Harry immediately felt that things could not be going worse, and for the second time that night, he wished terribly that he had stayed in bed. He was frozen still, standing in the darkness as McTavish's eyes glinted in the moonlight, staring at him with a look of triumph at having witnessed such an explosion of accidental magic. And indeed, the lantern, which had looked almost new before, now lay at their feet, splintered into an unrecognizable heap of wood, metal, and candle wax. Harry didn't think he could possibly wish that he had stayed in bed more than he already did. Of course, he hadn't counted on seeing Snape dragged down the street toward them, kicking and fighting with the ferocity of a dragon. There were two men dragging Snape. Harry recognized them both from the woods earlier. The one on Snape's right was the man that had caught Harry in the first place (he didn't know his name), the other Harry remembered was called Earl.  Earl looked triumphant, and though he wasn't near as muscular as the other man, he was tall, and held two wands in his hand. The wands were just out of Snape's reach, and he was fighting tooth and nail to get at them. Unfortunately Earl was quite tall, and the other man was strong enough to keep Snape from extending his arms all the way. Harry could not have put into words the dread he felt when as he watched Snape struggle for one of the wands, for without magic there was not a hope to best the two thugs that had a hold of him.

       "He was following Bruce and the kid," said Earl in his wheezy voice, his unpleasant features arranged in a rather smug look. "Sneaky bugger ... barely saw him."

        "Are those ..." McTavish said, eyes sparkling as he caught sight of the wands. Bruce, who had retreated briefly into McTavish's house returned with a lit candle. The light reflected on the shiny wands in Earl's hand. Snape, who had since spied McTavish, stood stock still.

         "We took both wands off o' him," said the rather dim man holding onto Snape. His tangled brown hair extended a great deal further than Snape's own greasy locks.

         "He certainly looks like one of them," McTavish said, squinting. He shoved Harry toward Bruce, who grabbed a hold of him. His hands free one more, McTavish went to examine Snape.

         "Two wands," McTavish said slyly, rubbing his stubble. "Whatever would you need two wands for?" He let out a low laugh.

          Snape did not say a word, but remained still, not moving a muscle. It seemed as though he sensed it better to remain silent, and thus give McTavish little to play off of. Throughout this Snape did not flinch, nor blink. With his impeccable posture, Harry couldn't help but think Snape looked rather impressive, silhouetted against the moonlight with only the slightest trace of candlelight reflecting in the blackness of his eyes.

          "You were following the boy, weren't you?" McTavish said. The question was rhetorical. He appeared to be rambling, thinking out loud and circling Snape and his two captors like a vulture. "What do you want with the boy? Does the other wand belong to him? The evidence is against the both of you. Hmm, I suppose you missed that ... demonstration from the boy?" McTavish gestured to the lantern, yellow teeth shining against the blackness around them.

     At this Snape's eyes flicked toward Harry, who felt faint with fear. It was a minute movement, one that Snape appeared to have made before he could stop himself. But it was enough for McTavish. Harry could see Snape pale ever so slightly, or perhaps it was merely Harry's imagination.

       "Take them to the prison," he ordered, mad smile gone and replaced with a look of utmost loathing. "We will see what the council makes of them."

       "Yes sir," Bruce grunted and started past McTavish's house and further into the little town.

       Just when Harry thought that McTavish was leaving, he spun around and took a hold of the front of Harry's robe as he was pulled away, and Bruce halted for a moment. McTavish had that insane glint to his eyes again as he put his face right at the level of Harry's and said, "I assure you boy, the verdict will be grim." It was with a low laugh that he retreated into the house. He took the candle with him so that the shadows in street around them descended into ebony again, the crescent moon doing little to light their way in the narrow street.

       As they were dragged across the cobbled square Harry caught sight of the large tree at the centre of it. Like he had seen before, the tree had rope dangling from it. Harry wondered for a moment why the town had not built a proper platform, but then in grim realisation he saw that there really was no need. The tree was so tall, and so strong it could easily hold many ropes (in fact there were portions of the bark on the branch that had been worn away, likely by ropes), and there were tall, roughly cut stumps, which looked like they had been brought there for a purpose, at the base of the trunk. Harry shivered when he realised that they were probably to be put beneath the person's feet, only to be kicked out. He hoped that he wouldn't have to stand on one, and judging by the subtle glance that Snape had given the stumps, he hoped the same.

