Brothers by JustJeanette
Summary: Updated 15rd Aug 2006. Chapter 13 added. And finally a potion is actually discussed....  Severus Snape has a secret and that secret could mean victory or defeat for the Order of the Phoenix. What has it to do with Harry?
Categories: Misc > All written in Snape's POV, Misc Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Draco, Dumbledore, Hermione, Original Character
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Supernatural, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: None
Takes Place: None
Warnings: Torture
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 13 Completed: No Word count: 67089 Read: 37482 Published: 28 Feb 2005 Updated: 15 Aug 2006

1. Chapter 01: A Very Bad Day. by JustJeanette

2. Chapter 02: Death Eaters at Play by JustJeanette

3. Chapter 03 Secrets by JustJeanette

4. Chapter 04 Lies by JustJeanette

5. Chapter 05 Magics by JustJeanette

6. Chapter 6 Awakenings by JustJeanette

7. Chapter 7 Blood by JustJeanette

8. Chapter 8 Hair by JustJeanette

9. Chapter 9 Bones by JustJeanette

10. Chapter 10: Paintings by JustJeanette

11. Chapter 11 Searching. by JustJeanette

12. Chapter 12 Memories by JustJeanette

13. Chapter 13 Potions by JustJeanette

Chapter 01: A Very Bad Day. by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Prologue


In the year Hogwarts was founded, one of the nicest (most accurate) prophecies ever was made. Of course, no-one realised this at the time; it was collected, bound and placed in the prophecy room along with countless others, and, like those countless others was generally forgotten about. Occasionally a scholar or two would try to interpret it, but as no one was named, it was considered too hard and they normally went back to researching the “Riddle Anagram Prophecy”. Still it remained, waiting patiently.

“And they are born, brothers tied, one in shadow, one in light.

And one will know and one will not, for some things are best forgot.

And together they’ll grow side-by-side, near and far, in light and dark.

And one brother will light the flame, and one brother will die all the same.

And one brother always near protects the son the serpent fears.”


Chapter 01. A Very Bad Day.


Severus Snape was an introvert of the first order, a shy, gentle, and intensely private man. The fact that he had too many secrets to keep and had seen too many horrors he had allowed him to raise ‘intensely private’ to an art form. Members of the Order and unfortunately, as far as he was concerned, some members of the student body, could only guess at the horrors, but they were inevitably wrong. However, no one guessed at the secrets, and he intended to keep it that way. Severus Snape was also a bloody good actor.

Of course most people wouldn’t observe that Professor Severus Snape was a bloody good actor. They were more likely to observe that he was a mean, sarcastic bastard who wouldn’t know a kind thought if it jumped up and bit him on the Gluteus maximus. Although, considering they also thought he was a greasy git bastard meant that they would actually pity any ‘kind’ thought that had to go anywhere near his gluteus maximus, or any other body part for that matter. They, after all, certainly didn’t want to go there. Few, however, recognised that Professor Snape had degrees of bastardness. To most, it was all one and the same. But some days he could give nastiness a whole new meaning, and today was likely to be of those days according to Hermione Granger’s calculations. After all Miss Granger was the sort of person who looked for and found significant patterns and with over four years at Hogwarts, she had most of the significant dates marked. The reasons might escape her, but she had picked them and as always, Hermione was right. Today was not going to be a good day.


Severus Snape swept into the Sixth Year potions class like a hurricane: dangerous, wild and furious. Apart from classes, the last two days had been spent in what now appeared to be futile research. If lack of sleep, unsuccessful prowls during the rare times he’d left his laboratory, and Fifth Year Slytherin/Gryffindor Potions class were actually potion ingredients, then the result would be catastrophic, and it was. There were some times when he’d welcome Voldemort’s attention; now was almost one of them. Almost.

His eyes quickly noted any absences. Potter, absent. “I see some of the class believe their time is better spent elsewhere, ten points from Gryffindor courtesy of Mr. Potter,” he snarled. ‘At least Granger and Weasley are present’, he thought. That at least discounted any ‘current adventures’. When all three were scarce, trouble generally followed close behind. That was the last thing he needed today.

Glowering at the rest of the class, Slytherins included, he began to outline today’s lesson plan, a relatively simple compulsion potion, something that they should be able to do in their sleep. In theory they should all finish in well under the normal three hours the class ran for, even Longbottom. Sarcastically, he asked if anyone had even bothered to read the suggested text prior to class, completely ignoring the Granger girl. Though he’d never mention it aloud, she was currently one of the few joys he had in teaching. Her thirst for knowledge rivalled his own.

Noticing the general lack of movement, he snapped to the class in general, “Well get on with it,” before beginning his customary stalking through the class. Sharp-eyed and even sharper-tongued, he waited for the inevitable mistakes. On another level he pondered the significance of today. Potter had not attended any classes that he was aware of; and the fact it was today, worried him. He was almost inordinately pleased to notice Longbottom reaching for the wrong jar.

“Mr. Longbottom, I presume that you do know the difference between Red and Green?” Snape enquired nicely, no yelling, no snarling: just nicely, quietly, even (shudder) politely. His voice was akin to a lion enquiring of a mouse as to whether it was aware that it was trying to get food from the lion’s teeth. The more alert students, read Hermione Granger, moved as far away from Neville as possible without actually leaving the area near their shared desk.

As Neville stumbled over even this simple a question, Professor Snape sighed and snapped, “Never mind, Longbottom. For the last six years, the dread of you coming into my classes has increased exponentially. I am now convinced you are nothing but a dummy operated by Miss Granger, for what purpose, I have no idea, but it must be some obscure student joke of which I am not aware.” The students tensed as he rose to his full height, managing to loom over Neville, even though he was a good 12 feet away.

Severus sighed and visibly collected himself. “Oh, go away. Get out, Longbottom, and do not return until you have given me five feet on the difference between red and green mandrake root, with specific examples of the possible disasters if you mix up the two. Ten points from Gryffindor for wasting my time, and a further ten points care of Miss Granger for her unconvincing ventriloquist act.”

Draco and his cronies sniggered and Severus narrowed his eyes. “And five points from Slytherin for not sharing the joke.” The fact that he’d docked Slytherin had more than one student wondering if the world was ending. Feeling an unwanted ache in his arm he finally snarled, “Now get out, the lot of you!”

The students stared at the Potions Master in shock as he returned to his desk and lowered his face whilst pulling his cloak over his head, a gently thumping could be heard. “Anyone who is present when I look up will personally be part of my new potion experiment for the getting rid of exceedingly annoying students!” Severus’ statement rippled through the room hanging there like the Apocalypse. The students overturned chairs in their haste to get away.

He continued to hide under the cloak, and he tensed as he felt another presence. “I said, get OUT...”

“Not to me, Severus,” said Dumbledore in his usual dry voice.

Snape startled and blushed. “Headmaster...”

“How many times must I tell you, Severus? It’s Albus, and it always will be for you.” It was plain to Severus that the Headmaster was very worried.

In point of fact Dumbledore was more than worried; with Severus and Potter in his care he had reasons to be. Currently it was Severus for whom he was most worried. The physical return of Voldemort meant that at some point his Potions Master would either have to return to Voldemort’s side or allow his true allegiances to be known. Voldemort would want to know why Severus had failed to return to his side soon after the tri-wizard tournament, and he was likely to very pointed in his questioning.

Severus sighed.

Still, taking the direct approach would fail with Severus, so instead he asked, “Longbottom again, I presume? He has a good heart, Severus, but he’s not a potions person. You might want to consider that not everybody can be you.”

‘Lucky them’, he thought quietly before continuing aloud. “Perhaps you are right, Head... Albus. Neville Longbottom is more suited elsewhere. I know there is a brain in there somewhere; I have heard that he is a genius when it comes to herbology. I just wish he wasn’t such a rabbit.”

Albus Dumbledore chuckled. “Severus, in your presence, everyone is a rabbit.”

A rare smile crossed the face of Snape before rapidly disappearing. “Why are you here, Albus?” The faces of Potter, Weasley and Granger danced in his head, rabbits, never.

“Always to the point. You may have noticed that Mr. Potter was not in class today.”

“Yes Albus,” he said, “a fact for which I am eternally grateful,” his characteristic ‘I loath Potter’ sneer dancing across his features. Of course he couldn’t tell the Headmaster he was aware the Harry had been safely ensconced in the Headmasters’ office all morning, another one of those damn secrets. Explaining to the Headmaster how he was always aware of Potter’s location was not something he wanted to consider; that particular fact might lead to questions of loyalties and he was going to have enough of those soon from Voldemort.

“It seems that Voldemort might be planning some sort of ‘celebration’, Severus.”

“Ahh, the scar acting up again is it?” Severus enquired mildly. ‘Of course Voldemort is planning something’, he thought to himself while rubbing his arm. ‘The first time on this date that he’s been whole since James and Lily Potter were felled; an occasion well worth remembering’. In fact, knowing Voldemort, he probably intended to have a Dark Revel Jamboree on their graves. And this time he would be unable to avoid the summons.

“Albus...”

“You will have to go my friend.” Dumbledore said, “I’ll speak with the faculty, after all they will be curious. The fact that you dismissed a class is no doubt winging its way through the halls as we speak.”

“Tell them I’m indisposed, Albus. I suspect I will be extremely indisposed very shortly,” he commented dryly.

Dumbledore turned and left without further comment. He continued to ponder the Potions Master. What could he offer Voldemort that would stave off his anger? Knowing Severus’ skills, that worried Dumbledore more than he cared to admit.

The moment Dumbledore left Severus strode quickly to the back of the room. With the flair of a maestro conductor he swished and flicked his wand, opening the security wards on his private laboratory. ‘Minerva would be pleased’, he thought sardonically as he re-instated the wards with similar flair.

His private laboratory was orderliness personified. Everything had its place and under no circumstances would it be found in any other place. Quietly bubbling, the remnants of his last experiment sat on a bunsen burner at the back of the laboratory. The experiment itself may have failed, but the potion itself was still useful, unfortunately.

More swishing, flicking and hushed murmurs later and a door appeared in the middle of the laboratory, literally. This door led to his own personal domain, a place even Dumbledore would be hard pressed to find, assuming he knew to look in the first place. Here was his Death Eater domain, located, as always at Snape Manor. If Dumbledore suspected that it was possible to slip past the wards of the school with such ease, the Aurors would be the least of his problems.

Shrugging out of his drab professorial robes, he stripped off completely. His form was as lean as most would expect given the scarecrow nature of his figure. What they wouldn’t expect was the whipcord muscle over his skeletal frame, nor would they expect the criss-crossing of scars all over his body. Caning as a child, beatings as a boy and the not-so tender caresses of Voldemort as a man had left their mark.

Ignoring the form that looked back at him from the mirror, he strode purposefully towards the ancient oak wardrobe at the back of the room. The clothing in the wardrobe was as far removed from his usual garb as possible. Classic, elegant, understated and powerful: here hung the robes of a true Potions Master. Selecting the right garments for the expected ‘festivities’ took but a moment.

Black silk, the shirt hung loosely, the sleeves slightly puffed and gathered to long, tight cuffs, obsidian buttons fastened the underside of the cuffs to his elbows. Each button was a tiny potions vial. The collar tightly fitted his neck, embroidered, a serpent entwined around his neck; black, of course. The neck cloth had a raven motif, silk and lace, still black. The trousers were form fitting without restricting movement, velvet, of course. The boots were masterpieces of ingenuity, long to the knees and containing more than one hidden weapon; knives in the soles of both boots, the laces impregnated with blends of his own devising, harmless until activated with the substance in the lace tips. The frock coat was next, velvet with silk lining, the sleeves dropping away to allow access to the buttons of the cuffs underneath. Over it all went the robes. They were surprisingly simple: elegant, black and deceptive; like the boots, the work of an artist. Carefully hidden pockets allowed him to carry useful vials, two spare wands and a port key or two.

The last item he took from the wardrobe was the silver half-mask. Eyeing it with disdain, he placed it in one of the robe’s pockets. Wrapped in the knowledge that he was *The* Potions Master, and all that entailed, he finally turned to face the mirror. The mirror shrank back.

‘Good’, he thought to himself, ‘Severus Snape, Death Eater returned... still I wonder how Dumbledore will explain my absence’, he mused as he walked through another door into his most private laboratory. Opening a storage cupboard that was warded to the fare-thee-well and beyond, he drew out several vials and parchments, though the parchments he handled with tweezers. Sequestering them all about his person he thought, ‘Voldemort will be pleased’. Still, he hoped not to need the parchments, since they should only be used in the direst of needs.

After locking and re-warding the cupboard, he took a pair of black leather gloves from one pocket. Slipping on the mask, he touched his wand to the place above the dark mark and disappeared.


“Ah, Severus, so good of you to join us… eventually,” Voldemort hissed as Severus Snape apparated directly in front of him. “You have an explanation of your tardiness, I hope?”

Without even bothering to look the gathered Death Eaters, Severus bowed with all the flair of a 17th century courtier to his Lord and Master. Soft as silk, with a hint of steel, Severus answered his Lord. “I am most sorry my lord, but the sudden unexplained absence of a House Head would not be overlooked in some quarters; in particular, the Head of Slytherin. I thought it best to continue my quiet works rather than arouse enquiry.” If he had bothered to look, a number of those gathered had stepped back, distancing themselves so as not to suffer their Lord’s displeasure. Voldemort rarely tolerated a show of spine. The fact that this was Snivelling Severus Snape made the mild show of steel even more obvious.

“The Head of House Slytherin problem, yes, you were not that when last I trod this earth. Yes, we had not thought of that had we, Wormtail?” Voldemort softly addressed the man curled at his feet, ignoring the hint of spine Severus had shown. ‘Snivelling Snape you may still be, Severus, but you are still a true Slytherin’, Voldemort mused. ‘I wonder what other surprises you have’.

“It seems you have moved up a bit in the world, potions maker. Still, Defence against the Dark Arts eludes you.” Serpentine eyes watched Severus’ reaction closely.

“All the better to serve whilst I waited your return,” he answered smoothly, ignoring the potions maker comment, and the other one. Riddle was not the only one who failed to actually understand what a true Potions Master was, strangely he suspected Granger would know. As for DADA… well, a Slytherin with no ambition was not a Slytherin.

“So you did not doubt my return? Strange then that you were not prepared to join me immediately as so many of my other loyal followers were, House Head or not.” Continuing to watch Severus closely he asked, “So then, my potions maker? What are we to so with you if you cannot attend me as you once did? Must we wait until we hear that you are ‘indisposed’?” Noting the presence of many of his 6th Year Slytherins’ families, he didn’t bother to react to this comment, though he would trace the intelligence later. Voldemort looked at him with an almost bored gaze. Severus knew his life depended on his answer. “Will I *always* have to wait until you are ‘indisposed’?” Voldemort’s voice started to rise into a screech, and the gathered Death Eaters quailed.

Severus, however, was made of far sterner stuff as he calmly answered his ‘master’. “That, unfortunately, may be the case, My Lord,” Severus said as all present drew even further away. “But,” he continued as he reached into a pocket of his cloak to draw out a small vial, “I believe that my work over the past few years might well be of use, Master.”

Throwing the vial at the nearest group of Death Eaters, he watched as the contents of the vial vaporised. All the Death Eaters in that group thrashed about in agony as though under the influence of the Cruciatus curse. “I have had time to develop, and refine, some very special potions in the advent of your return.” His vicious smile did not reach the rest of his face.

After observing the pain inflicted on his Death Eaters, Voldemort turned back to face Severus like a happy child. “How long does it last?” he asked eagerly, whilst contemplating the uses such a potion could be put to.

“The effect is somewhat variable. It is hard to find suitable test subjects on which to work so that I can refine the formula. At least 2 minutes, although one batch, which was hideously unstable, held its victim for 2 hours. A most amusing thing to watch. Of course, the muggle victim did not survive. Unfortunately, that particular batch almost destroyed my laboratory.”

“Is there an antidote?”

“Well, I haven’t brewed one, and as the potion has not been seen in the wizarding world before today...” He stopped, leaving Voldemort to fill in what he has left unspoken.

“Oh Severus, you are a joy,” Voldemort finally cackled. “Unforgivables under glass, and not yet refined to its true potential.” A psychotic bastard he may be, but no one would ever accuse Voldemort on being quick on the uptake when the infliction of pain was under discussion. “Tonight’s festivities may prove more rewarding that I had originally foreseen. You will be able to stay, won’t you, Severus?”

“It appears, My Lord, that Hogwarts believes that I am a trifle indisposed at the moment; my absence will not be noted. I trust that you have something extra special planned?”

