behaving like a coward, fleeing from the scene before Severus woke, but he could not bear to see the condemnation in the older wizard's eyes when he looked at his apprentice.  He won't want to see me anyhow, he tried to rationalize his flight.  Why would he want to see me, who almost killed him? Better that I stay away, he'll probably have a relapse or something if he sees me first thing when he wakes up. He headed for the study, which was a small room just off the master bedroom, where the elder Witherspoons wrote their correspondences and read their spellbooks.  It was also where their owl, Brennatallia, had her cage, though she was almost never inside it, being given free run of the cottage and its environs.

Harry entered the study, which lit as soon as he set a toe over the threshold. Jace had explained all the rooms were spelled so, his mother had created wards to detect when a person entered a room and they in turn activated a Lumos spell she had set over the room.  He quickly located the rosewood trunk in the corner, it was a beautifully carved old piece, and spoke the password before lifting the lid and placing the cloak inside. He settled it on top a variety of blankets and scarves and other articles of clothing, all of them enchanted, he suspected, by the lady of the house. He hesitated, then slowly closed the lid and stood staring down at the top of the trunk, which had been carved with pretty vines, leaves, and climbing roses.

Is he awake yet? How did the curse affect him? I hope . . .Merlin I hope he can recover from this.  If I've damaged him permanently . . .he'll never forgive me and I won't blame him, because I'll never forgive myself either. Please, oh please, don't let that happen.  He didn't know who he was praying to, God, the Moon Lady Meadowsweet and the wolfen worshipped, Merlin, or some unnamed Power.  Growing up with the Dursleys, he had never gotten much in the way of religion, since the only deity the Durselys worshipped was Wealth and its companion, Prestige.   He had no real basis for faith, but he was desperate for something to help him, something that would relieve him of the awful burden of guilt that weighed him down like a ton of stones upon his back. 

He crept back along the corridor, pausing just outside the sickroom door, close enough to hear anything said but not close enough to be seen. He transformed his eyes into those of his hawk ego so he could see inside the room without getting too near the doorway. 

Grace was bent over the still form of the Potions Master, murmuring softly. 

"Mum? How is he?" asked Jace worriedly.

Grace straightened.  "Well, he's starting to come out of the stasis, but he's very weal magically and physically, that curse drained his reserves down to nearly nothing, and that is saying something, considering he is a master wizard with a very large reserve to draw upon."

"How can you tell that?"

"Is is an ability an enchantress possesses," Grace replied, tucking the covers more securely about Severus's lean frame.  "Had he been a less powerful wizard, he would have died from the curse before I could get to him.  As it is, I've no doubt he will be running a fever and his lungs seem congested too."

Probably from where I stabbed him, Harry thought darkly, though he had no way of knowing if the dagger had struck a lung or not.  So Severus's magic had saved him after all. 

"Are there potions to restore his magic?" was Jace's next question.

"Yes, but they are difficult to prepare and can only be taken in small doses," his mother answered. She peered at the wizard and noted his eyelids fluttering. "Look, he is waking.  Where has Harry gotten to?"

"Want me to go find him, Mum?" Jace offered. 

"Stay a minute. I don't want him to wake and see a strange face. He knows you, son."

The Potions Master's eyes fluttered open and he blinked slowly, gazing up at Jace and his mother with puzzlement.  "Where . . .am I?" he asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.  "Who are you?"

The question was directed at Grace, but Jace answered it.  "Professor Snape, it's Jace, remember me? I'm in Slytherin. Jace Witherspoon."

Recognition flared in the ebony eyes then.  "Yes. . . Jace, my resident reader.  Are you . . .keeping your shields intact like I taught you?"

"Yes, sir. They really helped me.  How are you feeling, sir?"

Severus grimaced as pain shot through his head.  "I am . . .not well." One hand sought his chest, where he recalled a shining golden dagger plunging into him. But his hand only encountered cloth, and when he pressed down upon it, there was no pain, as there would have been if the wound he had taken was still healing.  "My wound . . .it is healed . . .How?"

"I healed it, Severus Snape," Grace said then.  "I am Grace Witherspoon, Jace's mother.  Welcome to my home.  My husband and son rescued you and your apprentice from the werewolves and brought you here, to my home.  You have been under a stasis spell for several days while we struggled to break the curse of the Dagger of Discord."

Severus frowned as he attempted to digest the information he had been given, he was exhausted and his mind was all fuzzy and not working as it ought to.  But one thing he did know, and that was the dagger was too dangerous to be left unguarded.  "The dagger . . .where is it?" he gasped, coughing. 

"Destroyed.  Harry destroyed it." Grace said, helping him sit up so he did not choke and handing him a large handkerchief.

The professor coughed deeply for several minutes, unable to clear his throat of the mucus gathered there. At last he managed to draw a breath and say, "Good. Harry, where is he?" He looked about the room for the boy, but the only occupants were Grace and her son. "He was not . . .himself . . ." Even in his weakened state, Severus was careful not to reveal too much, his innate caution as a spy bidding him to hold his tongue.

"Jace, fetch Harry." Grace ordered, laying a hand upon Severus's forehead. "Tell him his mentor is awake and wishes to see him.  Perhaps he lost his way and is still looking for the study, though how that could be possible in such a small house . . ." She trailed off as the professor's temperature registered.  "Merlin! You have a very high fever, Severus, probably due to the damage to your magical reserves. Spell shock, most likely."

Jace left to find Harry, leaving his mother alone with the very ill wizard. 

Severus's mouth twisted.  "Yes . . .need a potion . . ." He began to shiver violently, his teeth chattering. "So tired . . .never been this tired . . ."

"Don't sleep yet," Grace said, summoning three potions to her.  "You need to take these."

The black eyes eyed the vial suspiciously, and she told them what they were before holding them to his mouth.  "Fever Reducer, a Magic Replenishing Elixir, and a Lung Decongestant."

It was all Severus could do to remain coherent enough to drink the drafts, afterwards he lay back upon the pillows, utterly exhausted.  "Harry . . ." was the last word he uttered before falling into a fevered sleep.

Grace shook her head, irritated at the boy, but she gently brushed Severus's hair back from his forehead before whispering, "Rest now, professor. Sleep will do you good."

Just then, Jace reappeared with Harry, who admitted sheepishly that he had gotten a bit turned around. The boy came immediately to stand beside his mentor. "How is he? Was there any . . .permanent damage?"

"I don't know for sure, Harry." Grace said gently. "That's not so easy to tell right now. He's still weak and sick from the dark magic, I can only tell that when he starts to recover. He woke briefly and I told him where he was and he asked for you, but he fell asleep before you returned."

"When will he wake up again?"

"He should sleep for several hours at least. I gave him several potions, including a Magical Replenisher, and that one always makes you sleep, since sleep is the best way to restore your magical reserves and core." She laid a hand gently upon Harry's shoulder.  "He is a strong man, Harry. A fighter. He'll pull through if anyone can."

Harry nodded.  "I know. He's the strongest man I know." He reached out tentatively and touched Severus's hand, which was lying atop the sheet.  "And the bravest." He squeezed the long fingers for a brief instant before drawing away.

Grace examined the young wizard closely, noting the dark circles under Harry's eyes and the drawn cheeks and air of exhaustion. "You ought to sleep too, child.  You are exhausted, fighting that dagger was no easy task."

Harry nodded blearily, only then realizing that he was barely able to stand upon his feet. 

"Perhaps you ought to drink a mug of broth with some bread and then have a bit of rest," suggested the enchantress, and the tone of her voice made it plain that it was more command than suggestion.

Harry was too exhausted emotionally and physically to put up a fight, and he simply allowed Grace to steer him into the kitchen, ate the chicken broth infused with a few drops of Magic Replenisher and some soft white bread, and then Jace helped him down the hall and into bed. 

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Grace spelled pajamas on him and removed his shoes, tucking a soft green afghan about him a moment later.  Poor child. I think destroying that dagger was the least of your worries, strange as that may sound. She turned and left the room.  "Jace, I need you to gather some more herbs for me from the garden. Feverfew, marigolds, rowan bark, amleothoria flowers . . ."

"For the potions, right?" her intuitive son guessed.

"Correct.  Hurry now. I'll have just enough time to brew a new batch of Fever Reducer before they wake." Grace urged.

Jace departed at run for the garden, a basket levitating itself and floating along after him.

* * * * * *

 Harry awoke several hours later feeling much better for his long nap.  He went and took a long hot shower and dressed in clean clothes then went into the kitchen to see if there were something around he could eat, for he was suddenly ravenous. He found Jasper and Jilly in the kitchen, Jasper was giving Jilly lunch, which looked to be tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Harry found himself smiling at the simple meal, one that his aunt always used to make for Dudley when the weather turned cold and nippy. Harry had always managed to sneak a few spoonfuls out of the pot when Petunia's back was turned and snitch a few crusts of a sandwich too, since Dudley always ate three of them and cut the crusts off because he hated them. 

"Hi, Hawwy!" Jilly greeted as soon as he had entered the room, she was holding a quarter of a grilled cheese sandwich in one hand, it was cut in a triangle. "You was sleepin' a long time. Wanna have lunch?" She bit into her sandwich to illustrate the fact.

Harry smiled at her. There was something about the little girl that always made him feel good.  "Yeah.  What are you having?" he asked, coming over to sit down next to her.

"I's havin' grilled cheese n' t'mato soup," she informed him, but it came out garbled because she attempted to talk with the grilled cheese in her mouth, sounding more like, "I sh ambmf grmfud matomoof."

"Jilly, don't talk with your mouth full," Jasper reprimanded softly.  "Hello, Harry. Did you sleep well? Are you hungry?"

"Yes, si-Jasper," he caught himself before he said sir again.  "I was more tired than I thought."

"Yes, I would imagine so, given what you had been doing. Destroying the Dagger of Discord was no mean feat." The elder wizard said, approval in his tone.

"I couldn't have done it without Hedwig, Grace, and Jace," Harry said modestly.  He lowered his eyes to the table and said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before, but . . ."

"Harry, you do not have to reveal everything to me, you are a guest in my home, and I would never demand an accounting of you or that you tell me information you wish to keep private," Jasper said seriously. "Privacy is paramount in a reader's household." He set a large bowl of soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, oyster crackers, and a glass of pumpkin juice down in front of Harry.  "Grace tells me Professor Snape is awake, and though weak and sick, should eventually recover from the dagger's curse. That is wonderful news, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm glad," Harry said sincerely.  "He's sleeping still, but then he needs to ‘cause his magical reserves were drained away to almost nothing." He had gone in to check upon Severus after his shower and found the professor still asleep, though he was tossing and turning a little. Harry had ran a cool wet cloth over his face that he found sitting beside the professor's bedside on a small table and after that Severus seemed to relax.

"Aye, so Grace told me.  Rest is the best medicine for that." Jasper said knowingly.  "I'd wager you're starving after your own ordeal, so eat up, don't be shy. My soup's not bad and Jace always says I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich." He floated a bowl of soup and a sandwich over to his place at the table, as well as glass of what looked like wine.

"Mmm, ‘licious!" Jilly added, having finished what was in her mouth and eating some soup with her little spoon. 

Harry chuckled at the little girl's attempt to use big words and bit into his own sandwich, it was incredible, toasted just right and melted perfectly on the inside.

"You mean delicious," Jasper corrected his daughter.

Jilly frowned. "I knows that, Daddy. Love grilled cheese!" she took another bite of her sandwich, not caring that the cheese was smeared all over her face.

"Jilly, you are such an imp!" Jasper sighed, then he reached over to wipe her face with a napkin.

Harry hid a grin at the way father and daughter acted, then said, "She is right, you know. This is the best grilled cheese I've ever eaten."

Jasper looked pleased and began to eat his own sandwich.

"Where's Jace?" Harry asked after he had finished off his sandwich and most of his soup.

"Down in the lab helping Grace brew.  They were making a Fever Reducer when I sent some food to them." Jasper answered promptly.  He tilted his head as if listening, then said, "They should be nearly finished."

"Can you . . .hear them wherever they are?" Harry asked, curious about reader abilities.

"Not always. Our communication is limited to about ten miles and then I can't send to them.  But here, inside the house, I can sense their general whereabouts and send to them without a problem, unless they're shielding fully. That was why I invented the Amulets of Communication in the beginning, so I could speak with Grace and Jace even when they were away from the village." He tapped the pendant he wore. "This is the original amulet I made. Grace wears its twin around her neck. I have another, made of malachite, that Jace wears. But he usually wears that when he's away at school, so he can talk to me if he needs to and doesn't need to waste time writing letters. Especially if it's an emergency."

"It's too bad more people don't have one. I'll bet it's twenty times quicker than owl post," Harry remarked, though he felt disloyal to Hedwig admitting that. 

"Yes, it's almost as quick as a reader sending.  But few wizards can afford them, I have to charge them a rather steep price because they're time consuming to make and the Ministry still hasn't granted my patent, which means I only sell them to those I think are trustworthy and won't attempt to steal my invention. My friends here in the village all have them and mine is attuned to them. So in case of an emergency, we can all contact each other and come and help, if necessary. Not that anything much happens here, it's a pretty quiet place, thank Merlin.  Still, it doesn't hurt to be prepared."

"That makes sense. Could a Death Eater find his way here?" Harry asked uneasily. He knew that while they might have been driven away temporarily, they were still out there, watching and waiting their chance to strike again.

"Yes, if they searched long enough, but the village is warded and it would take some pretty strong spellwork to break the wards and locate you. We readers are good at hiding things. Comes from having to hide ourselves centuries ago, when we were persecuted," Jasper explained.

Harry was relieved to hear that, he had been half afraid that a Death Eater or two would be showing up any day now, especially since the dagger had been destroyed.  Could Voldemort sense the destruction of the Horcruxes? Harry wondered. He thought about it for a moment, then supposed not, since when he had been resurrected in the graveyard, he had not displayed any kind of knowledge that the diary had been destroyed. 

He finished his soup and Jasper gave him seconds without being asked. 

Jilly looked over at him as he started on his second helping and said, "You like it, Hawwy?"

"It's great, Jilly."

"Dad makes the best tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches," Jace stated proudly, coming into the kitchen and snatching another off the spell-warmed plate in the middle of the table.

"Learned from my mum.  Now she could cook, she was a Muggle, and my dad always said she was magic in the kitchen.  He once entered her in a magical bake-off contest without her knowing about it, sometimes the witches and wizards compete to see which one has the better spells for recipes, they make something with a spell and let a bunch of people taste it that are at the competition and then everyone votes. So he put Mum's chocolate layer cake up there and put his name on it and it won. Afterwards, he admitted his wife had made it, and when the judges asked to see the spell she had used, he laughed and told them she was a Muggle and the cake was made from scratch, without magic.  He said those judges nearly passed out, they were so shocked. But they let my mother keep the first prize ribbon."

"And the local wizards ever after called Mandy Witherspoon the Spell-less Wonder," Grace said, laughing.

Harry managed a smile at that, then asked the enchantress what potions she was brewing for Severus.  When Grace told him, he offered to help as well.  "I've brewed all of them except for the Magic Replenisher, and I'm sure I could brew that too, if I watch you at least once. I'm a potions apprentice, and it's only fair I brew the potions for Severus, since it's my fault he's like this."

"If you wish to observe me making the Magic Replenisher, you may. I shall begin brewing that tomorrow. In the meantime, I think I will need another batch of Lung Decongestant."

"I'll get started right away," Harry said, and leaped to his feet and practically bolted down to the lab.

Grace shook her head. "Poor child, he is feeling so guilty over his actions."

"Perhaps brewing the potions will help him though," Jasper mused.

"Hawwy sad," Jilly added.  "Needs a special hug."

"Later, Jilly," Jace said.  "Should I go and help, Mum?"

"Not just yet, Jace. I think he wishes to be left alone," Grace said wisely. "Why don't you go flying?"

"Me too! Me too, Jace!" Jilly cried, looking all pathetic.

Jace groaned good-naturedly, but then agreed to take Jilly up on his broom for about fifteen minutes, and the little girl squealed and hugged him, projecting her happiness at him and making him grin and toss her up into the air.

But in another room of the house, Severus whimpered and tossed uneasily in his sleep, as old nightmares returned to plague him.

* * * * * *

Harry remained in the lab, brewing the Lung Decongestant, which was not a very complicated potion, nothing like the Curse Dissolving Elixir, but it was time consuming, needing to steep for hours before full potency was reached.  He had reached the second stage in the brewing process before Jace came down to call him for dinner.

"The professor woke up again while you were down here and asked for you, but when I told him you were brewing he said to leave you be and fell back asleep. Sorry, I should have gotten you sooner."

"That's all right, Jace. Severus understands, and I'll talk to him tomorrow when he wakes up," Harry said glibly, not revealing how relieved he was that Severus had fallen asleep, so this way he didn't have to speak to his mentor about what he had done. The only reason he's asking about me is so he can tell me to leave probably. I broke every rule in my articles of apprenticeship when I tried to kill him, after all.

He would try and put off the inevitable confrontation as long as possible, he decided. Brewing potions was a brilliant excuse and it also gave him an outlet for assuaging a little of his guilt. But he still felt terrible and he couldn't bear to face Severus right then.

After dinner, he went back down to the lab and finished the potion off, bottled it and brought it back up to show Grace.

That was when he learned that Severus was delirious and didn't recognize anyone, he kept thinking he was back at Hogwarts teaching and trying to get up and check all the students' cauldrons.  Jace tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't stop trying to get up, and Grace thought about restraining him until Harry held came over and placed his hands on his shoulders and said firmly, "Severus, I'll teach your classes. It's Harry, don't worry about it, I can teach them, okay?"

" . . .first years need to brew a Boil Cure, second years a Friendship Draft, make sure all the ingredients are labeled . . ." Snape whispered, his eyes glassy.

"I will. Now go to sleep, Sev. Just . . .go to sleep."

The professor calmed then.  "Hot . . .thirsty . . ."

Harry gave him cool water and a Fever Reducer and after that the professor lapsed back into the twilight realm between sleep and dreams once more.

"His fever is dangerously high," Grace said worriedly. "I hope this next round of potions has a better effect, otherwise I might just have to put him in an ice water bath."

"He did that to me once, when I was sick," Harry said. "It worked." He dragged over a chair and sat down. "I'll watch him for part of the night, Grace. It's the least I can do."

"But surely you must be tired, Harry-" she began.

"Please, Grace. I need to be here, just in case . . .I'll be fine."

"Very well. But call me if his fever spikes or he gets too much for you to handle."

"All right."

Then the Witherspoons left for bed, and Harry settled in for the night in the armchair.  Well, Sev, you did this for me when I was sick that time in Calais, and a few other times before that too. Turnabout's fair play, right?

He spent the night beside his mentor, wiping down his  face and neck with a cool cloth, soothing him when he trembled and cried out from the nightmares that he wandered in, holding his hand and whispering, "It's all right, Sev. I'm here. You're not alone."

Several times Severus opened his eyes and looked at him, but he was not awake, merely delirious and so did not recognize Harry.  At times during the long night, Severus called repeatedly for someone named Thea, pleading with her not to forget him and other times to go away, that he was not worth her time.  " . . .you don't know the truth of what I am . . .and I can't tell you . . .leave me, it's for the best, can't you see . . ." he cried, and his voice was sharp with anguish.

Harry listened, mute with sorrow and trying to understand who Severus was talking about, and then he knew. "Dear sweet Merlin! It's that girl, the one he left behind all those years ago.  He still misses her."

"Thea . . .Thea . . .sorry . . .so sorry . . .Lily, forgive me . . ."

"Shhh. It's okay. She knows, Sev. She understands." Harry murmured, not knowing what else to say to ease his mentor's tormented soul. It nearly broke his heart to see the proud wizard reduced to this . . .lost in a world of nightmares, begging for absolution from people who were dead and gone.  So much anguish for one lifetime.  Harry bowed his head to hide his tears. Sev, I'm the one who's sorry. Sorry for hurting you and sorry for putting you through this hell.

He placed another cool cloth over the Potion Master's forehead and Severus lapsed back into sleep at the cool touch. 

Harry watched the man sleeping for a good twenty minutes before he allowed his eyes to close. Just going to take a nap for twenty minutes, that's all . . .

When he opened his eyes it was morning and Severus was still feverish.

* * * * * *

For three days Severus wandered in and out of nightmares, his fever soaring up and down, but never breaking.  At times he was half awake, enough to know that he was somewhere in one of his student's homes, and being taken care of, but most times he remained lost within his mind, a prisoner of his memories.  Grace would have given him Dreamless Sleep, but it was too dangerous to dose him with that with such a high fever, it could react badly and cause the patient to fall into a coma.  So she gave him mild Sleeping Drafts, enough to make him sleep comfortably for a few hours, but once they wore off, the nightmares returned with a vengeance.

All of them took turns sitting by his bedside, dosing him with potions and Cooling Charms, but it was Harry who was there most often, and when he wasn't he was down in the lab, brewing more potions.  His guilt drove him to spend more and more time there, brewing stronger drafts of Fever Reducers and Lung Decongestants to combat the persistent cough that the Potions Master had developed that refused to leave and which they feared might turn into bronchitis or worse. 

The third night, Harry stumbled upstairs to bed around midnight, so tired he could hardly see straight and kept bumping into walls.  He fell asleep right after taking off his robe and shoes, dead to the world, forgetting that he should have gone to check on Severus, as he had insisted on night watch.

* * * * * *

He alternately froze and burned, inside he was cold as ice, but on the outside his skin burned like fire, as he watched helplessly as Voldemort ordered the children burned alive.  Behind his mask he wept and longed to turn and curse the madman who deemed that innocent children should die for the crime of being born ordinary and without magic. No! Not the children! Don't hurt them! His mind shrieked over and over as the flames licked slowly up the pyre and their frightened sobs turned to howls of agony.

Helpless, he watched, while his soul shriveled in horror and he vowed that someday they would pay, all of them, for hurting the children, one of whom was only two.

"No! Not the children!"

Then he was on the ground, and Harry was standing over him with a golden dagger, glaring at him with hate-filled ruby red eyes, whose face shifted to Voldemort, who smiled and thrust the dagger into his chest.  "Who will save your precious children now, Severus Snape?"

He woke with the sound of maddened laughter and the screams of dying children still ringing in his ears. As he opened his eyes, he found he was looking into a pair of brilliant emerald ones, that he first thought were Harry's, until he felt a small hand patting his cheek.

"It's okay. Don't be a'scared."

I'm dreaming again. Because that's the only explanation for a little girl being here beside me. He rubbed his eyes, hoping the phantom child, the ghost of one he had failed to save, would vanish.

But she remained right where she was, peering down at him. "You is sad and hurt, like Hawwy," she told him softly. "But I can make you feel better."

Before he could say anything, she had crawled into his lap, reached her small arms up, and hugged him about the neck, laying her head on his shoulder.

He froze. He, Severus Snape, the dreaded bat of the dungeons, now had a little girl cuddled in his lap. Hugging him. Her little face was buried in his shoulder, for Merlin's sake! This couldn't be happening!

"What are you . . .how . . .?"

"You needs a hug, ‘fessor Sevvy," Jilly told him, at least she thought that was the man's name, she had heard Harry and her brother call him that. "Bad," she added, as sharp feelings of pain and terror and surprise flowed into her, as she absorbed what he was feeling.

"I . . .do?"

"Uh huh." She clutched him tighter. "You is sad an' upset. Lots and lots." Then she began to cry, unable to handle the depth of his pain any other way.

"No . . .oh no . . .don't . . ." he gasped, not knowing what to do. Why is she crying? See, now you've scared her, Severus. Tobias was right, you really do have a face that makes children cry. Look at her, she's shaking like a leaf. The child was sobbing softly into his shoulder, but she refused to release him, her arms were wound about his neck like a noose. Awkwardly, he put an arm about her. "There now . . .don't cry . . .I . . .I didn't mean to frighten you . . ." He patted her back, wondering anew if this wasn't simply another crazy dream.  But he didn't feel like he was dreaming. He was nearly certain this was real.

Even through the pain and fear she had absorbed unwittingly, Jilly sensed his confusion, and all at once she sat up, tears still running down her cheeks, and said, "No, I is not ‘fraid of you. You is sick, not scary. But I feel you here," she tapped her chest. "It hurts. You hurt." She placed a hand on his chest.

He was shocked and horrified. "You can feel what I feel? Great Merlin!" No child should ever feel what I'm feeling, he thought frantically, and went to reinforce his Occlumency shields, only to discover they were already up and at full strength. And yet she could still feel him. How is that possible? My shields . . .they're not working! He probed at one, discovering they were indeed active. Yet he could not block her out.

At a loss, he stared at her, this adorable cherub nestled in his arms and asked, "What's your name?"

"I Jilly," she murmured. "You is ‘fessor Sevvy, Jace says so."

Professor . . .Sevvy??!! Merlin have mercy. "Ah, that's Professor Snape."

She smiled angelically. "Hawwy calls you Sevvy."

"He does?"

"Yup. He called you that b'fore. I heared him."

"You mean you heard him," Severus corrected automatically.  How come I never heard him? On second thought, he better never call me that while I'm awake! Of all the cheek.

"S'what I said." Then she threw her arms about him again. "I like you. Don't be sad, Sevvy."

He opened his mouth to tell her to stop hugging him, damn it, he was a professor and he didn't need hugs, he was a grown man, and no little child should be hugging him this way, it was damn embarrassing, but then he began to feel a wondrous sort of feeling, something he hadn't felt in a very long time.

It was joy. Pure unadulterated joy.

It flowed from the child into him in a brilliant wave of warmth, and it curled about his heart like a warm fuzzy blanket, insulating him from all of the awful memories and the pain they brought with them. Voldemort's laughter was banished, sent wailing into a black void, and the screams of the dying children could no longer be heard.

For the first time since the dagger had struck him down, or even before that, he was truly at peace.

"D'you feel better?"

"Yes . . .I really do," he mumbled. "How are you doing that, Jilly?"

The little girl shrugged and whispered in his ear, "Dunno."

What an extraordinary child, he thought, and for several moments there was no sound in the room save for the ticking of the clock upon the nightstand and the soft hush of their breathing.

Snape glanced at the clock. 3 AM and I'm sitting here with a little girl who can read my emotions like a book on my lap.

He knew he should be feeling irritable and grouchy, he was feverish and sick and he hated feeling so vulnerable and out of control.  But all he felt right then was a sort of peaceful contentment, as if he'd been dosed with a Euphoria Draft.  No, better than a Euphoria Draft, for that only affected the mind, but he felt this happiness all the way through to his soul, and slowly the cracks and tears in it began to mend.

He felt so good that he almost dozed off, Jilly snuggled in his arms, when he heard a soft voice calling, "Jillian Elise Witherspoon, where have you gotten to?"

A rather harried Grace stuck her head into Snape's room, her hair tumbling down across her shoulders, a blue wrap thrown hastily over her silvery silken nightgown. "Professor, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm-oh Jilly, there you are!" she exclaimed upon catching sight of her wayward offspring. "What are you doing in Severus's room? I'm so sorry, professor, did she wake you?"

Jilly stirred, lifted her head and replied, "I not wake him, Mummy. He waked me. With a bad dream. I felt him."

"Merlin's wand! You mean you-"

"I am afraid my nightmare disturbed her rest, Mrs. Witherspoon," Severus began apologetically.

"Grace."

"I woke and found her sitting beside me and she was most insistent upon-" he coughed uncomfortably. "-reassuring me. She climbed into my lap and . . .hugged me."

"Oh, dear!" Grace put a hand to her mouth, her lips quivering.  "Jilly loves giving hugs to people who are . . .sad or upset."

"He needed one, Mum. Real bad."

"Jilly, what have I told you about hugging strangers?"

"But he not a stranger, Mum.  I know his name. He ‘fessor Sevvy, Jace's teacher, and he is stayin' here, in my house."

"She is right," Severus conceded, a wry half-smile creeping over his face.  "Frankly I'm surprised she wants to be near me after I scared her with my nightmare." He quickly told Grace about Jilly crying after she had hugged him. "I did try to shield my mind, I'm a strong Occlumens, but for some reason she managed to slip past my shields." Now he sounded annoyed, for he was no novice, and he did not like it when a mere child could show him up.

"Your Occlumency shields won't keep out an empath of her Talent, I'm afraid. Your shields are meant to mask thoughts and memories, not emotions. Jilly's gift works at a totally different level. Sometimes even my reader shields, which are layered, can't keep her out." Grace said, a note of pride in her voice. "I apologize for her intrusion, at this stage she can't really control her gift and just picks up whatever emotions are uppermost in your mind and senses very strong ones instinctively."

"That is perfectly understandable, she is so young she can't maintain her shields for long.  But she will develop control eventually, when she is older."

"Thank you for understanding, Severus. That's why we don't tend to take her in large crowd, she becomes overwhelmed and most wizards consider a child of her Talent unfit to mingle in proper society."

"Ridiculous!" The Potions Master scowled.  "Such attitudes need to be eradicated. Not fit for proper society! Humph! I have known several purebloods of impeccable lineage that are not fit to mingle with pigs in a wallow, much less people."

Grace nodded.  "People fear the different. That is a fact we readers learned all too well."

"They always have and they always will. Idiots!" Snape said cynically. "I . . .am not used to small children myself, but even I know better than to label such an innocent little one that way." It seemed to him a crime to fear this beautiful child, who was now asleep upon his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth.  So young, so innocent, like those other children. I pray she will never know their fate.  A sudden surge of protectiveness flowed through him then.