       It was even darker in the jail, or at least Harry presumed that was what it was, for it was terribly difficult to see. Besides a little light filtering through the cracks around a doorway across the room, a candle on a desktop was burning extremely low, barely illuminating anything. In the gloom Earl went over to what appeared to be a cabinet of some sort and pulled out new a candle, which he quickly lit off the dying one. As the flame burst to life Harry could see that there were only two cells in the cramped jail. They were not very large, just a few square feet under the size of the smallest bedroom back at the Dursleys'. There was a stone wall in between them, and slightly rusted metal bars across the front of the two. A small grate, also with metal bars, sat at the bottom of the stone wall between. Harry could not see if there was anyone in the other cell. He thought that it was empty, but reconsidered when they pushed both him and Snape into the same cell. Maybe however, they just wanted to keep them together. The metal door clanged shut, finally putting an end to the loud creak that had shivered through the air and made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. Earl grinned as he locked the door with the large skeleton key. The lock slid into place, trapping them and only adding to Harry's fears. To make matters worse, Earl put on a big show of putting their wands away in the cabinet, along with the keys, and shut the door securely.  Bruce, meanwhile had retreated into what Harry thought was an office across the room. Voices could be heard from within it, and soon Bruce emerged, presumably leaving whoever he was talking to in the room

       "Come on Joseph," Bruce said to the man with the tangled brown hair who had helped drag Snape down to the jail. He grunted and followed Bruce out the door at the front of the jail, its oiled hinges as silent as the night outside.

      "You had better not cause any trouble," said Earl, shaking a finger at them threateningly before turning his back to the cells and entering the office. He glared back at them and closed the door, light shining through the cracks on all sides. Shortly after another man came out from the office, deep shadows under his eyes but looking pleased. He left the jail, whistling a broken tune.  

       It appeared that Earl would not be coming out for a while, and so Harry looked around the cell. It was damp, and quite dirty. The gloom seemed to seep into Harry's bones as he glanced up at the small barred window near the top of the cell. Snape, meanwhile, was still standing at the front of the cell. Harry looked over to him, and couldn't quite decide what Snape was thinking. He didn't look angry, or panicked, and he didn't have that look he had worn earlier when he was trying to escape. Quite frankly it baffled Harry, and so he chose to sink down onto the floor and lean against the back wall.

     In the chill Harry put his arms around his legs, and rested his chin on his knees. What were they going to do? Would they return to their present before it was too late? Question after question bombarded Harry, questions that he couldn't even hope to answer. The outlook was bleak, and nothing came to assuage Harry's guilt. He knew that if he hadn't gotten caught, Snape wouldn't have either. It was his fault, and his alone. Maybe the Durselys were right. Maybe he was just a jinx ... a burden ... a liability. Harry wished Snape would just say it if he was such a problem, but still Snape stood by the bars that kept them in and stared, silent and unmoving. Harry wondered why he wasn't getting angry at him or yelling, and his professor's silence only added to the fear, guilt, and worries that were slowly building up inside him until he felt like screaming.

     He was so tired, tired of everything. Tired of being the problem, tired of not knowing what would happen and so very tired of the year 1612. Harry wanted to go home to Hogwarts, but as he sat with the stones and bars closing in on him, he couldn't help but think he might never see it again. He had finally found home, only to have it taken away from him. How fair was that? It was only when Snape glanced over at him that he realised he'd let out a quiet, gasping sob. Snape looked slightly uncomfortable, and he didn't seem to be able to find any words to say to Harry.

      Unable to bear the silence, Harry said shakily, "Sir, what if ... what if they decide..."  But he could say no more. The fear was too strong.

      Snape looked suddenly tired, and almost human as he slid down into a sitting position against a wall perpendicular to the one Harry sat against. Somewhere outside a bird let out a low note, drifting through the barred window above Harry. As it did so Harry let out another little gasp, trying to calm his breathing.

       "Hush. It is not time to worry yet," Snape said almost too softly to be heard.

 If the situation hadn't been so dire Harry might have considered his Professor's tone, and perhaps realised that Snape was actually trying to comfort him. Instead Harry focused on trying to forget where he was. Snape seemed to be lost in thought as well, and so a welcome silence fell, enveloping the two. In their minds, a black cloud hovered overhead, a cloud that would only truly lift when everything was over. Whether it ended with freedom, or a walk to the square, either would bring relief.