“Good, you can further explain the properties of your wondrous new potion to me, particularly what you will need to refine it,” Voldemort purred, “Still, my potions maker, you do appear to have discomforted some of my Death Eaters. Loyal followers who were prepared to return quickly to me, unlike you,” Voldemort said as he nodded to where the group twitched feebly on the ground. “I can’t have you having all the fun,” Voldemort said as he casually cast the Cruciatus curse at Severus. It wouldn’t do for Voldemort to let that pass without any punishment to be metered out; after all you don’t go round cursing loyal Death Eaters for the fun of it, unless you are Voldemort, but death would not be Severus’ end today. Voldemort did not let up on the curse until Severus’ potion apparently wore off some ten minutes later.

When Voldemort finally let up, Severus’ nerves were no more frayed than they usually would have been at this time of day. A Slytherin/Gryffindor double with a dash of Longbottom was always a ‘pleasant’ experience. Careful to hide the snide smile that threatened to cross his features, Snape wondered what Lord Voldemort would have thought of ‘Torture by Teaching’. At that moment, however Voldemort was more interested in finer details about the Cruciatus Potion; in particular, difficulty, brewing times and possible refinements.

Using the cover of answering Voldemort’s questions, Severus studied his fellow Death Eaters. ‘The usual suspects are gathered of course’, he thought to himself whilst commenting to Voldemort. “The brewing is difficult, My Lord, but not impossible. The trouble is that some of the ingredients are a trifle ‘difficult’ to obtain. Aurors and the ministry are always watching for the trafficking of ‘dark’ ingredients. The stronger the potion, the less time it keeps, but it takes about a month to brew, no matter what the strength. The problem remains refining and testing.”

Wondering at the extent of the planned festivities, Severus finally paid closer attention to his fellows. Lucius was easily recognised by his shock of white hair, Parkinson’s father, Crabbe Snr, Goyle Snr, and a host of others that had attended Voldemort with sickening sycophantism in the past. What surprised him was the lack of new faces.

“Are we initiating new Death Eaters today, My Lord?” Severus asked suddenly certain of the answer.

“Ah, always quick on the uptake. I had thought what better way to reaffirm my presence in the world than to take new followers, and given your comments about your new potions, I suspect we will be able to remedy your lack of test subjects at the same time.” Voldemort smiled, moments later, everyone else present, except for Severus, did so as well. Voldemort noticed this, but as his potions maker had never been a crowd follower it did not surprise him. ‘Arrogance will see you inevitably fail’, he thought to himself, but as Severus had reminded him, the potions maker had some useful talents.

“Particularly on the day the Potter’s originally defeated you,” Severus commented blandly, a sneer dancing across his features as he watched again his fellow Death Eaters back away from Voldemort’s expected anger. ‘Toadying cowards’.

“I was not defeated!” Voldemort ground out through gritted teeth. Truly Severus Snape could try the patience of a saint, and as Voldemort was definitely no saint, Severus was pushing his luck, no matter how indispensable he was.

“Defeated, yes My Lord, but not vanquished,” he finished quickly before Voldemort thought to curse him into a puddle of goo. Visions of Lockhart’s attempt to heal Potter’s broken arm chose that rather inappropriate time to surface. Schooling his features to their customary disdain, Severus continued, “You may have lost that battle My Lord, but it is obvious that you have not lost the war.”

Acknowledging the skilful verbal footwork of his potions maker, Voldemort just glared at Severus before turning to face the gathering at large. “Yes, I thought today was a particularly auspicious occasion and what better way to celebrate that I still walk the earth whilst those meddlesome Potters and others are now dead and buried. As a test of their loyalties our prospective recruits have bought with them special guests for this evening.”

“Guests?” It was Lucius who asked.

“Why yes,” Voldemort smiled. “I had given each a port key, keyed to our gathering point. That fool Dumbledore will have a degree of difficulty explaining this, don’t you think?”

Voldemort waved his wand taking down the ‘SEP’ field around the guests. Suddenly in the midst of the gathered Death Eaters appeared a group of adults. They had probably been taken from earlier in the day and were now bound and gagged like sacrificial lambs to the slaughter. When one of the adults moved, Severus saw what was causing the unholy glee in Voldemort’s eyes. Three children, students of Hogwarts no less, also bound and gagged. Two of the children were first years, Gryffindors, and obviously shocked by their current circumstances. It was the third child that caused a start among the Death Eaters. The eyes of Hermione Granger locked with those of Severus Snape and a look of fear replaced the bravado.

“Oh yes,” Severus breathed, “this will be fun.”

To be continued...
Chapter 02: Death Eaters at Play by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:

Apologies in advance, this chapter covers the some of the earlier ground from different view points; trust me you need to keep your eye on the little birdie.

HEADS UP, PEOPLE. This chapter is the reason for the ‘R’ rating. Be Warned, nasty topics are here, including assault. You will be told when the NASTY stuff starts, at that point Do NOT read on if you are uncomfortable with the idea of children being on the receiving end of Death Eater play. Skip to the next chapter.

Jeanette

Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow.  Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights.  We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished. 

Harry Potter paced like a caged lion around Dumbledore’s office. He’d been prowling for over four hours, and still hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of dread that had been building like an avalanche since he woke this morning. The feeling of impending doom had driven him from sleep early, and even a fast and furious Quidditch practice had failed to dim the feeling. Given the sense freedom that Harry normally got from flying, the fact that he finished practice in a mood worse than when he started was something of an indication of how intolerable the BAD feeling was.


He’d attended breakfast more out of habit than any real desire to eat. In fact if he’d looked closely at his motives it wasn’t even habit that dragged him to the long table in the hall; it was more a case of Gryffindor Courage in the face of the unknown. Observing the high table, he noted the Snape appeared even angrier than normal. Even the knowledge that Snape was apparently on ‘their’ side didn’t override four years of wariness where the Potions Master was concerned. “Look’s like he’s eaten a ‘booger’ flavoured jelly bean,” he said conversationally to his stalwart companions, Ron and Hermione.

“Who?” Ron asked quizzically looking up from his third plate of breakfast.

“Snape,” Harry said, nodding his head in the general direction of the high table.

“Probably found out that his star student Draco Malfoy was going to give up Potions to concentrate on a career in Divination,” Ron remarked casually, well aware, like most of the student body, of Snape’s opinion on Divination. “Hey, are you going to eat that?” Ron continued, looking at the pile of food still on Harry’s plate.

“No. Go ahead, Ron.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Hermione asked finally looking up from the potions text in front of her. Double Potions Class today. “I mean, I don’t mean to be rude or anything but I thought that ‘The Boy Who Inhales Food’ never failed to eat whatever was put in front of him,” she teased knowing how Harry loathed ‘The Boy Who Lived’ tag.

A quick swipe with his Quidditch-trained reflexes had Hermione’s textbook in his bag before she realised what was happening. “Give that back,” the girl in question snarled.

“Oh come off it, Hermione, you could walk your way through potions in your sleep. Now apologise for that comment and I’ll think about it,” Harry shot back, carefully moving a bit further away. Hermione was a great friend, but she took study WAY TOO SERIOUSLY.

Seeing through his diversionary tactics Hermione asked again, “Are you alright Harry? I mean you look a bit pale.”

“Not as pale as the bat,” Ron chimed in.

“And we have Transfigurations followed by a Double Potions today,” Hermione continued, totally ignoring Ron. “Shouldn’t you go see Madam Pomfrey, or Professor Dumbledore, if necessary?”

“Might be an idea, Hermione. I’ve just got this really bad feeling about today and it just keeps getting worse.”

“Scar acting up?” Ron asked looking worried, given ‘The Scar’ represented an unwanted link between Harry and Voldemort.

Hermione got that abstracted look that characterised her mind having headed off into arcane areas that lesser mortals could not follow. Harry having the ‘Voldemorts’ and today being one of those days she had noted as a ‘Bad Snape Day’ in her internal diary of teacher habits was not a comforting thought. ‘Snape is on our side’, she chided herself as she looked up to see Harry leave the table. “If you’re going to be late for Potions, make sure you have a note,” she cautioned.


Breakfast had been and gone well over four hours ago. Madam Pomfrey had directed Harry straight to Dumbledore after a thorough examination yielding nothing obviously wrong. Dumbledore had directed Harry to remain in his office until he returned; even Dumbledore’s normally ‘cheerful’ twinkle had a somewhat forced look about it. ‘Everyone seems to be expecting something to happen today’, Harry thought. He was about to continue thinking it would be nice if they told him what, when he was suddenly struck by a vision of Professor Snape, dressed in a manner as far removed from his ‘greasy git in the dungeon’ gear normally associated with Snape as Muggledom was from the Wizarding World.

Harry could hear Voldemort’s thoughts as he addressed the Death Eater Potions Master in front of him “Oh Severus, you are a joy. Unforgivables under glass, and not yet refined to its true potential.” The thought of being able to apparently curse multiple victims simultaneously bought almost orgasmic delight the psychotic bastard. The fear potential of that potion if used carefully could easily convince some of his doubters of the true power of Lord Voldemort; knock out the person who cast the curse and the curse ended, but not with this. “Tonight’s festivities may prove more rewarding that I had originally foreseen. You will be able to join us, won’t you, Severus?”

Severus’ answer was distant as though through a poor quality phone line. “It appears, My Lord, that Hogwarts believes I am a trifle indisposed at the moment; my absence will not be noted. I trust that you have something extra special planned.”

“Splendid, you can further explain the properties of your wondrous new potion to me, particularly what you will need to refine it. Still, my potions maker, you do appear to have discomforted some of my Death Eaters; loyal followers who were prepared to return quickly to me.” Harry watched guiltily as Voldemort continued. “However, I can’t have you having all the fun.” The sight of Professor Snape succumbing to the Cruciatus curse was not an as pleasant an experience as Harry would have expected. Finally Voldemort let up to engage Severus in a discussion of his potion.

Listening to Snape’s ‘tinny’ voice discussing the properties of his potion had Harry break out in a cold sweat. Snape’s voice was so clinical. “The brewing is difficult, My Lord, but not impossible. The trouble is that some of the ingredients are a trifle ‘difficult’ to obtain. Aurors and the Ministry are always watching for the trafficking of ‘dark’ ingredients. The stronger the potion, the less time it keeps, but it takes about a month to brew no matter what the strength. The problem remains refining and testing.”

When Severus asked, “Are we initiating new Death Eaters today, My Lord?” Voldemort’s mind seemed to glitter with and unholy version of ‘I’ve got a secret’.

“Ah, always quick on the uptake. I had thought what better way to reaffirm my presence in the world than to take new followers, and give your comments about your new potions. I suspect we will be able to remedy your lack of test subjects at the same time.”

“Particularly on the day the Potters originally defeated you.” Severus’ comment explaining all too well Harry’s feeling that people were expecting something bad, but weren’t going to tell him what or for that matter why. Now he knew why, and it was not a happy Harry who watched as Voldemort exploded from his throne.

“I was not defeated!” A shot of pure anger flashing through Harry. If a curse had been pushed by that level of anger the target wouldn’t just have died, they’d have been deep-fried.

Severus was made of sterner stuff as he continued to address the enraged Lord, “Defeated, yes My Lord, but not vanquished. You may have lost that battle, My Lord, but it is obvious that you have not lost the war.”

Still simmering from the ‘defeated’ comment Voldemort continued speaking. “Yes, I thought today was a particularly auspicious occasion and what better way to celebrate that I still walk the earth whilst those meddlesome Potters and others are now dead and buried. As a test of their loyalties, our prospective recruits have bought with them special guests for this evening.”

“Guests?” Harry recognised it as Lucius Malfoy’s voice.

“Why yes,” Voldemort smiled. “I had given each a port key, keyed to our gathering point. That fool Dumbledore will have a degree of difficulty explaining this, don’t you think?”

Harry saw ‘himself’ wave ‘his’ wand to reveal a group of bound and gagged adults. “Fawkes, get Dumbledore,” he rasped as he felt himself fully pulled into Voldemort’s mind. Harry collapsed where he was standing and didn’t see Fawkes soar through the wall. Nor did he hear the arrival of Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall shortly afterwards; instead he was forced to watch through Voldemort’s eyes as Severus approached the group. The last thing he was conscious of, as Harry, was Severus’ whispered “Oh this will be fun,” as Hermione’s face swam into view.


HEADS UP: NASTIES AHEAD!!!!!!

Just remember that Harry will be aware of some of the nasties, you don’t need to know them.

Jeanette


“May I, My Lord?” Severus asked as he tipped Hermione’s face up to face him. His dark eyes bore into her, frightening her down to the depths of her soul. ‘He’s on our side, he’s on our side, he’s on our side’, kept ringing through her brain like a mantra, but at that moment she truly doubted the fact. Severus was no longer the greasy git arrogant teacher she knew from Hogwarts; instead he had been replaced by this fearsome being, every inch a Death Eater.

“Severus, my boy, still tempted by children I see,” Voldemort commented blandly. What frightened all the children present was that Voldemort, scourge of the wizarding world, looked uncomfortable as he watched Severus lovingly run his black wand around the edge of Hermione’s face. “I had promised those who brought me these special gifts would have some participation in their use. You cannot have all the fun, Severus.”

“My Lord, in this case I was not merely thinking of fun. Some of the ingredients I need for the Cruciatus Potion, and some others I am currently researching, are exceedingly difficult to obtain. Spare, unaccounted for, wizarding children are after all a rare commodity,” Severus said looking approvingly over the three. “It would be a waste not to harvest these.”

It was the cool and clinical way that he discussed harvesting that had even one or two of hardened Death Eaters almost losing their midday meal. The children, even Hermione with the things she’d seen, were not accustomed to such brutality; they lost whatever was left in their stomachs soaking their gags. “Now, now, Severus. No need to unduly frighten them,” Voldemort said soothingly, all the while thinking that letting Severus have the Granger Girl in particular would be a fitting torment to that annoying ‘Brat Who Lived’. The problem he had was trying to work out how to ensure that Potter found out, without losing Severus as a spy within Hogwarts.

“Mayhap you would like to oversee their inclusion in tonight’s festivities. To prevent any undue harm coming to those ingredients you need,” Voldemort said. “That way, I can still reward young Mister Malfoy and Miss Parkinson.”

“My Lord, that would be most acceptable,” Severus said, bowing low to Lord Voldemort to cover his reaction to the information about Malfoy and Parkinson. His head almost touched the ground with courtly grace, lowest servant to a most High Lord, while searching the knot of people standing further back, not quite in with the Death Eaters. Spying Malfoy and Parkinson among the group, he wondered at Voldemort’s motives. When last he reigned, you had to have graduated before he would initiate you into the Circle.

Voldemort chuckled. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Severus.”

“Are they sure of their decision?” Severus asked gently. “If their deeds are not equal to their intentions, they could make things difficult for me back at Hogwarts, and I am fairly certain Lucius would not be pleased with me if I needed to obliviate, or even obliterate young Draco.”

“They are of true loyal families, Severus,” Voldemort snapped. “I would like you to collect the young Mister Malfoy and Miss Parkinson immediately after the initiation ceremonies. I’m sure they could learn a lot from you.” ‘And that way, the rest of us can discuss matters that I’m still loathe to share with you’, he thought to himself. His potions maker was sometimes a little too clever, a necessary thing in a spy; but spies could be compromised and Voldemort felt he needed more of Cruciatus Potion. ‘Let Snivellus have his fun. If the ‘Brat’ ever finds out, it may make a useful distraction’.

“Thank you, My Lord.” Severus carefully resheathed his black wand in the arm cuff of his right arm. He turned and moved off the join the group of Death Eaters that contained Lucius Malfoy and Petunia Parkinson. “Lucius, Petunia, congratulations appear to be in order,” he said by way greeting.

“Come, my children, gather round. We gather today to celebrate Fate’s capacious games. Sixteen years ago the Wizarding World thought me defeated, they have learnt the error of their ways. I am not gone. I have risen, stronger than before, whilst they hide behind the skirt tails of a mere boy. His parents are buried nearby, today we will initiate our new brethren on the graves of those who thought to vanquish me.” Voldemort’s voice carried out over the crowd, drawing his Death Eaters in to him. He turned and led his merry band of marauders through a gate at the edge of the field in which they had gathered.

‘Mobilicorpus’ was used to drag the night’s unwilling participants along. The gate led into a quiet cemetery. Stone angels glared at them as they passed; weeping Madonnas turned their heads, and on one grave a single knight lifted his sword as if to strike. Voldemort just laughed at these antics. The grave of James and Lily Potter was unassuming, no real indication that here lay the bodies of two heroes who had come so close to defeating Voldemort and restoring peace of the Wizarding World. “The price of failure,” Voldemort commented, “not a flower in sight, not even a guarding to ward off the Dark.”