"Once you are touched by an empath, you are never the same," Grace said, and their eyes met in a shared understanding.

"She is an extraordinary child," Severus nodded, shifting slightly.

"She is a blessing," her mother agreed. "Shall I put her to bed? You must be tired, holding her so long."

Severus did not reply, he found he was strangely reluctant to let her go.

Grace hid a knowing grin, then cast a quick diagnostic over him. The results astonished her. "Well, it seems you have finally conquered your fever, thank goodness, and your lungs are clearing up too. You are much improved from yesterday."

"My magic is slowly returning as well," Severus told her.

"You have made a most valiant recovery," Grace declared, pleased. "A few more days and you should be up and about. In a week you should be totally restored magically." She did not mention his emotional state, for she had a feeling her daughter might be able to help with that more than anyone could have expected. "You have an amazing constitution. Another wizard might well have died from the dagger's curse."

"Yes, I am aware of that. I have inherited my ancestors' hearty Yorkshire constitution.  I am not done in so easily as most." Severus stated simply.

"Aye, and well I know it. We of the north are a hearty breed." Grace said, then she gently lifted Jilly into her arms. "Time to put this lass to bed. You need your rest, Mr. Snape, Yorkshire constitution notwithstanding." She waved her hand and two potions popped up on the nightstand. "Take those, please."

He picked one up, recalling something Jace had said earlier.  "Harry brewed these." He took the first one in one swallow, grimacing at the taste. The Magic Replenisher was tasteless, however, and he got that down much easier.

Grace handed him a cup of cool water and then said, "He did indeed. Insisted upon it, even when I tried to help him. Brewed every batch himself. You taught him well, Severus. He has a good heart, despite what the dagger caused him to do. You mustn't blame him, you know. Few are there that can resist the Dagger of Discord's possession."

Severus stiffened. "Possession? The bloody dagger possessed him. That's why he tried to . . kill me." It pained him to speak those words, to recall the look of hatred upon Harry's face, but better possession than nursing an insane grudge or hatred against him.  How did I miss that? Why didn't he let me know?

"He didn't mean to attack you, the dagger was controlling his mind through his subconscious," Grace began, seeing a cloud darken the Potion Master's face.

"I am aware what possession means, madam," Severus said stiffly. "I shall discuss this with him tomorrow."

"Professor, don't be too harsh with him.  He is very upset about it, I believe he thinks you won't understand and . . .dismiss him in anger. If you can, allow him to explain before you issue any ultimatums. Not that it's any of my business, he is your apprentice and ward, after all . . ."

"I shall take your words under advisement," Severus said, yawning. "Right now I think I shall sleep, I am not fit to hold a conversation with myself, much less my ward." The potions he had taken worked quickly and he had just enough time to settle himself upon his pillow before drifting away into dreamland.

"Sleep well, professor," Grace murmured and pulled the covers back over him so he would not become chilled. Even in summer, the moor could become cold. She hoped all would go well between the Potions Master and his ward and they could mend their broken relationship.

Then she departed as silently as she had come, to put her youngest to bed and then return to her own, to snooze until eight o'clock, when she would rise and prepare breakfast for her family and her guests.

Severus woke just as Harry and the Witherspoons were finishing their breakfast. He still felt very weak and sickly, but that was a condition of overextending his magic fighting the dagger’s curse, and it would fade as his reserves built themselves back up. Right then he was only able to walk slowly back and forth to the bathroom. After he had done that, he felt exhausted, as if he had stayed up three nights straight brewing endless batches of potions for St. Mungos. He went and lay down, shivering slightly.

Grace suddenly looked up, as if she had heard someone calling, when in fact she had caught Severus’s thoughts as he woke. She rose and went to fetch a second plate of scrambled eggs and toast and bacon.

“Mummy, where you goin’ with that?” asked Jilly curiously.

“I’m bringing Professor Snape his breakfast,” she answered.

Jilly’s eyes lit up. “ ‘fessor Sevvy is awake? Yay!” she jumped off her chair and ran after her mother.

Harry quickly rose and put his plate in the sink, feeling his heart start to thunder crazily. Severus was awake. And soon he would summon Harry and tell him to pack his things and leave, that he was through with an apprentice who had nearly killed him. His fingers clenched upon the edge of the counter and he forced himself to take a deep breath.

Severus sat up when he heard the soft patter of feet come down the hallway. Jilly scampered into the room, her blond hair flying, her eyes glowing. “Morning, ‘fessor Sevvy!” she shrilled.

“Good morning, little one,” he greeted, and he did something he rarely did. He smiled, for the child was almost impossible to resist. There was a fresh innocence and sweetness that radiated from her and filled the room and then she scrambled up onto the bed and hugged him.

As before, her touch filled him with light and soothed him. He patted her on the back and released her. To his astonishment, she then snuggled up next to him and said, “Mummy’s bringin’ you breakfast.”

At that precise moment, Grace arrived with his breakfast tray hovering before her. “Good morning, Severus. I trust you slept well.”

“Very well, your potions are well made.” He said honestly.

Grace beamed, knowing what a compliment that was from a Potions Master. “Thank you. Potions was always a favorite of mine. Here you go! I hope you like scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.”

“That is fine.” The tray settled down on his lap, and he began to eat. Jilly leaned against him, not saying anything, curled up like a cat, and he did not mind at all.

“Jilly, why don’t you come with me and get dressed and let Professor Snape eat in peace,” her mother suggested.

“Later, Mummy,” was all the child said, her eyes half-mast. She sensed that the professor needed her more right now.

Grace merely nodded, hearing the unspoken thoughts of her child. “Tell me if she becomes a pest,” she said to the Potions Master. “I’ll go and tell Harry you’re awake and coherent enough to speak with him.”

“Thank you,” Severus said, and continued eating. He still felt weak and a bit lightheaded, but not enough that he needed potions yet. The conversation with his apprentice was long overdue and though Severus was not looking forward to it, it was something he had to do.

Grace went back into the kitchen to tell Harry the good news, only to find that Harry was no longer there. “Jace, where is Harry?”

Jace looked up from his apple juice. “He went flying, Mum. Said he’ll be back later.”

Grace pursed her lips. “I do believe that boy is avoiding Professor Snape.”

Jace nodded, he thought so too, but didn’t want to press the issue.

Jace went to fetch the tray a few minutes later and to tell Severus that Harry was currently flying and would be back later.

“I see,” Severus said softly. “You will tell him I wish to speak with him when he returns, Jace?”

“Yes, sir.” He looked at his sister, still snuggled against the professor’s side. “Jilly, leave Professor Snape be.”

She pouted. “But Jace, ‘fessor Sevvy needs me.”

“Yeah, he needs you all right. Like a plague of boils.”

Severus’ mouth twitched. “It’s all right, Jace. She can stay.”

Jace looked at his little sister and said, “Okay, imp. Mind you behave for Professor Snape though.”

“’Kay.” She said agreeably.

Jace left them, going to his room to study some of his summer assignments.

Severus settled down upon his pillows, pondering the behavior of his ward. He’s avoiding me, that is painfully obvious. And that is not like the Harry I know.

Jilly shifted and asked softly, “’fessor, are you mad at Hawwy?”

Am I? he wondered. He was, a bit, but not for the reason Harry thought. He was angry at himself for not seeing that Harry was in trouble sooner and angry at the boy for not telling him about the dreams he’d been having. “I . . .yes, a little, but I am more . . .”

“Upset,” Jilly finished. “I know. I feel it.” She looked up at him earnestly. “Hawwy is sad too. Don’t feel sad.” She cuddled close to him and once again he felt her project feelings of warmth and comfort and love at him, trying to banish the negative feelings.

“Jilly, you don’t need to –”

“Yes, I does. I is helpin’ you,” she insisted, her mouth set in a stubborn line. Then she yawned. “But I is tired now.” And she put her head down on his knee and fell asleep.

“Well, I’ll be damned. First time that’s ever happened,” the Potions Master said, and stared at the sleeping little girl in amazement. Then he tentatively reached out and carded his fingers through her hair. Is this what it would be like, to have a little girl of my own? Too bad you missed your chance, Severus, years ago, the cynical part of his mind sneered. It’s too late now for thinking about what could have been, since the only women you’ve ever loved are either dead or found better prospects somewhere else. Besides, what kind of father would you make, when you can’t even handle one fifteen-year-old boy?

When Grace came by some ten minutes later, she found both the professor and her daughter sound asleep, both of them wearing identical expressions of contentment.

* * * * * *

Freedom soared upon the wind, his feathers caressing the air as delicately as an artist does his chosen canvas. He glided and swooped, playing half-heartedly with the wind currents that swirled all about him. But though he normally gloried in the sheer sensation of flight, this morning he found that flying did not relax him the way it usually did. Today fear and anxiety had taken up residence in his chest and they soured even this most exhilarating of pastimes.

The red-tailed hawk spotted something moving in the grass below and instinct took over, shoving the human emotions into the background. Freedom tracked the small mouse as it scurried to and fro, collecting seeds and bits of flowers, his eyes able to see the slightest ruffling of the mouse’s fur.

He circled, waiting on the mouse as patiently as any hawk trained to a falconer’s lure. Which, of course, he had been, before he had realized he was more than just a bird, back when he only knew Severus as his wizard and friend. Oh, how he wished he could return to those days, when the worst he had to worry about was returning late from flying and facing Snape’s mild scolding and warnings to leave Umbridge alone. Those were the days, he thought wistfully.

He would even take the return of the toad over this awful guilt that stabbed him to the quick and poisoned every happy memory he had of himself and Severus. Hawks don’t cry and they don’t feel guilty. But he was not a true hawk. He was an Animagus, and for the first time he could not take refuge in the simple mind of the raptor, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

He watched the mouse scurry out from behind a tussock of grass and for a single instant it broke cover, and then he closed his wings and stooped, talons curved.

The wind rushed by him as he plummeted towards the prey, and then he struck, his claws capturing the hapless mouse and ending the hunt mercifully. He settled down with his breakfast, he had barely eaten at the Witherspoon’s and now he was hungry. He quickly devoured the mouse, but as soon as he had done so, he felt his guilty conscience prod him and the meal sat like a stone in his crop.

Coward! How far do you think you can fly to escape what you’ve done? Even the ends of the earth wouldn’t be far enough.

He mantled over the remains of the mouse, quivering in every muscle. He was a mess, all of his old insecurities rising to torment him, fearful, guilt-ridden, and terrified that he had done the one thing Severus would not be able to overlook. His heart had been torn open once again and this time he feared there would be no mending it.

Unable to bear being on the ground any longer, he launched himself into the air and flew across the village, over the moor, and through the trees, pushing himself harder and harder until the ache in his wings matched the one in his heart. When he had exhausted himself, he returned to the cottage, his wings felt heavy and unwieldy, as if they were broken beyond repair, like his relationship with Severus.

* * * * * *

HH

When he returned to the house it was the late afternoon and Severus was sleeping. Jilly was awake, however, and came running to him, throwing her arms about his waist and saying, “Where was you, Hawwy? You missed lunch! I missed you!”

“You did?” he gazed down at her, and their eyes, nearly the exact same shade, met.

All of a sudden he felt a wave of warmth and happiness flow into him. “Jilly, what . . .?”

“You needs a special hug too, like ‘fessor Sevvy.”

Harry nearly collapsed on the floor. “Professor Sevvy? You called Severus that?”

“Uh huh. Why? It his name.”

“Nobody ever . . .I mean I’ve never heard anybody ever call him . . .Sevvy.”

“You did. I heared you,” she pointed out.

“When?”

“Before,” she shrugged.

“I did?” he was aghast.

She nodded solemnly.

“I must have been out of my mind,” Harry shook his head. Great, another thing for him to hate me for. Giving him some cutsey nickname.

Jilly cocked her head. “Don’ worry, Hawwy. Sevvy don’ mind.”

“Sure, kid. Whatever you say,” he said doubtfully.

She huffed at him. “I know. I felt it.”

“You can feel Severus too?”

“Yup. I can.” She smiled. Then she grabbed his hand. “C’mon, Hawwy. Mummy has dinner.”

He allowed her to lead him into the kitchen, where Grace had just set dinner upon the table.

“Sorry I was gone so long,” he apologized. “I just . . .needed to get out.”

Jasper nodded. “I feel like that sometimes myself. Wash up and come sit down for supper.”

Harry obeyed without saying anything.

All during dinner he waited for them to question him, but they never asked him where he had gone or what he had been doing.

The only one who mentioned Severus to him was Jace, while they were washing the dishes together, because sometimes Grace wanted her son to do things without magic.

“Professor Snape was asking for you this morning, Harry.”

Harry halted in his drying. “Did he . . .say what he wanted?”

“No, just that he wanted to talk to you.” Jace said, then scrubbed a plate and handed it to Harry before adding, “I think . . .maybe you ought to talk to him, Harry.”

Harry went still. After a long moment he said, “You don’t understand. He wouldn’t . . .I can’t . . .”

“Harry, maybe it’s not my place to say this, but I don’t think he’s that angry at you.”

“No? How could he not be?” Harry demanded. “I nearly killed him, Jace!”

“The dagger possessed you,” Jace argued. “It’s not the same thing.”

“I was the last thing he saw before I stabbed him,” Harry snapped. “You don’t know him like I do. He won’t forgive me for being so weak . . .for betraying him. I know it.”

“How? You could at least try talking to him.”

“No. I . . .I’m not ready. Tomorrow.” Harry said swiftly. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

Jace sighed. He knew Harry was merely prolonging the inevitable. But he could sense the bone deep anguish hovering just below the surface in the other’s mind and he did not want to add to it. A reader was nothing if not respectful of another’s privacy and feelings.

“All right. I’ll tell him you’re asleep or something if he asks me. But I don’t like lying to him, Harry.”

“Then just don’t say anything.” Harry said listlessly.

“Would you like to play Exploding Snap?” Jace asked then.

At first Harry was about to refuse, he was too wound up to relax with a card game. But then he figured he might as well do something to pass the time and he hadn’t spent any time at all with his friend all day. Ron would have been furious and sulky if he’d done that to him. But Jace just accepted Harry’s moods uncomplainingly. That made him feel even worse, oddly enough.

“Okay, let’s play,” he agreed.

* * * * * *

The next morning, Harry disappeared again, this time shifting into Freedom before breakfast and flying out on the moor. He remained flying until midday, when he landed atop Hedwig’s rowan. He tucked his head beneath his wing and fell asleep. But his dreams were full of blood and pain and he woke trembling, to find Hedwig beside him, a wing curled protectively about him.

Fledgling, what troubles you? she hissed softly, nuzzling him gently. Are you still having nightmares? Maybe you ought to ask Severus for a potion.

Freedom shook his head. No.

Something in his tone and posture warned the snowy owl that not all was well, and she tilted her head and peered at him. Have you spoken to him at all, fledgling?

Freedom hunched his shoulders and turned his head away, not meeting her eyes.

Freedom, you really should speak with him, he has been asking for you almost everyday. Hedwig urged.

I can’t. Hedwig, you know why. You know.

Freedom, I think you should give him a chance.

Right, give him a chance to send me packing, Freedom said angrily.

How do you know what he will do or say until you speak with him? The owl asked. You are assuming and it’s unfair to judge him on what he might say and not what he has said.

Oh, sure. Take his side!

Freedom, you are being unreasonable. I am not taking sides, merely making a suggestion. You are miserable and the only way you will get better is to speak with your guardian.

Freedom snapped his beak shut and refused to say anything more, even when Hedwig nudged him.

Stubborn fledgling. You and your guardian both. She gave him a slight peck on the head.

Then she snuggled next to the smaller red-tail and closed her eyes, sleeping away the midafternoon heat.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Severus was lying in bed, resting to regain his strength. Jilly was in and out of his room, chattering to him in her sweet voice. Grace brought him breakfast and lunch, and when he asked where Harry was, she answered that he was out flying.

“Ah. I see,” was all Severus said, understanding what she did not say, that he was avoiding his mentor on purpose. Foolish fledgling! If I were able to get out of this bed . . .I am more angry at myself for not noticing something was wrong than at you for falling under the spell of the bloody dagger. He shook his head. “Tell him that I wish to speak with him when you see him again, please.”

“I will.” Grace promised.

“I think that part of his problem and mine is that we both feel . . .tainted from the dagger’s curse. And I do not know what spells I can cast to resolve this.”

“I believe I might be able to help with that,” Jasper said, pausing in the doorway. “Forgive me, but I couldn’t help overhearing what you just said, Severus. And I think I may know of a way to help you. There is a tome I have in the library detailing a ritual of purification, an old rite that was handed down for generations in my mother’s family. She came from America and her ancestors centuries past performed this ritual when someone had been touched by dark magic.”

“May I see it?” Severus requested. “Being as I have nothing productive to do except sleep, I would like to study it.”

Jasper nodded, and Summoned the volume with a snap of his fingers. “Here you go,” he handed Severus the book. “I hope it helps. Incidentally, there is a small pond a mile or so into the woods that contains pure spring water.”

“Thank you, Jasper,” said the Potions Master. The title of the small volume was The Ritual of Renewal.

The two Witherspoons left him alone to read, making sure that Jace kept Jilly occupied so Snape could study.

Severus spent almost the entire day reading the book, learning about the special ritual which had its roots in the customs of the Native American tribes of the northwest. It detailed how the ritual should be performed and what he would need to perform it, there were special herbs that needed to be burned and smudged and a place that was secluded and free from any negative influences.

Hmm. That pond Jasper mentioned sounds like it would fit the requirements of the ritual. Now I simply have to get my stubborn reluctant ward to agree to it and to talk to me about what has occurred. I know he has been tearing himself apart with guilt, which is his typical response when something bad happens to someone close to him. And while this time he has a valid reason to feel that way, nevertheless it will destroy him if allowed to continue.

He heaved a sigh and continued perusing the book, which also offered techniques to relieve a person of the burden of guilt and remorse and regret that so often afflicted those who had been the victims of a curse like the Dagger of Discord. Severus read those through very carefully, absorbing everything he could.

When at last he was done with the book, he set it aside, took the Magic Replenisher Grace had left for him, and fell asleep. By tomorrow morning he should be well enough to get out of bed and if Harry still refused to come to him, then he would go and find him.

Harry returned for dinner and then spent the rest of the night reading Jilly a story and then falling asleep early, for all of that flying tired him out. Grace had told him that Severus wished to see him, but Harry pretended he had not heard her and only went to see how his mentor was when he was sure Sev was sleeping.

It was there Grace found him, and did her best to persuade him to speak with Severus. “You know, Harry, running away from a problem never solved anything. It only creates more.”

“Yes, ma’am. But I wasn’t running away, I was just . . .avoiding him.”

“But the end result is the same. You are hurting both yourself and Severus by your refusal to speak with him,” she remonstrated.

“Why would he be hurt?” asked Harry abruptly. “I would think . . .he would be glad to never lay eyes on me again.”

“No, Harry. From what I have seen, Severus cares about you very much.”

“But how can you know for sure? Did you read his mind?”

“No, but you don’t need to be a reader to see his bond with you. It is very strong.”

“Not anymore.”

She cupped his chin in her hand firmly. “You doubt where you should not. If you trust your mentor, you will find that some things have changed while others have not. And one of the constants is his love for you. Let go of your guilt, Harry. It is hurting you far more than you know. There is neither sense nor profit in it. The past is built upon sand, let it be washed away.”

Her words made sense, too much sense, and for a moment he allowed himself to have hope and think that everything would come right in the end. But then the enormity of his crime against his mentor came crashing down upon him and he jerked his chin out of Grace’s fingers and whispered, “I have blood on my hands. The dagger nearly made me into a murderer. How could he forgive that? How?”

“You will never know the answer unless you speak with him.”

But Harry stubbornly maintained his silence, fear nearly strangling him. So long as he did not confront the Potions Master directly, he could feel as if he were still a part of the family and that Snape still wanted him.

“I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused,” he apologized. “Good night, Grace.” Then he headed off to bed in Jace’s room.

* * * * * *

The morning of the third day dawned bright and sunny, the perfect weather for some walking. Harry was up before the sun and decided to walk across the lawn to the rowan tree. Little did he know that a pair of onyx eyes was observing him intently from a small window.

This was the first morning that Severus had felt well enough to get out of bed and remain upon his feet for longer than ten minutes. He felt almost as if he were back to his old self, sneer and all. He carefully dressed himself in a pair of casual slacks and a lightweight shirt and threw his long black cloak, which had been washed clean of bloodstains and mended, over his shoulders.

I have been patient. I have waited, thinking that he would come to me, but he seems determined to wallow in his guilt. As the Muggles are fond of saying, if the mountain will not come to Mohammad, let Mohammad come to the mountain.

He finished dressing and was ready to leave the bedroom and confront his wayward charge once and for all. He had never been a particularly patient man and now his patience was worn thin.

It was time to take the bull by the horns, or the lion by his mane and give him a good shake.

* * * * * *

Harry was sitting beneath the rowan, his knees drawn up to his chest, resting his head upon them. He had closed his eyes and was just beginning to try and meditate when he heard a familiar silky voice say, “You wouldn’t happen to be running away from me, would you, Mr. Potter?”

Harry froze. Then he opened his eyes and saw standing before him a rather pale but fully coherent and functioning Severus Snape.

“Severus! You’re out of bed!” he blurted before he could think better of it.

“Obviously,” said his guardian. “Come, Harry. We have much to talk about.” He placed a hand firmly upon the youngster’s shoulder, urging him to his feet. “Walk with me a ways.”

If not for Snape's hand upon his shoulder, shepherding him firmly into the woods just beyond the backyard, Harry would have bolted. Harry had flown over the woods often enough in hawk form, but he had never entered it on his own two feet, and had no idea where he was going. But Severus clearly had a destination in mind, his feet never faltered, and he followed a small game trail until they came to a large pond that was fed by a clear running stream.  Several willows and rowans circled the pond, which was clear down to the bottom, and the slanting rays of the sun caused the pond to sparkle and dance with rainbows across the surface.

Harry drew in a breath, he had never seen such a place in all of his life, it was a place that conjured serenity and peace, a place of healing and renewal. He looked up at his mentor, not understanding why Severus would bring him to such a spot only to tell him their contract was broken.  Unless he wished to soften the blow by telling him in such pristine setting, a place that tugged upon his heartstrings and banished for a moment the dark taint that stained him.

"Sit down, Harry," Severus ordered, gently pushing the boy down to sit with his back against a rowan tree. Rowan was best known for its protective and healing properties, and this grove had probably been used for cleansing rituals before. Doubtless Jasper had known that when he had suggested it to Severus and pointed out that he had all of the herbs for the ceremony in the potions lab, after Severus had read about a third of the book last night.

But first, he must rid the boy of his clinging guilt, and reassure him that the taint of the dagger was not something permanent.  He also was feeling a bit put out that Harry had been avoiding him all this time and angry that some of this trouble might have been avoided if Harry had spoken about the dreams to him. He fixed him with a mild Snape glare, one that might have only made a first year tremble, and should not have fazed Harry in the slightest, as he had seen Severus in a true temper.

Harry gazed up at his guardian and steeled himself for Severus's final words to him, for the rejection that was sure to follow.   Trepidation rode his shoulders like a great black beast and dread followed close upon its heels.  He swallowed hard, but forced himself to boldly meet Snape's black eyes.  True courage is not the absence of fear, but facing that fear even when you want to run and hide, he reminded himself, quoting one of Snape's maxims. Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?

"I would have thought you'd have learned by now that running away from a problem does more harm than good," Severus began.  "Problems should be faced, not avoided."

"I know that, sir." Harry said, fighting the urge to drop his eyes in submission.

"Then why were you doing it?"

Harry hesitated.  Severus was looking at him with that mixture of disapproval and disappointment that always made him feel incompetent.  "Because I thought . . ."

"Yes? Go on."

Just say it, Harry, he ordered himself.  Say it and get it over with.

Sensing Harry's reluctance to speak, Severus made a calculated decision to prod him a little.  "Was it, perhaps, because you were looking for an easy way out?"

That barb struck home and anger flared in the young wizard's eyes.  "Easy? D'you think any of this has been easy for me? Not coming to see you as soon as you woke up, not being able to talk to you about this damn evil that's invaded my soul? I wanted to, Sev, so many times, but I just couldn't! I couldn't stand looking at you, half-dead and knowing that I did it to you! You nearly died because of me! Because I was weak and I . . ." He choked up then, and ducked his head to hide the damned tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Severus.  I never meant for this to happen. I . . .don't blame you for hating me. I . . .hate myself."

Severus's hand reached out and tilted Harry's chin up.  "Look at me, Harry James Potter. And listen well. I do not hate you. Why would I?"

The green eyes were bleak with pain and resignation. "Of course you do," he hissed. "Why wouldn't you? I betrayed you, I let the damn dagger into my head, I let it work its dark magic on me and possess me, and then I stabbed you with it. I really screwed up this time and you almost paid the price.  How can you not hate me and want me gone? I'm useless, a liability."

"Do you truly think that? That I would condemn you for a mistake such as this? I, who was once a Death Eater?"

"I was stupid. I listened to the dreams. I betrayed us both."

"As I did, so long ago. It is the nature of the young to be stupid, as you say. But the dark path did not claim you, Harry. Any more than it did me."

"How do you know that? I feel . . .unclean . . .tainted . . .I don't know how Jilly can stand to be near me, an attempted murderer."

"She sees deeper than most. You should trust her."

"Humph! Trust a two-year-old to know the difference between good and evil?"

"It is no different than trusting a fifteen-year-old to defeat the Dark Lord," Severus countered. "Am I angry that you didn't tell me about the dreams you were having? Yes, I most certainly am. How many times have I told you that if you were having strange dreams to tell me of them?"

"I thought . . .they were just dreams," Harry mumbled. "You had bigger things to worry about. Werewolves, the potion being spilled, the dagger . . ."

Severus' hand tightened upon his jaw, and he gasped. The wizard's eyes were bright with anger. This is it. This is when he's going to let me have it.

And Snape did, but not the way Harry had assumed.

"You foolish fledgling! When will you get it through your thick skull that you are my number one priority? To the devil with the werewolves and the bloody dagger! It is you who matters most. Do you not see? This quest is not meant only to destroy a dark wizard, it is meant to give you a chance to live, to grow up in a world free of darkness.  I am pledged to your protection, and that is what concerns me. And if something is wrong with you, I need to know about it! Even if you think it's unimportant, I want you to tell me.  Had you spoken about the dreams, things might have been different."

Tears welled in the green eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Aye, you've said," He agreed, slipping unconsciously into the speech patterns of his childhood. "As am I, for not realizing you were in distress. I knew what the dagger was capable of, I have dealt with the darkness for years. No one knows better. I failed you too."

"No, don't say that.  It was all my fault."

"I shall say it. For it is the truth."

Harry shook his head, or tried to, for Severus still had his chin in his hand. "No. I'm to blame for this."

"Always ready to play the martyr, aren't you? Always so willing to shoulder the lion's share of guilt and blame. You were conditioned to that, though, so I should expect it."

"It's the truth! I am to blame!"

"You were possessed! Your mind was subverted by an ancient evil object.  You could not have fought that, the Dagger of Discord has been doing such for over a thousand years. You would have had no defense against it. Why do you think I insisted upon holding it?"

"Because you didn't trust me."

"No, idiot! Because I was trying to protect you. My shields are stronger and I was familiar with how such a curse operates. You weren't, and the dagger always tries to subvert the innocent, the vulnerable, it lived for it."

"I'm not innocent. I have blood on my hands."

"Compared to me, Potter, you are a newborn babe. And it knew that. Believe me. You are not to blame for something you did while under the curse's influence."

"I stabbed you. I wanted you to die."

"Am I dead, Harry? Do you weep over my grave? No. And do you know why? Because deep inside of you, here in your heart, you did not wish me dead. And though it tried, the dagger could not subvert that inner conviction. You are not a killer, Harry. And for that I thank all that is holy. You are a good person, son."

"Yeah, I'm wonderful," Harry mocked.

Severus released his chin, to set his hands upon his apprentice's shoulders and shake him. "Stop that! Stop wallowing in guilt and self-pity, damn it! If you were evil, if you were truly corrupted, I would not be here. But I am alive and the dagger is destroyed. By your hand, and no one else's. Jace told me. The dagger's creature could not have done that, Harry. Only a wizard with free will could have. The darkness touched you but it did not claim you. Trust me."

Harry remained stubbornly silent.

"Bloody Gryffindor!" the Potions Master swore, and then he pulled the boy to his feet. "Fine! If words cannot convince you, perhaps this will. Stay here and don't move."

Severus drew his wand and began to pace off a large circle about the pond, the tip glowing with an odd bluish light. "By the five elements, I cast this circle. I abjure thee-air, water, fire, earth, and spirit-to form the sacred circle and protect those within from harm and evil influences. Let no one see, let no one hear the ceremony within.  In the name of all that is good and the power of my magic restored, let it be so!"

The wand left a blue trail of sparks in his wake, which solidified into a line and then Severus tied it off with an eternity knot. "Let the circle be unbroken."   He turned back to Harry. "This is the beginning of the Ritual of Renewal."

"What is it?"

"Something we both need." Severus answered enigmatically. "Strip down to your boxers."

Harry gaped. "What?"

Severus tugged off his cloak and shirt. "Do as I say. Or do you need my assistance?"

"Hell, no!" he muttered, cheeks flaming. He began to undress.

"Be grateful I am not asking you to do the ritual skyclad." Severus said, concealing a smirk.

"Skyclad?"

"Stark naked," clarified the Potions Master, removing his boots and socks.