Waving his wand in a dramatic manner Voldemort conjured a large stone altar. “Blood is the price you pay, blood is the Life you give, blood is the Oath you take, blood is the gift you take,” he intoned, his wand drawing lazy circles over the altar. “Who would join us, who has come?”

One by one each of the prospective Death Eaters came forward. As they approached the altar, one of the ‘visitors’ was also brought forward. “Show us your strength, show us your desire, show us your power,” Peter Pettigrew spoke as priest to Voldemort. Each supplicant cast the worst of the Unforgivables they could manage, Cruciatus, Petrifidis Aortum, Cerebelis Implodea, Avada Kedavra and a host of others were successfully demonstrated. Blood flowing onto the altar as each supplicant brought forth blood and pain to their ‘visitor’. As the first blood of each victim hit the altar, a ghostly mark appeared in the air; it shimmered darkly before descending onto the outstretched arm of the supplicant. The Dark Mark, born of blood, born of fear, born of pain, brought all that and more to the initiates as it settled. One by one the supplicants lay gasping on the ground, as each sacrifice was concluded.

Twelve joined the Dark Order that night. Twelve corpses decorated the Potter’s grave before the initiation was over. Watching it all, still bound, were the remaining visitors; ten in all, including the three children. “It is time to truly celebrate,” Voldemort said as the last corpse collapsed at his feet. “Severus, as you have indicated a need for the children, take them.” Voldemort turned to face him. “I expect to see the results soon,” he hissed, reminding Severus that the price of his little pleasure must be paid for. “Take the young initiates with you whilst we continue with the rest.”

Severus gave no sign of being slighted as he was effectively excluded from the inner circle. He too understood much of how the game was played, what he didn’t know couldn’t be found out. “Well, Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, bring those children with you. We will be working somewhere a little more... private.” Not even checking to see if they followed, Severus strode off towards a tree-hidden grove in the middle of the cemetery.

When Draco and Pansy walked into the grove they were surprised to see three altars, similar to the one that Voldemort had conjured earlier. “I noticed that while both of you were able to manage the Cruciatus, it appears that some of the more powerful curses still elude you,” Severus lectured in the same tone he used in the classroom. “We will use these test subjects to practice whilst we attempt to improve your skill level. You will do exactly as I say, no experimenting, no embellishing, as I have need of these later and I do not want any unforeseen damage. Do I make myself clear?”

Draco, and Pansy for that matter, then watched in stunned silence as Severus Snape demonstrated a wholly unexpected ability with the wand. Drawing a long black wand from his left arm, he quickly and efficiently had the children bound, one to an altar. Severus then approached each, tracing the line of their jaw with the tip of his wand all the while murmuring quietly. To Draco and Pansy it sounded like endearments. The wand was then stored in an outer pocket of his robe.

“The thing with the unforgivable curses, unlike transfiguration spells and charms, is that ‘talent’ matters little,” Severus stated in his best schoolroom voice, the word ‘talent’ dripping with disdain. As he was looking directly at Hermione at that moment, it was obvious what he meant by ‘talent’. “It is not something ‘book-learning’ can teach. Desire alone is what makes it possible to cast the Unforgivables. Desire to rule as we should; why should we hide our powers and allow mud to rule the world? Because it is the ‘right’ thing to do.”

“Your wands, please,” he commanded.

Draco and Pansy looked uncertainly at each other. One did not lightly allow another wizard to hold one’s wand. Wands were individual; an extension of self, and as such could be used to tamper with self, though to do so took great power. Realising the stupidity of fearing ‘power’ in Snivelling Snape, (they both had heard stories of the Potion Master’s past) they handed their wands over just as Severus was about to demand once more. “Sometime this Millennium would probably be appropriate. After all, we have all night, none of us are likely to be missed now, are we?” Snivelling or not, he had a sharp tongue and the reminder that their continued absence from Hogwarts might be inconvenient once the three other students’ absence was noted had them co-operating with Severus very quickly.

Severus examined each wand quickly, resting them for a brief moment on the cuffs of his left sleeve as he rolled them skilfully to view the entire surface. “Yes, these are beautiful examples. Your families definitely did not spare any expense. We will be able to do very special things with these.”

Handing them back, he motioned them to take a place at the head of one altar each, though he selected Hermione’s before either student could object. “I have had to put up with your hand for the last four years,” he said. “I am glad it will finally be put to some good use.”

“We will need to concentrate on Pain Inducement hexes such as Nervosa Infinitum and Nails Extractus-pullulans. I want you watch and learn, but have a care, I do not want any tissue damage.”

What followed was a serious study of the use of pain and the tolerance levels of the human body. Severus seemed to take great pride in describing the way certain hexes can be utilized in manner far exceeding their original purpose. He had a fine understanding of the body’s chemistry and how to use that against the victim. All the while he watched his students, observing them, the placement and control of their hexes. He noted Pansy Parkinson had the control of a concert pianist, what surprised him was Draco Malfoy’s ability, or lack thereof.

Draco, son of Lucius, scion of the Malfoy line, believer in purity and perfection, was finding it a little hard to reconcile himself to the slow, steady torture of the Gryffindor first years; the pureblood Gryffindor first years. If Gryffindor purebloods were fair game, what was to prevent Voldemort’s net casting further? Severus apparently noted this for he left off cursing Hermione’s right hand, by now a broken and bloody mess, to ask Draco what was troubling him. Draco listened intently as Severus explained the sacrifices that were sometimes necessary; after all the only good Gryffindor was a dead Gryffindor.

The problem for Draco was that Andrew Dray, sorted surprisingly into Gryffindor, was one of his cousins, a cousin from a family that staunchly supported Voldemort and everything that the Dark lord stood for. ‘Would they still support him,’ he asked himself as he had watched Pansy work her fiendish magics. Voldemort hadn’t even noted that a child of one of his supporters formed part of Pansy’s gift.

Finally it got to the point that no more whimpers or pleas were forthcoming. “Given that we need to get you back to school before you are missed, I will finish up here,” Severus said. “Your port keys should return you to the school if Lord Voldemort has built them the way I expect.” Without bothering to see if Draco and Pansy left, Severus pulled a wand from his left sleeve, tapped it against his arm and with casual flair placed the wand tip on Hermione’s forehead before casting Avada Kedavra. Two more killing curses were quickly cast.

Before activating the Portkey, Draco turned to see Severus cast Moblius Corpsus on the two younger corpses, and then gather up Hermione’s body in his arms. Severus, and the corpses, disappeared, leaving Draco alone as the night closed in on him.

To be continued...
Chapter 03 Secrets by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

“Jaidy,” Severus tried to bellow as he appeared back in his inner laboratory. The emergency Portkey deposited him and the three children in the middle of the room. The attempted ‘bellow’, not much above a strained whisper, was cut short as he collapsed. His legs broke under him, literally; his right hand hung uselessly, a limp and bloody mess; arms covered with a variety of bruises, and cuts and abrasions decorated his face.

“Oh, Master Severus,” the wizened house-elf sighed as she appeared at his side. “Three children. How is you going to survive this one?”

Severus might have answered ‘I don’t know’, but it was hard to tell, blood was flowing freely from his mouth and he was having great difficulty breathing.

Jaidy could hear a distinct rattle that indicated at least one broken rib, possibly a punctured lung. She turned and quickly called the rest of the Snape Elves to the laboratory. Appearing instantly, eyes blazing as they took in the crumpled form of the House Master they turned to Jaidy, if Severus could not command them, Jaidy could.

“Master?” she asked gently, “have you released the bindings?” Under normal, or at least normal for a post-Voldemort get together, she would not concern herself with whether the binding had been loosed or not. The state Severus was currently in however, she was amazed he had gotten them all home, but until he released the binding, anything the elves did would reflect back on Severus, detrimentally.

“Master. The binding?” Worriedly, she touched his head. The Kedavra binding was one of Severus’ most powerful spells, unfortunately only he, or his death, could release it. The latter option was not acceptable to the house elves. In desperation they used their link to the house and to Severus to channel strength into his damaged frame.

“Kedavra finartum restoria,” Severus managed to croak out eventually, his voice and the spell releasing the bindings on the children. A pale blue glow flickered over the children indicating the successful cessation of the binding.

Jaidy quickly assigned two elves to each of the children. “Take them up to the nursery wing.” Knowing of old the needed potions, she conjured them from Severus’ private Master store. “Remember, they need to be able to keep the blue down before we can give them the pink.” Without bothering to watch if her orders were carried out, she returned her attentions to the stricken Potions Master. Use of house-strength only temporarily aided Severus; without that to bolster him, he would collapse further into himself.

“Don’t die Master, please don’t die.”

“I won’t Jaidy, that bitch Fate is having too much fun,” Severus dragged up the strength to reassure her. Jaidy, an able aide-de-camp, coped well with injuries to any of the house-elves, kept the House and environs running smoothly, and could have faced down Voldemort without fear, but like any mother when her child is past the point were she can help, Jaidy would fold.

“Quiet now, Master, what needs to be done?” Reassured by the gentle bite in his voice she responded calmly.

Aware that explanations, and mis-directions, at Hogwarts were going to be needed sooner, rather than later, he asked Jaidy to bring him the Hypocratia Kit. The Hypocratia Kit was Healing on Speed, the last resort normally only used to prolong the point at which death could take hold. Madam Pomfrey had once said she’d rather cast ‘Avada Kedavra’ than use the Hypocratia; it was a far cleaner death.

Looking worried, Jaidy complied, though the thought of Severus relying on the kit rather than true healing frightened her. “You must be letting us heal you, Master. You can’t be coping with three deaths, you are needed.”

Ignoring her and her rather valid complaint, Severus downed the contents of the kit. He finally had an idea of how bad he really was when the kit’s only apparent effect as far as he was concerned was to remind his bladder that it still worked. Mortified at the lack of control he looked instead at Jaidy.

“No.” She read the request in his eyes. “You can’t go trying to kill yourself. You’ll have to let us heal you.”

“I don’t have time,” he hissed with something like the vigour of a two-week-old corpse “The children will be missed sooner or later, Potter is almost certainly already aware of some of this evenings goings on and if I’m not there...” He left the rest unspoken. Jaidy knew the risks they ran.

As if to underscore that point, Dumbledore’s disembodied voice floated through the chamber. “Severus, you are needed immediately.”

“Bugger. Sooner, it appears.” Severus snarled as he levered himself up. Taking the silver-tipped cane Jaidy thrust at him, he stumbled back towards the port door that would return him to his ‘dungeon’ at Hogwarts.

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Hermione had never been so scared in her entire life; the sight of Professor Snape in all the sartorial splendour of a Death Eater incarnate was enough to worry most sensible people. To hear him calmly ask, “May I, My Lord?” While looking down in a manner that suggested all sorts of nasty possibilities, her soul cried in fear. ‘He’s on our side, he’s on our side, he’s on our side’, kept ringing through her brain like a mantra, but at that moment she truly doubted the fact.

Voldemort’s comments were almost lost to her as she felt his wand trace her jaw, Viktor Krum had traced her jaw like that just before kissing her. What Professor Snape planned probably didn’t involve kissing. “Severus, my boy, still tempted by children I see. I had promised those who brought me these special gifts would have some participation in their use. You cannot have all the fun, you know.”

The cool and clinical way that he discussed harvesting had Hermione, and she noticed vaguely the other two Gryffindors, retching their breakfast up. “Now, now, Severus. No need to unduly frighten them,” Voldemort said soothingly; something she was sure no one would believe was possible. The fact that she might not live to tell anyone was something she did not want to contemplate.

Hermione, however, was a Gryffindor, and with Gryffindor courage she watched the ceremonies, committing to memory every face she saw, every crime committed, every curse cast. If she survived tonight, she would make them pay.

“It is time to celebrate,” Voldemort said as the last corpse collapsed at his feet. “Severus, as you have indicated a need for the children, take them.” Voldemort turned to face him. “I expect to see the results soon. Take the young initiates with you whilst we continue with the rest.”

Professor Snape’s only reaction to the slight, as far as Hermione could see, was a crinkling of his forehead. “Well, Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, bring those children with you. We will be working somewhere a little more private,” he said in his best schoolroom voice. Being dragged by ‘Mobilicorpus’, Hermione was as surprised as Draco and Pansy, when Severus Snape demonstrated a wholly unexpected ability with the wand to conjure three altars.

Taking a long black wand from his left arm, Professor Snape quickly and efficiently had the children bound, one to an altar. With the focused clarity of fear, Hermione noticed that the tip of the wand was moist as Professor Snape drew it around her jaw. “Relax, Granger,” he whispered in a very quiet voice, “this will go far better if you do.” ‘Relax’, he says, she thought sarcastically, righto.

Though, as she heard him ask, “Your wands, please,” of Pansy and Draco she felt that first bubble of hope. This was quickly squashed as he handed the wands back.

Taking the place at the head of the altar on which Hermione was bound, she heard him direct Draco and Pansy to similar positions at the other altars. Her mind registered Professor Snape instructing Draco and Pansy on a multitude of Unforgivables. Shadows of pain washed through her as each curse was cast. Her right hand momentarily felt as though it was broken, and she heard herself screaming like a patient in a dentist chair. She could just make out the dark energies that Pansy Parkinson was calling, strangely, Draco Malfoy seemed more reluctant. In her almost dream-like state, she saw all the energies cast at her and the other two children coalesce and feed back towards Professor Snape. The last thing she was aware of before oblivion captured her was Professor Snape casting ‘Avada Kedavra’.

‘Imdead, imdead, imdead’, she thought as she was jolted awake by Professor Snape’s voice sounding rough and broken, “Kedavra finartum restoria.”

An elderly House elf came briefly into view before she felt herself being floated though a strange doorway. “Remember, they need to be able to keep the blue down before we can give them the pink.” Whatever that meant.

She found out soon enough as a younger house-elf poured a blue, viscous liquid down her throat. The moment it reached her stomach it immediately came back the way it had been; with it came a vague sense of pain over her entire body, though her right hand momentarily spasmed. The house elf waited till her stomach stopped spasming before pouring more of the vile liquid down her throat. Each time she threw up, her body remembered another torture that had been inflicted on it, but these memories were shadows.

“Isn’t he back yet?” she heard whispered at one point, a lull in the storm.

“No, and Jaidy be awful worried.” Another voice, also soft.

“Iffen he isn’t back soon, he’s going to be dying.” The first whispered again. “Just watching what come from her, would kill most, an’ he’s carrying three.”

The voices receded as another bout of nausea hit. This continued for what seemed like an eternity, but was in fact little over an hour. Finally, once she was able to keep the blue potion down, the house elf gave her a vial of red liquid. It tasted like summer, and spring all rolled together; chocolate, spice and the best of the summer fruits danced across tongue.

“That’s right Missy, you’ll be recovering proper now.” The elderly house elf, Jaidy, stepped into view. “Rest and sleep.” With that command Hermione lost any battle to remain conscious, unknown to her, the same had happened to the younger children over 40 minutes earlier.

“She was a tough one, that,” Jaidy commented, almost angrily.

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Hogwarts was currently in an uproar. Fawkes had duly fetched Dumbledore back to his office where he found Harry Potter unconscious on the floor. Whilst waiting for Madam Pomfrey to answer his summons, Dumbledore noted fast and furious movement of Harry’s eyelids, but try as he might the venerable wizard was unable to wake Harry.

“Something’s keeping him under, Albus,” Poppy finally said after running every diagnostic test she could think of. “I think it’s safe to move him, but...”

“Are we really sure we want the school seeing Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, in this state on today of all days,” Albus finished for Poppy. Harry may not have been aware of the significance of the date, but a great many others were, and not all of them were likely to be friendly. “I agree, Poppy, and I have the feeling you’ll veto the use of the floo-network too, correct?” he added with a twinkle.

“No Albus, I would not recommend the floo, and given we have him on a nice comfortable bed, I suggest we leave him here.”

“Yes, that would be best,” Dumbledore concurred, thinking at least here at Hogwarts he was reasonably safe. “I think I’ll send for Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, they can sit here with Harry for a while.”

“And you can go back to worrying about Severus,” Poppy intuited.

Thus, the fact that Hermione Granger was missing was discovered considerably earlier than was expected by any of the parties in the day’s drama. Realising that the last place she had been seen was leaving Potions that morning, a castle top to bottom search was instigated. The search resulted in Ron Weasley being found unconscious in one of the halls near the dungeons, obviously as a result of a fair beating, and that a number of other students were also unaccounted for. Two Slytherins; Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy; and two first year Gryffindors; Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray.

Ron regained consciousness in the Hospital wing, coming up fighting. Messers Crabbe and Goyle were called for and given the state of their faces it was obvious that they had been involved in an violent argument of some description, but neither would admit to having been anywhere near Ron Weasley. The fact that Ron had to be forcibly restrained from trying the strangle Goyle was unfortunately not sufficient proof of complicity.

“Well, get Snape then,” Ron finally demanded, “after all he’s the Potions Master, or it he just going to cover for these two as well.”

“That is Professor Snape to you Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore admonished gently. “The problem is that Professor Snape is truly indisposed at the moment and I am not sure of his ability to help in this matter.” Dumbledore’s face showed briefly a worried frown. “Still,” he turned to the Hospital Wing’s fireplace, and throwing a pinch of floo powder in called, “Professor Snape’s Quarters.”

When the floo turned green, indicating an active link, Dumbledore called out “Severus, you are needed immediately.” Moments later Severus literally fell through the floo and collapsed in a heap at Dumbledore’s feet.

“Oh my lord,” Poppy was moving forwards instantaneously, her wand out, her face a mask of concentration.

Dumbledore stepped back, allowing Poppy easy access to the unconscious man at his feet. What worried him was the amount of blood currently pooling about Severus’ still form. If it weren’t for the dull rattle of his lungs you would have believed Severus Snape to be dead. Turning back to the students, and quickly conjuring a shield around the Potions Master, Dumbledore said sadly, “It appears Professor Snape will not be able to help us sort this conundrum out. Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, I would like you to return to your Tower, immediately. You are to remain there until I send for you; if you leave the tower at all it will mean your immediate expulsion from this school. Do I make myself crystal clear?”

Every inch the powerful wizard that he was, Dumbledore cowered the two Slytherins completely. They literally slunk out of the Hospital wing and returned quickly to the Tower. “Minerva,” he turned to address the austere Head of Gryffindor who was currently standing by Ron’s bed. “Would you please call the order in? I’ll get Remus Lupin to mind the Slytherins for the moment. It looks like we are going to have to wait for someone to wake.”

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It took over an hour for all members of the Order to arrive, luckily for Dumbledore’s peace of mind, Remus and Sirius were amongst the first to arrive. Showing no indication of the unease he currently felt, Dumbledore sent Remus and Sirius off to the Slytherin Tower with instructions that if Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson turned up he was to be notified immediately.

Molly Weasley, when she arrived, was quickly dispatched to watch over Harry with similar instructions to Remus and Sirius, the only difference being that Harry waking up was the reason for Dumbledore to be contacted. The rest of the members of the Order retired to Madame Pomfrey’s office to discuss the current state of affairs, and more importantly to attempt to formulate contingency plans particularly for the care of Severus Snape.

In the meantime, Madame Pomfrey had used the time taken to gather the Order well. She had managed to stabilise Severus, though it was looking like a hard-fought battle. Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall wisely stayed out of the medi-witch’s way whilst they waited for the Order to gather. The sheer scope of injury became clearer to Poppy when she was able to remove Severus’ outer robe, though she was exceedingly careful to make sure that nothing contained therein fell out or was seen by Ron Weasley. In fact, the presence of the young Weasley was something of a problem; so much to that Poppy was fast beginning to contemplate the use of ‘Obliviate’ on the youngest Weasley male so that she could work faster and without so much circumspection. She was saved the ‘necessity’ of following through with this thought when Dumbledore quietly cast a ‘Slumberous’ on Ron.

“I take it he has a few of his, umm, Specials tucked about him?” Dumbledore asked as Ron fell into a deep sleep.

“More than a few, and that worries me, Albus. Three wands, and I’d swear the shirt of his is going to be ‘dangerous’.” Poppy was well aware of the some of the more interesting ways Severus had developed for the delivery of Potions and she would not put it past him to have poisoned his own clothing as a last weapon of last resort against being found out by Voldemort, or others of the Death Eating Family.

“I’m not entirely sure what else is safe to remove, but I’m also worried about the extent of his injuries. He’s made it worse by using Hypocratia. What worries is that if he needed that to answer your summons. We are in very serious trouble, Albus,” the medi-witch said, exasperation colouring her voice. Like many in Order she liked the sarcastic bastard known as the Potions Master more than she let on.

“Do what you can Poppy, but remember it must be done here at Hogwarts. We can not send him to St. Mungo’s, in fact I’m worried we are not going to be able to let on that he is injured at all.” Dumbledore wasn’t able to see into the future, precisely, but he had a very bad feeling. Severus may well have cemented his place back in with the lunatic crew, but at what cost. Worse was the fact that the Order needed him to be trusted by Voldemort, and even Dumbledore did not truly understand what that meant Severus had to do.

“No, but we need to move him to somewhere a little more ‘private’,” Poppy commented, interrupting his thoughts. “I’d normally hate to suggest this, but his own quarters might be the best place. I can floo between here and there easily enough and no-one, not even the Slytherins, are likely to disturb him there; for once his reputation may be of some use.”

“Do what you think is best Poppy, though I agree privacy is important, his safety is absolutely paramount.” Turning to Minerva who had returned by then he said, “We will need to contact the parents but I’m loathe to do so until we have more information, and we need Severus for that. The Smithson and Dray families are likely to assume the worst, as they will be aware of the significance of the date, but the Grangers... how do we explain the situation to them?”

“You’re not assuming the worst are you, Albus?” Minerva asked.

“Severus has pulled the occasional miracle off before, but...” The arrival of the first of the Orders’ members cut his comment off mid-stream.

“Oh my god,” Remus barely had time to comment as he and Sirius were quickly dispatched to the Slytherin Tower. The sight of Severus’ battered body he saw, as Poppy Pomfrey start the processes of moving the unconscious Severus back to his own quarters was something that would haunt his sleep for weeks to come.

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The tower’s residents did not greet the arrival of Remus Lupin with a large, somewhat mangy, black dog in tow at the Slytherin Tower with a great degree of equanimity. The fact that they saw themselves under house arrest, and in the care of someone who was not now, nor had ever been, a Slytherin was bad enough. That he also happened to be a werewolf masquerading as the shabby ex-Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was too much to be borne. The students reacted in the time-honoured manner of embarrassed and put-upon students; they snarled, loudly, pointedly and to Remus Lupin’s face.

The fifth question of “Your girlfriend?” whilst looking pointedly at Sirius had Remus ready to bite the next student who asked, regardless of the consequences. Sirius, on the other hand, was not made of such stern stuff. The second request he’d heard had Sirius making a powerful lunge at the querent. Quidditch-level reflexes were the only thing that save the ‘him’ askee becoming a ‘her’ in a matter of seconds. The Slytherins were a little more circumspect around the dog after that.

The remaining prefects, sixth and seventh year students, had cooperated nicely with Dumbledore during the search for the missing students, and continued to behave whilst Remus was in sight, but they secretly wished themselves in the shoes of Draco and Pansy; the new heroes of Slytherin. Still, until the return of the missing fifth years the Slytherins, most of whom supported Voldemort, had Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle to venerate. The two were treated to a degree of deference they had never felt before; the fact that they were locked in the fifth year boys’ room did nothing to dull their sense of triumph.

Having made their own sweep of the Tower, Remus and Sirius parked themselves at key points in the hope of catching Draco and Pansy on their return. Remus seated himself in the middle of the common room, and woe to any Slytherin who wandered through. Sirius, on the other hand, was the one to actually catch Draco and Pansy. The missing two attempted to regain the Tower through a little known ‘back’ entrance. Little known, that is, to the current residents of Hogwarts. The Marauders in their day knew this entrance of old. Sirius found it almost karmic that Draco and Pansy would use the same entrance that he and James used so successfully in tormenting the young Severus Snape.

Herding the two back towards the common room, Sirius was amazed to note the level of anxiety that Draco Malfoy was giving off. If he’d been in human form he’d have missed it, but his animagus nose was far superior, and Draco smelt of fear whilst Pansy Parkinson was cool and unaffected. What could have happened that would put the fear of someone into Draco and not Pansy was a conundrum. The conundrum became even more so when the sight of Remus Lupin relaxed Draco.

“And where have you been?” Remus asked in as intimidating manner as he could, which in general was not likely to faze either of the two miscreants. The fact that Draco refused to meet his eyes sent alarm bells ringing in Remus’ head. He may not have had Sirius’ nose eye view of Draco, but he too remembered Mr Malfoy of old. Arrogant was term he would have used, cowed was not.

“On a date, Sir,” Pansy said confidently. “Is anything wrong?”

Her question was actually the rather stupid, even Draco rolled his eyes at it. ‘Of course something’s wrong’, he thought. ‘What in the world are Remus Lupin and Sirius Black doing in the Slytherin Tower’? Draco had recognised the dog, though he gave no indication of the fact.

“Not really. It’s just that we have some students missing and you were two of them. Professor Dumbledore will be pleased to hear you are safe and well,” Remus replied in a steady voice, all the while trying to catch Draco’s eyes. ‘Something serious is wrong here’, he thought to himself. “I’ll floo Professor Dumbledore now. I expect he’ll want a chance to talk to you… personally.”

Still riding the high of being one of the youngest Death Eaters, Pansy answered back without consideration. “Actually I’m a bit tired. Draco wore me out. I was thinking of going straight to bed.” The imitation blush was almost too much for any of the men present, regardless of form.

“Well, I’m afraid that given the current circumstances you will have to find the energy to go see Professor Dumbledore. It’s after all only a floo away and I can always toss you in, if need be.” Remus looked ready to do just that. Striding across the common room Remus floo’d the Hospital wing.

Minerva’s face appeared. “Harry’s just woken up, Remus,” she said by way of greeting. “Do you want to bring those two over? We can lock the Tower down now that all the Slytherins are accounted for.”

“After you, Miss Parkinson,” Remus bowed to the fuming young lady. Looking to Sirius, he signalled that the dog should accompany Draco.

Re-appearing in the Hospital wing, Remus was surprised to see Harry sitting on a bed next to the one Ron Weasley slumbered in. What surprised him even more was the force which Harry launched himself across the room at Draco Malfoy. The young Gryffindor had Malfoy in a stranglehold so fast the adults were hard pressed to get to the struggling pair apart before Harry choked the life out of Draco. Thinking back later, Remus was just as glad Harry had gone for the physical attack; if he’d spelled Draco the end might have been somewhat messy.

“Get him off me,” Draco tried to say around Harry’s tightening grip, “he’s gone stark staring bonkers.”

“Sirius, a hand please,” Dumbledore said, taking in the strength Harry was using to maintain his hold on Draco’s neck. With Sirius’ help, Remus was able to separate the two combatants. What surprised Dumbledore was that Draco immediately hid behind Remus and refused to come out. Harry, on the other hand, directed his gaze at the other Slytherin and the fact that he was a gentleman was the only reason Pansy wasn’t unconscious on the floor; that and the fact that Harry had a feeling that Dumbledore would intervene.

“They were there!” Harry finally whispered in a voice that promised death to them both, when it became obvious that he was not going to be allowed to rip the two Slytherins to shreds. Draco paled, but Pansy just smirked. “They were there and they know precisely what happened to Hermione and the others, so if you won’t ask Snape,” the last said dripping with contempt, “ask these two what happened.”

The fact that Professor Snape was still absent sent a shiver through Draco. Pansy, just smiled, assuming that the Potions Master was now happily involved in harvesting. None of the adults present mentioned where Severus was, not being aware of the children’s thoughts; they assumed this might make them a little more forthcoming. The knowledge that Severus Snape was currently comatose was not deemed appropriate for them to know.

“Well?” Dumbledore asked, “Where have you two been?”

“On a date.” Pansy stuck to the story she’d told Remus, after all it was illegal to use Veritaserum on minor without their parent’s consent, even if the minor volunteered which was not going to happen.

“Mr Malfoy?” Dumbledore turned his formidable gaze on the blonde Slytherin, “Is there something you want to tell me?” ‘I’m getting tired of that question’, he thought wearily as he waited for Draco to answer, though he had to admit it was a first asking it of Draco.

“No, Sir. Like Pansy said, we were on a date,” Draco finally answered, but without a hint of his usual arrogance. Instead he kept scratching at his right arm, not the left, where the Dark Mark resided.

“Alright, you will return to the Tower. We will be keeping all students locked in tonight whilst we continue to work on accounting for everyone,” Dumbledore said, without actually explaining what he meant.

Pansy turned to leave immediately. She, after all she wanted to bathe in the glory of tonight’s exploits. So wrapped up in her own private fantasy of being feted by all in the Tower, she failed to notice the verbal trap. She knew who was missing; she didn’t need to ask.

Draco in the meantime was scratching even worse at his arm. “Sir, I think I might have an allergy,” he said by way of explanation.

“Would you like to see Madame Pomfrey?” Dumbledore asked, his customary twinkle suddenly flashing bright.

“Yes please.”

“In that case, Sirius, would you mind escorting Miss Parkinson back to the Slytherin Tower. Remus, you stay here with Mr Malfoy. Mr Potter, I’d like a chance to talk to you in private.”

Harry shot a scathing look at Draco, but given that he had yet to fully brief the Order on what he’d seen in ‘Voldy-vision’ he followed Dumbledore from the infirmary. He watched with open loathing as Pansy Parkinson was escorted away by Sirius. Only when they were out of sight did he realise that Dumbledore had allowed Sirius to move around the ground outside of his animagus form. “Sir,” he asked, worrying about his godfather, “if word gets back to the Ministry that Sirius is here...”

“I can’t see any Slytherin letting on, or for that matter being believed, even if they do. Remember that most of them consider him a hero. He was after all, he was the one that helped Voldemort bring your parents down,” Dumbledore explained.

“And why didn’t anyone tell me about today?” Harry asked, a frown making the ‘scar’ stand out even more on his forehead.

“Because we foolishly thought that Voldemort would revel today and that we could use intelligence gathered from our own,” he sighed. “We had no idea of the type of attack Voldemort had planned, or even that the wards of Hogwarts could be breached in that way.”

“I’m not sure how to put this, Sir, but I don’t think ‘our own’ is really ours,” Harry said, understanding that Dumbledore spoke of Professor Snape.

Dumbledore strode along silently thinking on Harry’s words. What had Severus done? The question was unlikely to be answered soon if Poppy’s estimates were at all correct, and they had three children to find. Currently Harry was the only one with information that appeared willing to share. The problem was that what he was willing to share was likely to be coloured by Harry’s own perceptions of Severus, which were not good.

“I’ll wait till we have most of us gathered, then you only need go over what you saw just the once.” With that Dumbledore quickened the pace back to his office.

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Harry was only too happy tell of what he’d seen. In fact he’d been trying with some considerable urgency to get someone from the Order to listen to him from the moment he had awoken. The fact that Molly Weasley hadn’t instantly apparated away to find Hermione and the others sickened him. What he failed to realise was that Molly had a similar fear that it was already too late to help the missing children. All she could hope was that the sacrifice would eventually be worth it; unfortunately for Molly this time such thoughts failed to help, very much like the thought that Harry’s parents’ sacrifice would also eventually be ‘worth it’.

Dumbledore, upon returning to his office, surreptitiously cast an ‘emotia slumberius’ on Harry in an attempt to make the telling easier on all. Harry spoke in his deadened voice of the barbarity, the cruelty and, most importantly, of Professor Snape’s involvement in the whole process of initiating the new Death Eaters. That Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson had been initiated was a severe shock to the gathered members of the Order; at that point Dumbledore prayed that his suspicions concerning Draco Malfoy would bear out, but that battle he left to Remus. For now they needed to know what they could.

Harry concentrated fiercely on the details he’d seen, without actually dwelling on what he said. This was his way of dealing with the thought of what might have happened to Hermione and the other children. He knew that all of the adults had been killed, but his last memories of Professor Snape had him walking off with Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and the Gryffindors literally in tow. The fact that Draco and Pansy were back, and the Gryffindors still unaccounted for panicked him, but as Dumbledore finally ordered Mad-eye Moody to investigate the site of the initiations, Harry settled again.

Harry, sitting shell-shocked was as surprised as everyone else when Remus Lupin’s voice sounded from the floo. “Albus, you need to come here now.”

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“I’m not sure how long Madame Pomfrey is going to be,” Remus said by way of opening gambit.

Draco actually looked up surprised at the comment. He’d stopped scratching almost as soon as Parkinson had left, instead he had remained standing in the middle of the Hospital room with a rather pensive look on his face, he started to wrap his arms around himself as if the room was deathly cold. The look on his face was somewhat reminiscent of Hermione Granger when she had a difficult problem to solve.