Harry felt himself blush all the way down to his feet. He removed his sneakers and jeans, wondering if this were Severus's way of punishing him for being an idiot. But then, if that were so, why was he participating in it?

Harry snuck a peek at his mentor, noting the black silk boxers the Potions Master wore.  Merlin! Who would have thought he wore those beneath his robes? Blushing furiously, he glanced down at his own ordinary pair of white cotton ones. He shivered slightly, the cool breeze was raising goose bumps on his arms and legs. "Are you sure nobody can see us? Because I don't want to be arrested for indecent exposure."

Severus snorted. "The circle prevents anyone from seeing us. As do the trees. Do you care what the birds and squirrels think?"

"No."

"Good. Now come over by the pond and walk into the water."

Harry looked dubious, but he obeyed, sticking a toe into the water.

"Ahh! It's cold!"

"I don't care. Get in."

"You first."

Severus's eyes flashed. "Move, Mr. Potter!"

"But-" He jumped when Severus's hand applied a firm smack to his backside. "Okay, no need to get pushy. I'm not a horse."

"No, you're a stubborn ass," came the sharp rejoinder. "Now get . . .in . . .the . . .water."

"But it's cold. I'll get pneumonia."

"Quit whining, brat. It's not snowmelt from a glacier."

Gritting his teeth, Harry waded into the pond, teeth chattering. "If I get sick and die, it'll be your fault," he groused, his feet squelching into the soft mud, which felt good on his toes. The middle of the pond was about four feet deep, and the water came up a little past Harry's waist. He halted when he was in the center of the pond.

Severus turned and tucked his ebony wand away, picking up a long twist of something. He spoke a word and the end of the smudge stick began to smolder and burn, smoke curling from its tip. Then he waded into the water as well, turning to face north. "I call upon the element of air, and the wind of the north, which purifies and cleanses with its freezing breath. Come, air!"

He waved the smudge stick downwards and suddenly there came a whoosh of freezing wind that rattled the branches of the rowans and caused Harry to shiver uncontrollably.

Severus ignored the gust, then moved on to the east, moving clockwise about his apprentice. "I call upon the element of water, the liquid of creation. Out of water we are born and sustained. It purifies and heals. Come, water!"

The pond began to stir and a geyser of water shot up near Snape's feet, dousing them both with its spray, which was somehow warm. The drops clung to them in a glistening garment.

Severus continued down to the south quardrant. "I call upon the element of fire, the spark of creation, whose light shall drive back the shadows and reveal the secrets of the dark. Come, fire!"

There was a blast of heat and the stick of white sage entwined with lavender, sweetgrass, and cedar began to glow stridently.

Harry could feel his skin prickle with heat, though he was standing in the middle of a pond.

Severus moved to the last cardinal point and intoned, "I call upon the element earth, the giver of life, nurturer of wisdom. Out of earth we come and to earth we return. Grant us the safety of your embrace. Come, earth!"

Green shoots began to spring up out of the water and Harry swore he could smell freshly turned soil and the perfume of thousands of flowers.   He inhaled and the heady scent of spring flowers filled his nostrils.

About the pond was a glittering multi-colored circle-spring green and amber for earth, crimson and orange for fire, white and blue for air, turquoise and silver for water. It reflected off the water in a dazzling kaleidoscope.  Harry nearly squinted from the glare. And the water, which had been cold when he first entered, was now warm, as warm as bathwater and small waves began to lap against him.

Then Severus took four steps backwards, until he was standing next to Harry in the center of the pond.  Being taller, the water barely came up to his navel, and Harry could see how the man's pale skin bore faint scars upon the back and sides, as if from a belt.  Harry shivered, recalling a conversation he had overheard between Severus and Hagrid, about Snape's childhood, which apparently had been worse than he'd imagined, if he bore scars some twenty-five years later.

Then Severus turned and faced him, saying in that calm measured cadence, "I call upon the fifth and last element, spirit, the internal flame that burns within all of us, a fire kindled by truth and magic. Help us to know ourselves truly and grace us with understanding. Come, spirit!"

A purple glow began to pulse from the wand he held and settled over Harry and Severus like a cloak and when it touched him, Harry felt all his doubts vanish. He felt serene, as if he were being held in his mother's arms, safe from harm, and at the same time he could see with his inner eye the pulsing glowing aura of his magic deep inside him.  His magic was a mass of cool blues, greens, and gold, and only upon the edges did it become blackened, as if singed by a fire.

"I ask the elements to help me cleanse and purify all within the circle and banish the taint of darkness forever from Harry James Potter.  By the power of the sacred sage, lavender, cedar, and sweetgrass, let your spirit be renewed, your heart be pure, your magic unbound. Let any sins you have committed be washed away. You are healed. You are renewed. You are forgiven."

He moved the smudge stick up Harry's body, starting at his feet and wafting the smoke over him.

He repeated the words and the smudging four times, four being the sacred quadrant. 

Harry remained still, feeling the smoke enter him and a feeling of utter peace and renewal slowly start to bloom within him. He stared at Severus, who then held out the smudge stick to him. Without conscious thought, instinctively, Harry grasped the stick, and repeated the words Severus had spoken.

"I ask the elements to help me cleanse and purify all within the circle and banish the taint of darkness forever from Severus Tobias Snape.  By the power of the sacred sage, lavender, cedar, and sweetgrass, let your spirit be renewed, your heart be pure, your magic unbound. Let any sins you have committed be washed away. You are healed. You are renewed. You are forgiven."

Four times he repeated the blessing and the smudging.

Then Severus clasped his hand and cried, "Earth, air, fire, water, spirit! Though we are unworthy, cast your blessing upon us and make us whole once more."

He bowed his head in supplication.

The smudge stick burned slowly down the smoke wafting over them in a great billowing cloud and the water beneath their feet began to swirl and bubble and then it arced upward in a great glittering geyser of silver and cascaded over them.

Harry could feel the water encase him, pure and cool and clean, it scoured him of the dark taint, filling him with purpose and resolve and hope. He swallowed some of it and he could feel it renewing him in a brilliant wash of warmth and light, it was tangy and sweet and refreshing, like drinking undiluted liquid sunlight. All the regret and guilt and self-loathing and unworthiness was swept away, unable to withstand the tidal wave of light and hope and love the ritual summoned. It was as if he were bathed in endless light, brimming with hope, and surrounded by love.

And the dagger's poisonous taint was submerged and drowned, and Harry's soul cleansed forever of its shadow.

Harry opened his eyes and stared at Severus, water dripping into his eyes.

Yet he could see perfectly, and he saw the same expression of joy and awe mirrored in Snape's onyx eyes. Severus too had been cleansed and renewed, mind, body, and spirit.

The smudge stick vanished in a puff of aromatic smoke and the pond became still once more.

Harry took a deep breath, still clutching Severus's hand like a child seeking reassurance from a parent.

"It's done, Harry." Severus said quietly, reverently.

He led the teen from the water and back onto land. Dripping wet, they emerged from the water.

Harry stumbled a little when his feet touched the earth and Severus steadied him.

With a gesture, Severus dried them off and another replaced their clothes.

Then the Potions Master stepped back and looked his apprentice in the eye. "The taint is gone from us both, Harry. I forgive you for what you have done. Now you need to learn to forgive yourself."

As if his words were a catalyst, Harry felt something give way within him, as the last of his guilt was banished by that simple honest statement, and suddenly tears were running down his cheeks. Relief swept through him in a ferocious wave. Severus forgave him. He was not going to be cast out in disgrace and shame, not going to die alone and unloved. The knowledge pierced him like a sword through the heart, but he welcomed the sharp pain. It felt good.

"Sev," was all he managed to say, before he fell into the other's arms, weeping.

All of the grief and anguish he had suppressed for days poured out of him and he clung to the other's broad shoulder and cried, unable to help himself.

Severus gathered him against him, the boy was still light as a bird despite his healthier eating habits, and sat down, Harry cradled close. He began to rock him back and forth slightly, one hand carding the dark hair, whispering, "All right, son. Shhh."

The boy's cries tore at him, and Harry's pain became his own for a brief moment, and he felt his own eyes mist and a few tears slipped down his pale cheeks to glisten upon Harry's hair. "Hush, fledgling," he murmured, now rubbing small circles upon Harry's back. "I forgive you. You will always have my forgiveness, child. Always. Let the guilt go, Harry, let it go."

Through the purging tears, Harry could hear Snape's voice, reassuring him, and feel the man's hands holding him, and he knew then that the other wizard loved him with a pure unconditional love, such as a father has for a son. And he basked in the unaccustomed warmth and washed the last of the guilt away with repentant happy tears, his face snuggled into a familiar black robe.

He cried for a long time and Severus held him, uncaring that he was growing stiff from his back being pressed against a tree or that his knees ached from the unaccustomed weight of the teenager sitting on them. His son, for so he had grown to think of the boy all unwitting, needed him and that was all that mattered.

Gradually, Harry's sobs became sniffles, then dribbled away to shudders, and finally his breath came evenly, and he slept, safe at last in the arms of his surrogate father and guardian.

Severus looked down at the dark head resting upon his shoulder and allowed himself a rare smile.  Harry still had a long way to go to forgive himself, but allowing himself to be comforted was the first step along the pathway to healing.

The Potions Master leaned back against the rowan, muttered a Featherlight Charm, and shifted Harry more comfortably against him. The Ritual of Renewal had worked better than he had hoped, but he was feeling drained and tired as well, it had played havoc with his own emotions, until he was surprised he was not bawling like Harry.  Then again, his discipline was years in the making and tears were not something he shed easily.

As if to give the lie to that thought, something wet trickled down his cheek.

Severus scowled, dashed a hand across his eyes firmly, and closed them. He would find solace in sleep.

The sun drifted across the sky and began its descent while the Potions Master and his ward slept peacefully beneath the rowan, weary yet whole once more.

Both wizards had returned to the cottage emotionally drained, but the bond between them had been restored and renewed, until it was deeper than ever. Though neither spoke, each sensed that the crisis they had endured had served to strengthen their bond beyond anything either had ever imagined. Now they were more than apprentice and mentor, more than guardian and ward. Now they were father and son, bound by love and sacrifice and trust, though it remained unspoken, both felt it deep within their soul.

Harry could tell the Witherspoons, with their uncanny reader perception, could sense it as well, for when they entered the cottage, both Grace and Jasper exchanged knowing glances and Jace smiled in relief. Jilly was the most vocal of the four, running up to both wayward wizards and hugging their knees. "Hawwy, ‘fessor Sevvy, you is better! You is not sad no more!"

"Hi, Jilly!" Harry grinned at the adorable child, kneeling down to allow her to hug him easier.

Jilly promptly threw her little arms about him and projected her own happiness and delight at him, making him laugh.

Harry's laughter was a balm to Severus's spirit, for he rarely had anything to be joyful about, and Severus knew this past week had been particularly harrowing for the teen. After the rain comes the sun, and after tears should come laughter. I am glad he can still feel joy after what he has been through. He gently rested a hand upon his son's shoulder. Then again, few are there in this world who could resist little Jilly.

Harry was filled with a happiness so great he almost could not contain it. So he allowed himself to express it with laughter, a feeling which was almost unknown to him before Severus had become his mentor. On very rare occasions he had laughed with his friends, but on the whole his life had not contained much joy, only hardship and sacrifice and duty. But Jilly's sparkling green eyes and infectious grin was impossible to resist. Then he recalled the nickname she had called the professor and started laughing hysterically.

"Sevvy!" he gasped. "She called you Sevvy!"

Jilly was puzzled. "What so funny, Hawwy? That his name."

Harry started laughing again, unable to help himself.

Severus pretended to scowl, but his heart wasn't in it, not after undergoing the Ritual of Renewal. There was no room within him right then to be offended or insulted. "She has told me that you, Mr. Potter, called me that."

"What?" Harry managed to regain control over himself. "I never . . .I don't ever remember calling you that . . ."

Jilly just looked at him. "Yes, you did, Hawwy. I heard you. It was when ‘fessor Sevvy was sick. You said, don't leave me, Sevvy . . ."

"Oh." Harry blushed. "I guess I could have then . . ." he gave Severus an apologetic look.

Severus ruffled his hair, a half-smile quirking up a corner of his mouth. "The little one doesn't lie, I would suppose. And I find that I do not mind her calling me that . . .but you had better not start, am I understood?"

"Yes, Sev," Harry said meekly, but an imp of mischief danced in his eyes and he kept his head down to hide his smile.

Jilly crawled out of his lap and held up her arms to Severus, and he-Hogwarts most feared Potions professor-promptly picked her up and held her.

Harry's eyes nearly fell out of his head. Blessed Merlin! He's actually holding her in his arms and she's putting her head on his shoulder. Who would have thought? Sure wish I had a camera. Ron and Hermione and Sirius will never believe me when I tell them that Severus Snape, master of the snarky attitude, willingly cuddled a two-year-old in his arms. Now I've seen it all!

Jace caught his eye and smirked. "Being an empath has its privileges."

"Guess so" Harry said, blotting his eyes with a dishcloth Jace handed him. He prayed the Witherspoons would assume the tears upon his face were from laughter rather than sorrow.

"Are you hungry, Harry?" Grace asked. "I have dinner on the table."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said politely, then followed the rest of the household into the kitchen, Severus trailing a little behind, basking in the peace that reigned once more in the cottage.

* * * * * *

Later, after a rousing chess game with Jace and a hot shower, Harry lay on his bed, weary but not enough to fall asleep. A great burden had been lifted off of him and he felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time in a week he could sleep easy, without a knot in his stomach. He placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events of the day.

When he was younger, he had always thought Dumbledore as the bravest wizard he knew, the epitome of Gryffindor bravery, for his unwavering dedication to the Light and defiance of darkness. But now he saw there was a deeper kind of courage, the courage of one who had walked the shadows, both within and without, and came back out again, scarred yet whole. That was true courage and it was why Harry considered Severus Snape the bravest man he had ever known.

And it was why he allowed Severus to see him weep, for those who had wandered in darkness's shadow knew well of guilt and shame and tears shed for things that would never be forgotten. Severus understood him, understood the depths he had sunk to, understood the depths of remorse and the triumph of returning to the light despite the shame that dogged at his heels. Dumbledore, for all of his age and wisdom, had never known temptation, never knew what it was to be degraded and helpless, a pawn to another's twisted desires. Always he had been in control, had never been challenged, secure in his role as great leader of the Light. He could only sympathize with Harry's plight, but that was not the same as understanding.

But Severus did, and it was for that Harry loved him best of all.

Harry removed his glasses and set them upon the nightstand. Then he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. Within moments he was fast asleep, and for the first time since arriving at the Witherspoons, he slept without a guilty conscience prodding him into wakefulness.

* * * * * *

The next afternoon found Harry and Jace in Grace's garden, weeding and gathering several kinds of herbs and flowers that she needed dried for some drafts. The two boys worked companionably, not saying much, for Jace was quiet by nature and Harry in a contemplative mood this afternoon, as he had been ever since undergoing the Ritual of Renewal.

Picking the various herbs-angelica, vervain, heather, marjoram and starflower-relaxed him. This was work he was used to doing, he had gardened for Aunt Petunia since he had been old enough to tell a weed from a plant stem and wield a garden trowel. Sifting through the soil, the freshly turned earth filling his nostrils with its rich scent, gently snipping off stalks and flowers and placing them into a gathering basket, then tugging a resistant weed from its forbidden bed, he fell into a rhythm and the work became pleasant and filled him with a sense of accomplishment. In this way he would redeem his debt to Grace for taking care of him and Severus.

By the time they were finished, they were sweaty and dirty and in need of showers.

On the way back from the bathroom, Jace had generously allowed Harry to take the first turn, Harry passed Severus's room, where the Potions Master was having a rest period. Though nearly mended from his ordeal, Grace insisted Severus not overtax himself and said he should rest for two hours each afternoon. Reluctantly, Severus had agreed.

So Harry was surprised to hear Severus's voice coming from the bedroom, until he peered round the doorframe, unable to stifle his curiosity.

And saw his indomitable protector reading a story to Jilly.

The littlest Witherspoon was curled up against Severus, her head resting on Sev's shoulder, her green eyes fixed upon the book in the Potion Master's hands. Upon the cover was a picture of a fuzzy green caterpillar with a red head eating a leaf. Harry could just make out the title.

" . . .out of the egg came a very tiny very hungry caterpillar. He started looking for some food." Snape read softly.

I know this story! Harry thought excitedly. Aunt Petunia used to read this to Dudley sometimes in the den and I could hear her from the cupboard if I was real still and quiet. He cocked his head, and wished he could see the illustrations that Jilly was staring at so intently.

"On Monday he ate through an apple. But he was still hungry . . ." Severus read.

Harry smiled wistfully. He had liked the story, even though sometimes hearing it made him hungry, especially if he hadn't eaten anything when he was put into the cupboard. The book listed different types of food that children enjoyed eating, food that the hungry caterpillar ate and ate and ate.

Severus continued. "On Saturday he ate through one piece of chocolate cake, one ice cream cone, one pickle, one-"

"-slice of Swiss cheese!" Jilly announced.

"Very good!" Severus praised. He pointed to another picture. "And what is this that he ate?"

"The very last slice of salami!"

"Excellent. And was he still hungry?"

"Yes! ‘Cause he's always hungry! That's why he's the very hungry cat-r-pillar," she said, enunciating the word caterpillar. "Read more, ‘fessor Sevvy."

And Severus did. " . . . .one slice of cherry pie, one sausage, . . .one cupcake . . .and one slice of watermelon."

Jilly clapped her hands. "Know what happened next? I do!" She turned the page and then said, "That night he had a tummy ache!"

"Why am I not surprised?" Severus said, amused. "Anyone who ate that much would have a stomachache, caterpillar or child."

Harry agreed. The caterpillar had always reminded him of Dudley, stuffing himself at every meal.

"His mummy shoulda gived him potions," was Jilly's next comment.

"Yes. Did that happen?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't say. But I think it did. He ate so many things!"

"How many? Can you count them for me?"

"One, two, three, four . . ." Jilly counted slowly, pointing at each thing. When she reached six, she paused and asked Severus what came next.

Harry counted silently along with them and discovered the caterpillar had eaten ten things on Saturday. Harry covered his mouth with his hand. Oh yes, the caterpillar was very like Dudley!

Suddenly, Jilly glanced around, then said, "Hawwy, come here! ‘fessor Sevvy is reading me a story. Come here, Hawwy, an' lissen!"

Harry remained where he was, a slow blush creeping over his face. "Uh . . .how did you know I was here?"

"Felt you, silly!" she replied, giving him a look that said he was dense not to know that. She beckoned to him imperiously. "Come on, Hawwy! It's the bestest part!"

"No, that's okay, Jilly. I don't need to . . ." he halted, for she gave him a pathetic look and he sighed. "All right." Then he came all the way into the room and perched upon the foot of the bed.

Severus finished the story. " . . .then he nibbled his way out and became a beautiful-"

"Butterfly!" Jilly cried. "Yay! See, Hawwy? Lookit the butterfly!"

Harry scooted over so he could see the picture. It was a simple colorful drawing of a butterfly, yet it touched him and he found himself smiling and asking if he could see the book.

Severus handed it to him, and then Jilly said, "You wanna read it, Hawwy? I can help you."

Harry smiled and said, "Sure, Jilly. Let's read it together." Then he thought, I guess this must be what it's like to have a real family.

* * * * * *

After Jilly had been taken off for a nap by Jasper, Severus asked how Harry was feeling.

"Fine," Harry replied. "In fact, I've never felt so good in my entire life. That ritual really does work. I don't feel . . .tainted anymore. Is the darkness gone for good then, Sev?"

The Potions Master nodded. "Yes. The ritual purified us both. You have nothing to fret about, Harry. The last of the dagger's poison has been vanquished."

Harry gave a huge sigh of relief. "That's good. I mean, I thought so, but . . .I wasn't sure . . .and I was afraid a bit of might . . .you know . . .still be inside me."

Severus took Harry's face in his hands. "No, child. Trust me. You are no longer touched by the dark. Anymore than I am. Look." He rolled up his left sleeve, turning his wrist upwards.

Where the Dark Mark had once been branded, was now a shadow, a mere blot upon the pale skin.

"It's nearly gone! But . . .how?"

"The ritual purifies even old wounds," Severus said, rubbing gently across the skin. "And if it can do that, Harry, it surely has erased the stain upon your spirit." He rolled his sleeve down.

This time Harry did not doubt the older man. "Sev, where is the last one?"

Severus summoned Tom Riddle's journal from his pack and read quietly, "The last piece I have placed in a vessel whose loyalty and devotion will never be questioned by me. Never shall I doubt. Within the catacombs it shall rest, safe and never to be found, save that the heir shall open the door."

"The heir shall open the door . . .Sev, it's at Hogwarts! In the Chamber of Secrets."

"My thoughts precisely. And that is a door that only a parselmouth may open."

"I can open it." Harry said. Then he asked, "But there's nothing down there anymore except maybe a few rotting bones and basilisk teeth. D'you think the last one could have been the basilisk?"

Severus considered. "No. Otherwise my Mark would have faded completely upon the dagger's destruction. The last one still exists. Somewhere in the catacombs beneath the school."

"Do you think Dumbledore knows?"

"He may, though I highly doubt it."

"Maybe we ought to tell him. Just in case."

"Yes. A wise decision. I shall write to him." Severus agreed, then summoned quill, ink, and parchment without delay.

* * * * * *

On the fourth day of Severus' convalescence, Freedom and Warrior rode the winds, playing tag in and out of the thermals, exercising their wing muscles and increasing their stamina by racing from one end of the village to the other. Hedwig even joined them in their flights, though they outmatched her for sheer speed over short distances.

Freedom and Warrior took turns diving at small animals along the ground across the moor, seeing who could come the closest to the prey without harming it, it was an exercise in precision that was awe-inspiring to watch, or so said Jace, who often came into the yard to see the two hawks performing aerials across the sky.

And though it was play, Freedom knew that even in play a lesson could be learned, and someday perhaps the precision he learned now might come in handy, especially if he had to fight against a foe and needed to aim precisely for a spot upon them, like an eye or a hand or something.

It had been two days since Severus had sent the letter to Dumbledore and so far no reply had come. He had sent it with the Witherspoons' owl, Rocket, because Hedwig was too conspicuous and might be recognized by their enemies.

Severus was slightly concerned, for it was not like the old man to keep someone waiting for a reply, especially on a matter of such importance. But perhaps he was busy with duties for the school or the Ministry and had not yet had time to reply.

He asked Jace that afternoon if his owl had brought any mail for him in the morning post.

"No, professor. Just the paper, same as usual."

"I am waiting for an important letter from the Headmaster," Severus explained at the other's inquiring look. "Please inform me when it arrives."

"Sure thing, sir." Jace said.

Harry looked up from perusing the paper, but there was no mention in it of any Death Eater activity or anything about werewolves either. He traced Meadowsweet's bracelet, which he always wore upon his wrist, and wondered if all were well with her and her wolfen brethren in the Forest. I haven't forgotten you, Sasha. Or the promise I made. I'll speak to the Minister when this is all over and free you. It's the least I can do. I wish you were here now. I miss you.

He ran his finger around and around the moonstone set in the center and somehow its cool touch soothed him. He wished he dared to write to her, but he knew that any correspondence could be intercepted and so he had to wait. But longing stirred within him and he tried to stop thinking about the way the wind ruffled her silvery hair or the way she smiled or the sound of her voice.

"Thinking of someone special?" Jace asked softly.

"Huh?" Harry jerked up from the paper and looked at his friend. "How did you know?"

"Your face and the way you're tracing that bracelet of yours," Jace replied. "I don't need to read your mind, Harry. I just watch closely. That's how a reader learns most things. By watching and interpreting things, like expressions. It's forbidden to read a person's mind just to satisfy curiosity."

"Sorry. Force of habit, I guess, to just assume you need to read minds. I guess I'm pretty transparent."

"You have always allowed your face to project anything you were thinking or feeling." Severus said. "Not a good trait in a spy, so it is good that you never had to play that role."

"I know. Voldy would have found me out one time with Legilimency." Harry said with a rueful chuckle. "Jace, is Legilimency similar to your talent?"

Jace shook his head rapidly. "No. Not at all. Legilemency, as I understand it, is a spell that can make a wizard scan another's mind, but it's crude and unsubtle. Using Legilimency on someone is like trying to pry open a potion vial with a crowbar, a reader is ten times more subtle. We slip into another's thoughts, and you would never know I was there. From what I know, His Darkness was like an elephant in a china shop, the person he read always knew he was inside them, he ripped them apart, taking their memories. Right, sir?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. How did you find that out?"

"One of his victims came here, to us, to be healed. His mind . . .it was badly injured, holes in his memory like Swiss cheese. No reader would ever do such a thing."

"Not even those Mind Lords?"

"No. A Mind Lord was sneaky, he could slip in and out of a person's thoughts in two seconds or less, and plant suggestions and all, but he would have never left a person in the state that one was in. It's too clumsy, no finesse. Nothing will keep a reader out who wants to get in except three things. The first is the Reader Codes. The second is a natural Occlumens, they have shields so strong and tight a reader can't penetrate them, like Professor Snape. And the third is another reader with layered shields, but even they can be broken if you're strong enough."

"Is that how you've managed to stay hidden here for so long?" Harry asked.

"Pretty much." Jace said. "We can sense when other minds are near and veil ourselves when necessary."

"Too bad some of you couldn't have read Riddle's mind when he returned."

"I don't know if that would have worked, Harry. He was crazy and when you try to read someone like that . . .you could end up going mad too. Because someone who's insane like that, his mind isn't normal and usually it's hard to follow thoughts and harder to influence them. It's dangerous too. You could become trapped inside his mind and never find a way out. So, yes a reader could have listened to his thoughts, but would also run the risk of going mad."

"Oh. I didn't realize . . ."

"No reason why you would have. Most people assume readers can do a lot of things that just aren't possible. Like communicate over an ocean or something."

"Good thing too, else my invention would have been useless," Jasper remarked, coming into the kitchen then. "Speaking of my amulets, I would like to give you these," he dug into a pocket and came up with two elongated malachite pendants upon silver chains. "I've paired them to each other, all you have to do to activate them is put them on and hold them for a moment and then think about the other person who holds your amulet. Your thoughts will be able to be heard by that person, up to a distance of several kilometers."

Both Severus and Harry stared at the gift. They knew how rare it was for Jasper to gift an outsider with one amulet, much less two.

"Jasper, this is too much. We could not possibly . . ." began Snape.

The reader firmly squelched the other's protest by putting Snape's hand over the amulet. "Humor me, Severus. I know you're on some kind of top secret mission and I won't ask questions, but I have a premonition you'll need these before it's over. Call me psychic if you want," here Jasper grinned. "Besides, if you use my amulets to help you in your quest, it might make the Minister sit up and take notice and maybe sign my patent."

Their eyes met and very quickly Severus realized that Jasper was as stubborn as he and his mind was made up. "Very well. Your generosity is greatly appreciated. If you ever need my services as a Potions Master, you have but to ask."

"I'll keep that in mind. And there are no debts between Slytherins, Severus," Jasper stated. "Use them well."

The elder wizard remained to supervise as the two activated their amulets and tested them.

"Can we talk with anyone who has an amulet?" asked Harry.

"Yes, if they're attuned to you," Jasper said. "I've taken the liberty of attuning you to all of my family. So if you have any questions, don't hesitate to send."

Then Jasper departed, going off to work, and Harry experimented with his amulet with Jace and Severus until he felt comfortable using it. The only drawback that he could see was that the amulet could not be used in Animagus form, it would only function when he was a human. Jace said that was because an animal's mind was different from a human's, and even though Harry's mind controlled Freedom, the hawk mind was still active and it muddled up the amulet.

But still it was a magnificent gift.

* * * * * *

On the fifth day, Grace retested Severus to make sure his reserves were up to par, and she smiled and said they were fine, but what he read in the paper that morning nearly made him have a relapse. They had been eating breakfast when the owl delivered the paper.

Rocket delivered it to Harry, perhaps because he was closest to the window the owl came through and he picked it up and was about to hand it to Grace when he saw the headline.

Death Eaters Suspect in Disappearance of Four Hogwarts Students! Community in a Panic! Does This Mean the Return of the Dark Reign?

Four days ago, the Auror Department received four missing persons alerts, all of them concerning former fifth-year classmates of Harry Potter. They were reported by frantic family members, and all seem to have disappeared within the same day of each other, resulting in the belief that this was a planned raid and not just a kidnapping by an individual. The missing students are Muggleborn Hermione Granger, reputedly snatched from her bedroom at her home, Vincent Crabbe and Marietta Edgecombe, both sitting in Mrs. Edgecombe's home awaiting her return with some dinner from a local restaurant, and Susan Bones, whose aunt Amelia is a prominent Ministry official and responsible for the trial and sentencing of many Death Eaters. Susan was taking a walk after dinner and never returned. Suspects include former Death Eater Karkaroff and Lucius Malfoy among others . . .The Department is doing all it can to locate the missing children and have delayed informing the press in hope that the kidnappers would leave a demand that could be traced . . .

"Great Merlin!Severus, you need to read this!" Harry exclaimed, shoving the paper at his mentor.

His mind was whirling around and around, he could hardly believe that something terrible had happened to his friends-especially poor Hermione. Vince and Marietta, even Susan . . .it boggled his mind. He had thought the Death Eaters focused on him and Severus, for they were the biggest threat, so why bother going after kids like Hermione and Susan? What purpose did it serve?