Remus was surprised when Draco addressed him in a diffident manner, given Draco’s normal behaviour when dealing with Remus Lupin in the past: arrogant, and every inch a Malfoy. “Sir, does the fact that you’ve done something because it is expected mean you’ve done it willingly?”

Remus’ sense of dread increased as he heard the quaver in the voice of this normally supremely confident Slytherin. Remus Lupin, answering one of the great wisdom-defining questions, wisely gave Draco Malfoy his complete and undivided attention. “That is a question we all have to answer for ourselves, Draco,” he said carefully watching the young boy. Tonight is when he will become a Man’, Remus thought to himself, ‘I wonder what sort’?

“But if you haven’t done it willingly, but still done it, does that make you a coward?” Gryffindors were known for the overt, wear-it-on-their-sleeves courage, but that didn’t mean the other houses didn’t have measures of courage as well. Remus’ assessment of Draco increased considerably, and he allowed himself a faint glimmer of hope.

“Only if you never ask the questions you are currently asking yourself. Everyone makes choices, Draco, sometimes bad, sometimes good. Recognising a bad choice and having the strength of will to admit it, and to do something about it, that takes courage.” ‘What do you know, Draco, what happened’? Remus feared he would soon know the answers to his questions and they were not likely to good answers.

Draco, away from any sycophantic support had realised that his action today was not the thing of glory he expected them to be, the fact that he watched and done nothing whilst his cousin was tortured and killed weighed on his mind; was that really what Voldemort was about. In fact he was even regretting that Hermione Granger had been killed, and that, he realised, could be placed firmly at his door. He had been the one to get Granger. It was going to be so glorious seeing the over-achieving Gryffindor brainiac get hers, except it hadn’t been anything like that. More like focussing a magnifying lens at ants and watching them fry. Thinking hard on his actions as he thought about Remus Lupin’s comments, he started to retch; once started he couldn’t stop; at this moment his House Head was probably methodically ‘harvesting’ the children he had helped to kill.

Remus reacted swiftly to Draco’s distress. Wrapping his arm about the boy he held him whilst Draco spasmed in his arms, sobbed, and finally broke into a gut-wrenching wail. “He killed them, he killed them,” Draco whimpered. The true horror hit Remus though when Draco Malfoy, scion of the line, cried “and, by Merlin, I helped him.” Draco curled up into a tight ball, and Remus was hard-pressed to hear him.

“Helped who?” Remus asked in the manner of one stuck in the path of an on-coming train.

“Professor Snape.” And with that the boy collapsed into Remus’ embrace weeping, softly for his own lost innocence.

‘Dumbledore has to know’, Remus thought, but there was no way he was leaving the child. ‘Oh, Severus, what have you done? What have you done’? Throwing a pinch of floo powder at the chimney he called “Albus, you need to come here now.”

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Severus slowly swam up from the depths of oblivion. “This is going to hurt,” he murmured as he approached consciousness. If it weren’t for the driving need to speak with Albus Dumbledore, he would gladly have remained locked tight in Morpheus’ embrace. Memories of the day’s deeds, however, drove him to seek consciousness, and aided by Poppy’s stabilizing magics he was finally able to open one eye, just.

The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected. The last thing he remembered was collapsing at Dumbledore’s feet with albeit a sarcastic thought aimed at himself of ‘that was fun’. Instead of looking up to the ceiling of the Hospital wing he was greeted by the more familiar ceiling of his own quarters. The fact that he been returned to his quarters without even being remotely aware of the fact was an uncomfortable thought. Incipient panic was averted however, when he noticed he was still fully clothed, only his outer cloak had been removed. ‘Thank Merlin, someone had some sense’.

“Severus?” Poppy’s face came into view.

“Yes, what do you want? Can’t a man die in peace?” he croaked out, or attempted to. Luckily Poppy was a skilled reader of ‘at death’s door speech’. Failing to hear his own voice, Severus’ only thought was of the ‘real’ damage he’d like to do to one Pansy Parkinson; that girl really had enjoyed being able to torture someone without fear of repercussions. She was going to get her reward, but not today, he mused, mentally cataloguing the extensive damage present in his shell of a body. He actually didn’t think he would wake up this time. Now, he had to face Dumbledore, in many ways a far more terrifying person than Voldemort.

“Are you able to tell us what happened today? We have students missing, and the Order has been called in,” Poppy asked, though she was loathe to. Severus was not going to be up to much questioning.

“Send for the Headmaster, woman. Immediately!” Severus managed to croak before closing his eyes again. Dreading the coming interview he mentally reviewed what he could, and could not, tell.

Dumbledore must have been waiting for Poppy to call as he stepped from the floo in Severus’ quarters almost instantly. Severus was interested to note that Dumbledore then revoked the floo access to the castle’s network.

Dumbledore looked down at his Potions Master, a look of regret and sorrow marking his face. The customary twinkle was absent, and Severus was sure his news would sadden his mentor even more. “Poppy, could you leave us please?” Dumbledore asked the medi-witch.

Memories of similar requests when Voldemort first came to power had Poppy leaving the rooms without a backward glance. Severus would have things to say that only Albus should hear and the longer she remained, the longer it would be before the wounded man would talk. “Try not to tax him too much, Albus, it’s still touch and go,” she cautioned knowing full well that both men would ignore her.

“Severus, was it worth it?” Dumbledore asked without any preliminaries, Draco and Harry’s stories fresh in his mind.

“I don’t know,” Severus answered weakly. “What do you know?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“Hermione Granger, Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray are missing. Two of your Slytherins were also absent for a large part of the day but both Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson have since been found. According to Miss Parkinson they were on a date. Mr Malfoy tells a different story.”

‘Great’, thought Severus, ‘and I wonder what that brat Potter knows’.

As if hearing his thoughts, the Headmaster continued, “Mr Potter was found unconscious in my office. He has since awoken and is currently briefing the Order on his observations, it appears he was bound into Voldemort’s mind for most of the day.”

‘This just keeps getting better and better, dammit’, Severus mused. “Albus, my friend, I think you are going to have to find some form of punishment to apply,” Severus finally said. “I’m not going to be able to satisfy your questions, and I fear my actions will...”

“Cause me some difficulty?” Dumbledore finished. “My friend, is there any hope?”

“Only if things remain as they seem,” was all Severus could say.

Understanding the unspoken cues Dumbledore nodded. “When should I announce your ‘punishment?”

“Not until tomorrow, please.”

“Alright, you are not here until then, I presume.”

Severus looked at Dumbledore, and colour drained from the Headmaster’s face as Severus answered, “It is necessary.”

To be continued...
Chapter 04 Lies by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe; to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Severus lay back on the bed and closed his eyes slowly; the effort of keeping them open was too much for him at the moment. Finally, after ten minutes of silence, Severus said, without even bothering to open his eyes, “Well, ask away, Headmaster, then you can leave me to die in peace.”

That Severus remained closed to him, eyes shut and body stiff, and had addressed him as Headmaster only added to the dread Albus was feeling. Had he finally placed Severus in a situation that his legendary ability to work miracles had failed? His face grave, Albus asked again, “Was it worth it?”

“I’ll let you know,” Severus said murmured. “If Voldemort doesn’t kill me next time we meet, then it probably was.”

“Not the life of children, Severus,” Albus finally acknowledging what he knew from Harry and Draco. “It is never worth the life of any child.”

“Old man, we are in a war.” Severus snarled with a ghost of his usual bite, of course the bite didn’t. The Order could wail and weep all it liked, but he’d been in the front lines for too long, and didn’t have that luxury. “If you want accurate information, then Voldemort has to at least trust me; he may not like me, he’ll probably abuse me, but now he will trust me.”

“But what of the price, Severus. That was not a price we were willing to pay,” Albus retorted, his normal gentle demeanour vanishing under the shock of Severus’ act. Even with the power of a Master Wizard flowing around him, Severus didn’t react.

“Well I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, Headmaster, but I really didn’t have much choice at the time.”

“You always have a choice, Severus,” Dumbledore said roughly. The fact that Severus had calmly and almost callously admitted to knowing of the killing of the children had shaken him like no other act could; he may not have done it, but in Dumbledore’s eyes he was now guilty regardless.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, Headmaster, but as I am not yet contemplating suicide, which is what any rescue attempt would’ve been, I did not see many other options. You put me into this situation, you meddlesome old bat; now I suggest you leave, lock the dungeons down and go commiserate with the rest of the Order. I did what I had to do to survive and get closer to Voldemort. If you don’t like it, well, send me to Azkaban for a well-earned holiday. Otherwise, get off that self-righteous horse and accept that if you want to defeat Voldemort, someone has to crawl into the abyss. Sometimes, ‘old friend’, you need a monster to catch a monster.”

‘And have you become the abyss, Severus’? Dumbledore thought to himself. ‘Merlin, forgive me if you have’. Still, being aware of the burning need for accurate intelligence, Dumbledore only sighed. “On second thoughts, I won’t announce your ‘punishment’ to the student body in general, as it will only add to the panic. I will however inform the staff that you will be confined to quarters when not teaching or attending to house business.”

Wishing that the burden of that choice should never have fallen to his Potions Master, or to any of them for that matter, Dumbledore began to concentrate on the task of keeping Severus alive. He’d need to protect Severus, not only from Voldemort now, but the Order and the Aurors as well. Turning as he left the room Dumbledore said, “Poppy will be in soon with a sleeping draught and I suggest you take it. I will also ward your rooms against intrusion.”

“Do you really think that will stop Black, Lupin and Potter?”

“It will.” Closing the door Dumbledore whispered, “I hope one day you will forgive me, Severus.” His ears straining, he thought he heard Severus say almost the same thing.

Severus waited patiently for Poppy to return. The Medi-Witch, normally so punctilious in her duties, took over an hour to return, alerted him to the fact that the day’s deeds were now known to all and sundry. Poppy walked in, having spent as long as she could with Draco. The young, arrogant Slytherin had needed her most potent sedation due to the day’s events. This further increased her anger at the Potions Master. With a look surprise on her face and an extremely powerful sleeping draught in her hand, Poppy marched up to the still wizard.

“I’m not dead yet, Madame Pomfrey.” He smiled his usual thin smile, regardless of the energy it took.

“You’ll need to drink this then, I’ll check back on you in the morning,” Poppy said stiffly. She cast a few perfunctory stabilizing spells and literally tipped the entire goblet down his throat. Severus’ place in the universe, or lack thereof, was further reinforced as Madam Pomfrey took only rudimentary readings and cast a scant few stabilising spells. She left as soon as his head collapsed on the pillow, and Severus vaguely heard her mutter, “I wish you were dead, you bastard.”

Lying still, Severus wondered if he ought to get Dumbledore to ward his chambers against the Medi-Witch as well. Still, she may wish him dead, and if she had any idea of the level of barbarity of today’s apparent events, he really didn’t blame her. Dumbledore had commented about Draco telling a different story and that piqued his curiosity. What had Draco Malfoy said? Had he inadvertently given young Malfoy a reason to think for himself and if so, then even Severus would have said that today had gone better than expected.

Severus gave Poppy a few moments to clear the area around the dungeon before he began to lever himself off the bed. Using whatever scant energy remained in him, he reached into his left cuff and activated the Portkey bound there magically. He would need help to be able to appear well enough in the morning to stave off any inappropriate information reaching Voldemort’s ears. Severus was thankful that Dumbledore thought that the wards of Hogwarts were sufficient, since he was in no condition to set up or activate the portal.


Dumbledore returned to his office after seeing to the wards on Severus’ chamber with a heavy heart. Remus was still with Draco Malfoy in the infirmary, and that was something he would not have preferred, Remus could at least me something of a moderating influence on Sirius Black. There would be no moderation present when he returned to his office and answers were to be expected.

Remembering the state Severus was in when he left him, Dumbledore had serious doubts about the worth of the entire exercise. If Severus died, then it was all for nothing. As the thought hit, he realised he at least had a way to control the members of the Order. Outright attacks would only cheapen the loss of the Gryffindors.

“Well, what did he have to say for himself?” Molly Weasley asked, her hand resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“He wasn’t able to say much of anything, Molly,” Dumbledore said gently. “It is going to be touch and go as to whether or not Severus survives the night.”

“If he’s done anything to Hermione, or the others,” Sirius growled in a fair imitation of a werewolf scenting blood.

“We will need to wait for Moody to return,” Dumbledore said, trying to ignore the sick sensation in his belly. Sirius was going to be a problem.

“Why?” That was Arthur Weasley, commonly thought of as a bit of an absent-minded eccentric. However, his mind was as sharp as a well-honed blade and that was something Arthur took great care to hide, but Arthur would spot any false answer that Dumbledore gave instantly. Dumbledore hoped he’d keep silent, however.

“Because I’m not even sure Severus can actually tell us what has happened,” Dumbledore replied wearily.

“Can’t or won’t?” Sirius interjected, ready to crucify Severus. Sirius didn’t need to know what had happened. His dislike of Severus allowed him to paint the blackest picture possible.

“Can’t!” Dumbledore almost shouted, already weary beyond belief. “I doubt we will ever know what really happened, Sirius. Severus’ only comment was that Voldemort needed to trust him, and he did what he had to so he could achieve that goal.”

“I’ll kill him.” Dumbledore wasn’t sure who actually said it, at least three mouths were moving at the time, Sirius, Harry, and surprisingly, Arthur. Molly, and Madam Tonks just looked sickened.

“No! You! Will! Not!” Dumbledore intoned forcefully, emphasising every word with all the power of an ancient wizard. “That would mean that their deaths were for nothing,” he whispered, all of a sudden looking and feeling the centuries of his life.

“So you believe he killed them as well?” Sirius was like a dog mauling a mangy old bone.

Closing his eyes Dumbledore prayed for divine inspiration. When none was forthcoming, he looked at the assembled members of the Order and said, “We will need to prepare for the funerals. I want ALL of you to give me your word that you will not attempt to harm Severus.” Watching them closely he remarked, “If I don’t have your word, I will organise to move Severus to a safe place where none of you will be able to get near him. I like this no more than the rest of you, but as I was the one who sent Severus to Voldemort today, then I must also bear some of the blame.”

The idea of blaming Dumbledore for the deaths of the children didn’t sit well with any of the assembled members of the Order. Blaming Severus, well he was the greasy git; Dumbledore however, was the one who led them. They gave their word to Dumbledore, no crossed fingers, toes or legs. ‘Of course, Remus isn’t here’, thought Sirius with a nasty smile.


Dumbledore had left the infirmary after talking with Draco Malfoy, a pensive look on his face. Remus knew that the Headmaster was going to talk with Severus, but given the state of health the Potions Master had been in when he and Sirius arrived, Remus doubted that Dumbledore would actually get any coherent information. Whilst Draco Malfoy had been almost incoherent at times during his discussions with Dumbledore, it had given Remus a fair idea of what had happened during the evening. ‘Severus is a dead man’, he thought, several scenarios running through his mind, threatening to unleash the beast within.

The return of Madam Pomfrey was something of a blessing he thought, initially. She had quickly ascertained the level of distress the young Slytherin was exhibiting and prescribed one of the more potent sleeping draughts. Draco drank it down greedily and fell into a fitful sleep almost immediately.

Instead of falling into the oblivion the draught should have promised, Draco dreamed, and the dreams were far from pleasant. Scion of the Malfoy line, he had been feted and fawned upon all his life. Every advantage was his and more than one person had assumed that all he had achieved had been through the result of toadying patronage, definitely not ability. True patronage had played a part, but he was actually quite a gifted young man anyway; if he had applied himself he could easily make Hermione Granger work for her Know-It-All title. It was those brains of his that were currently leading to his state of distress.

Being Slytherin, the house most likely to produce ‘bad’ wizards, he knew that the chances were he would end up being one of the so-called ‘bad’ sorts of wizard. He also knew that while it was likely, there was no guarantee that you would end up on the dark side. He could easily name a few current members of his house that would not likely end up in Voldemort’s Camp; the faces of those now haunting his dream, taking the place of the younger Gryffindors.

A heart-wrenching scream broke through the infirmary as Draco’s dream reached its inevitable conclusion. He felt Professor Snape’s wand trace his jaw, he saw the gentle, loving smile that graced the Head of Slytherin’s face as he heard the whispered curses that he himself had used. He screamed as the ‘Avada Kedavra’ was cast. Draco broke from the dream, drugged and frightened, to find himself in the embrace of Remus Lupin. He held tightly to that anchor and fought Poppy’s sleeping draught to ask, “Stay with me, please?”

Remus acquiesced, brushing silent tears from the boy’s face. For the first time in his long acquaintance with anything Malfoy, Remus finally realised that the line was actually capable of turning out human beings. The child slid back into sleep, still wrapped in the werewolf’s embrace; any attempt to extricate himself had Draco fighting him. In the end Remus gave into the inevitable and drifted off to sleep himself, the child remaining safely tucked in his arms.


Severus collapsed in the middle of his private laboratory for the second time that evening, with no passengers in tow this time. He’d barely been able to keep his eyes open, and the effort of getting out of his bed once Poppy had left, nearly killed him. The only reason he’d made it at all was that Poppy’s stabilising magic held, and the ‘Potionia Refusalis’ that he had swallowed at daybreak had nullified the sleeping draught.

Taking ‘Potionia Refusalis’ was a daily ritual from which he never wavered since his induction into Voldemort’s crew of lunatics. Only certain ‘legitimate’ potions would actually affect Severus. Poppy, however, would assume the sleeping draught had taken effect and that he would be unconscious for at least three hours, and given her current approbation of him he didn’t expect her to return to check on him till until dawn at the very earliest. If he was alive at dawn, of course.

“Jaidy,” Severus tried to call, his voice cracking into what could charitably be called a croak. Luckily for him the elderly House-Elf, sure he would attempt to return to the Manor this evening, was waiting patiently at the Portal. She had in fact been standing there from the moment she had ensured the children were safe in the Nursery Wing.

“Oh, Master,” Jaidy sighed, “I’ve got you.”

Feeling like a small boy again, just come in from falling out of the willow tree yet again, Severus relaxed for the first time since the day had begun. Jaidy was well versed in the needed potions, spells and, if necessary, good old fashioned Muggle first-aid. She also had the means to override any concoction that Severus subjected himself to, and the only other being he trusted with that power. She would see to his care as she always had.

All Severus had to do was concentrate on the almost impossible task of breathing. Every breath brought forward a new physical definition of pain. In fact, Severus felt sure he could quite confidently devote an entire thesis to the discussion of this one insignificant word.

Any concentration dedicated to breathing, was only possible due to the significant tolerance to pain he had developed over the years. A necessary skill honed to perfection due wholly to Voldemort… and Poppy, for that matter. A rictus grin landed on his face and refused to abate.

Jaidy, for her part, was too busy concentrating on keeping her charge alive to worry about any ‘Wizardly’ niceties. She took no notice of the old phrase, ‘only magic should be used to cure a wizard’. She would use any and all means available to her, and she expected to need her entire repertoire of skills that she had developed over the years helping Severus. “Who worked the girl over?” she asked, remembering the length of time the memory trace had taken to resolve.

“I did,” Severus answered, interrupted with a bout of coughing. He noted the rapid look of anger that flashed across Jaidy’s face. “Stupid girl just didn’t know when to lie down and quit fighting,” he muttered feebly to himself, “and I get the bloody bill.” Still, if he was capable of being honest with himself as he normally was, he admitted that Pansy Parkinson was far more responsible for his current state of health. At the moment, however, that train of thought would derail his already non-existent resources, so Pansy’s bill was ignored for the current timeframe. Later… well payback’s a bitch.

Jaidy just sighed. Why couldn’t anything be easy where Severus was concerned? “How long have I got before you will be missed?” she finally asked, realising she didn’t have time to dwell on which of the children was to be held most responsible for her Master’s current state. Jaidy was sometimes a little biased where Severus was concerned; intellectually, she knew the children were not at fault, but emotionally, well, that was a far different matter.

“Three hours, maybe, if I’m lucky. Much less, I would imagine,” he mused, his eyes drooping further as the effort to remain conscious became harder. “I’ll need to be…” His voice finally trailed off as oblivion captured him.

Jaidy, ever practical, worried about what Severus needed to be able to do. That he kept struggling against the oblivion of sleep was apparent to her as she started in with the more complex healing magics. Finally realising the futility of trying to heal him whilst he fought for consciousness, she called in the senior House Elves and the only other human that remained permanently at Snape Manor, Brendan, Severus’ man servant.

“We’ll need to use the house magics again,” she said by way of introduction.

“Brendan, you are finding out what he wants when we gets him awake?” she asked the young man who had literally flown into the Potions Lab. Brendan, of medium height, blonde, blue-eyed and bespectacled, just knelt beside Severus, pen and paper in hand.

Brendan had been sleeping peacefully when Pepper, Jaidy’s assistant, had woken him with the message he was urgently needed in the Master’s Potions Lab. Muggle, he may have been, but Brendan arrived in the lab so fast he may as well have Apparated. The sight of his friend and mentor so ill-used, was enough to bring his own anger to the fore. “Voldemort,” a statement, not a question.

“And three wizardly children.”

“Oh shit,” Brendan said, remembering his own introduction to the Snape household. “Three?”

“Yes, an he not be lettin’ us heal him. Needs to be telling us something.” Turning to the assembled elves, she gave a minute signal and began to chant. In harmony, they joined their voices to hers. A gentle green light formed around the stricken Potions Master, his breathing settled, the look of pain on his face eased, and he opened his eyes to stare intently at Brendan.

“I must appear at breakfast, whole, tomorrow,” Severus breathed out. “Parkinson or Malfoy mustn’t see…Voldemort can’t know…any weakness.” He struggled to put to words the danger of his current state of health making it back to the Dark Lord. Nothing had happened to Severus, so Voldemort’s suspicions would be aroused if he were less than healthy. “Must…” he gasped out again hoping that his people would understand.

“Rest, Severus,” Brendan said, gently touching his hand to Severus’ face. “Rest, we’ll take care of it.” A gently soothing voice, whilst his agile mind considered the problem. “Rest.”

Hearing a trusted voice, and knowing the mind behind it, Severus finally gave up the fight. If Brendan, Jaidy and Pepper couldn’t figure something out, no one could, not even Granger.

“We can’t get him whole by morning, can we?” Brendan asked rhetorically, as Severus’ face lolled to the side resting on his hand. Knowing Severus, it must be imperative that he be at breakfast, otherwise he’d have given himself into Jaidy’s care without the slightest fight. “When will he get some peace?”

No one answered. They all knew the question could not be answered until Voldemort’s death. The something that Severus had been working towards for the greater part of his life.

“There really is no chance of getting him anywhere near whole, is there?” Brendan asked again, this time more for clarification, as his agile mind went to work on the problem of having Severus appear revitalised by dawn. ‘How many people will we need to fool’, he thought to himself. “Dumbledore is likely to be the biggest problem,” he said to the house elves.

“With him carrying three near deaths, we being lucky if we gets him well without bloodlines magic.” Jaidy allowed herself a small whimper, but then schooled her features to banal implacability. “He WILL be healed, Brendan.”

Brendan didn’t even bother asking why Severus was carrying these deaths; he had his own memories to supply those details. Watching Jaidy work closely on Severus now that he was resting peacefully, Brendan thoughts flashed over what she had said. “Wizardly children, how in Merlin’s name did Voldemort get a hold of wizardly children?” he asked Jaidy. “How are they, and where did they come from?”

“Hogwarts students,” Jaidy replied, “and before you be asking’, we’ve no ideas how Voldemort be getting them. The younger ones is first years, the other is Hermione Granger.” Jaidy had easily recognised the auburn-haired student. Severus had spoken of her often, in great detail, using every available description in his own private thesaurus.

“Bugger.” Brendan had also heard Severus speak of Granger before. The implications were not pleasant. Still, that was a problem for another day; the current problem needed dealing with immediately. His mind raced, and he saw Jaidy come to the same conclusion. “Polyjuice,” they said simultaneously.


Hermione Granger woke to find herself ensconced in a large feather bed, luxurious and warm. The clothes of yesterday had been removed, replaced by a simple silk shift. Muggle discussions of heaven floated through her mind, she twitched her shoulders trying to see if she had suddenly sprouted wings. No wings, and she realised that she ached somewhat; surely heaven wouldn’t allow pain, unless…a quick, discrete, check revealed no horns. ‘Ok, I’m not dead’, she mused as she lay staring at the ceiling for a few moments, ‘so where am I’?

Her memories of the preceding day were fuzzy. There, but shoved back into some nice dark corner. She would later be grateful for this fact, but at the moment she was more curious about her current locale. The room she woke in was obviously meant as a young adult’s room, probably a late teen. The room’s furnishings were in darker, more masculine colours and had her wondering whose room it was, or had been. Strangely she found it a very comfortable room.

The room had a large desk below a window that looked out on a large, well-manicured garden, a peaceful view to have whilst studying. A comfortable looking wingback chair sat near a cheerfully burning fire; just the sort to curl up in with a large hot chocolate and a pile of books. Beside the chair was, in fact, a largish table placed just where you would want it if planning a good night’s read. Hermione silently approved, remembering how inadequate her own side table was in size. This table would be able to cope with her voracious reading habits.

The curtains were only partially drawn, dark heavy velvet, allowing in enough light for her to see a breakfast tray laid out on the desk. The aroma of coffee, something she normally avoided, combined with the sweet scent of fruit porridge made her mouth water. Without being aware of the fact, she found herself seated at the desk, eating as thought she hadn’t had food in days. Whoever the cook was, they were to be congratulated.

Completing breakfast in very short order, the rest of her body began to make its demands known. The room’s arrangement suggested that the large double doors probably led to a corridor; the smaller door she reasoned would lead to the bathroom. In essence she was correct, but the room the small door led to was as close to her concept of a bathroom as the earth was to the moon. This was no student-shared arrangement with shower stalls and toilets. The room boasted a claw bath that looked like it could easily have accommodated Hagrid; three mirrors, one full-length, two cupboards, a toilet set discretely in the far corner and a bidet. What she surmised was a magic window, at least she hoped it was magic, otherwise anyone on the grounds would get a great view of anyone using the room, looked out over the grounds and to the hills beyond. A stack of towels in the corner, dark green, almost black in colour, almost begged to be picked up; the towels were incredibly soft and velvety. Jars filled with exotic spices, liquids and bath bombs lined the wall behind the tub.

Quickly seeing to her more immediate needs, Hermione then allowed herself the luxury of a long, deep, and very hot soak. It was then that she found the true magic of the bathroom. Musing that a book to read was all that was she needed to complete her dream of the perfect bath caused a space to open up next to the tub. The space was filled with books as far as the eye could see: novels, texts and even some rather risqué table books. Time slipped away from her and it was over an hour before she realised that the bath was not cooling, but happily maintaining an optimal soaking temperature.

Exiting the bath, eventually, she looked at the shift she had shed, suitable for sleeping in, but of no use for daywear. In desperation she began opening the cupboards hoping to find something else to wear; the second cupboard revealed sets of robes in a range of size suitable for children and young adults, all were dark green, trimmed with silver. Strangely it was the Slytherin colours that brought her mind back into focus. ‘Snape’, was the first coherent thought that formed. “These or the shift…what a choice,” she muttered to herself as she donned the Slytherin-green robes. Surprisingly, she felt a lot more able to cope with the world now that she was robed.

Remaining in the rooms she currently occupied would not provide any answers, so out into the world she must go. She was surprised to find the double doors unlocked, either an accident or oversight, but it meant she was able to leave the rooms and explore. The corridor was quiet with candles cheerfully blazing away in sconces at regular intervals. The floorboards were polished to a high sheen, and a deep red carpet lined the hall. Listening intently she heard nothing untoward and she ventured out into the hall.

Getting her bearings, she noticed a set of stairs off to the left and a long corridor leading to the right. She decided to quickly check the other rooms on this floor, finding a number of suites similar to the one she had just left. In two of those rooms she found her fellow Gryffindors sound asleep; food laid out on the tables still warm to the touch. No amount of shaking, however, could wake the other children and realizing that they were probably charmed to sleep, she didn’t try for very long after that.

The current floor appeared to be the top floor of the mansion, for mansion this building obviously was. Heading towards the stairs, she heard a muffled cry from below her. Following the sound she crept along the second floor corridor towards a room at the end. The closer she got to the room the louder, and more distinct the sound became.

She approached the door at the end of the wing with trepidation, not really sure what she could do, wandless (for she remembered Draco taking great delight in snapping hers), in a strange locale, and with no way of transporting herself, let alone anyone else, she still felt herself drawn to the room. The cries she heard were pitiful, the whimpering mews of a kitten unfed, a child trying to be brave with a broken limb, or a fox with its foot caught in a trap. Pressing her ear to the door she heard someone uttering soothing noises.

“Resting, you must resting. We’s can’t be doing more house magics. You be needings more than that.” The voice was laced with love and concern.

Curious, another trait of Gryffindors, Hermione opened the door carefully and peered inside. The sight that met her eyes was one that would burn itself in her mind. Years later she could recall it in almost graphic detail, stereophonic sound and smell. The elderly house-elf she remembered from the previous night sat in the middle of a large bed, a head in her lap. She was rocking back and forth very like a mother with an injured child; but the person she held was no child. Severus Snape, Potions Master, bane of Hogwarts and almost terror incarnate to the younger students, was curled on his side, caked blood covering his front. She could see his right arm hanging at a grotesque angle, a parody of a limb, his face looked as though it had been trampled by a herd of elephants, and if those mangled legs could support his weight, then she could defeat Voldemort with one arm tied behind her back. It was his voice she’d heard whimpering.

In fact the more she looked, the more she was aware that some of Severus Snape’s injuries were like the ones she should be bearing. That fact brought the walls around her own experiences crashing down. She remembered…she remembered! Hermione Granger, bravest of Gryffindors, collapsed into a heap just outside the door, throwing up the remains of the breakfast she had eaten earlier.

Jaidy, her hands holding Severus, had looked up to see the ‘insufferable Gryffindor’ lurking in the doorway. Locking down the anger that coursed through her at the sight of the girl, she continued to concentrate on pushing what healing energies she could into her master. She could not afford to be distracted from her task, but the sight of the girl obviously losing breakfast was somewhat enjoyable; still the distraction was unwelcome as Severus’ life tried to slip through her fingers. Calling for Pepper and hoping that Brendan had returned, she considered her options where the child was concerned.


Dumbledore arrived with Madam Pomfrey, half expecting to find that Severus had passed away in the night. He was aware that Poppy’s care had been perfunctory at best after she had dealt with young Malfoy last night, and he knew that if Severus was to die, it would it would cheapen the deaths of the three students, but for some reason he found it very difficult not to wish Severus to Hades and be done with it. This feeling was only intensified on entering the Potions Master’s quarters. Instead of finding Severus at death’s door, he found him sitting comfortably on his wing-backed leather chair by the fire, a steaming cup of coffee in hand and apparently whole, hale and hearty.

“Headmaster! To what do I owe the pleasure of you and Poppy’s company this morning?” Brendan asked, his voice fairly dripping with the disdain Severus was known to show anyone before finishing his morning coffee ritual. His heart was racing, but he always got a perverse sort of thrill from this performance. There was something about getting into the mind of his mentor that intrigued and fascinated him. All those secrets, all those hidden recesses; Brendan got the slightly more than merest glimmer of what made Severus tick through his association with the wizard, but that was always more enough to fool anybody, even the master wizard before him.

Brendan was pleased to see a look of horror briefly flash across the Headmaster’s face before Dumbledore could gain control of himself; horror was good, suspicion not so. Madam Pomfrey was less able to control her expression. Surprising, since as a Medi-Witch, as with most other health professionals, her face normally only showed what she wanted it to show. She almost growled in a manner worthy of Sirius Black.

“Feeling better?” she inquired blandly. ‘Ouch’. Brendan steeped himself deeply into his mentor’s psyche. Brendan had once read that it was possible to die of sugar overdose, he hadn’t believed it until he heard the sweet voice of Madam Pomfrey asking after ‘his’ health.

“Yes. Much better, your care last night was exemplary, as usual, Poppy.” Brendan almost burst out laughing at their nonplussed faces. Brendan had no idea for their reaction, not been aware of how little care Madam Pomfrey had actually given Severus last night. Still the comment fitted well with Severus’ persona in dealing with the staff at Hogwarts regardless of what had happened last night.

“Are you up to joining us for breakfast this morning, Professor?” Dumbledore asked into the ugly silence that had descended on the room.

Brendan quirked his eyebrow at Dumbledore. He’d noticed that the Headmaster had refused to call him by name. ‘Severus, why can’t you let them know’? he wondered. The answer would have to wait on Severus’ health, which according to Jaidy before he donned the persona of Snape this morning was still a near thing.