Severus read the entire article, his face growing more drawn and pinched with worry as he did so. This had all the earmarks of a raid to gather bodies for a blood ritual, a thing Severus had seen performed many times during Voldemort's rise to power. The Death Eaters preferred to capture Muggleborns and blood traitors, claiming they were useless save for sacrificial meat.

Severus's lip curled. They liked using young ones as well, innocence fueled the sacrifice and made it more potent.

"This could be why Dumbledore has not answered my letter. He is probably out looking for the missing children," Severus said.

Just then, a Great Horned owl flew in the window, hooting in urgency. In its beak was a small letter sealed with the Order's phoenix seal. Severus recognized the owl as Seraphina, matriarch of the Hogwarts owlery. Seraphina brought the letter directly to Snape and then flew off before he could reward her, obviously in a hurry.

"Is it from Dumbledore?" Harry asked. There was no return address.

"Hush and kindly let me open my mail," the elder wizard huffed, waving Harry away.

He fully expected the letter to be in Dumbledore's scratchy handwriting, but instead it was written in Minerva's graceful cursive.

Dear Severus,

I am writing this to you because I happened to see your letter on Albus' desk as I was going through his things searching for clues. I knew it must be urgent and Order related and so I opened it. If you have read the paper this morning-and who hasn't probably-you will know about the four missing students. What no one else knows yet is that they are not the only ones.

Albus has gone missing as well.

Currently, Moody, Remus, and Sirius were investigating this case and Albus was assisting. He had questioned all of the parents and gotten details about when and where the children were before they vanished and if they had had any problems before the child went missing, like a quarrel. Nothing.

And yet, Albus refused to give up hope. He believes they are still out there somewhere. No ransom note was sent. At least, none that I was aware of. Until Albus disappeared yesterday and no means of communication could be established. That was when I went through the papers on his desk this morning, and found both your letter and another anonymous one, buried under a pile of periodicals.

The anonymous one said that the children would be killed unless a substitute was found and that was all. I believe that Albus has vanished because he wished to substitute himself for them and did not want to cause a fuss.

Severus, please come to Hogwarts as soon as you can. I need your cool head and analytic mind, not to mention your magic and knowledge, old friend.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Secretary of the Order

Severus remained silent for a long moment, then he said to Harry, "We need to leave as soon as we can. We cannot afford to delay our return to Hogwarts any longer than necessary." He pulled off his amulet and then scribbled a quick reply to Minerva and sealed both letter and amulet into an envelope. Communication would be ten times quicker between them if an Order member had an amulet and in this sort of situation, speedy communication was everything.

He sent the letter and the amulet off with Rocket.

"Sev? Why did you just give away your amulet?" Harry asked.

"I have temporarily loaned it to Professor McGonagall. We're going to need the Order to help us and communication is paramount." He quickly explained what McGonagall had said about the Headmaster also going missing.

"Oh, right." Harry felt slightly stupid, but his brain was all foggy, filled with worry and fear. What in Merlin's name could be happening to his friends and Dumbledore?

Part Two: Sacrifices

A week previously

Malfoy Manor

Wiltshire:

Lucius slammed his hand down so hard upon the table that his goblet of wine toppled over and spilled onto the dining room floor.  "I will not tolerate this constant failure, blast and damn it! How hard can it be to find two bloody wizards?"

Bellatrix smirked, eyeing her brother-in-law with unconcealed glee. "Something wrong, brother-in-law? Did your werewolf pet fail you again, I presume?"

Lucius shot her a withering glare before snapping his fingers and summoning his house elf. "Clean that up!"

"At once, Master." Skippy said and clapped his hands.  The spilled wine and dented goblet vanished and the elf presented his master with a fresh glass of wine.

Lucius took it and waved the creature away. Skippy vanished with soft ‘pop'.

"What has gotten you in such a temper, darling?" asked Narcissa.

Lucius took a deep calming breath and picked up a caviar canapé.  He knew he should not allow his temper to get the best of him, it was bad for the digestion. "Greyback, the imbecile! I send him hunting Snape and Potter, the thing which he claims he does best, being what he is, and he still hasn't managed to lay hands on them. Now he claims they have . . .vanished without a trace! It is positively maddening."

Bellatrix licked her oyster spoon and gave him a tiny malicious smile. "Maybe when he returns . . .you could skin him and make a rug out of him, eh, Malfoy? Then, whenever you got the urge to stomp something, there he'd be."

"Your idea has merit . . .for once," Lucius said grudgingly.  "But I need him for now.  We are not so numerous that I can afford to kill off one of number. But maybe I shall indulge myself with a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse after our master is restored."

Bellatrix paused in mid-bite, the canapé forgotten in her hand.  She leaned forward, her eyes glittering maniacally. "The Master!" she hissed, making it sound like an endearment. "Yes, let us speak of his return.  How long before we can perform the ceremony?"

"A while," Lucius said casually.  "You know we need more sacrifices and magic to draw upon. That lickspittle Pettigrew is not enough. He is weak and in order to give our master a strong viable body we need someone his equal in magic."

"And where can we find someone?" asked his wife, sipping her mushroom consommé.  "Snape and Potter were close to his strength, but they are missing."

"Someone is right here, Cissy, one who claims he is the only wizard the Dark One ever feared."

"Dumbledore!" the two sisters cried in practically one breath.

"Yes.  The old phoenix himself," Lucius chuckled mirthlessly.

Bellatrix began to laugh.

"Something amuses you, sister-in-law?"

She dabbed her face with a delicate lace dinner cloth, small giggles still escaping her. Her bosom heaved with the force of her mirth. "You do, brother dear. Just how do you propose to get the old fool to agree to the ceremony? Invite him for tea?"

"Perhaps."

Her eyes narrowed and she twirled one long curl about her finger. "What are you up to, Lucius? Losing your eye hasn't made you lose your edge . . .has it?"

"On the contrary, Bella," her sister cut in.  "Lucius is as sharp as ever."

"Thank you, Cissy." Lucius patted her arm tenderly. "Sorry to disappoint you, Bella, but I am not going mad yet."

"No? You certainly sound it, trying to go after Dumbledore. He could incinerate you with a flick of his finger-poof!" She snapped her fingers and snickered. "How do you plan to hold him, Lucius?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse, sister dear."

Lucius smiled.

Bellatrix shivered, for his smile made a shark look innocent.

"And what offer is that?"

"The lives of his precious students, of course."

Bella licked her lips.  "Tell me more."

* * * * * *

Two days later:

Susan Bones had finished filing the papers upon her aunt's desk, all of the cases that had been finished or counted as incomplete.  It had taken the better part of an hour to file all of it, since she had to do it non-magically, but the task was complete and now she was free to take a walk before going home. She had eaten a light dinner of sandwiches just before finishing up, so she wasn't hungry. She tucked a strand of her relentlessly curly strawberry blond hair, she had decided not to braid it today, behind her ear and called out to Amelia, who was in the other part of her office reading the daily reports, "I'm going for a walk, Aunt Amelia. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"All right, dear.  Enjoy yourself.  Is the filing done?"

"Yes, Aunt Amelia." Susan called over her shoulder.  Then she was gone out the door.

It was warm out, so she removed her light windbreaker and tied it about her waist. Underneath she was wearing a sleeveless turquoise cami and denim shorts, she looked no different than a dozen other sixteen-year-olds her age.  Except that she carried a Ministry pass in her pocket as well as her wand.  Ever since she had learned from gossip in her aunt's office that known Death Eaters were still at large, she refused to stop carrying her wand.  Her grandmother and uncle had been killed by Death Eaters and she knew because of her job, her aunt was also a target. And so, by extension was she.

The Ministry of Magic was right in the center of downtown London, not a very promising area to be walking, but Susan couldn't stand being inside any longer and even walking down the dingy street was better than staying indoors.  She rode up the lift and stepped out of the red phone booth nonchalantly.

Hardly anyone was about, the heat was stifling in mid July.  Susan walked confidently down the pavement, looking into the store fronts casually, pretending to browse.  Her hand rested lightly on her wand as she walked.

She had just walked past the local pub, a fish and chips stand, and a sixpence store when she felt eyes upon her. She spun and half-drew her wand.

Only to find there was no one there.

Cripes, I have to stop jumping at shadows! She scolded herself. She forced herself to relax and shoved her wand back into the pocket of her jacket. Then she turned around and kept walking.  It was nice to be out in the fresh air and sunshine, even if the heat was sweltering and the only people she passed were a drunk snoring against the side of a building and a tall man wearing a broad-brimmed hat.

She paused to wipe the sweat from her brow and shove her hair back again when the Stunning Hex hit her.  Before she could hit the pavement, however, the man in the hat moved and lifted her up into his arms. "Sweet dreams, child," he whispered, his ice-blue eyes glinting in triumph.

An instant later he was gone and there were no witnesses to the kidnapping of Susan Bones.

* * * * * *

Edgecomb residence

Clancy Street, London:

"How long do you think it'll take your mum to return from that restaurant, Marietta?" Vince asked, teasingly running his hand up her back. She was curled close to him on the sofa in front of the fireplace, where a portrait of Marietta's father hung. The wizard was snoozing, however, and so took no notice of what was going on between the two teenagers.

Marietta lived in a comfortable flat in wizarding London, and she and Vince were relaxing after a long day of exploring various shops and eateries, taking tour buses through the major attractions in London, like Big Ben and the Tower of London, as well as the Ministry of Magic. They had run into a classmate of theirs, Susan Bones, while touring the Auror Department, she had been helping her aunt out with a backlog of old case files.  They had chatted a bit until Marietta's mother, Elise, had gotten off of work in the Floo Department and said they should go home for supper.

Elise had volunteered to go and get dinner from Chang's Authentic Chinese Cuisine, which was an excellent Chinese restaurant a few blocks from her flat.  Vince and Marietta had stayed at home, saying they were tired, which was true, but they were tired of being monitored by adults.

Now that they were alone, they decided to take full advantage and indulge in some snogging, among other things. So Vince looked questioningly at his girlfriend and asked when her mum would be home.

Marietta shrugged. "She'll probably be home in about half-an-hour. She likes to talk with the owner, Rosetta Chang. She's Cho's mum, in case you didn't know."

"Really? Uh . . .that's cool," Vince said, but he was more interested in getting closer to Marietta than hearing about her friend's mum. He gently put her arm about her, and when she didn't shrug it off, hugged her close.

The light blue and green patterned sofa was very comfortable, and a small rock fountain was tinkling in the background on a side table.  Tall glasses of iced pumpkin juice rested in front of them on a tray upon a low table of teakwood, a gift from Cho's mother to Elise one Christmas. The sitting room was papered in tasteful cream wallpaper with blue birds and white roses upon it and frilly curtains on the windows.  It was quite obviously a woman's room and at first Vince had felt uncomfortable in it.  He wasn't used to such delicate looking furniture and was afraid he might trip and break something with his big clumsy feet.

Only now, sitting on the sofa, his arm about Marietta, did he feel comfortable. He fingered his silver crossbow amulet his da had made for him and leaned in closer, whispering, "I really liked our walk about London, Marietta, but you know the part I really liked?"

"What?" she had turned to face him, her pert mouth inches from his own.

"You," he said and then he captured her mouth, kissing her long and deep.

Marietta relaxed into his embrace with a sigh.

They heard the Floo flare and jumped apart guiltily, expecting to see Elise Edgecombe frowning down on them.

What they saw instead were two people in the black robes and terrifying silver masks of Death Eaters.

Marietta screamed. "Get out of my home, you freaks!" She reached for her wand, only to have it blown out of her hand by a quick Disarming Charm. "Run, Vince! Call the Aurors!"

"Incarcerus!" shouted the smaller of the two, and ropes shot out and wound about Marietta's slender form, holding her fast. She was still swearing when they stole her voice with a Silencing Charm.

It took a few minutes more to subdue Vince, who managed to block most of the standard hexes the taller masked figure threw at him, but eventually he too succumbed to a cloud of Somnolent Solution, when the Death Eater removed the stopper from a gaseous elixir and tossed it at his feet.

It was a powerful sleeping gas used by Aurors to control crowds in a state of panic and Vince was knocked out in two seconds.

"Little bastard!" hissed the tall Death Eater, kicking the prostrate form.  "Blood traitor whelp!"

"Stop it, Bella! We need him undamaged for the rite, remember?"

Bellatrix spat, then chanted another Restraining Charm and levitated Vince and Marietta through the Floo.

Narcissa made certain that everything was in order before following her sister, leaving no traces of their presence for Aurors to trace.

* * * * * *

That same night:

Hermione remained blissfully unaware of the kidnappings of her fellow students, situated as she was in her home in the Muggle town of Atherby, near Somerset. She had just finished brushing her teeth and combing her hair, and was curled up on her bed in her pink pajamas, reading a new Arithmancy book she had just purchased two days before at Diagon Alley.  Flourish and Blotts had delivered it to her by express owl post this morning as they had not had the book in stock in the store and had to special order it.

She lay on her stomach on her quilt, which had been made for her by her grandmother, it was a Starred Beauty pattern, done in rose and gold tones with a white border to match the colors of her room. She also had a matching throw pillow.

Her walls were a pale rose covered with star charts and a calendar and pictures of a few Muggle teen heartthrobs, as well as a corkboard with notes posted all over it for future projects. Her furniture was white oak, handcarved and old, it had been her maternal grandmother's and willed to her granddaughter when she passed away.  There was a nightstand, long dresser, and a small vanity which barely had any make-up on it. A Gryffindor banner was pinned above it and Hermione's school trunk was set next to a desk crammed full of papers and notebooks, her summer study projects.  A bookshelf built into the wall across from her bed was full of books of all kinds, neatly shelved and alphabetized.

Fuzzy pink slippers peeked out from beneath her bed and she gently placed an old much-loved floppy-ear stuffed dog on her pillow. Crookshanks was napping on the bed beside her.

The window next to her bed was half open, it was beastly hot even at night and  she welcomed any stray hint of a breeze.

"Listen to this, Crooks," she turned the page and began to read aloud to the part-kneazle.  "The number nine is thought to be the most powerful number in numerology, since it is three times three, a triple trinity . . ."

"How very interesting," said a smooth deep voice.

Hermione jerked up and the book went flying as she saw a silver mask at her window. "W-What . . .? Oh blessed God, a Death Eater!"

"Indeed." There was amusement in the other's tone. "They say you're a smart witch, so save yourself the trouble and don't struggle."

Crookshanks awoke and hissed, all the fur upon his back standing on end.

The Death Eater started to climb in through the window.

Hermione scrambled off the bed, her hands held before her in a defensive gesture. "Please, don't hurt my parents!" she cried. Then she cast a Repelling Charm.

But the Death Eater blocked it.  "Not bad, girl.  But not good enough! Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione tried to block the spell, but she was not trained in wandless magic and she felt it take hold, her whole body going stiff and numb. She didn't even feel it when she hit the floor.

The Death Eater smiled behind the mask and stepped forward to pick up the paralyzed witch when he felt a furry whirlwind land upon his shoulders. 

Hissing and growling, Crookshanks attacked, trying to defend his helpless mistress.

The Death Eater yelped and jumped, but at last managed to seize the gallant cat by the scruff and toss him hard against the opposite wall. "Take that, you furry menace!" He growled, rubbing his shoulders, where blood welled through his black robes from four sets of clawed paws.

Crookshanks slid down the wall to lie in a furred heap upon the floor.

The Death Eater pointed his wand at the unmoving animal, debating whether to kill it or not, then he shook his head.  Killing the cat would only leave traces and that was not what he wanted.  He lifted the girl in his arms, placing her over his shoulder, wincing as he did so.

"Bloody cat! Should have drowned you at birth!"

Then he carefully expunged any traces of his magical signature with a swiftly chanted Erase Aura charm and climbed back out the window and onto his broom. Mission accomplished.

Once we have incarcerated them in the catacombs beneath Hogwarts, then I shall send the ransom note to the old fox in the office and see if his bleeding heart will shed more blood for the students he professes to protect. Blood and magic enough to resurrect my lord from the ether and bring him back from the Void.  He inhaled sharply of the night air and chuckled.  Ah, the sweet smell of success! Now perhaps those fools in the Ministry will realize we are not to be taken lightly, simply because the Dark Lord is gone.  Four children stolen away, three from prominent Ministry officials, their wards useless against us.  At long last, vengeance shall be mine, and once again the world shall tremble at the name of Lord Voldemort.

Albus stared at the piece of parchment upon his desk as if it were a coiled viper poised to strike. He had forgotten the power that mere words written in pen and ink could hold. These held him mute, spellbound, and upon the verge of despair.

Dumbledore:

You who call yourself the protector of children and the so-called Leader of the Light, will be happy to know that your students remain unharmed . . .for now. Whether or not they continue to be so is entirely up to you. They are, in a word, expendable. They are valuable only for their magic and blood. Think of it, four young wizards, their magic ripe and unsullied, perfect for using in the ritual to bring back our Master from beyond the Veil. Other than that, of what use are they?

None. Mudbloods and blood traitors all.

Except . . .perhaps, to someone like you.

Does your heart bleed, old man, for them, locked away in the dark and cold? Can you hear them, sobbing and pleading as they are dragged off to meet their Maker beneath the dark of the moon? Will the last thing their eyes see be the silver blade as it cuts their throat?

Or is there a different fate awaiting them

A willing substitute may be accepted. If you choose to do so, meet me at the fallen oak in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night, and I shall exchange them for you.

Don’t and they shall become sacrificial lambs.

The choice is yours, old man.

What will you sacrifice, Albus Dumbledore?

The Masked One

Albus had read and re-read the parchment a dozen times since it had arrived that morning, upon the wings of a nondescript brown owl. There had been no return address of course. And the writing was not recognizable, being as it was written in simple block printing, such as a child would use.

He glanced away and out of the window of his office. He had chosen to remain at Hogwarts over the summer, waiting for Severus and Harry to return from their quest. He sincerely hoped they were succeeding, especially now that the Death Eaters had committed this dreadful crime.

The sun shone down upon the grounds, it appeared it would be a beautiful day. Enjoy it while you can, a voice whispered in the back of his head. It may be the last you will ever see, if you consent to do this thing.

His hand clenched upon the desk. He should have kept a better watch upon the remaining Death Eaters, instead of blithely assuming they would crawl back under the rocks and hide, as they had done last time. Now his complacency had cost them four innocent lives.

Unless he did as the note commanded.

What will you sacrifice, Albus Dumbledore?

Those words were like a poison in his blood, gnawing at his vitals. And for the first time in a very long time, the Headmaster of Hogwarts was afraid.

Fear and insecurity were unwelcome companions upon this fine summer morning, he thought, shifting uneasily in his chair. He had never felt so helpless and inadequate before. In the past, he had always been optimistic, always sure that all he did was for the greater good and everything would work out all right. Only in two cases had that not happened, the first time had been with his little sister, Ariana, who had been caught in the crossfire between him and Gellert Grindelwald when they had dueled unexpectedly at the Dumbledore estate. Poor Ariana had been hit by a curse that had killed her, and her death had enabled Albus to defeat Grindelwald. The second time things had gone awry was with the false prophecy which had convinced Voldemort to kill Harry and had ended in the deaths of James and Lily.

That was a sin he still had not atoned for, he thought heavily. And it had repercussions he had not predicted. The Headmaster sighed heavily. Guilt was a heavy burden and it did not lessen with time. If anything, it grew heavier. He had intended Harry to be his redemption, the one to right the wrong he had committed by allowing Voldemort to walk free.

I should have dueled and killed him long ago, but I was weak, I could not bring myself to destroy him. A part of me still saw him as that little boy in that orphanage, alone and unloved, struggling to control a powerful magical gift. I had always hoped that someday he would repent of the dark path and return to me, but like Gellert, his pride and ambition drove him deeper into shadow. Tom and Gellert, two whom I loved best, now lost to me. To his surprise, he found himself perilously close to tears. And what of the other children now? Susan, Vince, Marietta, and Hermione? I had such hopes for them . . .I should have protected them better, should have known that the Death Eaters who remained would seek out those they regard as an inferior species—Muggleborns and blood traitors and half-bloods. But I was blind, I thought they had gone underground, and my oversight was costly.

He winced as he recalled how Elise Edgecomb had cried upon learning that Vince and Marietta were missing, and Hermione’s parents had been beside themselves as well, confused and frightened and he could offer them no solace despite his reassurances that everything was being done to find their daughter. Vincent Crabbe senior blamed his past association with Death Eaters for the kidnapping of his son and vowed to make them pay if they hurt his son, his rage and grief a tangible thing. Amelia Bones had vowed the same, but Albus could see how Susan’s disappearance had aged her.

He studied the letter again, wondering if he should contact Minerva, Remus, Sirius, and the other Order members and let them know about the demand. He pondered that for a long time, while the same question danced through his head like a funeral dirge.

What will you sacrifice?

* * * * * *

Malfoy Manor:

“Well, did you get the last brat?” Bella queried, pacing the length of Lucius’s drawing room, her red spiked heels tapping like an annoying woodpecker over the polished floor. They matched the ankle-length bloodred sheath she wore.

Lucius removed his mask and hung it on the wall in the secret compartment. “Yes.” He rubbed his shoulder and winced. “The little snot tried to fight me, but she was no match for me. But her blasted cat attacked me and clawed me, the wretched creature! I should have killed it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I had other matters to occupy me, namely getting Granger away without being spotted.” He quickly stripped off his Death Eater robes, which looked black in certain lights, but were actually a mottled charcoal gray. He mended the tears in them left by Crookshanks’ claws and tucked them into the compartment, then pushed it shut.

Narcissa came in with a basin and a soft cloth. “Take off your shirt and let me see those scratches, Luc,” she ordered. “Cat scratches can fester if not treated properly.”

Lucius removed his shirt, revealing several scratches down his shoulders and back, ragged tears that were still oozing blood.

“Sit,” Narcissa said, pulling a chair out sideways so her husband could sit while she attended to his back.

As she washed and disinfected the scratches, Bella discussed with Lucius what their next move should be. “I think we ought to sacrifice the brats as well as the Headmaster when the time comes. We could use the extra power.” She licked her lips, looking like a cat who had just fallen face first in a bowl of cream. “Besides, it’s so fun to hear them begging and screaming.”

Lucius hissed as Narcissa swabbed out a deep scratch and scowled at his sister-in-law. “You can have your pound of flesh later, Bella. First we need to make sure Dumbledore takes the bait.”

“And why wouldn’t he?” Bella laughed nastily. “Like the rest of his weak-willed kind, he would do anything to save a child. Pah! Children are expendable, they always have been. Especially dirty filthy Mudbloods! And tainted blood traitors!”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit risky, trying to keep a wizard of Dumbledore’s power?” Narcissa asked uncertainly. “The children are a safer bet.”

“True, but if Dumbledore’s blood and magic is used in the ritual, it will make our Master that much more powerful. He was strong when Wormtail used Harry Potter’s blood the first time he was brought back, so just think of how much more powerful he will be when we use Dumbledore’s!” Lucius stated, gritting his teeth as Narcissa finished disinfecting the wounds and then smearing them with numbing paste. “And he will come willingly, to play the martyr like all Gryffindors love to do.”

“Good. But I want to work with him before the ritual,” Bellatrix purred. “I want to see if he can endure as much as a Muggle before he breaks.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “Very well, Bella. This once, I shall indulge you.”

“As if you could stop me,” the other sneered. “When shall we move them to the catacombs?”

“As soon as Dumbledore answers my note,” Lucius replied stiffly, pulling on a fresh shirt Narcissa handed him.

“Better, darling?”

“Yes, my sweet. Thank you.” He bent and kissed her lightly.

“The two of you are pathetic. Still all touchy-feely after all these years. Makes me want to vomit.”

“If it bothers you, Bella, don’t look,” Narcissa said snippily. “Just because your husband was inadequate in that department . . .”

“Oh, please! As if I need a man pawing me night and day! I married Rudolphus for his connections and his money, anything else was superfluous.”

“Of course you did, sister. I keep forgetting, you feel pleasure only witnessing someone else’s pain. Must make it difficult to keep a man,” said Narcissa, then she smiled sweetly and banished the basin and cloth with a flick of her wand.

Before Bella could raise her wand against her sister, Lucius cut in. “Now, now, ladies, let’s not quarrel amongst ourselves. We have far more interesting things to do. Bella, why don’t you go find Wormtail? Make certain everything is ready for the ritual. I don’t trust the little sneak to do it right.”

Bella sniffed. “I’ll make sure everything’s perfect.” She sashayed to the door and left.

Lucius turned to Narcissa. “Come, Cissy. Let’s pay a visit to our guests.”

Then he touched a secret panel in the back of the room and it slid open, revealing a secret passage.

* * * * * *

Hermione woke stiff and sore, her head pounding like an anvil. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes and looking about her. She blinked, wondering why nothing looked familiar. Then she remembered what had happened and she started to shake. Where am I? And what’s going to happen to me?

She was lying on an upholstered chaise lounge that felt as if it had been designed in Victorian times, for it was hard and uncomfortable. It was striped green and cream and had lion’s paws for feet. A weak flickering light shone from the ceiling.

The wallpaper, some kind of floral pattern, was peeling and cracked and there was dust all about the carpet and the single chipped table. She also saw several other people lying on the floor and one on another matching upholstered chair. With a start she recognized some of her classmates. Lying on the floor was the sticky form of Vincent Crabbe, and propped in the chair was Susan Bones of Hufflepuff. Next to Crabbe was Marietta Edgecombe. “Merlin’s purple pants!” she exclaimed softly and cautiously stood up. “The Death Eaters took all of us prisoner.”

She moved to each of her companions in turn, checking their pulse and making sure they were sleeping and not . . .she cringed even as she thought it . . .dead. But all of her classmates were breathing regularly, and appeared to be sleeping, or under a charm of some kind.

She supposed that whatever charm they had placed over her had worn off, since she was the only one awake.

Until Vince started to stir, groaning. “Where am I?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered. “How do you feel?”

He yawned. “Like something big stomped me.” He sat up. “Somebody snatched you too, huh?”

Hermione nodded. “He came into the window of my bedroom and I tried to fight him, but he just . . .deflected everything I could do to him without a wand.” She shivered, feeling like she wanted to cry, but she was afraid that if she started, she would never stop.

Vince gave her a sympathetic look. “Tell me about it. Two of them came through the Floo while I was at Marietta’s house, waiting for her mum to return with dinner.” He glanced down tenderly at his girlfriend, who was curled on her side, whimpering in her sleep. “Hey, Marietta, you okay?”

“Wha—Vince?” she murmured sleepily, opening her eyes.

“I’m here,” he whispered, putting an arm about her.

She huddled next to him. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere we don’t want to be,” said Susan, waking up from her unnatural sleep and glancing around. “Where are we, in somebody’s basement?”

Marietta wrinkled her nose. “Smells the way my grandmum’s parlor did after she died. Ugh!”

Hermione sniffed. “Yes, there is a sort of mildewed smell.”

“I wonder what . . .they want with us?” asked Marietta, looking frightened.

“They’re Death Eaters. They probably want us as bait,” Susan said quietly. “Or something worse.” She didn’t want to say the word, but it echoed silently through each of their minds nevertheless—torture.

“Bait? But my parents aren’t involved in the wizarding world,” Hermione protested.

“But ours are,” Vince stated. “My father . . .they probably took me to taunt him since he’s not a Death Eater anymore.”

“And my aunt is an Auror,” Susan said.

“My mum works for the Ministry too,” Marietta said.

All four of them exchanged frightened glances, thinking of other wizards and Muggleborns that had been victims of Death Eaters. Hardly any of them survived.

Just then, they heard the sound of a door being unlocked and they quickly stood up. Vince stood in front of Marietta protectively.

“Well, well, looks like our pigeons have awakened,” remarked Lucius mockingly. He stepped inside the room, followed by Narcissa. “Did you have a good nap?”

Vince scowled. “No thanks to you, Malfoy!”

Lucius’s magical eye flashed. “If I were you, boy, I’d watch my tone. You’re not immune from my wrath any longer, Mr. Crabbe.”

Vince snorted, but he said nothing else.

“Why have you brought us here, sir?” asked Hermione, trying to sound brave.

Lucius did not answer, examining them intently.

“My aunt will be looking for me,” Susan declared boldly. “For all of us. So maybe you ought to let us go, before you end up in Azkaban.”

“Brave words, little girl,” Narcissa chuckled.

Susan glared at her, but her chin trembled.

“You ought to be glad you are staying here, instead of some damp dark hole in the ground.” Lucius said sharply. “If you behave yourselves, we may even feed you or give you water. Give us trouble and you will see what it means to be a prisoner. Understood?”

The four nodded, flinching as his magical eye roved over them.

“Good.” He clapped his hands and a pitcher of water appeared on the table along with a single cup. “You are alive only because we need you. If you wish to continue breathing, you will do exactly as I say when I say it.” He told them icily. “For now, you may drink the water and rest. That is all. Oh, and should you be trying to think of escaping, forget it. A hellhound guards this door and you would not make it past ten feet. And attempted escape will be viewed as disobedience, which is punishable by death.”

With that, he turned and left, Narcissa following.

Vince waited until the door was shut and locked before he snarled, “Bloody arrogant stinking git! I hope you rot in hell!”

“Shhh! He might hear you!” Hermione said.

“Nah, Granger. He’s gone.” Vince said dismissively. “And I don’t believe that bollocks about a hellhound neither. He was lying.”

“How could you tell?” asked Marietta.

“Easy. If there was a dog out there, we’d of heard it breathing or moving. But everything’s quiet.” Crabbe answered, putting his ear to the door.

“And this is Malfoy. A liar through and through like his son,” Susan remarked.

Hermione poured some water from the pitcher into the cup and sniffed it. “Do you think it’s safe to drink this?”

“I don’t see why not,” Crabbe said. “If they wanted us dead, they could have killed us before.” He held out a hand. “Here. Let me drink it.”

Before the girls could say anything, Vince took the cup and drank.

Then he halted and looked at them. “It’s okay,” he said. Then he wiped the rim of the cup with his sleeve and handed it back to Hermione.

One by one, they drank the water, one or two swallows each and the pitcher was empty.

“What do we do now?” Susan wanted to know.

“We start planning on how to get out of here,” Vince said firmly.

“How? The door is locked, possibly guarded, and we don’t have our wands.” Hermione reminded him.

Vince sighed. “You’re supposed to be smart, Granger. Try and figure out some way we can get out of here.”

“I’ll try,” she said, her voice uncertain, drained of her usual know-it-all timbre.

“We all will,” Susan said, trying to sound optimistic. But it fell flat, as all of them wondered if escape might be impossible.

* * * * * *

Meanwhile, Albus paced and fretted and agonized over his decision. He knew he might be walking into a trap, that the note could be a lure to put himself into the hands of his enemies. But by the same token, how could he not agree to the Masked One’s demands?

Severus had once accused him of being a puppet master, treating people like pawns to be moved and sacrificed at will. But now that was no longer true. This time, he was under the thumb of another, and if he did as the note demanded, it would probably cost him his life.

But then, what is my life when counted against theirs? I am old, I have lived my life. Theirs is just beginning. They don’t deserve to be used as a sacrifice. Severus was right. Wars should not be fought by children. All those years, I hid Harry away, trying to make him into a hero, like Merlin did with Arthur. I thought if I fostered him with Muggles I could keep him safe and also teach him to value magic for its own sake and not take it for granted. In my arrogance I assumed he would grow up loved and instead it was just the opposite. The signs were there, but I ignored them. Until this year, when I was no longer able to. Oh Harry, I needed a hero so badly that I forgot that heroes are also people, with hopes and dreams and feelings. I failed you badly, child.

I cannot fail again. This time I will do what I should have long ago. I shall not make children into pawns, nor heroes before their time. Not ever again.

Dumbledore carefully shuffled the papers upon his desk, hiding the note beneath some others. He did not want Minerva or anyone else to come across it and try and persuade him out of his resolve. His course was set.

The old wizard straightened his shoulders and stood tall. The Masked One had asked him what he would sacrifice. This evening he would give the Death Eater his answer.

He turned and bid Fawkes farewell, gently scratching the phoenix behind his head. “We will meet again, old friend. In the land of the undying, if nowhere else.”

Fawkes trilled a mournful farewell, and watched as his master put on his cloak and tucked his wand in his belt, then strode from the office.

A single tear glittered in the phoenix’s eye and fell to the ground, the phoenix’s final tribute to his wizard.

Dumbledore paced to and fro beside the tree where the one called The Masked One had told him to wait if he were willing to exchange himself for the four children. Deep in his heart, Albus did not trust the Death Eater, but he felt he had no choice in the matter. If he could do anything to gain their release, he would do so. The wind blew cold and stark through the trees, and he clutched his quilted purple robe tighter about him. The chill from the Forbidden Forest wrapped about him like a cloak of frost, freezing him to the marrow. His beard wagged as he paced, unaccustomed to being kept waiting so long. It had been half-an-hour since he had arrived, half-an-hour since he had sent a reply to The Masked One.

The waiting was driving him mad.

He forced himself to be calm, to breathe in and out, to lean against the tree trunk and appear outwardly as if he were merely patiently awaiting the arrival of an old friend. Never had he found it so difficult to maintain that casual façade. The children. What could be happening to his children? He was a seething mass of nerves and he wished he had a Calming Draught. He felt the way he used to when he had sent Severus off to spy upon Voldemort. Except this was worse. Much worse. Severus had been a trained informant. The four children were innocent pawns in a deadly game that he should have made certain ended that night in the Department of Mysteries.

What will you sacrifice, Albus?

Once he would have blithely answered whatever he needed to.

Only that had been a lie too.

For he had sacrificed others to check Voldemort but had never really sacrificed himself.

He had been the king, overseeing all the pieces on the board, the puppet master in the shadows, pulling first one string then another.

Until now.

He felt a stirring in the air and knew that magic was being used close by. That had always been one of his talents, to sense magic in use, whether near or farther away, and also the type of magic, such as a conjuring or charm and whether it bore a dark taint. It had lead to some of his colleagues declaring he was all-knowing, though it was not true. He had encouraged that belief, however, because he knew it would make the dark wizards afraid, one in particular. Smoke and mirrors, old man. But that will not save you now, his thoughts mocked him. His clever subterfuge was at an end. The Hat should have put me in Slytherin, considering all of the deception I have practiced. Then again, it takes great courage to pretend to be something you're not. That made him think of Severus, who hid his compassion behind a wall of thorns, who pretended to follow evil at his behest, who risked all in the fulfillment of a promise made long ago to his beloved. And you used that love, Albus, used it to make him become the perfect agent and the protector to young Harry that you needed, his conscience rebuked.

He wished suddenly that he could apologize to the Potions Master, make amends, but there was no longer time. The sands in the hourglass had run out.

"So. You decided to show after all. How refreshingly noble."

Dumbledore turned, slowly, to face a tall black robed figure in an iron mask. The voice behind the mask was smooth, cultured, and filled with contempt. "I am here, as promised," the old wizard said shortly.

"Your wand, old man. Surrender it to me."

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and handed it to the figure with a short bow. "I shall render unto Caesar what is due," he replied flippantly.

There was a snort behind the mask. "Be careful, old one. Or Caesar shall cut off your head." The wand disappeared beneath the robe.

Dumbledore glanced around, and saw several other shadowy shapes further back in the trees. "Where are the children? You promised if I gave myself to you, they would be released."

"All in good time." The Masked One reached into a pocket and withdrew a shiny metal collar with a clasp at one end. "You know what this is, don't you?"

Dumbledore flinched, for the aura of darkness radiating from the collar was nearly tangible. "A Collar of Obedience."

"Yes." The other's voice was rich with satisfaction.

Ages ago, those collars had been forged by dark wizard seeking to bind rebellious apprentices and break them to their will. Once on, a wizard could perform no magic unless specifically directed by the one who had put the collar around his neck. He also could not disobey a direct order from his master. The binding spell used on the house elves was an offshoot of the way a Collar of Obedience operated.

The collars had been declared outlawed by the International Confederation of Wizards centuries ago. Anyone caught with one in their possession was subject to a fine, using it was guaranteed a trip to Azkaban.

"Lower your head," the Masked One hissed, approaching the elderly wizard.

For one instant there was a flicker of fear in the other's eyes. "You won't need that. I will do what you wish."

"Ha! As if I would trust you, old fox! This is insurance." He clasped the cold metal of the collar about Dumbledore's neck.

There was a flash of bluish light and the collar shrank to fit the old wizard.

"You know how this works, don't you?" purred the Masked One. "I give you a command and you do as I say. Any attempt to disobey will result in a great deal of pain. So I would suggest you behave yourself. Come."

Albus found his feet following the dark figure without conscious thought. That was how a Collar of Obedience operated. Sometimes a collar could be fought, but it was a rare wizard who could do so and endure the pain while trying to break the enchantment. In any case he knew he must not fight the collar just yet.

"Stop." The Death Eater ordered, halting just within the trees. "Now sleep, old man. Sleep and know nothing."

Dumbledore felt his eyelids grow heavy and he sank to the ground, asleep before his head touched the earth.

Behind the iron mask, Lucius gloated. Stage one of his plan was complete. Now for stage two.

He spoke a word and the Headmaster was levitated into the air and floated along behind him. Lucius turned and headed back towards the castle, to a certain stone outcropping. He touched the third stone in the sequence and it slid aside, revealing a tunnel twisting downwards.

He lit the tip of his wand, levitated the Headmaster through the entrance, then sealed the tunnel with another word. There were many passages into and out of Hogwarts. This one had only been used a handful of times, by the one who called himself the True Heir of Slytherin. It led to a warren of catacombs, but at the center of the web was the Chamber of Secrets.

* * * * * *

"Well, did you get him?" Bella demanded as soon as Lucius had returned to their new base beneath the school. There were several unused rooms below ground, it was almost like a self-sustaining complex. There was even plumbing and lavatories and running water. Lucius had explained that this had been built in case the castle were under siege and the wizards needed somewhere safe to hide back in the days when wizards were hunted by the Inquisition and magic-hating Muggles.

"He is our guest in the stone prison," Lucius said calmly. The stone prison, it had been discovered, was made to contain magical prisoners, and prevented wizards from drawing on their powers while they were within it.

Bella, who was wearing her slinky red dress, rubbed her hands together and looked like a child who had just received the best birthday present ever. "Oh goody! When can I start in on him?"

Lucius shook his head. "Patience, Bellatrix. Let the old fox settle in first. How are the children? Still asleep from the potion we put in their water?"

The curly-haired woman nodded, her pouting lips curled into a vicious sneer. "If you don't want me to play with Dumbledore, can I play with them?" she whined.

Lucius scowled. "If you're bored, go out and find a Muggle. There's no shortage of them. But we need the children as bargaining leverage, to keep Dumbledore behaving."

"What for? You have him collared, right?"

"You and I know that if he chose, he could break the collar's control. He's strong enough." Lucius reminded her. "That's insurance to keep him docile. But the real threat is what we'll do to his precious students unless he cooperates. And they must be kept untouched. Just in case."

"You're no fun, Luc," she pouted, like a five-year-old denied a sweet before dinnertime. Her mercurial personality shifted like the wind, and often frustrated and frightened the blond wizard, for she was unpredictable and dangerous.

Lucius did not trust her in the slightest and was careful to keep her on a tight leash. "Where's Pettigrew?"

"Don't know. The little rat is always sneaking about somewhere." Bella shrugged.

Lucius's mouth tightened. He disliked Wormtail and didn't trust him either. The man was a coward who would sell his own skin for profit.

"Go, Bella, amuse yourself until Dumbledore wakes up. There will be plenty of chances for you to play with him later."

He strode away, going to check up on their other hostages and then see Narcissa for dinner. In three days it would be the dark of the moon, the time when the dark powers were at their peak and he wished to perform the ritual then.

* * * * * *

Later:

Dumbledore didn't know how long he was within the cramped stone cell upon the straw pallet. The cell was ten by six square foot and he could feel the walls pressing down on him even though he knew that was impossible. There was something in these stones . . .some kind of magic inhibitor . . .he felt as if he were smothering, his magic was being crushed . . .

He took a deep breath, admonishing himself to stop making a mountain out of a molehill. He was not suffocating, not going to pass out, there were no black spots dancing before his eyes.

He made himself get to his feet and paced his cell. Around and around he paced, trying to unstiffen his aging bones. He hoped that one of the Death Eaters would come soon, he wished to speak with them about the children, ask to see them, if possible.

But minutes trickled by into hours and still Albus was left alone.

Finally, two hours or perhaps later, the door to the stone cell creaked open, and Lucius Malfoy stepped into the room, his arm about Hermione Granger.

"See, Dumbledore, one of your students." He had his arm tight about the girl and his wand pressed against her back. "Tell the Headmaster that you are unharmed, girl."

"Sir, I'm . . .okay," Hermione managed to get out. She could feel her eyes swim with tears that she refused to let fall. Then she cried, in a burst of inspiration, "Don't give up, sir! Whatever they tell you, don't give in."

"That's enough, girl!" Lucius snarled, twisting her arm. Hermione cried out.

"Lucius, is that really necessary?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes flashing.

"It is when she tries to incite a rebellion. If you don't want to see her hurt, you'll do whatever I say."

The older wizard paled. "But the agreement was that if I surrendered myself to you, you would let the children go."

"Was it? I don't remember wording it quite that way," Lucius said with a malicious smile.

"You hardly need them now that you have me-a much more powerful wizard. Do as you promised, Lucius, and let them go."

Lucius looked right at him and bared his teeth like a shark. "No. I lied. Now deal with it." Then he put his wand to Hermione's temple and said, "Obliviate!"

"Stop! What are you doing?"

"Making sure she doesn't remember you're here. That way she'll be more biddable." He laughed. Then he dragged the half-asleep girl out the door and back to the room where the teens all shared beds and a few other necessities.

He shoved her roughly into the room, letting the other teenagers catch her before she fell.

"What did you do to her, bastard?" Vince shouted, catching her neatly.

"Quiet, brat! I'll do the same to you if you don't watch your tongue!" Lucius snapped.

Then he locked the door and strode back up the hallway to the stone cell.

He found Albus sitting upon the straw pallet, looking rather befuddled and serene. Lucius bared his teeth in a fake smile. "Now, Headmaster, are you willing to cooperate, or shall I be forced to . . .do something unpleasant?"

Albus smiled blandly. "What is it you wish from me?"

"Your magic, old fox. All of it. Every last drop. That should be plenty to bring the Dark Lord back from the dead."

"So sorry, Mr. Malfoy, that I cannot accommodate you."

"Ah. Can't you? You will, Albus Dumbledore." He stepped back and beckoned with his left hand. "Come with me. We'll perform a few . . .tests."

Compelled, Albus got to his feet and followed.

Lucius led him to a small room where Bella was waiting.

She licked her lips when she saw him.

Inside the room was a low steel table with a white cloth over it. Next to the table were an array of instruments and something which looked a Iron Maiden, a set of thumbscrews, and other things.

"Hello, Dumbledore," she purred. "Welcome to my humble abode. Care to stay for tea?" She threw back her head and laughed, a high wild sound with madness lingering in it.

"Get on the table and stay put." Lucius ordered and Albus obeyed.

"What a charming place you've got here, Bella," Albus said conversationally.

"Isn't it?" she grinned. "And you will become intimately familiar with it, old man." She began to skip about the table, her wand out. "I'm going to have some f-u-u-n!" She whirled and pointed her wand directly at his heart. "But . . .I promised Luc I wouldn't break you . . .at least not yet. Still, it'll be fun to play with you." She laughed maniacally. "Fun! Fun! Fun! Crucio!"

* * * * * * *

Much later:

He lay where he had fallen in the stone cell, shivering uncontrollably, his body wracked with spasms. He had never felt such agony in his life and he felt his mind spinning away in self-defense, seeking solace in old memories. But just when he reached a happy memory, he would feel a sharp stab of pain that would throw him right back into the present again.

He had no idea how long Bellatrix had used the Cruicatus on him, but that was not what had reduced him to a state of shock. No, that had come later, when Lucius had used some kind of odd dark curse to suck the magic from him. Even though he had not resisted much, the curse had wracked him with pain, tearing the magic from him in short sharp bursts. Very quickly he had gone hoarse from screaming, and he could only watch as Malfoy stored the magic that was his life into three glowing crystal shards.

"Crystals are excellent for storing psychic energy, and also magical energy," Lucius had said, lecturing as though he were in a classroom.

Dumbledore had been nearly passed out by then.

Slowly he raised his head, gritting his teeth at the wave of pain that simple movement gave him. Now he understood better what Severus had gone through all those times he had attended Death Eater meetings. Oh, now he understood all too well, and he wished dearly he did not. Severus . . .I thought I knew what it was to have the curse on me for a few minutes . . .but this . . .I knew nothing . . .

Slow tears trickled out of his eyes, tears of pain and guilt and remorse, and the terrible cold knowledge that he had sent the man back to such horror, over and over. How could I have been so callus, so selfish? I was blind . . .blind to all but the Glorious Cause . . .I was blind, but now I see . . .

He managed to crawl a few inches, stretching out his hand for the tiny cup of water they had placed beside him. It was warm, just enough to wet his throat, but it tasted as good as an ice cold ale.

Then he slumped down, that simple act exhausting him.

Even worse, he felt his magic begin to return, slowly but surely, it trickled back. For the first time ever, he cursed the other special ability he had been born with-that of swift magical replenishment. It was that ability that had given rise to the legend that he was the most powerful wizard alive, that his strength had no limits. That was not so, it only seemed so, because he could recover from spells that would exhaust or kill an ordinary wizard, his magic replenishing itself at ten times the rate of a normal practitioner. It had enabled him to defeat younger wizards, such as Voldemort, and Grindelwald as well. But now his greatest blessing was about to become his greatest curse.

Because the quicker he recovered, the sooner they could go back to wrenching his magic away.

Dumbledore trembled. Then his eyes closed and he slept.

* * * * * *

What followed was a nightmare of black and red accompanied by pain that never ceased, or at least not for long. One by one, the children were paraded before him, so he could see for himself that Lucius was keeping his end of the bargain. And then they were Obliviated and he was forgotten. Occasionally, Lucius gave him a Pain Reliever so he could get some sleep, and be well rested for their next session.

Sometimes Lucius used other methods to wear down his resistance, like putting a plate full of hot food and a cold glass of ale in front of him and ordering him to sit there and not move, knowing that Albus had not eaten in . . .hours, days, he had lost track of time.

Salivating uncontrollably, he had been forced to stare at the food, knowing it was but a single handsbreadth away, but not daring to disobey the command or else risk the collar administering a sharp lesson. He had closed his eyes, recalling Harry's voice telling him that sometimes his relatives wouldn't feed him for days, and then let him out only to cook meals for them which he was forbidden to eat.

His stomach pinched and cried out for sustenance and once more he wept tears of regret for the boy he had sent home year after year to cruel abusive people. At the time he had thought it necessary, never realizing the torture it was to see food and be forbidden to eat when you were starving.

Desperate after an hour or so, he had tried to reach for the plate and draw it to him, but the movement set off the collar and its sharp shock sent pain coursing through him until he stopped reaching and remained still.

You have never known what it means to be helpless, Albus, Severus had accused him once after returning from a meeting badly injured. Never known what it's like to simply lie there and be forced to endure pain and humiliation because you cannot do anything to prevent it. To know that you might die . . .and hope for it . . .because it is easier to die than to survive . . .You feel pity for me, sure, but you cannot know what it's like. You were always the Golden One . . .

Those words seared him like a brand. But he could not deny them. He had led a life of wealth and privilege growing up, he was the eldest and the favored brilliant son, with Aberforth and Ariana left to get the scraps. In school, he was regarded as a wonderful student, always with top marks, always outperforming his peers, popular and well-liked. He had enjoyed school, playing pranks and having fun with his friends, especially Gellert Grindelwald, whom he had met in his seventh year. Only twice did tragedy touch him, once when he was thirteen and his father had been arrested and died in Azkaban for assaulting and killing some Muggle boys who had hurt his little sister, and many years later his mother had passed away suddenly.

Ariana . . .how I regret your death. But even then, I managed to turn that to my advantage, and cast all the blame upon Gellert, when it was my fault too, for returning to him and thinking I could reform him . . .And after he died, I was hailed as the greatest wizard alive, because Nicholas and I had discovered the Philosopher's Stone and defended it from Gellert's mad scheme to become immortal.

After that, all doors had been open to him. He had worked for the Ministry for a time, been hailed as the next Minister of Magic, respected and beloved, even the media had nothing bad to say about him.

Then came Tom, my other huge mistake . . .and yet even there I ended up coming up smelling like roses as the Muggles say. For Harry ended up defeating him and my reputation was still untarnished.

He lay with his cheek pressed against the cold stone floor of the cell and knew at last what fear was, not the kind of fear that you feel when you face down a dementor, or have a nightmare, but the kind of gut-wrenching fear that comes of not knowing what will become of you, not knowing if you will be alive to see the next dawn, that your fate was in the hands of monsters, and there was nothing you could do to prevent it.

Despair was an acrid taste upon his tongue, desolation a silent companion in the stone cell. Fear sat upon his shoulders like a black beast, hissing and mocking.

Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his time, lay upon the floor and prayed for rescue, for his magic was nearly gone and he was terrified the next session would shatter what little he had left. May Merlin forgive me, Severus. . .Severus, please . . .help me . . .! Destroy the Horcruxes, my brave hawks . . .let me know that the threat is ended forever . . .and then I can go to my rest . . .Forgive me, Harry . . .forgive me, Severus . . .

He breathed in shallow gasps and drifted in a kind of haze, unaware of the rat observing from the corner.

Poor Master Dumbledore! Now at last you know what you put my Master through! Wormtail thought furiously. How does it feel, O Great One, to be at the mercy of Bellatrix? What, no clever response, no all-knowing wisdom? The rat bared his teeth at the comatose wizard. Serves you right, old coot! It's only fitting that you, who killed my Lord, be the one to bring him back from beyond the Veil.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway and Wormtail scurried to hide under the straw pallet as the stone cell was unlocked and Lucius walked in to perform a few elementary healing charms upon the Headmaster, not wanting his subject to die before the ritual.

"Soon, old man, there will be a final reckoning," murmured the Death Eater. "Your magic is overflowing in my crystals and when I have wrung the last drop dry, during the ritual, my Master shall return and then you will kneel before him, Albus Dumbledore. Soon . . ."

* * * * * *

He floated in a place outside of himself, somewhere that the pain could not follow. It was a place of light, shimmering and flickering like rainbows dancing upon a cerulean sky. It soothed and refreshed him, and his weary hurting spirit found solace in the golden light that caressed him.

He opened his eyes and looked about. The light dazzled and hurt his eyes at first, but when he blinked and squinted he saw two misty figures before him. One was his beloved sister, Ariana. The other was Lily Potter. Both women were transparent, but he could recognize them clearly in spite of it.

"Ariana? Little sister, is it really you?" he stared at her in shock. "Have I . . .died?"

She shook her head, her golden curls bouncing over her shoulders, just as he remembered. "No, Al. You're still alive, but you've projected yourself here into the Garden of Forever."

"The Garden of Forever?"

"Yes. It is a place where everything that grows upon the earth flourishes and those who have had untimely deaths dwell until they can be reborn. Like me. And Lily." She waved a hand at her companion.

"Hello, Lily," Dumbledore turned to greet the fiery witch.

"Hello, Albus. We've come to you now to give you hope."

"Hope. But I am in the darkest place of all." Albus said, despair choking him. "There is no help for me."

"Not so, Al." Ariana said serenely. "There is always hope, even in the midst of darkness. That is when hope burns the clearest, like a bright flame in the shadows. Remember why you did this, Al."

"I remember, Ariana. To save the children."

"Yes, the children. Like my Harry." Lily reminded him gently, her green eyes bright with worry.

Albus's face crumpled. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I made a terrible mistake, I left him with your sister . . .and she . . .was not kind to him . . I am sorry for the prophecy as well . . ."

She held up a hand. "That is done, Albus. You cannot change the past, only move forward. You say you regret what you have done and need to redeem yourself."

"Yes, I do."

"Then you must master your fear," Ariana said.

"How?"

"Look within yourself, Albus, and see the fear for what it is."

"I am afraid . . .that I will fail and my sacrifice be in vain. That they will kill the children before . . .before they can be rescued."

"That was my fear too," Lily said. "But when the moment came, I gave up my life willingly, and in that pure sacrifice I defeated Voldemort's spell. True courage is not fear's absence, but the mastery of fear."

"And in order to master fear you must acknowledge it and then go beyond it," Ariana explained. "That's always been your flaw, Al. You like to be in control. Always. But sacrifice is about surrender. Surrender yourself and your sacrifice will protect your students."

"But . . .I did that."

Lily shook her head. "No, you didn't. You made a bargain. It's not the same. A true sacrifice must give up everything and expect nothing in return."

Albus bowed his head. "I understand."

Ariana came and hugged him. "Don't be afraid, Al. There's always a light in the darkness. And those whom you love return to you."

"In one form or another," Lily said wryly. She too came and hugged him. "It's time to go back, Albus. You cannot stay. Remember what we told you."

"Goodbye, Al! We love you!" Ariana said.

An instant later they were gone and he was waking up in the cold dank cell. Only this time it did not fill him with dread. Instead he managed to sit up, resolutely ignoring the myriad aches and pains, and began the first stages of meditation, going deep within himself to face his fears and free himself.

If asked what a terrible torture would be, Hermione Granger would have said it was to be locked in a room alone without reading material.  Half of her awful fate had come true, for here she was, locked in a room with nothing to read, though she was not alone.  Three of her fellow students accompanied her in what might be her final prison, if her facile brain did not find a way out. 

Their new accommodations were smaller than their last ones, because they were no longer in Malfoy Manor, but a stone room with two lumpy stuffed straw pallets, rough woolen blankets, and four pewters cups and bowls.  Their captors fed them three times a day, breakfast was usually thick oatmeal with a bit of butter and sugar, lunch was some kind of stew with meat and vegetables, and dinner was a sandwich of some kind, with each meal being accompanied by water or coffee. The food was not plentiful, but it was filling and at least they were fed.

As near as Hermione could figure it, they had probably been in the cell for a day or two, though time was impossible to tell down here.  None of them had any idea where they were or how they had gotten there, all they knew was they had fallen asleep in the room in Malfoy Manor and woken up here.

Occasionally, Bella or Wormtail would come by to bring them to the loo, training their wand on them steadily, so there was no hope of trying to escape before they were hexed by some nasty curse.  All four of them were not stupid enough to try and get away when one of the Death Eaters was there, for one, and for another, they had no idea where they were or where to go.

Hermione wished she had worn warmer pajamas to bed, for she was always cold in the room and kept herself from shivering continuously by wrapping one of the woolen blankets about her shoulders. 

"Why are they being nice to us?" Marietta asked after they were fed for the second time.

"They're not, trust me," Vince said after finishing his portion of the stew.  The bowls and spoons disappeared once they were finished.  "They're feeding us so we stay healthy for whatever dark ritual they've got planned.  My guess is they're going to try and bring back the Dark One."

All three of them shuddered, not needing to ask how they planned to do it, as they could guess. 

"That's why they haven't hurt us," Vince went on grimly.  "Because a good sacrifice has to be sound of body.  Which means we're going to have to get out of here soon."

"Brilliant deduction there, Crabbe," Susan snapped.  "And just how do you suggest we do that? Fly through the ceiling? Walk through the wall?"

Crabbe looked unfazed by her waspish attitude, though Marietta glared at the other witch and would have said something until Hermione touched her arm and shook her head.  The last thing they needed was to quarrel.

"Don't I wish," Crabbe replied with a snort.   "But since we're not able to perform miracles, I have something else that might help."

"Like what? You palm a wand off LeStrange when she wasn't looking?"

"Nope." He made a soft hissing noise and from out of his sleeve slithered a bright green slender snake.  "Hey there, my beauty." Vince crooned to his familiar.  "This is Vera, she's a viridian rain forest boa, my familiar, and very intelligent."

Vera coiled up about his wrist, eyeing the others interestedly, her forked tongue flickering in and out as she smelled everyone and tested the air.

Susan stared at the snake.  "How did she manage to get by the Death Eaters? Has she been with you all along?"

"Yes, she was curled up in my pocket, I think, when I was taken, and she's remained there ever since, except when she needed to hunt." He gently caressed her scales, and Vera made a sort of purr.

"Does she bite?" asked Hermione.

"No, she never has.  And no, she's not poisonous. She's a constrictor not a viper."

"She's beautiful.  Such a lovly green color," Hermione said admiringly.  "Was she in on that prank you and Harry and Marietta pulled on Malfoy?"

"She sure was.  Put the fear of God into that sneaky ferret," said Crabbe.

Susan looked skeptical.  "But what can she do to help us?"

"She can go and fetch help for us," Vince said.  "She'll be our messenger."

"How?" asked Hermione.

"Because as her wizard, I can speak with her in Parseltongue.  I want her to leave and go find another wizard to break us out of here."

To his disappointment, none of the girls looked delighted at his idea. 

"Vince, even if Vera can get out of here-"Marietta began.

"Who will she find that can speak Parseltongue?" finished Hermione.

"Oh, that," Vince didn't look at all worried. He turned to his snake and hissed, "Go find Harry and bring him down here, please Vera."

His familiar looked pleased, hissing an affirmative.  It s-s-shall be done, my wizard!

"I've told her to go and find Harry," he explained to the others.

Hermione gaped at him.  "But we don't even know where we are, Vince! How can you expect her to find Harry?"

"First off, she's a magical snake, she can track anyone she's smelled before and she can move quicker than greased lighting.  I trust her to find him, Hermione.  But before she leaves, I think we need to find out what's going on and where we are."

"Good idea, Vince," Marietta said.  "I hate being lost."

Then he hissed a few times to his familiar, who quickly slid down his arm and across the floor, up the side of the door and through the metal bars at the top like a green blur.

The other three youngsters exchanged smiles and probably would have cheered if it weren't for the fact that they didn't want the Death Eaters to suspect anything.  As for Vince, he grinned proudly like a parent whose child has just done something incredible. 

* * * * * * *

Half-an-hour later the green serpent returned, slithered directly over to Vince and hissed in his ear.  The dark two-legs-s-s are making plans to do away with you and another one, hiss-sss!

"Another one?" Vince gulped, then he hissed back in Parseltongue, "Did you hear who he was, Vera?"

The boa bobbed her head affirmatively.  They called this-s-s one the old fox and Dumbledore.

Vince went deathly pale. "Dumbledore? They've got Dumbledore?" he cried aloud.

"But how?" Hermione whispered in horror.

"If they've got Dumbledore . . .then we're all doomed . . ." Marietta whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

"No, we're not!" Susan snapped, giving the other girl a shake.  "Stop crying and pull yourself together, Marietta."