“Who was looking after my Slytherins last night?” he asked, curiously. ‘And more importantly how do I get you to relieve ‘me’ of that task’, he mused.

“Sirius Black,” Dumbledore said with some satisfaction.

Knowing some of the reason for the enmity between Severus and Black, Brendan was able to give a fair approximation of Severus having an apoplectic fit. “You left MY Slytherins in the paws of that mangy dog!” he yelled, not so thinly veiled threats in his voice.

“We were a bit short staffed last night, and given the circumstances, he was the only one available. I had planned to leave him and Remus, looking after Slytherin until you had recovered,” Dumbledore said with a malicious glint to his normal twinkling eye. “As to yesterday’s events, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy’s stories are likely to be spread about the school by lunch today. Thus, even though you have recovered, I would prefer to let it be known that for reasons of stress you are taking an extended sabbatical from teaching.”

“Stress?” Brendan almost had to laugh at that. “And you expect that to be believed? You must be out of what little mind you have!”

“I am sure Madam Pomfrey can be relied upon to diagnose advance stress-related illness in you, isn’t that right, Poppy?” Dumbledore asked, addressing the last to the Medi-Witch who had remained silent throughout the discussions.

“I can make sure he’s got stress-related illnesses alright, Headmaster,” she mumbled under her breath before answering Dumbledore. “Given the circumstances, and the loss of one of the most brilliant student minds, we can have Severus suffering stress.”

“Stress over a Gryffindor? What next, am I to frolic in the autumn mist? Really, Headmaster, who in their right mind would believe that twaddle?” Brendan asked, ‘Oh to have a camera handy when I tell Severus that one’.

“Would you rather be available to talk to the Ministry Aurors who will no doubt be visiting us before the day is out?” Dumbledore asked. “I have decided that ‘placing you under house arrest’ as we discussed last night, oh, don’t look so shocked Poppy, is totally unacceptable. We are going to have enough panic I suspect as it is without adding to the furore. No one may believe it, but it will cover for why you are remaining in your quarters.”

Turning to Poppy he said, “Would you mind leaving us for a few moments? Professor Snape and I will be up to breakfast shortly.” Poppy left without a word.

Waiting until Poppy had left the dungeon area altogether Dumbledore turned to face Severus again. This time he let the full force of his fury, and disgust, show on his face. “I will keep the Aurors from you, but I expect that the sacrifice YOU decided WE had to make WILL be worth it. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly.” Sharp, bored and full of disdain, Brendan answered. Being confined to quarters was the best outcome.

“I have warded your quarters so that no one can enter without your express permission,” Dumbledore said.

“And just how are we to deal with visitors, if I am not present to give that permission,” Brendan sneered. “After all, I suppose this ‘arrest’ is about letting me attend Death Eater meetings without having to worry about unexplained absences.”

“I would be very surprised if you had any visitors, expected or otherwise, for a considerable time, Professor Snape.” Dumbledore stated blandly. “Let us just say the reaction of the Order was not particularly good, and in light of other events I would suggest that until we see some concrete information come out of this debacle, you would be better served remaining in your quarters at all times.”

‘And now I am one of them’, Brendan thought. He’d heard enough comments about the Order and Dumbledore since he took up the post of manservant to Severus to have a reasonably clear idea of what Severus thought his place in the universe was. It was not at all heartening to see it confirmed. “I believe that I am feeling particularly overwhelmed by the events of the last few years, a rest would certainly be appreciated,” he said with exaggerated care. “Now Headmaster, shall we adjourn to breakfast, I am feeling a touch peckish.”

Dumbledore silently lead his Potions Master to the Great Hall. Normally attendance at breakfast on the weekends was sparse and sporadic. This morning every seat, except for three, was filled. Draco and Pansy both looked up as Dumbledore and Severus entered the hall, one with a look of adoration, the other with a look of horror, mixed with fear. When Dumbledore had made it to his seat, he picked up a glass and in the tradition of end of year speeches, he tapped it twice to get everyone’s attention; the act itself was superfluous, he’d had everyone’s attention since he walked into the hall.

“As you are all no doubt aware by now we had three students taken from us from within the very halls of Hogwarts,” Dumbledore stated, no sugar coating today. “The act was perpetrated by a person, or persons unknown.” Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “As yet we have no word on their condition or whereabouts. Whilst it may be premature, we are currently assuming the worst. Voldemort,” he continued ignoring the startled gasps from the hall “has made it abundantly clear that he is willing to take the lives of both adults and children to further his aims. We will, as a result, be increasing security measures at the school, and all Hogsmeade weekends are cancelled until further notice.

“This callous action has affected us all, some more than others.” Dumbledore let his gaze rest on the Gryffindor table. “It is my somewhat sad duty to inform you all that Professor Snape feels particularly distressed at yesterday’s actions and has requested an extended leave of absence.”

Brendan sat calmly through Dumbledore’s pronouncements eyeing the student body with a profound look of bored amusement. Well aware of the thoughts likely drifting through that vacuum that characterised the student mind, on the subject of Professor Snape no longer teaching, he waited to see which group broke first. In the end it was their collective respect for Professor Dumbledore that stopped the students dancing for joy.

Giving his words time to sink in, Dumbledore addressed himself to the repast in front of him. Out of the corners of his eyes he noted the various looks directed at Professor Snape by the rest of the staff, and those members of the Order that were present. Mad-eye Moody’s look was the most interesting; the Auror had returned earlier unable to verify, or invalidate, Harry and Draco’s claims that a dark ritual had taken place where Harry’s parents were buried. Moody looked bemused. The rest of the staff looked ready to find out if they could cast Avada Kedavra.

Under all that scrutiny any normal man would have baulked. Brendan just concentrated on eating a hearty meal. After all he had heard Sirius Black’s comment as he had sat down, “You’re a dead man, Snivellus.” May as well aggravate the dog whilst he could, he knew for certain Severus would have. Tipping his head in Black’s direction he just smirked. Black’s fork snapped in his hand, but he did nothing else.

Brendan took his time eating breakfast; after all it was rare that he got to feast on the workings of Hogwarts kitchens. Almost as good as the one at the estate, but he had to agree with Severus that the coffee lacked a certain potency. Interestingly he noticed that while many of the students had finished eating, none had left the hall, and all conversation was subdued. ‘I bet that changes when I leave’, he thought to himself. Still, he needed to remain visible long enough to convince everyone of Severus’ health. After a leisurely hour, he finally got up to leave. He jauntily rose from the table, giving Dumbledore a perfunctory nod, and sneering at Black. The effect was immediately felt in the Great Hall, silence fell, and no sound was heard until he left, then the noise level went through the roof.

Brendan made his way down to the dungeons, never once breaking from Snape’s persona. Everyone may be in the Great Hall, but there were still the portraits to consider. Most of the occupants turned away as he passed. ‘I hope this is all worth it in the end’, he thought, finally reaching Severus’ quarters. The portal had been opened and was now beckoning him home, though he was guaranteed not to enjoy the trip.

Brendan strode through the portal with all the arrogance of Professor Snape on the prowl. He looked once at Pepper, who was waiting impatiently having just received word from Jaidy they were needed in the Master’s rooms, and turned an interesting shade of green. He then turned blue, followed by yellow, orange, and purple before settling on a nice shade of aquamarine. He didn’t actually notice any of this; he was far too busy trying to throw up his toenails.

Pepper, who had never had the chance to see the insides of a Muggle, thought he saw far more of the Brendan’s anatomy than any self-respecting elf should see. “Is you fine, sir?” he asked politely. “We’s needed in the Master’s rooms.”

A Babel fish would have been needed to actually translate Brendan’s reply to this rather innocuous question. On the other hand, said fish with a language filter would have said absolutely nothing. Brendan, however, on hearing the comment about needed in the master’s rooms pulled himself together and followed the elf towards the master bedroom.

To be continued...
Chapter 05 Magics by JustJeanette

Brendan stopped suddenly as he approached Severus’ rooms. Huddled on the floor, diced carrots covering the front of her robes, sat Hermione Granger. ‘What the hell is she doing here’? A quick look at Pepper showed an equally startled face. Hermione should have been unconscious till at least tomorrow, dammit.


Hermione looked up at the sound of someone approaching; the sight did nothing to settle her fractured nerves. Striding towards her was Professor Severus Snape, cloak billowing behind him. He stopped as he reached her and scowled down at her. “What are we going to do with you, Miss Granger?” he sighed in her general direction.


Brendan ran his hand through his hair in a manner frighteningly like Professor Snape; still wearing his friend’s form, and still in character; this was not surprising. The girl just stared up at him, somewhat like the proverbial deer in the headlights. She suddenly gained control of herself and flicked her eyes to the master bedroom. Realizing what was probably going through her head, Brendan wished, not for the first time, that there was a potion to counter-act Polyjuice. Unfortunately such a potion didn’t exist, yet, and the effect on Muggle physiology meant was such that he would remain in Severus’ form for quite a while yet, despite the fact that he had just thrown up his entrails not so long ago. No one-hour time limit there. The side effects were a little hard to take, as Pepper had just witnessed.

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger,” he said, forcing his voice out of Severus’ pattern. “I know this looks strange, but we honestly didn’t expect you to wake today.”

Hermione stared at the Professor Snape in front of her. Her voice cracked, revealing a sharp-edged hysteria that was threatening to overwhelm her. “Strange,” she squeaked. She asked the first thing that came into her head, whilst she tried to gather her scattered nerves. “Why, then, was breakfast laid out?”

“Probably because Jaidy arranged it that way. I suspect it was charmed to remain fresh until you woke; that way she would be able to concentrate solely on Severus,” Brendan replied calmly. “By the way, I’m Brendan,” he said holding his hand out to her in the standard Muggle greeting.

After staring owlishly at the hand offered to her, Hermione finally moved her concentrated gaze to the face that belonged to the hand. The body was Professor Snape, down to the greasy hair, nose and cheekbones; she even noticed the small frown lines that she had always wanted to soothe. “Polyjuice?” she enquired to the not-Snape.

Brendan saw the cogs grinding in her mind and the lights go on, so to speak. He would definitely have to eat his words the next time he spoke with Severus. The girl really could dissect you with her gaze. Severus had been known to comment more than once on the propensity of Hermione Granger to study a thing to death. ‘A brilliantly focused mind, if only she could dissemble’, he’d once said, lamenting her place in Gryffindor.

Hermione, on the other hand, had no idea what to make of the individual in front of her. She’d actually thought it was Snape marching up the corridor, the mannerism were so correct, so very much Professor Snape, bastard incarnate; she’d quietly studied the man often enough. So who in Merlin’s name was the man? The moment she had found out that Snape was a Death Eater, even if he was supposed to be on the side of light, she had researched everything she could find about the man. From what she knew, he had no living relatives closer than 3rd cousins. The estates, of which there were quite a few, were all supposedly closed up. The name Jaidy had rung a bell, but only because she was rumoured to be the last in a line of house-elves that had served the Snape family for generations. She was also supposed to be dead. But none of her sources ever mentioned someone named Brendan in connection with the Snape name.

“Miss Granger?” Strange to hear such gentleness issue from Snape’s lips. “Can I get Pepper to get you some clean robes? I need to go in and help Jaidy,” Brendan continued, eyeing off the mess down the front of her robe.

Before Hermione could answer, Jaidy’s voice snapped through the air. “Brendan!”

Startled, Brendan turned and saw her struggling with a now writhing Severus. “Bugger,” He exclaimed as he ignored Hermione startled glance and strode straight in to help Jaidy with Severus.

Tears were leaking from Severus’ eyes and he was trying to clutch at his left arm. “Leave him alone, you bastard,” Brendan snarled, eyeing the dark mark. Brendan didn’t even notice Hermione step up beside him. “Jaidy?”

“House magics not strong enough. He fighting the dark mark and with the deaths,” Jaidy said by way of explanation. She continued, sounding guilty, “should have been locking boys down earlier, not given them any of the red, he holding them, luckily not all.”

“So they’re…” Brendan started to ask, before Jaidy interrupted him.

“Held under charms. Held sleeping, not suffering. Needs to be worrying about the master. Going to need to invokes stronger magics, but he’s not going to be liking it.”

“He can be not liking all he likes, so long as he’s alive to not like it, Jaidy,” Brendan stated firmly. Between them they had the authority to do what ever was necessary; Severus had seen to that years ago. “What do you need me to do?”

Jaidy didn’t answer him immediately; instead she turned her attention to the girl hovering behind him. Loathe as she was to admit it, her presence might be useful. Jaidy would need all the senior of the house elves for this to work and probably most of the junior as well. Given that most of the juniors didn’t have enough experience with humans, the girl might as well help; the problem was to convince her, quickly. “Do you thinks you can be dosing the master with healing potions every minute?”

“Of course I can,” Hermione said rather sharply, “what exactly is going on?” she asked as she watched Jaidy wipe a tear from Professor Snape’s eyes. She could feel magic flowing in the room, but the memories of torture under this man’s hand came flooding back, and inwardly she cringed. But she reminded herself she was a Gryffindor, and all the qualities that entailed gradually seeped through.

Brendan shared a look with Jaidy, the house elf nodded, and Brendan began to speak.

“Currently everyone at Hogwarts believes you are dead, Miss Granger, most likely at Severus’ hand. The fact is, you would be dead if not for the game Severus is playing. You are not the first, and unfortunately not likely to be the last, child that Severus will have to rescue out from Voldemort’s clutches.”

Hermione flinched at the venom in Brendan’s voice when he mentioned Voldemort. She wondered at the personal venom that infused the previous statement, but she had no idea that Brendan had, in fact, been one of those children.

Brendan, as had the other Muggle children, had been adopted out, put through school, university, if that was their dream, and trust funds established for them in the Muggle world. Brendan, his mind stronger than many of the other children, had resisted the obliviate, and on completing a degree in accounting and management, had tracked Severus down. He’d expected a fight, but Severus was no fool, Voldemort was not gone and he would be back. He took Brendan in, and was surprised to find a deep friendship bloom. Now Brendan looked after the estates and trust funds that protected Severus’ unofficial family, and rejoiced and mourned every child that could be saved, and every one that could not. Unlikely as it was, Brendan was a younger brother to Severus, in very sense of the word, Severus had seen to that.

Still, how to convey that to a pattern-card Gryffindor. Luckily for Brendan, said Gryffindor was intelligent; she had managed to put together a reasonable picture in her mind. A lot of holes existed, and she intended to get them filled, but for now. “It seems I owe my life to Professor Snape. You can tell me the rest later.”

Both Brendan and Jaidy sighed at her quick acquiescence. This would now be a lot easier. “Brendan you be needing to cover Severus again. I have to be getting ritual component, and I mays be seen, and worse, recognised,” Jaidy started to explain. “Miss Granger, you needs to be feeding Severus three drops of this potion every sixty seconds, precisely.” She waved her hand and a small vial appeared. The bite in the house-elf’s voice, so reminiscent of Professor Snape, brought a smile to both Brendan and Hermione’s faces.

Calling the all the house elves together, Jaidy outlined her plan. Shocked at the idea of a blood ritual, something she thought of as inherently dark, Hermione was surprised to learn that not all rituals requiring blood were either dark, or needed death. Still thinking on the probable effect of her apparent death, she made a contribution to the plan that would in the end save it. She hadn’t enquired as to the target, something Jaidy was glad of, but Hermione brought up the subject of the Marauder’s Map. With Black, Lupin, Harry and Ron still at Hogwarts, it was guaranteed someone would think of it.

Jaidy looked at Brendan. Brendan returned the look. “Damn, that will make things difficult,” Brendan said after a few moments.

“Why?” Hermione asked, “after all, all you need to do is summon the map and pass it here,” she said reasonably. She had concluded that for some unknown reason the estate was protected from detection.

“Summon it?” Brendan went white at the thought. “Jaidy, can the house elves do summoning?”

“Things belong to the house, yes, things not, no.”

“Miss Granger, I presume you know the summoning spell?” Brendan turned and asked her.

“Of course.” Her tone of voice suggested, ‘need you ask’.

“It seems, Miss Granger, we be needing you to casting summoning spell. Map will be causing troubles,” Jaidy said uncomfortably.

“Why do you need me to cast a summoning spell?” Hermione asked reasonably, looking pointedly at Brendan.

“Because I’m not a wizard, Miss Granger.”

“But…” stammered Hermione, staring at Brendan.

“Not all children taken by Lord Voldemort are wizards. In point of fact, Miss Granger, you are amongst the first he has managed to acquire.” Brendan’s voice again was laced with venom.

“But Snape hates Muggle and Muggle born.”