The others stared at her.  None of them had ever thought a Hufflepuff had backbone, but then they recalled Cedric, and the fact that Susan was the neice of the Head of the Aurors.  "If you want to lie down and die, do it on your watch," the other girl continued, her head held high.  "We can't give up, or we're finished.  Isn't that right, Vince? Hermione?"

The other two nodded. 

Then Hermione gasped. "Oh, dear sweet Merlin! I . . .I've figured it out."

"What?" asked Marietta, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

"Why we're in here.  It's not just because they want to use us for some dark magic ritual, it's because we're bait."

Susan leaned forward. "How did you figure that, Granger?"

But before Hermione could speak, Vince did.  "You're right. We're bait to keep the Headmaster from blowing the hell out of them, I'll bet.  They've probably told him they'll kill us if he tries anything."

"That means we really have to get out of here," Hermione said.  "So . . .where are we?"

"Vera?"

Beneath the castle . . .near the lair of the Great Serpent . . .where the bones of my brother-in-scales-s-s lies-s-s.

"We're underneath Hogwarts?" gasped Susan.

"Somewhere near the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione whispered.

"But how did the Death Eaters know about this place?" wondered Marietta. "And does anyone else know? Like one of the teachers?"

"I doubt that, love," Vince said, hugging her.  "I mean, none of us Slytherins knew where the Chamber of Secrets was till Potter opened it.  Not even Professor Snape knew.  My guess is His Darkness must have told the Death Eaters how to find  stuff down here. Vera says there are lots of tunnels and rooms."

"A castle beneath a castle," Hermione murmured in awe.  "And no one ever knew it."

"How could Dumbledore not know?" Susan asked.  "I mean, he's the Headmaster!"

Crabbe snorted, half-mockingly.  "Aww, come on, Bones! You don't really buy all that omniscient trash everyone says about him, do you? I mean, he's powerful all right, but he ain't God.  And this castle is old, the only ones who would ever know all its secrets are the ones who built it, and they've been dead for centuries."

"I suppose," she sighed.  "But he's old too, over a hundred, you'd think he would have known something about it."

"Hey, he can't be everywhere, and he was busy trying to organize the Ministry and fight off Moldy Heart," Marietta reminded her.

"The important thing is that now that we know where we are, we can start planning how to get away," Hermione stated.  "Just in case Vera can't find Harry and Professor Snape in time."

"What's Harry doing with Professor Snape?" asked Susan.

"Professor Snape's letting him live with him for the summer," Hermione explained. "He's Harry's guardian now as well as his mentor. So where Harry is, so is Professor Snape."

"Thank Merlin!" Vince exhaled softly. "Because there's nobody I'd trust more to get me out of a tight spot than him.  Nobody."

"You trust him that much?" Susan raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. And it's not just ‘cause he's my House Head.  It's because he can kick a bad guy's arse without even breaking a sweat.  And Bones, when Snape stomps your arse, you stay stomped into the dirt." Satisfaction tinged Vince's voice when he spoke of the Head of Slytherin.

"That why all you snakes behave around him?" the Hufflepuff queried. "Because he can stomp your arse?"

"Nah. Well, that's not the only reason.  We respect him, see, he's never played us false, and even though he can be a strict pain-in-the-arse, he'll also be there if you need to talk or .  . .whatever. No matter what.  He helped me a lot, and I'd follow him to hell if he asked me to."

"So would Harry, I think," Hermione interjected.

He spoke to Vera again, and the viridian boa slipped away and back through the top of the door without a sound. 

"Okay. There goes our messenger. May Merlin favor her," Vince said, and crossed his fingers.  "Now, Granger, let's talk about Plan B."

Hermione sat crosslegged in front of them and said, in a faint lecturing tone, "Well, it'd be much simpler if we all had our wands but . . .we'll just have to make do. How many of you know how to do wandless magic?"

"I can do a little," Marietta said. "My mum taught me how to do a Shield Charm. But I haven't practiced in awhile." She flushed and looked ashamed.

"I can do some," Susan answered. "But just a Summoning Charm and a Sleep Charm. Aunt Amelia was supposed to teach me more over the summer, but . . ." she trailed off, biting her lip to hold back tears.

"How about you, Vince?"

Crabbe shook his head. "I've never tried it.  But I may have something here that'll help us." He drew forth a silver chain upon which was hung an astonishingly detailed silver crossbow pendant. Then he lowered his voice until he was whispering.  "See this? My da made it for me when he left Old Voldy's service.  It's an enchanted amulet. He's a magesmith and he can make just about anything with metal."

"What does it do?" Marietta asked, examining it.

"When I speak the command word, it'll become a real crossbow-a magical crossbow of speed and accuracy. Which means it'll make me an expert archer for a bit, able to get off three shots in a minute."

"Why didn't you use it before?" Hermione wanted to know.

"For the same reason none of you used wandless magic," Vince said evenly. "I wasn't sure if it would work and I was afraid that if it didn't I'd be worse off than before.  And because it doesn't do any good to get out of the cell unless we know where to run to. Otherwise we're like fish in a barrel and easy pickings."

"That's true," Marietta agreed. "So, what's the plan?"

"Umm . . .it's not all that complicated." Hermione said. "I can do a Repel Magic Spell without a wand, which might not help much when we're trying to get out, but it could help us later on.  Anyway, I figured we could use the element of surprise, if Vera doesn't come back with Harry in a day or something, we could wait for someone to open the door and bring us supper and then use wandless magic on them."

"Or I could shoot them," Vince declared.

Hermione looked sick. "I . . .suppose so."

"Don't go all squeamish now, girl," Crabbe scolded.  "These aren't kids, these are cold hard dark wizards that would kill you as soon as look at you. They'd tie you to a stake and watch your burn for the fun of it.  Don't feel sorry for them.  They've killed women and children and innocent people. Putting a bolt in them would be doing us all a favor."

"I know, but . . .they're people."

"Yeah, bad people. Remember that, Hermione, and dust off that Gryffindor courage you're always bragging about and be ready to do what needs doing. Like Snape always says, if a Death Eater points a wand at you, you've got two options-fight back or die. Me, I'm gonna fight."

The other girls agreed and Hermione sighed.  "You're right, Vince. I don't like it . . .but you're right. And when the time comes, I'll be ready. Meantime, let's practice some of our spells."

"All right. Least it'll give us something to do," Marietta agreed, and then she rolled up her sleeves and flexed her fingers.

She was terrified of what might happen, to Vince more than herself, she knew all the stories of what Death Eaters did to captives, and all of them ended up dead, but she also knew she could not give in to fear, or else she'd be a basket case. But it was easier to not think about it if she had something else to focus on, and Hermione's suggestion was the perfect solution.  Together we can do what each of us alone can't.  I hope.

It was a slender hope, but it was better than none at all.

* * * * * *

While the children plotted and Albus meditated to master his fear, a large gray rat prowled down the corridor towards the room where the four captives were kept.  Wormtail had observed them before, but enjoyed watching them grow agitated and lose hope as they realized there was no one coming to rescue them. He detested this group of students, one student in particular, the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl, who had almost gotten him killed a few years ago when her bloody cat had attacked him. She was also Harry Potter's best friend. Her in particular, he wished to see shaking and weeping.

He slunk from shadow to shadow, his small feet making barely any sound over the stone.  His beady red eyes glittered in delight, for skulking about and learning secrets was one of his favorite pastimes.  His nose twitched as he drew nearer the room where the children were held and he felt his blood tingle in anticipation.

Then the smell hit him.  The dry musty smell of old scales warmed upon sunlit rocks and anticipation changed to fear. Snake! I smell a snake! Trembling he back up, eyes darting every which way.  Where was it?

Before he could move, there was a blur of movement from the side and then something green and scaly was wrapped about him and the slit-pupiled eyes of a snake was glaring into his own, hissing ferociously. Tress-s-s-pas-s-s-er! This-s-s- is MY lair!

The forked tongue brushed over him and the coils tightened about him until he squeaked in protest.

Please, please, let me go. I did not know, O Queen of Serpents! He begged, for he knew that to trespass upon a snake's territory often meant death.

She bared her fangs at him.  Her tongue told her, as did her otherworldly senses, that here was no ordinary rat, he reeked of darkness and was obviously up to no good. Foolis-s-shh rat, now you s-s-shall become dinner!

NO! Wormtail shrieked and went to bite the viridian boa, but Vera was expecting that and weaved out of the way of the rat's teeth and tightened her coils, slowly squeezing the breath out of the rodent.

Wormtail felt the world begin to spin, he could not draw in enough air, could not focus in order to shift back, spots were dancing in front of his eyes as the serpent hissed in his ear. 

Master, save me! he squeaked helplessly, but his last request went unanswered.

Then he felt sharp fangs seize the back of his neck and bite down hard.

After that, everything went dark.

Vera gave a quick shake, and kept her coils wrapped tightly until the rat had stopped moving and she was sure it was dead.

Then and only then did she unwrap herself from it and slither off.  She would not bring herself to eat the tainted flesh of a dark creature, even though she was starving.  Outside there were plenty of mice and voles to satisfy her hunger, and once she had eaten, she could concentrate on the task her wizard had given her-find the Snake Speaker called Harry Potter.

Vera glided forward swiftly, using all of her agility to cross the corridor and seek a way upwards, leaving behind her one very dead rat, who smelled worse dead than alive.

An hour later, Lucius stumbled over the limp form on his way to bring the children their evening meal, and swore angrily and kicked it away.  He then waved his wand and placed the tray of food inside the room using magic, watching from the window at the way the children ate the meager food they were given.

It was only later, when he had returned to the set of rooms nearest the Chamber of Secrets, to find Bellatrix in a fury because Pettigrew was nowhere to be found, that the lord of Malfoy Manor remembered the dead rat he had thrust aside with his shoe.  Swearing profusely, Lucius returned to the spot and looked at the rat with his glass eye and saw within the animal the shadow of a human body.

Examining the rat in distaste, his lip curled, he discovered the tell tale punctures of a snake upon Wormtail and shook his head. "You stupid fool! You thought you were so clever, sneaking around in your Animagus form-pah! See where your cleverness got you now? Killed by whatever snake dwells down here."

He took the body back to show Bellatrix, who spat on it and heaped many curses upon the lowly rat's head. "This is why I hate Animagi! Because they are so bloody stupid! Arghh!" She glared at Lucius.  "Now what do we do?"

Her companion smiled coldly, his glass eye glinting.  "We prepare for the dark of the moon.  Cissy can stand in for him at the ceremony.  And I will contact Greyback once again and tell him he has no choice but to find where Snape and that blasted boy are hiding or else I shall skin him and dance on his pelt."

Bellatrix threw back her head and laughed. "Shall you now, Luc? Mmm . . .now that would be a sight to see, yes, it would! Oh, it would indeed!" She licked her lips and smiled, her perfect white teeth like tiny pearls in her bloodred lips.

Lucius turned away to hide a shiver, for her insane grin made his blood run cold.

Harry went to pack after breakfast, knowing that they had to leave soon, but he felt very reluctant to do so, as reluctant as he had felt leaving Sylvanor. He tucked his shirt into his pack and wondered how come every time he grew to like a place, he had to leave it. Usually suddenly and under cover of night too. Typical. Just once, he would like to depart somewhere without any haste, like a normal person, instead of bolting for cover like a hare being chased by a persistent hound.

He looked up and saw Jace leaning casually against the doorjamb. “All packed, Harry?”

“Yeah. But I sure wish I could stay a little longer.” His friend said wistfully.

“I know. The place grows on you, huh?”

Harry nodded. “Be it ever so humble—”

“—there’s no place like home,” the reader finished quietly. “That’s true. School’s fun and all, unless Malfoy’s being a prat, but I’m glad to be home.”

“I’d say I know the feeling but . . .I’ve never really had a place I could call home before. Four Privet Drive was just a place I lived at for the summer ‘cause Dumbledore wouldn’t let me stay at the school.”

“Ah. Your relatives sucked, right?”

Harry laughed shortly. “That’s one way to put it. They didn’t like magic, they didn’t like me, and they were probably hoping I’d never come back after term was over each year. Unfortunately, I did.”

“But now you live with the professor, right?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t really had a chance to actually live in his house, due to our mission. We haven’t set foot in the place at all, just Flooed our trunks through. Even so, I’m sure it’ll be a palace compared to the Dursleys.” Harry slung his pack over his shoulder. “I’m going to miss it here.”

“You’re welcome back anytime, Harry,” Jace said sincerely.

“Thanks, kid.” Harry smiled at him. He had enjoyed his time at the Witherspoons just as much as he ever had staying with the Weasleys. And so, he suspected had a certain Potions Master.

The two friends walked down the hall towards Severus’s bedroom, where he was also packing, and heard a familiar little voice asking, “Where you goin’, ‘fessor Sevvy?”

Severus looked up from tucking the last of his items in his pack and saw Jilly standing in the doorway, her thumb partially in her mouth, her green eyes—eyes that reminded him of Lily—questioning. “I’m afraid I have to leave, Jilly. I have an important job I must finish, you see, and much as I would like to stay longer, I cannot.”

The little girl’s face crumpled into one of abject misery. “No! Please don’ leave! I don’t want you to go!”

She threw herself at him, grabbing him about the knees and burying her head in his robes. “No-o-o! Please stay wif me! I need you . . .t-to read t-to m-me an’ you pwomised to s-show me how to m-make p-potions!” she bawled, stuttering inbetween her sobs. “I need m-my Sevvy!”

Severus just stood there, at a loss for words, looking down at the hysterical child wrapped about his leg and feeling more wretched by the minute. He did not know what to do or how to react, for no child had ever pleaded with him to stay in such a fashion. He could feel her sorrow, it struck him like an arrow to the heart, for Jilly was so upset she was projecting her emotions at him.

Jace and Harry exchanged glances.

Uh oh.

They entered Severus’s room to find a hapless professor trying unsuccessfully to get the two-year-old to stop clinging to him. But Jilly was like a barnacle, she refused to be moved, and continued wailing into his robes.

“I d-do-o-n’t w-want you to go-o-o, Sevvy!”

Jace knelt down by his sister. “Hey, Jilly-bean. Hey! You’re getting Professor Sevvy’s robes all full of saltwater silly imp! Stop bawling and look at me, okay?”

But Jilly wouldn’t. She remained with her face pressed firmly in Snape’s robes, hiccupping and sniffling. “Go ‘way, Jace! I not want to see you!”

“Sure you do. I’m your big brother.” Jace said patiently. “Listen, Jilly-bean. I know you’re sad ‘cause Harry and Professor Snape have to leave, but you’ll see them again.”

“Nu-uh.”

“You will, they’ll come back once they’ve finished work.”

“When? T’morrow?”

“Uh . . .” He looked up at Harry.

Harry nudged Jace away and knelt down beside her. “Jilly, we’ll come back soon. I can’t tell you when, ‘cause what we’re doing might take awhile, but we will return. Trust me.”

Jilly sniffled. “What about my Sevvy?” She raised her teary-eyed little face and looked Snape right in the eye.

Severus found himself crouching down and lifting her onto his knee. He pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and gently mopped her face. “Jillian Witherspoon, I will make you the most solemn promise that I will come back here before the summer ends.”

“You will?”

“Yes. I promise,” he said firmly, and both boys knew that he would walk through hell to keep his word to the baby girl nestled in his lap. “Now, will you do me a favor, little one, and stop crying? Otherwise your face will freeze that way. Just like a statue, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?” He teased gently, wiping her nose.

“It will?”

Severus coughed and Jace and Harry giggled behind their hands at the child’s innocence.

“If you don’t stop crying. Now blow your nose.”

He waited till she had done so, then vanished the handkerchief, and patted her on the back. “There now. Do you remember how we counted with the hungry caterpillar?”

Jilly nodded.

“That’s what you can do until Harry and I return. Count ten days and then ten more until you see us come back,” Severus instructed. “You can make red X’s on this calendar here with this special crayon.” He made a quick gesture and one of the many school calendars he was given during the year popped up in his hand and so did a bright red crayon. “This is for you. Don’t forget to cross off each day. All right?”

She clutched calendar and crayon to her. “I give it to Mummy.” Then she flung her arms about his neck. “I’ll be right here,” she stated, pointing to his chest and hers. She hugged him for a long time. Then she crawled over to Harry and gave him the same treatment.

He felt rather embarrassed and awkward, because nobody had ever cried over him leaving them before, much less a little girl, but he hugged Jilly close and promised he would remind “her Sevvy” if he forgot.

Severus shot him a glare.

Jace snickered.

Severus scowled. “Something amusing, Mr. Witherspoon?”

“Amusing, sir?” queried the other, contriving to look totally innocent. “Only if you think seeing your baby sister go to pieces over your favorite professor and your best friend is funny.” He chuckled helplessly.

“The cheek!” Snape muttered, pretending to be annoyed.

Jace just laughed harder. “Admit it, sir, you like it too. It’s kind of flattering to have somebody care about you that much.”

Severus’s mouth reluctantly twitched into something resembling a smile. His clever too-perceptive student was right. It was flattering to realize a little girl loved him, the snarky professor, that much.

Still chuckling, Jace leaned over and took Jilly from Harry. “C’mere, imp. They have to go, but they’ll be back.”

Jilly, still upset, though no longer crying, buried her head in Jace’s shoulder.

“Harry, are you all set?”

“Yes. We can leave whenever you want.”

Severus shouldered his pack then said to his apprentice, “We shall leave as soon as we bid goodbye to our hosts.”

“Mum and Dad are in the kitchen,” Jace said helpfully.

The elder two Witherspoons were looking at each other worriedly over cups of steaming coffee, obviously communicating with their minds instead of their mouths. Both looked up when Harry and Snape entered, however.

“Grace. Jasper.” Severus said gravely. “I regret that I must take my leave of you, but circumstances being what they are, I cannot delay. Harry and I must—”

He never finished his sentence, for at that moment there came a terrible wavering howl, a howl that Harry had hoped to never hear again, vicious and bloodcurdling. “Severus! The werewolves are back!” he cried. “But how?”

Jasper was on his feet, his normally complacent features hard as stone. One hand grasped his amulet. “Jace, take Jilly down to the hidey hole and stay there until I call you.”

“But Dad—”

“Do as I say, Jace Archimedes Witherspoon,” his father ordered sternly. “If I know you are safe, then I can concentrate. Go!”

“Okay, sir,” Jace sighed.

“Daddy!” Jilly cried, reaching for him.

Jasper hugged her and then gave her back to his son. “Jilly, sweeting, go with Jace and play a game. Hide and seek. I need you to hide with your brother in the special room and be very quiet till I call for you. Can you do that?”

Jilly put her thumb in her mouth and nodded.

“Good.”

Grace moved over to hug her children also, trying to ignore the spine-chilling howls that seemed to radiate from everywhere at once. “Be safe. I love you both.”

Jace nodded, swallowing hard. “Good luck, Harry, Professor Snape.” Then he was gone down into the cellar to hide away in a special room that his parents had built when Voldemort had first been reborn.

Jilly waved goodbye over his shoulder, calling, “I love you, Hawwy an’ ‘fessor Sevvy!”

Harry would have smiled if he hadn’t been so apprehensive. “How did they find us? I thought the wards couldn’t be breached.”

Jasper looked up at Harry and said softly, “Tristan reported that the weres now have a Spier among them. That’s a reader who follows the old ways of the Mind Lords and one of that sort could have breached our wards. They must have searched for a good while to find one of his kind, we don’t tolerate them here.”

“But one is here now,” Grace hissed, her eyes hard as agates. “Severus and Harry, you had better go. We can handle the Spier and the weres. Fly, hawks! And good hunting all!”

“If you’re sure . . .” The Potions Master said, feeling guilty that their presence had brought this upon this peaceful community.

“We’ll be fine,” Jasper urged. His eyes were far away though, ‘speaking the others in the small hamlet.

“Be careful.” Harry said, also feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Jasper hugged him. “You have nothing to feel sorry for, son. Danger comes a’calling when it wills. Off with you. Safe journey to Hogwarts.”

After Grace had hugged them, the two wizards blurred into their Animagus forms and flew out the window.

Freedom summoned Hedwig from her tree with a soft cry and soon the snowy owl joined them in the air.

They circled the village and saw that all the men had come out of their homes and were standing in a semi circle at the edge of the hamlet, each one with an Amulet of Communication glowing upon their chest, eyes hard and faces grim. Mist swirled between their feet.

On the outer perimeter of the moor were the group of remaining weres led by Greyback, plus a tall slender man in a maroon robe wearing a black skullcap. His eyes were colored an odd gold color and had almost no white and enlarged pupils.

That must be the Spier, Freedom thought, feeling a predator’s contempt and rage towards the dark wizard. Warrior, should we try and distract them, make them chase us?

Not yet. Wait. If it looks as if they need assistance, we shall challenge the mangy mutts. Warrior advised, though every instinct of survival he possessed was screaming at him that he should not waste this chance and should already be miles from here, heading towards Hogwarts. And yet, he could not bring himself to abandon these people, who had sheltered him and his apprentice for weeks.

He knew he was being a sentimental idiot, lingering here, and he wondered caustically what had happened to his pragmatic edge. The old Snape would have taken the chance offered and run with it. But the old Snape had been cynical and hard and had not been mentor to a self-sacrificing boy, nor had the love of a sweet empathic cherub. He had a heart of ice, the man he had been, but the ice had melted somewhere along the way, and now that he had allowed himself to feel again, he discovered that it was damn hard to turn off the inconvenient feelings of guilt and responsibility.

The Spier was gesturing angrily, and a small kestrel was hovering over the men, Freedom recognized Dawnfire, which was Grace’s Animagus form. One of the weres picked up a stone and hurled it at her, but she was too quick and flew out of range with a soft screech.

Freedom hissed angrily and flexed his claws. But he did not follow through with his first instinct and dive upon the were who had flung the rock. He obeyed his mentor and waited to see what the readers would do, for he sensed they were not pushovers.

“Why have you come here, Darkspawn?” asked Jasper, his voice cold as arctic ice. “You are not welcome among us.”

The Spier laughed harshly. “And you, pathetic Lightsider, cannot keep me out. Your psychic wards fell like paper before my probes. Surrender the two wizards known as Harry Potter and Severus Snape to us. We know they took refuge here, since Greyback came to me for help, his mind was tampered with by a reader trick, and you and yours are the only readers here who would help the enemies of His Dark Majesty.”

His Dark Majesty? Please! Don’t make me puke! Freedom skreed. Where do they come up with these lame titles?

From a very bad villain etiquette book, most likely, Warrior replied. Riddle always enjoyed adorning himself with titles, it made him feel like one of the aristocracy.

“There are none among us who are not readers,” replied Tristan calmly. “Seek your quarry elsewhere, wolves. Or risk our wrath.”

Greyback bared his fangs. “Tell us where they went, or else I shall rip out every throat in the place! Starting with yours!”

He crouched, ready to spring.

The Spier put out a hand. “Control yourself, wolf brother. Let me deal with my craven brethren.” Abruptly he spun and pointed a finger.

Flames blossomed on top of several residences, including the Witherspoon’s.

Warrior gave a sharp cry of dismay, his golden eyes taking in the awful sight of the flames shooting skyward in horror.

No! This cannot be happening again! Once more he could hear the screams of the children, pleading for someone to save them from the bonfire. Then they changed, becoming Jace and Jilly, and he could hear Jilly howling for him. Help, ‘fessor Sevvy! Help me-e-e!

Warrior snapped back to the present, screeching in fury. Jace! Jilly!

He whirled and dove towards the house, unmindful of the flames, his only thought was getting to the children. No more children shall die in fire! Not on my watch!

Freedom spun about. What the bloody HELL! Warrior! Are you crazy??!!

The smaller redtailed hawk dove after his larger mentor, grabbing him by the tail feathers and yanking. Warrior, stop! You can’t reveal yourself!

The goshawk spun, beak gaping, eyes blazing hot as the fire upon the roof. Get off me, you bloody fledgling! Jilly and Jace are in there! The house could collapse upon them! I will not see more children die! He could still hear the screams in his mind, eclipsing his usual iron self-control. The mere thought of Jilly, the sweet little thing, burning to death like that other one had . . .he struck at Freedom, screaming, Move out of my way, blast you! They’ll burn! Don’t you understand?

He flew at the smaller hawk, intent upon savaging the annoying fledgling, the screams of the dying children echoing in his ears.

Freedom dodged the goshawk’s snap. Think a minute, dammit! If you reveal yourself, they’ll be put in worse danger. Besides, the others are putting out the fire. Look! They’re safe. It’s okay, Warrior. Calm down. It’s not like the last time.

The goshawk turned and saw that his companion had spoken true, Jasper had put out the fire with a hastily cast Water Jet Charm and the house was no longer in danger of burning up. The other readers had also put out the firestarter’s blaze and were now advancing angrily upon the Spier.

Dawnfire had flown down and transformed back into Grace, who ran inside her house, wand out, to check on her children.

Warrior shook himself, breathing rapidly, his heart still racing, but he made no attempt to return to the Witherspoon house. Instead he flew a quick loop about the village, trying to push aside the dreadful flashback and regain control over himself. I cannot believe I allowed that to happen. I know better, I have been a spy for over fifteen years! How could I lose control like that?

Bewildered and ashamed, Warrior flew back towards Freedom and Hedwig, once more in control of his emotions. Freedom, forgive me. I . . .didn’t mean to attack you. But I was . . .not myself. I am sorry.

Freedom gave a soft chirrup. No harm done, Warrior. I understand.

Sometimes the memories hurt worse now than when they were first formed, Hedwig said softly, and she nuzzled the goshawk affectionately. Do not blame yourself.

Humph! Don’t make excuses for me, Hedwig. Who shall I blame, if not myself? Warrior said scathingly, but all of his sharpness was for himself, not his companions.

Blame the Death Eaters and bloody Voldy for giving you those damn awful memories in the first place, Freedom crooned. Then he glanced over at the readers, all standing proudly in a line.

The Spier was sweating, Freedom could see the droplets of sweat flowing down his face, and he was pale, clearly trying to do something against the readers, but they were blocking him, for his teeth were clenched and he looked as if he were about to explode.

Freedom wondered if it were possible to make yourself have a stroke, because all the veins in the Spier’s head were standing out in sharp relief.

In contrast, the readers’ faces were all inhumanly calm and stony. Linked with the power of the Amulets of Communication, their minds were one, and the Spier could not break through their combined defenses and turn their minds against each other.

And any attempt he made at trying to harm their property or their families they quickly deflected now that they were aware of what he was about.

“Leave, Darkspawn! Or else we’ll finish you!” all of them growled, turning the full force of their mental abilities on the Spier.

The Spier groaned and then howled in rage, his face purpling as he sought to throw off the compulsion. But his mind, no matter how well-trained, could not match twenty minds linked, and in the end he struggled in vain, until he had to turn away, gasping and sobbing in fury.

“What are you doing, scum?” Greyback howled. “Running off with your tail between your legs like a whipped cur? You told me you could defeat them!”

“I . . .I . . .they are linked . . .it’s . . .impossible!” whined the Spier, his head hanging. “Too strong . . .”

“Bloody lying sack of shit! I paid you well and this is how you keep your word?” spat the leader of the weres.

The Spier looked up at the angry were, his eyes pleading, but Greyback was in no mood to tolerate failure from anyone. Lucius had sent him explicit instructions and if he failed this time to catch the damn Animagi . . .

“Forgive me . . .”

Greyback lashed out casually with his clawed hand, backhanding the unfortunate Spier across the throat.

Blood fountained as the wizard’s carotid artery was severed and he crumpled to the earth.

“You’re forgiven,” Greyback spat.

Freedom shuddered at the casual brutality and thought, Evil turns upon itself.

But no sooner had the Spier gasped his last, his lifeblood soaking the earth, the readers promptly veiled themselves and their home from the werewolves.

Greyback whirled about only to discover the readers and the houses had vanished. “What? NO-O-O!” the were howled. “Where did they go, blast it?”

He began snuffling and racing to and fro, but the readers’ veils made him see things that weren’t there and the things that were there were no longer visible to his senses. The others in the pack followed his lead, but they too were confounded.

The two hawks and the owl watched the werewolves blunder blindly in circles for a few moments, then Freedom flew down to hover and taunt the smelly creatures, waving his red tail impudently in their faces.

Here doggy, doggy! Come and get it, you mangy, rat-tailed, stinking bunch of cowards! I’ll bet you can’t catch a cat with no legs! He wriggled his feathered backside right in Greyback’s nose. Whining arse-licking murdering thieves! Let’s see how you deal with a real wizard! Kree-eearr!

Greyaback snarled savagely and leapt at the impudent hawk, his teeth just missing the red-tailed fledgling. “Come down, little chicken, and fight like a man!” he roared.

Why should I, dung breath? You’re not worth my time!

Greyback bellowed, saliva flying everywhere as he tried in vain to reach the bird.

SPLAT!

A large white blob struck the angry werewolf right in the eye.

Greyback howled, dancing about and clawing at his face. “When I catch you, hawk . . .I’m going to rip you to shreds!”

Oops! Couldn’t tell you weren’t just another piece of dirt, wolfie! Freedom screeched. There’s one in the eye for you!

Warrior sighed. Fledgling, someday you will be the death of me! Then he flew near the smaller avian and hissed, Come, Freedom, you’ve had your fun, now let us be on our way. Minerva is waiting.

The red-tail gave a half-cheep of protest, then followed the older bird, calling mockingly, See you later, little wolfies! Don’t go crying to mama!

Below him, the weres ground and gnashed their teeth before setting off in pursuit, howling for their blood.

Must you taunt them like a primary school child? Warrior half-scolded. Honestly, Freedom!

What? It’s fun, Warrior. ‘Sides, you should have heard what they called me last time they were chasing us. You would have made me eat ten bars of soap.

Freedom—

You don’t really care if I insult them, do you? I mean, it’s all part of the game.

That’s not the point. I don’t give a damn if you hurt their feelings or not, but I DO care that you pay attention to your surroundings and don’t get so caught up in exchanging insults that you forget our true purpose. Which is getting to Hogwarts and finishing our mission.

Okay, okay. Don’t get your tail-feathers all ruffled, Fearless Leader. Freedom squawked, thinking he could have pointed out that Warrior wasn’t focused a few minutes before either, but he knew that was a low blow and so he shut his beak. Besides, he knew the goshawk scolded out of habit and concern, not maliciousness. It was simply Warrior’s way.

The three flew onward, drawing the pack of werewolves after them, and as they flew, Warrior remembered the prophecy Dumbledore had sent them just before going into the orphanage. They shall be hunted upon all sides, until the end is nigh, darkness stalks them unseen, but a steadfast and true heart shall overcome all. That was certainly true, Warrior reflected. First they had been hunted by werewolves, then maldecorvae, Death Eaters, and the Dagger of Discord had been the stalking darkness that had almost finished their quest for good and all. But a steadfast and true heart had overcome all odds and here they were again, flying hell for leather towards the school, pursued once more by enemies.

The goshawk just hoped he could evade the werewolves long enough to transform back and contact Minerva through the amulet. Then, with the Order alerted, they could have help just in case, and make plans to rescue the four children and Albus.

But first they would have to outfly the flea-bitten nasty curs.

Warrior turned and seized an updraft, riding it across the sky, letting out a triumphant screech as he did so. Let the putrid puppies run their paws raw, thought the Animagus with a sneer. Nothing without wings could catch a goshawk in flight or a red-tail either. They might be pursued to the very gates of Hogwarts, but not caught.

As long as they remained in the air.

On the ground they would have to be careful, but Hogwarts was not all that far as the crow flies, perhaps four to five hours, and both hawks flew faster than a crow any day.

The dark hawk turned his beak northwards, with the sun on his left wing, and increased his speed, shrilling a challenge to his fledgling as he did so. Come, Freedom, let us go and catch the rising sun!

Trelawney’s Tower

Hogwarts:

Sybill Trelawney was not known for her practicality, in fact she was known for just the opposite. She was a dreamer, living half in a world of her own creation and the other half in the real world. She preferred it that way. But when she came out of her other world, she could be sharp as a tack, and she kept herself informed not only with her Divination skills but also a clever system of messages that Dumbledore sent her via Fawkes.

But in the past three days, ever since the dreadful news that four Hogwarts students had been kidnapped, she had had no word from Dumbledore about what he was doing about that state of affairs. She knew he was not one to sit idly by where Death Eaters were involved with his students. This concerned her, for the Headmaster was one of her few friends at Hogwarts, and the only one who truly believed in her gift of Sight. “Oh dear, I do hope nothing has happened to him, Cleopatra,” she said to her cat, a pretty silver and black spotted Egyptian Mau. Her cat purred softly and kneaded her paws into the plump pink cushion of her bed. “But I’m being silly, he’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world, what could happen to him?”

Still, there were butterflies in her stomach and she felt terribly uneasy. And usually when she felt like that, she needed to cast an augery. She quickly picked up a canister of Mystic Shadow tea and placed a tiny amount of water in her favorite china tea cup and then tossed in a pinch of tea. She swirled it about, stopped, and let it sit for a minute before peering at it.

What she saw made her blood run cold. There was a black skull and crossbones at the bottom of the cup, which any diviner knew meant a forewarning of disaster or death. She put her hands to her face and whimpered. No, oh no! Please let it be wrong. He can’t die! Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

Just then Fawkes flew in the window, carrying a note attached to his ankle. The phoenix landed atop the table, trilling worriedly.

“Oh, Fawkes! Is it true?”

The bird held out his leg and Sybill undid the note with trembling fingers.

Sybill,

My dear girl, know that I must go away for awhile and may not be back for a long time. I ask that you tell no one I have gone anywhere, should they ask. If I do not return, remember that you always held a special place in my heart and never doubt your Gift. And perhaps you may write about me someday in your memoirs. One more thing, there is danger in the castle, so please stay safe in your tower. My wards will protect you.

Fondest regards,

Albus

Fawkes, sensing her distress, began to sing softly. Sybill reached out to scratch the phoenix on the head, saying sadly, “He must come back, Fawkes. It is true there is danger in his future, but my prophecy concerning our two hawks must come true.” She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. Believe in yourself, he said. I do, I guess. Because he does, and he is the wisest person I know. Still, perhaps he is right and I do need to start chronicalling this.

She summoned her leatherbound journal, quill, and ink, sat down at her desk, her cat on her lap, and began to write. Just in case something did happen, she had to write it all down, so that people would know the truth.

On the table, Fawkes began to eat strawberries out of Trelawney’s fruit bowl.

* * * * * *

Minerva opened the envelope Seraphina had given her and discovered a note and a strange malachite pendant inside. “What in Merlin’s name is this?” she wondered aloud. She assumed the pendant was magical and quickly opened the note that accompanied it. As she suspected, it was from Severus, though the note was signed “Warrior”. Only three people knew that was Snape’s Animagus form’s name. One of those was Harry, the other was Dumbledore, she was the third.

Following Snape’s instructions, she slid the Amulet of Communication about her neck, marveling at the rare object. How had he obtained a paired set? They were expensive and the wizard who made them rarely sold them to just anyone. Then again, his son was a Slytherin, and maybe the elder Witherspoon had made an exception for his son’s Head of House.

She clasped the pendant in her left hand and called silently, Severus? Can you hear me?

She was unsure if the pendant could reach over long distances.

It began to glow softly, then she heard Severus’s voice in her head. Minerva? I take it you received the amulet.

I have. Oh, Severus, this is a marvelous way to communicate. So much quicker than letters or firecalling.

I know. Jasper Witherspoon is a genius. I don’t have much time, we are being pursued by Greyback and the rest of his pack of werewolves. I need you to alert the rest of the Order, have them come to the school. We are heading there as quickly as we can fly. The object of our quest is there.

It is? How do you know that?

The one who made it told me himself. Or rather, his journal did. Call the Order, Minerva. We’re going to need everyone we can muster.

Are you all right, Severus? Is Harry with you? Great Merlin, how is it that you ended up being hunted by werewolves?

Yes. We are both fine, Minerva. As for your last question, that is a tale for another time, my friend. Suffice to say that we were on a mission for Albus.

The Transfiguration teacher breathed a sigh of relief. Very well, Severus. I shall call the others and they will be ready and waiting when you arrive. Godspeed, my friend.

Then she removed her hand from the amulet and it went dark.

Going to her fireplace, she tossed down a handful of Floo powder and called out, “Auror Department, Remus Lupin’s office.” Since leaving Hogwarts, Lupin had returned to the Aurors as a consultant, and was currently working on the kidnapping case that had just occurred, along with his best friend, Sirius Black, who was finally well enough to be trusted working a part-time position alongside the werewolf.

Then she stuck her head into the green flames, wishing that she had more than one of those amulets Severus had sent.

* * * * * *

Severus removed his hand from the Amulet of Communication, Harry had given it to him to wear since Severus was his elder and could command greater respect from the other members of the Order. Most of them still tended to treat Harry like a child, despite his defeat of Voldemort twice. Harry supposed it was because he still looked like a kid and was not yet of age. He wondered idly if Severus had ever had that problem when he started teaching with some of the staff, who had taught him.

They were crouched in a small culvert behind a large boulder somewhere in the Highlands. The werewolves were still in hot pursuit, and the two Animagi had finally managed to give them the slip and change back long enough for Severus to contact Minerva through the amulet and make sure she alerted the Order.

Harry was standing next to his mentor, having transformed back from Freedom to rest his weary wings for a bit. He heard a rustle in the underbrush and spun to face it, wand out, but too late discovered it was a decoy.

Something huge and hairy exploded from the opposite side of the culvert, claws reaching to shred Severus, teeth bared and dripping with blood-flecked saliva. One of the werewolves had found them.

Harry spun, reacting with lightning speed, and screamed, “Incendio Maximus!”

Fire burst from his wand in a torrent, slamming into the leaping werewolf and knocking it backwards against a tree trunk. The flames enveloped the unfortunate creature, incinerating it within moments. It died barely knowing what had hit it.

Harry remained frozen for a moment, watching the flames curling up and around the tree trunk. A part of his mind was horrified at the willful destruction of a life, but another whispered that if he hadn’t done what he did, the werewolf might have bitten and infected Severus, or worse. I had to do it. I had to. And yet, a part of him cringed.

“Harry, put the fire out,” Severus urged. “Quickly, before they see it.”

Harry waved his wand and cast a Smothering Charm and the fire went out. Then he just stood there, his mind still in a state of shock.

A hand came up to clasp his shoulder in a firm yet comforting grip. “Don’t think about it, Harry. It had to be done. This is a war, son, and you killed to save me. Come, let’s go. The others will be coming after us soon, that fire was like a beacon.”

Harry blinked. “I’m sorry. I . . .gave us away.”

“Never mind. Come, fledgling. Time to go.” Severus patted his shoulder, waiting until Harry had shifted into his hawk form before joining him in the air.

They sped away from the culvert, flying high and fast, and were soon joined by a familiar snowy form.

Freedom, are you all right? I saw fire! Hedwig hooted, her golden eyes wide with alarm.

I . . .I’m fine. The fire . . .was from a spell I cast. I . . .killed a werewolf. He was trying to bite Severus while he was sending to McGonagall. Freedom told her. Somehow admitting the fact that he had intentionally killed the werewolf was easier in this form. Perhaps because as a hawk, he was a predator, and used to killing to survive.

Ah. Good for you! One less evil creature to worry about. Hedwig said in satisfaction. She glanced down and saw, faw off in the distance, four grey shapes racing over the ground. Don’t they ever learn? Stupid chicken-livered mutts!

She put on a burst of speed and drew even with Warrior.

Freedom remained slightly behind the two, still trying to reconcile the necessity of killing the werewolf with guilt that he had used magic to end something’s life. He had incinerated plenty of inferi, but that was not the same as this. They had been dead, the werewolf, no matter how foul, had been alive.

You’re being stupid, the rational part of his mind argued. Hedwig’s right, one less wicked creature to worry about. You had no choice, it would have bitten Sev. Is it better to let the bloody werewolf live and risk Sev’s life, or to nail its hide to a wall?

He knew the answer to that question—nothing was more important than saving Severus.

But it didn’t take away the fact that killing the werewolf left a curdled sensation in his gut. Merlin, but I wish this war were over. I’m so tired of blood and death, so tired of running and hiding. All I want is to go home and rest. Is that so much to ask?

Disheartened and weary, the red-tailed hawk flew onward, looking forward to seeing the familiar spires of Hogwarts again, and hoping they could locate the last Horcrux in time to save Dumbledore and his friends. Have faith, he scolded himself mentally. A steadfast and true heart shall triumph over all. But whose heart did the prophecy speak of? His or Severus’s?

Minerva McGonagall paced back and forth behind the great iron gates of the school, her wand out and a resolute expression on her face. She came from warrior stock, generations of Highlanders that had fought relentlessly against invaders who sought to take their land, their homes, and their lives. Their dauntless courage burned in her blood and she was determined to defend the castle to the death. And not only the castle. Harry was her Gryffindor, her lion cub, and she felt towards him the way she would have a favorite grandson. Severus too held a special place in her heart, though he barely realized it, she had always felt sorry for the lonely boy he had been and even more so for the man, who walked a dangerous solitary path trying to atone for a mistake made long ago. Like Poppy, she had instinctively tried to mother him, though he usually rebuffed her efforts, trying to maintain that stony façade. But Minerva never stopped trying, in small ways, to ease her young colleague’s burden, and now she prayed with all of her being that her two hawks would come safe back to Hogwarts.

She had summoned all of the Order that she could muster on such short notice and was waiting for them to all arrive. Sirius and Remus would be coming, as would Moody and Amelia Bones and Dora Tonks. Molly and Arthur would be there and so would Bill and Charlie. Kingsley Shacklebolt would be there as well and Hagrid was gearing up his crossbow as she paced. She had also, unbeknownst to the other Order members, contacted one other wizard, figuring that he had as great a stake in this operation as any of them, though she knew he would be mistrusted by the majority of the Order. But she was titular head now that Albus had vanished and Severus was away, and it was her decision who she chose to call to arms, she reminded herself. For this, she was almost certain, would be the final battle between the forces of the Light and the Dark for this generation.

She kept her hand upon her wand and her eyes peeled for any sign of the two Animagi or the pack of werewolves led by that beast Greyback. Where are they? They must be close, but I dare not try and contact Severus again with the Amulet. It could throw off his concentration and that might prove fatal.

High above in her tower, the Seer also kept watch, using an old tried and true method, her scrying bowl. While her talent for seeing the future was erratic, Sybill had long ago mastered the art of remote viewing, or scrying, in a bowl of clear water. She had a special round silver basin just for that purpose, and when she wished to, she could scry almost anywhere in the castle and see and hear everything, except when a room was warded against such magic or spells were set in place to prevent anyone from overhearing their conversation. She did not do it often, since the practice usually left her with a splitting headache, but Dumbledore’s letter had left her worried and she felt she needed to know what was going outside her tower. She had tried and failed to scry Albus, she had been blocked by a powerful shielding, but perhaps she could still scry others in the school.

She breathed three times upon the still pool of water and gazed into it, then let her mind drift into a trance state. Show me Minerva McGonagall. Where is she? What is she doing?

There was a brief flash of silvery light and then the water became still and showed her the Deputy Headmistress pacing before the gates, wand out, looking like a warrior queen out of legend, her face set and hard.

As Sybill watched, several blue flashes appeared outside the gates, and Minerva unlocked them to admit the rest of the Order as they Apparated to her.

The Seer’s eyes narrowed. She has summoned the Order here. That cannot be good. Where are Harry and Severus?

The water rippled again and the scene changed.

Now she saw two hawks flying at a rapid pace, accompanied by a snowy owl. Below them raced a pack of slavering werewolves, led by a scarred huge beast whose maw dripped saliva and blood upon the ground and whose eyes burned with a terrible bloodlust. Their howls were horrible to listen to, and Sybill trembled and shook in fear, in spite of the fact that she was safe in her tower.

Oh, Merlin! Fly quickly, my hawks! Don’t let them catch you!

She continued to watch as the goshawk and the redtail put on a fresh burst of speed and soared out of sight of the savage weres for a brief instant.

There came a soft trill and she felt Fawkes settle upon her shoulder and peer into the scrying bowl as well, and together phoenix and Seer observed as events unfolded . . .

* * * * * *

First the Aurors arrived, one after another in such close succession it almost seemed as if they had used a Portkey. Minerva unlocked the gates with a wave of her hand and ushered them inside. Next to come were the Weasleys, Arthur first, then Molly, and their sons. Hagrid came up next, his crossbow cocked and ready, more bolts resting in a quiver upon his belt. His normally genial face was set and hard.

Minerva greeted the Order members tersely, explaining that she was waiting for one other person to show up and hopefully Harry and Severus would be along soon as well.

“Look there! In the sky!” Hagrid called suddenly.

All of the wizards turned and looked where the gamekeeper pointed.

Three black dots drew closer and closer, resolving at last into three raptors flying at top speed. As they drew near, you could make out that one was a snowy owl and the other two were a goshawk and a red-tailed hawk.

Sirius grinned and clapped Remus on the back. “See, Moony? Told you they’d make it here before that rag picking grunge monster.”

But Remus stiffened, for his superior hearing could hear the howls and snarls of the werewolf pack pursuing far in the distance. “They’re not far behind,” he muttered.

“The werewolves?” asked Molly nervously.

Remus nodded, feeling something svage stirring within him. His eyes suddenly shifted from a warm brown to a feral yellow.

“Moony,” Sirius cried.

Remus shook his head. “It’s all right, Siri. I’m fine. Just prepared.”

Moody began ordering the rest of his Aurors to spread out, because all clustered together, they’d be easy targets.

The three raptors dived down, blurring into Harry and Severus as soon as they were beyond the gates. Both Animagi looked exhausted but determined. The howls of pursuit were audible now even to ordinary hearing.

“Harry, are you all right?” Sirius asked, moving over to hug his godson.

Harry nodded wearily, smiling. “Fine, just tired. What are you doing here?”

“Came to help you kick Voldy’s scaly arse back to hell.” Sirius answered.

Harry looked around and saw the rest of the Order members and was glad of the change in numbers for once.

“Well, looks like we’re all here,” Moody began.

“Not quite, Alastor,” Minerva corrected. “There’s one last wizard to arrive.”

“Who?”

The witch drew a deep breath. “Vincent Crabbe, senior. He contacted me yesterday, told me he wanted to be in on anything we planned to do to rescue his son and the others. So I told him to meet me here.”

“You did what?” bellowed Sirius. “Minerva, the man’s a Death Eater!”

“A former one,” Minerva corrected.

“He can’t be trusted!” Sirius argued. “He could betray us at any time. The only good Death Eater is a dead one.”

“How quickly you forget, Black, that a former Death Eater saved you from a life of madness,” Severus drawled pointedly.

Sirius whirled upon him. “That was different.” He glared angrily at Minerva. “How come you invited him without asking the rest of the Order?”

Minerva replied icily, “I was head while Albus and Severus were away, and as such who I recruit is up to me. Vincent Crabbe has as much a stake in defeating Voldemort as we all do. More even. He is a skilled duelist and magesmith.”

“We don’t need his sort—”

“Wrong, Black!” Severus cut him off neatly. “His is the sort we need desperately. What better man to have with you than one who knows the enemy extremely well and can find his weak spots? Don’t be an idiot!”

Sirius glared angrily at the other man. “Shut up, Snape! We don’t need his cowardly spells.”

Severus fastened a look upon the other that should have killed him on the spot. “Crabbe is no coward, Black. No coward would have the stomach to turn his back upon the dark path and return to the light. Do you even realize how hard that is? How every wizard of the Dark will now be hunting him? And people like you spit on him for his change of heart.” The Potions Master sneered angrily. “He has more courage than a thousand Aurors.”

Sirius snorted. “Impossible!”

“It is one thing to contemplate leaving the dark path, another thing to actually do it, and Crabbe has not only done that, he has defied the remaining Death Eaters as well. A crime for which he would be tortured and killed for if the Death Eaters found him. But he puts his son first, and for that you would condemn him? Look to your own soul, Black, before you point a finger at another’s. You’re not perfect either!”

The Potions Master turned about, not trusting his temper, and as he did so, the elder Crabbe appeared outside the gates.

Vincent Crabbe, senior, was not a tall man, but he was stocky with muscle from years working the forge, and his face was lined with worry, but his eyes were bright with determination. He looked at Minerva and said quietly, “I’m here, Minerva, as you wished. Are you going to let me in or not?”

Minerva unlocked the gates, and Crabbe stepped inside.

Sirius made a noise of protest, only to be hushed by Remus’ hand on his shoulder.

“Not now, Padfoot!”

Crabbe looked about at the others, most of whom were giving him looks of distrust or wariness. The large magesmith sighed. “I’m here to help rescue my son and those other kids Malfoy and that bitch Lestrange took. I’m not your enemy.”

“We know that, Vincent,” Severus said, then he moved forward and clasped the other’s hand in a firm grip. “Welcome home . . .brother.” Dark eyes met hazel ones and in them gleamed a shared understanding that only those who had walked the dark road and returned could fathom.

“Thank you, Severus,” was all the former Death Eater said, but in those simple words was a wealth of sincerity and gratitude. He moved to stand next to Severus and Harry, and not one of the others said anything, humbled by the Potions Master’s words.

Severus turned to Harry then and said quietly, “You are to stay back from the weres unless I tell you otherwise. One of us must make certain the hidden object is destroyed, understood?”

Harry flushed. “Severus, I can fight!”

One lean hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. “I am aware of that, Mr. Potter. But we have enough to fight without you involving yourself right away. You stay here with Molly and Arthur, defend yourself if necessary, but under no circumstances are you to attack.”

“But—”

“Obey me, apprentice,” Snape said shortly, his voice hard as iron.

Harry gritted his teeth, then he nodded reluctantly. He did not like Snape’s dictate, but he understood where the other man was coming from. One of them must survive to destroy the last Horcrux and defeat Voldemort. “As you will, sir.” Severus withdrew his hand from Harry’s shoulder. The Animagus looked up at his guardian. “Be careful.”

“Always.”

The howls from the weres were echoing through the trees and Harry squinted sharply and saw the first of the great grey forms bounding along the ground, their clawed paws tearing up clods of earth as they raced towards the gates.

All of the wizards gripped their wands, and Severus blurred into Warrior and flew aloft just as Greyback came into view.

The pack leader was a sight to behold, his fur matted and dripping with saliva and his face was a puckered mess of scars and half-healed wounds from Hedwig’s and the two hawks talons as well the wolfen’s teeth. His yellow eyes glittered with madness and cunning and a burning hate. He drew to a halt at the gates and howled, summoning the rest of his pack to him.

Ten werewolves slunk out of the trees and arranged themselves in a ring behind him, growling and yipping as they caught sight of the wizards.

Greyback sniffed. “I smell you, wizards! Come out, come out wherever you are! Or shall I huff and puff and blow this damned gate down?”

“You’re welcome to try, Greyback!” Minerva said, her wand leveled at his heart.

Greyback laughed. “Run along, old hag, before I crunch your bones into pieces. Give me Snape and Potter and maybe I won’t rip out everyone’s throat.”

“Go bark up a tree!” Tonks called, her merry eyes hard.

“Fine. Have it your way.” Greyback snarled, then he grimaced and shifted, becoming larger and more menacing in an eyeblink, his body cracking and reshaping itself in a series of awful jerks. “Kill them!” he wailed, and then he sprang into the air.

His front paws caught the top of the gate and the wrought iron screeched and buckled as the werewolf began to climb.

The Aurors shot spells at him, but he had summoned the power of his pack to himself, and most of the spells bounced off his hide. He howled mockingly and then his back paws propelled him up and over, to land lightly upon the other side.

“Come on, you spineless worms! Who wants to take me on?”

Sirius had turned into Padfoot, and he growled and sprang at the huge werewolf, attempting to get a throat hold.

But Greyback whirled like lightning and seized the smaller dog by the scruff and threw him across the lawn as easily as one would swat a fly.

Padfoot landed in a heap, the breath knocked out of him.

“Sirius!” Harry yelled, and would have run after him, but Molly grabbed him and drew him back until he was behind the line of Aurors.

Then the other werewolves were scaling the gate and Moody and Shacklebolt were kept busy trying to knock them back down, as were the Weasley brothers. Warrior dove at a were who was almost over, fastening his talons in the wolf’s head.

An inhuman shriek rent the air.

Greyback moved, dodging Minerva’s Transfiguration curse, snapping at her wand hand, causing her to stumble backwards and fall.

Before the werewolf could spring upon her and bite her, Remus yelled, “Hey Greyback, why not try me on for size? She’d barely make a mouthful for you!”

Greyback looked up, teeth bared, to see Remus standing there, his eyes glowing ferally, fur slowly creeping up his arms, as he called forth the change. “So. The pup dares to challenge the alpha. Come, you cringing vomit-licking bastard! Let me finish you off for good and all!”

Remus did not answer, he was too busy trying not to scream as the change swept through him, reshaping muscle and bone. He had taken the Wolfsbane prior to this encounter, knowing he could not afford to lose himself, and so he did not transform into the man-wolf like the other weres. Instead he became a large brown wolf with black tipped ears and tail. But next to the bulky Greyback he appeared no bigger than a yearling German shepherd.

He shook himself and lunged at the bigger were, and his supernatural speed proved swifter than the alpha werewolf’s. His teeth closed upon Greyback’s foreleg, but though he tried, his jaws could not snap the other’s bone. He released his hold, dodging the other’s return snap.

The two circled, snarling, and Remus took stock of his opponent. Greyback was bigger, stronger, and more ruthless. In a pitched fight, he held all the advantages. But there was one thing the cruel werewolf did not have.

Remus’s clever brain.

I can’t outfight the brute, so I’ll have to outsmart him, the slender wolf thought, jumping away from Greyback’s rush. He was filled with hatred for the other were, the evil creature who had stolen away his humanity and his childhood one summer evening for nothing more than spite. But he did not allow the rage to overwhelm him the way he might have. He forced the fury into submission and thought about the best way to defeat the insane creature for good and all.

“That the best you got, Yellowbelly?” he taunted in the language of weres. “You must be getting slow in your old age.”

Greyback roared and sprang at Remus’s throat.

But Remus rolled with the lunge and escaped the great fangs. Then he was on his feet and sprinting across the lawn, preying Greyback would follow.

Greyback’s teeth clicked shut on empty air and he howled in frustration. Damn that skittering coward! He gathered himself and raced after the fleeing wolf. Just wait till I get my fangs into that miserable pup! I’ll teach him the meaning of suffering all right! I’ll rip out his guts and eat his liver raw!

Remus glanced back once to see the crazed werewolf lunging after him, jaws gaping, and black tongue flapping, his eyes burning with a terrible rage. He knew that if Greyback caught him, he would be torn to pieces, and so he used every bit of speed and agility he possessed to make certain he stayed one jump ahead of the savage beast.

Back when he was a student, and the Marauders had accompanied him on the night of the full moon, Remus had rambled all over the grounds, and so had learned the lay of the land so well that he had never forgotten it to this day. He led Greyback up a small rise, pausing to shout an insult over his shoulder before sliding down the other side and behind Hagrid’s hut.

Greyback gnashed his teeth and pursued. “There’s nowhere to run, little wolf! Anywhere you go, I shall find you and when I do, you will die a coward’s death!”

Remus gave two short yips, making it seem as if he were hiding to the left of where he actually was.

He heard Greyback plung into the undergrowth that was Hagrid’s pumpkin patch, snarling.

Remus smirked, his mouth lolling wide. He fell for it! Now to get a head start on my true destination.

He began to trot swiftly away from the hut and to the southwest, moving quickly but not in an all out sprint as he had before. He had to conserve his strength, for he would need every bit of it to pull off the trick he had in mind. James, old friend, you’d be proud of this one.

He kept an ear cocked back, listening for sounds of his enemy.

Soon . . .soon . . .Come on, Greyback, you dumb bastard . . .use the bloody eyes and nose the devil gave you . . .

He was halfway to the knoll when Greyback spotted him.

Arrr-o-o-o! Arr-o-o-o!

Greyback’s enraged howl filled the air.

Remus picked up his pace, half-running now. Almost there.

Not too fast now. He musn’t spot the trap until it’s too late. But he mustn’t catch me either.

Greyback was coming in huge leaps, his hindlegs driving him over the lawn with a terrible swiftness, faster than any normal animal could run. His eyes were bloodred coals and his howls made Remus tremble, though he was immune to the fear they engendered.

Remus ran, circling the knoll where a certain tree stood, bleak and stark against the sky. No wind stirred its branches, but as the werewolf approached, they began to wave in warning.

Remus growled and trotted up the rise standing just out of range.

Greyback, maddened by bloodlust, charged blindly after the smaller wolf, straight at Remus he lunged, howling a battle cry.

Remus waited, moving aside at the last second.

Greyback’s teeth snapped shut on his paw, but he tore free, yelping.

He stumbled, hitting the ground on his shoulder and rolling, ignoring the burning pain in his right hind foot.

There was a sharp swish and a whistling sound, then a THUMP!

Greyback cried out and scrabbled away, only to find that there was no escape from the angry Whomping Willow, which was furious at the intruders who had dared to wake it from its sleep. More branches, these the size of clubs and bristling with wooden spurs, shot down at the werewolf.

Greyback tried to duck and run, but the Willow was very quick, and it slashed at the were’s face, making him jump backward, only to catch a club branch on the back.

The force of the blow hammered the werewolf down flat, and he screeched as his paws went out from under him. He struggled to get to his feet, but was not swift enough to do so before five other branches struck in succession.

One hit him hard in the side and broke several ribs, and the others targeted his vulnerable back and head. Unable to move, Greyback tried to bite the branches, but even his formidable jaws proved no match for the magical tree, and soon the werewolf lay still under the onslaught.

Remus managed to slip between two branches and crawl away before the tree sensed him, and he stood upon three legs, trembling with fatigue and pain. Behind him, he could hear the sharp thumps and swishes as the tree pummeled the offending werewolf. He knew he should have felt sickened, but all he felt was a sudden rush of satisfaction. The demon of his nightmares was dead, killed by a clever trick. Lupin shook his head and looked back over his shoulder.

The Whomping Willow now stood tall against the sky, its branches upright once more, standing sentinel against all comers.

Lupin gave a sniff, and wrinkled his nose at the rank smell of death. He threw back his head and howled a victory cry. Goodbye, Fenrir Greyback. That’s what you get for trying to kill a Marauder.

Head held high, Lupin started back down the knoll towards the others, limping slightly upon his torn paw.

Back at the front gates, the wizards threw everything they had at the advancing werewolves. Spells flew thick and fast, were deflected and dodged, and the yelps and howls of the stricken weres mingled with the curses and hexes and cries of the Aurors.

Padfoot staggered to his feet soon after Remus challenged Greyback and went to help Tonks, who was surrounded by two smaller werewolves. These two were more of a size with the Animagus, and he happily tore into one of them while Tonks took down the other with a well-placed Conjunctivitis Curse.

Off to one side, Moody spat silver spikes from his wand and nailed another werewolf. That one died almost instantly when the silver pierced its heart.

Shacklebolt finished off the werewolf Warrior had attacked, and Hagrid shot another through the throat as it sprang at McGonagall.

“All righ’, Minerva?”

“I am unhurt, Hagrid,” Minerva called back, pale but undaunted.

Harry found himself pushed behind Molly and Arthur, and he scowled and gripped his wand in a fist, wishing he dared disobey his guardian and fight as he longed to. They had made a good accounting, but the weres were many and they did not die easily.

Five more had climbed over the gate since the initial ones and Harry saw one creeping up on Padfoot as he subdued the one who had attacked Tonks. “Sirius! Look out!”

Sirius whirled, but would have been too late to avoid the lunging grey beast, had not a Lightning Bolt Curse struck the werewolf and sent it flying. He looked up to see who had cast it and saw Crabbe standing there, his wand still crackling with magical electricity. “Nasty bugger. That ought to do him.” Then he nodded at Sirius before turning away to fight another wolf.

Padfoot wore a startled expression on his face, and Harry nearly laughed aloud. See, you should never judge a book by its cover, Sirius.

The battle could have gone on for several more minutes, but Greyback’s sudden death was felt by all of his pack, and it sent them into pandemonium.

One by one, they cringed and fled, some of them into the Forbidden Forest and others across the grounds, demoralized and frightened. The Aurors went to pursue, but Moody called them back. “Wait. They could turn on ye if you go after them alone. We’ll hunt ‘em down later on. Anybody hurt?”

The wizards inspected themselves.

Minerva had torn robes but was not hurt. Several others had bruises but no one had been bitten or scratched save Remus, who came limping up soon after the rest of the werewolves had fled.

Sirius had transformed back and caught sight of his friend. “Remus! What happened to your paw?”

Remus whuffed softly and lay down, his body aching and throbbing from the fight.

“Let me see, Lupin,” Severus said, removing his potions kit from his pack and going over to the werewolf.

“Can you fix him, Snape?” asked Sirius.

“If you’ll get out of my way, Black, I can work better,” said the other shortly, kneeling beside the bleeding wolf. “Hold still, Lupin. And don’t even think about biting me.”

Remus panted and thumped his tail gently, his amber eyes gleaming.

Severus gently took the bitten paw and examined it. “Not as bad as I thought.” He disinfected the gash with the purple antiseptic potion, then intoned a quick healing charm. The gash sealed itself closed. “There. It might be a bit sore, but it’s healed.”

Snape rose, tucking the potions kit away.

Remus whined and then writhed upon the ground before becoming a man once more.

He stood gingerly, dusting himself off, then smiled at Severus. “Thank you.”

Snape shrugged. “For what? You’re of no use to us hurt.”

“Still, I owe you one,” Lupin said.

“Greyback is dead?” Severus asked.

Lupin nodded, his face grim.

“Good work, Auror Lupin!” Moody congratulated him. “One less piece of trash to worry about.”

“I think we should all get back to the castle,” Minerva said, and the others all agreed.

Harry turned to follow Molly and Arthur, but not before he saw Sirius pause beside Crabbe and mutter a thank you to the ex-Death Eater. He hid a smile. Guess you can teach an old dog new tricks after all.

He hurried after the Weasleys, and had almost reached the castle stairs when he heard a soft voice hissing from beneath a rose bush.

Sss-hiss! Little s-s-nake s-speaker, I would have a word with you!

Harry froze, then he turned and knelt beside the rose bush. Who calls-s-s?

It is I, Veraldesssheen-sla-Mori, S-s-serpent Brother.

Vera! What are you doing here? He held out his arm and the green snake shot out from beneath the bush and coiled about his wrist.

“Harry, what in seven hells are you doing?” demanded Snape crossly, coming up to see what his ward was doing crouching in the dirt.

Harry stood up. “Look, Sev, it’s Vera, Vince’s familiar.”

Severus’s eyebrows shot up. “How did she get over here?”

“I don’t know. Let me ask her.” Harry said, then turned to the viridian boa, hissing in Parseltongue. How did you come here, Vera?

The boa lifted her head and stared at him, her tongue flickering in and out. Lis-s-s-ten, brother-in-scales . . .I came in the pocket of my wizard. He is-s-s trapped beneath the earth, in a s-s-tone room, along with others. His-s-s-s. He s-s-ent me to s-s-how you the way . . .

The Catacombs

Hogwarts:

Lucius Malfoy inspected the stone sacrificial altar for the seventh time, making sure all was in readiness.  Unlike the previous resurrection, this one was more complicated, though the end result would hopefully be better than the last time.  The ritual to come would leech the last of Dumbledore's magic from him, and from that Lucius and Bella would use ancient magic to fashion a body from the raw magic and the shed skin from Voldemort's loyal familiar Nagini.  It was very much what the archmagus Gwydion of Wales and his teacher Math had done over a thousand years before, when they created the flower maiden Blodeuwedd as a bride for Lleu the Fair.  Narcissa had discovered the ancient ritual in a tattered tome in the Ministry archives while she had been a librarian.  She had taken it to study as a curiosity, never realizing until recently how the powerful the book was.

Together, she and Lucius and Bellatrix had studied the ritual, and had determined they could fashion a receptacle to hold Voldemort's spirit, and infuse it with Dumbledore's magic and blood.  Mingled with Voldemort's own, he would be thrice as strong as before, immortal and he could at last rule the wizarding world as had always been his destiny. 

Lucius ran his hand over the smooth black basalt, it had grooves along the sides to catch any blood spilled and they ran directly into a stone catch basin at the foot of the altar.  There were even leather straps to tie down the victim so he or she could not move and disrupt the ritual.  Lucius preferred to use a Sticking Charm, however.  He had seven candles set in holders about the table, blood candles, they were called, formed of human blood mixed with tallow and ash.  They were a strange reddish-black color and they burned with a smoky flame. They were often used in rituals of summoning souls back from the Veil, a favorite spell of dark practioners.

The dark sorcerer rested his palm for a brief moment upon the altar, feeling it thrum with pregnant dark energy.  The stone table had been used as a sacrificial altar for centuries and it was drenched in the blood of many victims, willing and unwilling, wizard and Muggle, innocent and damned.  He could almost fancy he heard the screams of those who had died, a piece of their soul trapped forever within the stone.  He smiled grimly.  Soon the table would drink the blood and power of a new victim.

Lucius checked the chalked symbols upon the stone floor, symbols that would call to Voldemort's twisted soul like a beacon, showing him the way to return from behind the Veil.  Despite his two previous deaths, he could not return to the world of the living the same way twice, and so he needed the symbols to guide him through the mists of the Otherworld to the body that would be waiting for him.

Soon, Master , you shall rise again, and I shall be waiting for you, your most loyal servant.  Lucius thought, a quiver running through him.  And this rebirth shall be your last, for then you shall be well-nigh immortal, and none shall impede your reign.  You shall be supreme, and any who will not bend their knee and bow their heads in allegiance shall be destroyed. 

A small smile of satisfaction curled the other's lips.  All was in readiness.  He had managed to free the twelve other Death Eaters who had been trapped in Azkaban using  bribes and Imperius Curses, and now they were also in the catacombs, ready to lend their might to the three principle summoners if necessary.  Also, they had the four kidnapped children, should they need their magical strength or lifeforce.

He had posted three of the others down the tunnel where the children were kept and another two at the entrance to Dumbledore's cell, though the old wizard was hardly in any condition to attempt an escape.  The stone cell prevented any magic being worked within it, and after repeated castings of the Cruciatus and other more mundane methods, Albus was barely able to stand, much less walk.  Yet Lucius had been careful not to break the old wizard. He needed him sane for the ritual, for the sacrifice must be whole in mind and body.  He had healed the archmage just enough so he would be fit for the ritual, but that was all.

With one last glance, Lucius walked out of the chamber, which had once been the site of a terrific battle between a young wizard and a basilisk, though the basilisk's remains had long been removed by Hogwarts' resident Potions Master, all save for a long tooth that had rolled off to the side near a pile of rubble. 

Sixteen foot high statues of serpents towered over the altar and the steady drip of water permeated the room. Lucius felt the chill even through his heavy black robes and doubleweight woolen shirt.  But the chill was to be expected, being as the catacombs were so deep beneath the earth.

Lucius continued down the corridor, and turning left along a side passage, soon came to the stone cell.  The Death Eaters on duty, Mulciber and Goyle, gave Lucius a nod. 

"Step aside," their leader ordered, he waved a hand and the cell door unlocked itself.

Lucius swung the door open and saw Dumbledore lying comatose upon a dirty vermin-infested pallet.  The old wizard was thin and filthy, his fine robes spattered with blood, dirt, and vomit.  The fastidious wizard wrinkled his nose.  "He smells half dead, even though I know he's not," Lucius muttered.  He moved forward and kicked the old man with his foot.  "Wake up, old man!"

Dumbledore stirred and moaned. His eyes opened and he stared at Lucius warily.

"Have you come to gloat then, Lucius?"

"Some." The other answered shamelessly.  "Tonight you shall see the full power of my master reborn.  It may be the last sight your eyes ever see."

Dumbledore met his eyes steadily.  "If so, I go to my death willingly."

Lucius laughed harshly, his blue eyes cold.  "You'll scream at the end , old man. They all do." He inspected the other with his magical eye and saw nothing amiss. "Be prepared , old man, for you could depart through a different door than the one you came in." He gave a soft laugh before turning and leaving.

The sound of the cell being locked echoed through the room.

Dumbledore released the breath he had been holding and relaxed upon the pallet. He could feel, faintly, the dark pulse running through the catacombs and he shivered in spite of himself.  Darkness had invaded Hogwarts once more, and this time he had no recourse to battle it. That must be the task of others.  He closed his eyes and did what he had done ever since he had returned from the Garden of Forever, he began to meditate upon the sacrifice he would be called upon to make.  If he had to die, he would at least offer up his last moments unselfishly, and perhaps that would balance the scales.

* * * * * *

Up above, in the castle proper, Harry found himself under the scrutiny of all the Aurors and Minerva, plus Sirius and Crabbe senior.  "Are you sure that's what the snake said, Potter?" Moody demanded, fixing Harry with his roving magical eye.

"Yes, sir.  This is Vera, Vince's familiar. She's a magical viridian boa." Harry explained. Vera was twined happily about his wrist, her slender body a vivd green slash against his black sleeve.

"I know that snake, Moody, seein' as I was the one who gave Vince her, as a reward for doing so well as my Magical Creatures apprentice." Hagrid said, leaning casually against the wall.

They were all meeting in the Great Hall, up at the staff table.

"Me too," added Crabbe.  "That's Vince's snake, all right.  I recognize her, she's almost always with him."

"And she said she could show you where Vince and the others were being held?" queried Shacklebolt.

Harry nodded.  "She said Vince sent her to find me, on account of I could speak Parseltongue and Severus would be with me.  He trusts Severus because he's his Head of House and he protects all of his Slytherins."

"Aye, he sets great store by you, Potions Master," Crabbe added, nodding respectfully to the black-cloaked wizard.  "You too, gamekeeper."

Both wizards looked faintly embarrassed.

"Did she tell you where they were, Potter?" was Moody's next question.

Harry hissed something to Vera, who replied with a flicker of her tongue and another soft hiss.  He turned back to the Aurors.  "She says they're below us, in stone tunnels deep in the earth, where once the King Serpent dwelled.  I think she means the basilisk."

"But you defeated the basilisk during your second year," Sirius declared. 

"Inside the Chamber of Secrets!" McGonagall exclaimed.  "Potter, can you reopen the chamber?"

"I don't know.  I could try.  But she didn't come up from there." Harry stated.

"How do ye know that, lad?" Hagrid asked.

"Because after we returned from there, Dumbledore sealed the passageway, so no one else could gain access to it."

"So obviously Vera must have found a different way to get out of the tunnels," Snape surmised.

Yes-s-s! the little snake nodded.  S-smart S-s-slytherin!

Harry smiled and stroked the boa gently.  Yes-s-s, S-s-severus-s-s is very s-s-mart. He said, giving the Potion Master's name a serpent's accent.

"What's she saying now?" asked Sirius.

Harry looked up at his godfather.  "She just complemented Severus. Said he was a smart Slytherin."

"Oh." Sirius looked rather put out. "Even the damn snake thinks he's wonderful!" he muttered under his breath.  He knew he shouldn't be jealous of the other man, but all the Snape adulation was beginning to make his stomach hurt.  Even Harry was looking at the tall professor as if he were some kind of hero.

To his credit, Snape did not bask in the sudden aura of praise, in fact he looked quite uncomfortable. 

"So, what are we waiting for?" asked Tonks.  "Shouldn't we be following this snake to where they are?"

Minerva patted her on the shoulder.  "All in good time, my dear. Right now, we're all exhausted from battling the weres and Severus and Harry are too, from flying here.  We need rest before we confront the Death Eaters.  Or else they'll kill us quicker than blinking."

"But . . .what about the element of surprise?" the young Auror asked.

"We'll still have that, since none of them know we're here, Tonks," Remus reminded her.

"Much as I hate delays, Minerva is correct," Severus spoke up.  "Without sleep, we will not be able to function and we need to be at our best in order to finish off the Death Eaters.  Therefore, I suggest we sleep or rest as needed for several hours and then follow Vera down to the children."

Murmurs of agreement followed, and then Minerva said, "That's a sound plan, Severus.  All right, everyone who needs a bed, go to the guest wing off the hall on the right hand side.  Mr. Potter, you can-"

"-come with me to my quarters," Severus interjected smoothly.  "They are warded and he can sleep safely there."

"Very well then." Minerva said. 

"Vincent, you may come too and rest, if you wish," Severus offered.

"Thanks, Severus." Crabbe said, and then he rose and followed the Potions Master and his apprentice from the hall.

Harry would have sworn he wasn't tired after the adrenaline charged battle he had witnessed, but as soon as he got settled on the comfortable couch in Severus's quarters he fell asleep.  Vera promptly curled up on his chest in a ball.  Severus tucked the green afghan about him and then offered Crabbe some tea.

"No thanks, Severus.  Think I'll just sit here for a bit," the other man said, his face creased with worry.

Severus nodded, sensing the wizard wished to be alone, and he retired to his room to get some much needed sleep. One way or the other, the quest for the Horcruxes would end tonight.

Alone at last, Crabbe stared into the fire and whispered, "Vince, I'm comin' t'find you, lad. Please be all right.  Because if you aren't . . .I'll tear apart whatever bastard hurt ye. I promise you that, upon my immortal soul and my magic."  He closed his eyes and unbidden, two tears slipped from them to fall upon his cupped hands.  It was partially his fault this had happened. If he had not bound himself to Malfoy . . .now the sins of his past had come back to haunt him.  But he prayed fervently they would not claim his son.

* * * * * *

Several hours later

Moonrise:

"It is time," Bella said, satisfaction fairly dripping from her voice. She was wearing what Lucius thought of as her priestess prostitute outfit-a skin tight red dress that left hardly anything to the imagination.  Lucius wondered idly who she was trying to impress, him or their Master, who she had always had a thing for. Her wand was in her hand, and she tapped it idly against her thigh. Her eyes glowed with a strange light-partly anticipation, partly lust, and partly insanity.  They made Lucius shudder, for nothing was quite as dangerous as a madwoman who lost herself in her own twisted vision.

Narcissa lit the candles with a soft word and they burned with a smoky sullen light. From out of the shadows slithered a gigantic cobra with green and black scales.

Nagini flicked her tongue out at the altar and then went and curled up about the base of a serpent statue, flattening her hood and setting her head upon the cool stone.  She could sense the magic rising in the air and wondered what the two-legs were working that cause her scales to shiver so.  She knew from bits and pieces of conversations  overheard in snatches that it involved her former master and bringing about his rebirth. 

"Take your positions," Bellatrix ordered crisply. She moved to assume the position at the head of the stone table of sacrifice, Narcissa took the foot, leaving the top position free for Lucius, who was retrieving Dumbledore from the stone cell. Together, the three would form an inverted triangle about the altar.

There came soft scraping and shuffling as the seven other Death Eaters and a few weres that had managed to find their way to the secret tunnel and thence down to the catacombs took up positions in a circle about them.  They were there to lend support to the Unholy Triad with their magic and will, and also to prevent anyone from interrupting the ritual. The weres had told Lucius what had happened at the gates and of Greyback's death, Lucius had been livid that Greyback had gotten himself snuffed this close to the rebirth, but what was done, was done. He had welcomed the weres back into the fold and stationed four of his Death Eaters down the corridor where the prisoners were kept.

"Focus your will and thoughts upon the Dark Lord's return!" Bellatrix cried to the circle.  "For soon he shall be among us once more!" Her voice throbbed with a fanatical worship.

All those present bowed their heads and obeyed.

Lucius returned, floating the injured Headmaster in his wake. 

To Bellatrix's fury, Dumbledore did not appear terrified, he was not begging for them to let him go.  He still wore that stupid serene grin on his face and his blue eyes were clear and focused.  He looked as calm as if he were attending a staff meeting, she thought angrily.  Hadn't Lucius told him that this was the night he would die? How dare he treat their dark ceremony so cavalierly?

Lucius had pulled on his full Death Eater regalia, iron mask, black robes and all. He lowered Dumbledore to the altar and Stuck him to it. "Your hour is near, old one.  Pray to your God or gods, if you have any."

Dumbledore looked around then, and said, "So many of my old students are here.  Such a pity, that you all have chosen to be blinded by darkness." There was regret in the archmage's voice now, the regret of a parent who had watched his children go astray. 

Bella leaned over and hissed, "Save the homily, old man, we don't need it! Ours is power and might, and the mighty shall rule the world!"

Dumbledore blinked.  "Beware, Bellatrix, that the power you call upon doesn't end up using you.  It's a fickle thing.  Power is transitory, here today and gone tomorrow." He turned and looked at Lucius. "Shall we get on with it then? My old bones are aching in the damp."

The other gave a short sharp bark of laughter. Then he summoned all of the vials of magic he had collected through the various sessions and had them hover in the air. He drew a short athame from his sash and began to chant, "By the dark of the moon, we call to thee, by the dark of the moon we summon thee, by the dark of the moon, we bid thee return."

Bellatrix and Narcissa and the rest of the convocation took up the chant.

The snakeskin at the foot of the altar began to writhe and tremble.

Lucius walked counterclockwise about the altar seven times, then he bent and cut Dumbledore's arms, deep enough for blood to flow, but not enough to kill. The old wizard jerked but made no sound. His blood flowed down into the grooves and collected in the stone bowl.

Lucius finished his last circuit and ended where he began. At some unspoken signal, Narcissa took the bowl and tilted it, pouring the contents over the twisting writhing snakeskin.

The skin began to fill out.

"Blood and bone, flesh and stone, reshape yourself to what was known," Lucius ordered and the snakeskin began to alter, becoming a form that resembled a human being. "Darkness mold you, darkness keep you, darkness shield you."

All of the vials containing Dumbledore's stolen magic surrounded the floating shape and then they all exploded simultaneously. Lucius caught the essence and shoved it into the shell and the form became more defined, solid, of a tall man in his late thirties whose face was handsome, yet cold and cruel at the same time, and whose skin shimmered with tiny green scales. 

Lucius pointed his wand at Dumbledore, and so did Bellatrix and Narcissa. "Give me your power, old one!" A ribbon of red light shot down into the ancient wizard's chest from his wand, and was soon joined by two more. 

This was the point that Dumbledore had always resisted, forcing the three to wrest the magic from him. 

Albus opened his eyes.  He could feel himself tense in anticipation of the pain yet to come.  But then he recalled Ariana's words in the Garden.  A true sacrifice gives everything away and expects nothing in return.

At last he understood what was meant and what he must do.

"I give it freely," he said aloud, and in his mind he whispered, thus do I offer my magic and my life for my children.

He felt the last of his magic drawn away through the spell, and his core grow weaker, but there was no pain, only a glorious sense of fulfillment.

Lucius did not know what to make of it. Where was the resistance, the screams, the pain? He could feel Albus's magic flowing from him and with a flick, he directed it into the hovering form above the altar.

"In magic you were born, to magic you shall return, all power and glory and honor is yours, O Lord! Be with us!"

"Be with us!" Bellatrix echoed.

"Be with us!" Narcissa cried.

"Be with us!" the others howled.

Nagini awoke and added her hiss to theirs, swaying back and forth.

There came a ripping shredding sound and then the air above the fashioned body tore asunder and something dark and wispy oozed through. It slipped into the waiting shell and there was a crackle of light as the spirit of Tom Riddle merged with the body his followers had fashioned.

On the altar, Dumbledore gasped, feeling the las tendrils of his magic drift away. He shut his eyes.  In the name of the Light, I commend my soul.  He felt himself begin to drift, for he was very weak now, though he could yet breathe.  Ariana, where are you? he called silently. I am ready, take me with you.

There came a shuddering noiseless thunderclap as the spirit of Voldemort merged thoroughly with the body and magic.

The Dark Lord looked about, his feet planted firmly upon the top of the stone table.

His eyes fell upon the still form of Dumbledore. "Thank you for the gift, Albus." He laughed softly. "But now you are of no use to me." He stepped upon the other's chest, snapping the other's ribs as easily as stamping a spider.  "Did I not say long ago that you would someday be crushed beneath my boots? Now that day has come." He turned and sprang off the altar, strength and magic coursing through him. 

"Behold, that I am born anew out of fire and shadow, restored by the magic of my enemy!" he cried.  He lifted his hands up and out to his loyal Death Eaters and they all felt the Mark burn anew. And yet, even as he did so, he felt something . . .off.  This new body was strong, filled to the brim with power, but Voldemort felt oddly weak.  Something is not right.  Then he shrugged off the feeling, for to show weakness was fatal.

Lucius made a quick motion and the circle of power flickered and died. He came before his lord and knelt, head bowed, before the dark sorcerer. "Welcome back, Master. How may I serve you?"

Voldemort smiled, then he put a hand under the other's chin and hissed, "Rise, Lucius, my son. You have done well. And now we shall find the rest of our enemies and crush them. The upstart Harry Potter and the traitor Severus Snape. They shall be the first to die."

There came a great roar of approval from the throats of the Death Eaters then, and Nagini slithered from the pillar and came to wrap herself lovingly about her wizard, her cold eyes glittering in satisfaction.

Voldemort caressed Nagini, enjoying the soft feel of her scales beneath his hand. He felt even more connected to his familiar than he ever had, and he knew that was because she had given a part of herself to his rebirth, connecting them in both body and soul. He scratched her upon her hood, and gazed out at his loyal followers. As he looked at each of them, they dropped to their knees and paid him the homage he was due. His pleasure grew, eclipsing that sudden moment of weakness and uncertainty he had experienced after he had returned from beyond the Veil. Surely the weakness had only been a temporary disorientation, as often happened when a spirit was shoved too quickly back into a corporeal shell. And yet . . .there was a tiny voice in the back of his head that hissed that all was not as it should be.

He closed his eyes and examined his magical core. It seemed as strong as ever, glowing with strident reds and black, like always. He even felt rejuvenated, and suspected it had to do with absorbing his old mentor’s blood and magic. Thinking of Dumbledore brought a smile to his face, and he turned and spat upon the still form. “Get this piece of filth from my sight,” he ordered abruptly. “He defiles the altar.”

Bella and another raced to obey, picking up Dumbledore’s limp form and then looking at Voldemort questioningly. “What shall we do with the body, Master?” Bella cooed.

“Put it somewhere I won’t see it. We can dispose of the remains afterwards.”

“At once, Master. We hear and obey,” Bellatrix said, then she and the other Death Eater raced from the chamber.

They climbed a short set of stairs to an alcove room that had once been a small study and there they dumped the body. “Come on!” Bellatrix snarled. “I want to be there when he tells us how we can rip out Snape’s guts and itty bitty Potter’s too. I so love the sound of agony.”

The other Death Eater said nothing, merely followed her, his lip curled in disgust.

Neither of them noticed that the body left in the middle of the room upon the large desk still had a bit of life left in it. And very slowly, Dumbledore’s chest was rising and falling.

* * * * * *

Voldemort listened carefully as Lucius explained all of what had happened since his second death and rebirth. Being in the afterworld made it hard for him to focus upon what was going on below him, since the nature of the Veil was to muffle the emotions and needs of the living and encourage the spirit to remain within the afterlife. Lucius’ revelations were not much of a surprise to him, however. He had started to suspect Severus was not what he seemed when the Potter bastard had gone missing. And his suspicions had been correct. But no matter, Snape would pay for his treachery.

No one crossed the Dark Lord and lived to tell of it.

Voldemort led his followers from the Chamber of Secrets down the corridor to a slightly smaller room with a large table and benches in it, just right for a council session. He had already determined that he would use the four children as bait to draw Snape and Potter and the Aurors to him. But first he must summon what remained of his followers.

He looked over at Bellatrix and said quietly, “Bella, my sweet, may I borrow your wand?”

Bellatrix looked as if he had offered her a million Galleons. “Of course, Master. I live to serve you,” she purred and everyone there knew what she was referring to. She drew her wand and handed it reverently over to him.

He took the twelve and a half walnut wand with the dragon heartsring core and swished it experimentally, getting the wand’s measure before he drew back the sleeve of his black robe and turned his wrist over to reveal the Dark Mark. He placed the tip of his wand upon the Mark and bent his will upon it. Come. Come to me! You are needed. Come!

All of the Death Eaters in the room gasped as their Mark burned, but it soon faded since they were already as close to him as they could get. Voldemort grimaced slightly, for his own Mark was buzzing and tingling oddly, normally it never reacted that way to a mere summoning. He had created the brand as a means to summon and control his followers, using a cross between a Protean Charm and an Oath of Fealty. That was why only those whom he trusted were marked, and why it angered him so much that Snape had betrayed him. Voldemort did not like to be shown as making mistakes, his whole image revolved on him being a nearly omniscient figure whose power was unmatched by any wizard alive.

He wished he had thought of making the Mark more like an Unbreakable Vow, but at the time he had figured binding too many people to him might prove too great a drain upon his magical core. He had thought fear of his ruthless vicious reputation and pain would be enough to ensure his followers’ obedience. But he had never reckoned on Severus Snape, whose soul, though injured, would not bend in the face of adversity, and who was protected by love.

As the call went out, all of the Death Eaters winced and clasped their brand. Voldemort waited for those who were missing to appear. Some would not, for they were dead, but he was still missing Crabbe senior.

He scowled. “Where is Crabbe?”

There was silence, and he could sense the unease and fear roiling through the air.

Finally Bellatrix spoke. “Master, that bastard Crabbe has gone over to the other side as well. He is a traitor and I cannot wait to make him pay for his audacity!”

Voldemort hissed angrily, his eyes glowing. Crabbe too? Apparently Snape’s decision had spread like an infection through his ranks, and he swore inwardly. “They will both pay, Bella.” He reached out and caressed her cheek in approval.

Bella practically rolled over and offered herself to him.

“What should we do now, my lord?” asked Lucius respectfully.

“With Dumbledore dead, I can now concentrate upon taking over the school and once the last two obstacles are removed, I shall reign supreme over all of Britain and Europe.” Voldemort replied, his eyes far away, seeing the fruits of his bloody vision coming to pass.

“All hail to the power and might of Lord Voldemort!” the others responded.

Voldemort basked in their adulation, it was sweeter than wine to him.

It was what he had always longed for as a friendless orphan, mistrusted by everyone. The power to crush his enemies and to make people worship him. And finally he had it.

An oily smile slipped across his face as he pictured a new statue standing in the Ministry, himself triumphant over Dumbledore, Potter, and Snape. He rubbed his Mark surreptitiously, wondering why it itched and tingled so.

* * * * * *

Crabbe had been sleeping peacefully when he was yanked out of his dreams by a terrible burning pain upon his left arm. He jerked up, one hand going to his wrist, gasping. His Mark. It was dark and burning. He could feel the urge to Apparate and had to fight against it with all he was.

He gritted his teeth, stifling a moan of pain.

On the couch, Harry stirred, his dreams full of blood and pain and fire.

He woke dripping with sweat, Severus’s name upon his lips, and it was then he saw Crabbe groaning and clutching his arm. “What is it? Is it the Mark, sir?” hissed Harry. His head was pounding.

Crabbe nodded grimly.

“Let me go get Severus.” Harry said, then rose to his feet. He gently placed Vera on a pillow before doing so, the little boa was wide awake. Trouble, little S-s-snake S-s-speaker?

Maybe. He hissed over his shoulder. But he had barely taken three steps before he banged into Severus.

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No. But Mr. Crabbe needs you.”

Severus nodded, then walked into the den. Crabbe was clutching the Mark convulsively. Then Severus felt a slight tingling in the remainder of his own brand and felt his heart grow cold within him. It could mean but one thing. Malfoy and LeStrange had brought the rebirth to pass before they had destroyed the last Horcrux.

“Vincent. He’s calling, isn’t he?”

Pale and shaking, the magesmith nodded. “Yes. He’s come back, Severus. Again. Heaven above, does this mean he is truly immortal?” There was fear in the big man’s eyes as well as pain.

Snape shook his head. “No. Trust me on that. He cheats death, Vincent, but death shall call the debt due very soon. No wizard is immortal.”

“Then how is he bloody doing this?” Crabbe gasped, gritting his teeth.

Severus summoned a pain relieving potion from his stores. “Drink it. It’ll dull the burning.”