“That is quite enough, Miss Granger,” Brendan spoke in icy, clipped tones. “You have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. Just accept for the moment that we need you to cast that spell and then return here immediately, or accept that we will take our chances without your help, or hindrance.” Hermione was tempted to laugh, here was a Muggle threatening her, that was, until she realised he wasn’t joking. Brendan smiled his ‘best’ Severus smile, the one that normally had even the bravest Gryffindor running for cover. “Yes Miss Granger, I may ‘only’ be a Muggle, but, between us, I think Jaidy and I can keep you somnambulant until you die.”

Now, are you going to help, or sleep?” Brendan asked, after giving Hermione a moment to digest the threat. Muggle he may be, but Jaidy as the embodiment of the house had gifted Brendan with house magics, not the greater, as that was not possible, but he could still access the house to protect Severus.

As life defining moments go, Hermione would look back on this in years to come and say that this was a doozy. Muggle-born and bred, but now drawn so far into the wizarding world that she had begun to think, subconsciously, as Muggle being equated to lesser. Brendan, standing there looking so like Professor Snape, but yet not, reminded her that wizarding ability was not the only thing that made a person dangerous. “I’ll summon the map,” she said quietly. After a moments reflection she added, “Umm, actually, I can’t summon it.” Brendan raised an eyebrow in query at her. “Draco broke my wand,” she said “Is that all that’s stopping you?” Brendan asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yes, so unless you just happen to have a stockpile of wands just lying around…” she commented tartly, almost as snarkily as one would have expected from Severus.

Jaidy just shrugged her shoulders at Brendan. “Take her to the Repository, there should be something there she can use.”

“Pepper you’s go with Brendan, takes Miss Granger,” Jaidy instructed. “How much longer you wearing master’s form?” She directed that last comment to Brendan.

“We’ve got another three hours before it wears off, but remember I’ll be useless after that. Hell, I’m on my last legs now, as Pepper will attest.”

“Then you’s better be going quickly.”


The Repository was on the same floor as the Master bedroom. It was here that Severus stored those items he managed to collect after various revels, and other such gatherings. Some he intended to pass on to the relevant heirs when it was safe to do so, others he kept because they helped remind him of crimes committed. In a cabinet, the drawers lined with velvet and silk, lay the collected wands of now dead wizards. The sheer number startled Hermione, over 200 wands lay in the cabinet. “The wand chooses the wizard,” Ollivander had said when she had bought her first wand. The choosing had taken ages, something she was certain they didn’t have this time. But in this case, the wand truly chose the wizard for one wand glowed Gryffindor gold as her hand passed over it.

Brendan, who knew the history of each wand, was surprised to say the least. This particular wand had not been rescued as most of the others had, but had held in the Snape Family for generations, it was a ‘female’ wand, and its brother lay hidden in a cloak sleeve in the room next door. ‘What is going on here’? His mind raced at the possibilities as he explained some of what he knew about the glowing wand. “Ebony wood, that’s a white onyx set in its base, and at the core I believe is two unicorn hairs, one black, one white.”

Looking at Brendan, Hermione was surprised to hear him recite the wand’s properties. “Do you know whose wand it was?” she asked having worked out herself where most of the wands had to have come from. ‘The thought of using another wand is uncomfortable enough without knowing that the other person had been killed by Dark Magics’.

“That is a very old wand, Miss Granger, over 400 years old I believe. You’ll have to ask Severus about it, he knows its full history,” Brendan replied thinking that would be an interesting discussion to be able to listen in on, a very interesting discussion, indeed.


Brendan led the now armed Hermione down to Severus’ laboratory. “Understand that Voldemort is a vicious, sadistic bastard who doesn’t like to be crossed,” Brendan said as the walked. “At the moment he believes you are dead, and at Severus’ hand; he also believes a lot of other children are dead at Severus’ hand.” He watched her face to see if she was following him. She was.

“Yes, Miss Granger, if Lord Voldemort finds out you are alive, not only will he kill Severus, but he’ll try to find out about every other child that Severus killed; so let your friends know, and you can carry the blame for the reign of death Voldemort will unleash, that is until I kill you. Understood?”

One look at the implacable expression on Brendan’s face and her already too intimate knowledge of Voldemort was all she needed. “I understand,” she answered quietly.

Pepper opened the portal for Hermione. She watched in fascination as the door to Severus’ private chambers at Hogwarts opened. ‘Seven impossible things before breakfast… wait, I’ve already had breakfast’, she thought inanely. She was finding it more and more difficult to hold onto the shreds of sanity that she clung to. ‘I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto’. Apparently Hogwarts was not the impenetrable fortress she had always believed. She and two of her fellow Gryffindors had been kidnapped from within the halls, but that required inside help. Here was proof that there were more ways in and out than she believed. Worse, she was certain this exit had never appeared on the Marauder’s Map. She’d check that when she had it in hand.

Brendan waved her through. He was not about to go jumping back and forth unless absolutely necessary, he had two more trips today, and that was two too many. ‘I’ll look real threatening puking my guts up… again’, he thought sardonically.

Hermione stepped across the threshold and felt Hogwarts enfold her, strengthen her, and remind her of the ages past. She summoned the Marauders Map; surprisingly it was still in Professor Snape’s office. At least Lupin and Black hadn’t thought of it yet. Turning to the portal, she activated the map. There she stood, but, as expected, no portal was shown. She wondered at the sheer power that allowed this absurdity as she had one last good look at Severus’ quarters. She knew instinctively that it was to be last look at any parts of Hogwarts she would get for a long time. A shudder ran up and down her abused body as she ‘saw’ herself here once more, with the sense that a long, long time had passed. ‘I always wanted a chance to see this room’, she mused, ‘just not this way’. She noted with no surprise that there were no portraits in this room as she stepped back across the portal.

Brendan and Pepper were waiting for her. What she couldn’t fathom was the look of jealously Brendan directed her way. “Jaidy’s waiting for you.” Without waiting to see if she acknowledged the comment, Brendan stepped back to Hogwarts, with Pepper closing the portal immediately after he’d crossed.

“Coming Miss, running out time is,” Pepper said as he started back towards the master’s rooms.


Jaidy had used the short time Hermione and Pepper were gone to advantage. The bed had been moved to the centre of the room; this would allow Jaidy to cast the necessary circles, for circles she would need, without needing to move Severus. Another of the elves had laid the foundation for the circles. Salt had been used to draw one circle, though it had yet to be closed. A second circle inside the first and similarly unclosed at the moment had been drawn in chalk, green and silver entwined. Within the circles all of the Senior House elves were present in Severus’ bedroom when the two returned. Arrayed behind the Seniors was every other elf that had call to answer to the Snape houses; it was an impressive sight.

Beside the bed, near the opening in the circles, Hermione spied a gently burning brazier, and a table set up for ritual magic. Three candles, black, grey and white sat arranged around an earthenware bowl. Three very large black opals and a blade that looked as though it could cut the very earth in half were laid beside the bowl. Piles of herbs were set about the table’s edge; apple blossoms, cinnamon, feverfew, lavender, tansy, valerian and willow: all herbs, spices and flowers associated with healing, love and protection.

Jaidy, herself, was still seated with Severus’ head on her lap. He had lost even more colour in the short time they had been gone, if that was possible. “Miss Granger, you be needing to placing 3 drops of this,” Jaidy held up a small violet-coloured vial, “on master’s lips every sixty seconds, precisely.” With care, Jaidy extracted herself from beneath Severus’ head and held it gently, indicating that Hermione was to enter the circles through the opening and take her place.

The idea of sitting on Professor Snape’s bed made Hermione’s skin crawl. To do so, with him there was almost enough to make her turn and run. Worse, she realised that the position Jaidy had been in was probably the best if she needed to administer the draught in a precise manner.

As Jaidy slipped out through the ‘gate’ in the circles, the House elves present joined hands closing what was the final circle. As Hermione took Jaidy’s place, she felt a blanket of magic wrap itself around her; the house elves had begun to sing. The magic, for magic it was, felt very different to her own wizarding magic; it had a similar feel to Hogwarts as it had enfolded her moments before. She found herself crying for no apparent reason; one of her tears landing on Severus’ lips. She was surprised as he relaxed down into her lap, licking his lips. Jaidy standing at the door looked back as the tears fell, crystal shards to wash Severus’ face. The elderly House-elf finally smiled at her, before disappearing.


It was Saturday, normally later year students could be relied upon to be in Hogsmeade; today Jaidy didn’t even bother to look there, Albus would have locked the school down tight until he found out how its security had been breached. The lock-down would, of course, make her job all the harder. She quickly checked that Brendan had finished turning himself inside out, before she ventured into the elvenways of Hogwarts.

Three junior elves spotted her as soon as she crossed into the elven halls; one look was all that was needed to silence them. Jaidy had sufficient rank that until one of the senior Hogwarts elves said otherwise, she would be left in peace, even with the goings on of yesterday. Elf rank held, though the youngest elf did immediately scurry off to inform his superior.

Dancing in and out of elf doors, Jaidy searched the Gryffindor tower, for once exceedingly grateful to the fact that most wizards never really looked at the house elves; one elf looks like another after all. Her luck held, she didn’t run into Dobby. That she feared the most; still if need be, he could be silenced. Even amongst the casteless society of elves, Jaidy was near the top. Harry Potter was not to be found anywhere in the Tower. She tried to Quidditch field, hoping he was in fact not to be found there, it would be very hard to acquire the final spell component if he was on broomstick. Luck still holding, she headed for the Headmaster’s rooms.

Jaidy peeked into the main office. Harry Potter was sitting on a large, leather chair staring at someone out of her view. “What do you mean Moody couldn’t find anything?” he was asking.

“Just that, Harry. Voldemort is wizard enough to wipe clean an area, and no doubt, he had Lucius’ help. Wouldn’t do to leave obvious evidence of Dark Magic, that would get the Ministry off its collective butts,” Sirius Black growled. The Order had taken to staying with Harry, as much to stave off inopportune actions. Still, leaving Harry and Sirius alone was not the best combination. Both were currently imagining just what they’d like to do to Professor Severus Snape; if Voldemort could listen in he would have gained a new appreciation of both, and maybe even a few pointers; they had very nasty imaginations.

On hearing Sirius Black, Jaidy’s only thought was, ‘luck would be giving out now, wouldn’t it’. Still, as she could see Professor Dumbledore walking up the corridor, probably to check that Harry and Sirius were still there, she had no choice but to move, and quickly. Opening an Elf door in the floor immediately behind Harry, she crept into the room. Holding a vial in one hand, and a heavy cosh in the other, she prepared to attack.

Jumping up onto the seat behind Harry she swung both arms forward in a parody of a hug. The cosh struck Harry fair on the nose, and with sufficient force to actually break it, blood started rushing out. Her other hand brought the vial in under his nose catching the precious drops. In short, she snotted him one.

Harry, completely stunned by the attack, failed to defend himself at all. Sirius, almost as stunned, launched himself at Harry’s attacker. “Jaidy,” he snarled. He remembered her from this time at Hogwarts, always following Severus around.

Jaidy nimbly evaded Sirius, leaving him flat-footed, and ran full pelt *through* the front door of Dumbledore’s office. She flashed by Dumbledore, who reaching for the fast-moving elf, only succeeded in grabbing the floor. He fired off an ‘immobilius’ that only managed to hit the door that Jaidy dived through. The very same door that wasn’t there an instant before. Sirius flew out of the office, almost trampling the prone Headmaster. “Which way?” he snarled. A surprised Dumbledore just pointed. Sirius barrelled into the door, which was two sizes too small for him. He frantically searched the gloom, and saw the silhouette of Jaidy backlit by another door, which promptly vanished. Sirius felt the door his head was poking through begin to collapse; he barely had time to get out before it winked out existence.

“She must be heading for Snape’s rooms,” he bellowed, as he barrelled back past Dumbledore heading for the hidden stair. Sirius, thanks to his time with the Marauders, knew more about the backways of Hogwarts than most, far more than Dumbledore in fact. He quickly calculated the shortest route to the little fink’s destination. He flew down the stairs and corridors until he reached a long hallway spotting Jaidy in the distance. “Gotcha,” he smirked to himself. Putting on a burst of speed, he closed in on his prey. Suddenly the corridor he was racing down turned sharply to the right, a bend that he knew wasn’t there. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh,” he muttered, as he calculated the permutations and combinations of pathways towards the Dungeons. “Accio Marauders Map,” he yelled as he continued after Jaidy; he was very surprised when the map failed to appear.

Without the map he was slightly handicapped, still he knew enough. Swinging around, he took off through one the secret passages that led to the kitchens; from there he knew a back way that would get him to the dungeons. For a supposedly secret passage, it was surprising well utilized; house elves popped in and out of doors along its length; the major elvenways formed most of the secret passages present at Hogwarts; the residents just didn’t realise it. Still this many elves, that was unusual. After tripping over yet another elf Sirius began to have suspicions. His suspicions were confirmed when as he rounded a corner he saw Jaidy talking with another elderly elf, she looked up and pointed in his general direction, the acoustics of the passage let him hear, “block it.” He barely got out of the passage before it collapsed on his head.

Cursing Houses and House elves Black finally made it to the Dungeons, Jaidy nowhere to be seen. Not giving up, Sirius raced down the main corridor of the Dungeons, only to run straight into the wards that Dumbledore had placed around Severus’ quarters the night before. After dusting himself, off he ducked into the Potions Classroom, grabbing a handful of floo power he called to Dumbledore, “Get down here and pull those bloody wards down.”


Brendan looked up as she entered the room. “Black is coming,” she said.

“Terrific.” Brendan rolled his eyes, and then quickly settled ‘Severus’ around him. “You were seen, I take it?”

“Was, but got what we needing.”

“Don’t worry, Jaidy, just get Severus back on his feet. I’ll keep Black amused.”

Jaidy, happy now that Brendan was warned, activated the portal. “Pepper be opening again in an hour,” she said as she stepped through and closed it behind her.

Brendan remained listening for the pounding on the door that would come. ‘Let’s have some fun’, he grinned to himself. ‘Maybe I can cheer Severus up with tails of the dog’.


Jaidy, meanwhile, raced towards the Master’s rooms. Whilst she knew that the Granger girl was capable and would have followed the instruction to the letter, she wanted to make sure that Severus was in fact still breathing. He was, but it was touch and go.

“Miss Granger is needing to be leaving the circle now,” Jaidy said as she returned, a vial of blood in hand. “Please gently be placing Master’s head on the pillow.”

The house elves whispered quiet words that Hermione was not quite able to hear, but the effect was felt. The blanket of magic that had cloaked her lifted slightly. Two of the elves stepped apart creating an opening in the elven circle allowing Hermione to step out.

Once Hermione had cleared the area Jaidy closed the out circles with salt and chalks. “You may be watching Miss Granger,” Jaidy said as she stepped up to the brazier, “but silence having must we have.”

Hermione, having realised the extent of Professor Snape’s injuries, and therefore the likely level of magic that would be needed to heal him, was pleased that the elderly house-elf would allow her to stay. Serious ritual magics were not covered until 7th year; and then only invited students could participate in that course. The chance to see this level of magic was not something she would pass up if she could avoid doing so.

As the circles had closed behind Jaidy, Hermione saw the images of tall, graceful, elven-eared, reminiscent of the Muggle drawings of Tolkien, elves standing behind each of the elves now stationed equidistant around the drawn circles; the elf behind Jaidy was raven-haired and raven-eyed, upswept eyes of the darkest ebony, and Hermione would have sworn that she saw the galaxies in those eyes. Instead of the lilting, half stilted speech of the normally associated with house elves, Jaidy’s voice was melodious, sweet and laced with power.

“The lines are calling, the circle drawn,” Jaidy intoned as she lit the candles, first, the white, followed by the black and then the grey. The scent of lemon filled the air. She took a pinch of each of the herbs, placing them in the earthenware bowl. Dropping a coal from the brazier into the bowl, she waved the knife through the smoke from the burning herbs. “Blood calls to Blood,” she dipped the blade into the vial containing Harry’s blood, “The lines are one,” the bloodied knife touched Severus’ forehead, leaving a shallow cut. “From history, down though time.” She placed one of the opals over the cut, “I draw on the line,” another drop of blood, this time the incision over the heart, “the line answers,” and another opal. “I bleed the line; the line answers,” a last drop of blood, an incision above the groin. “I heal the line; the line answers,” the last opal.

As Jaidy spoke, Severus was bathed in crystal green light. Each point where the knife had touched flaring silver. Coiling around the circle appeared a rope, DNA twisted, red paired to gold, green paired to silver. As the rope closed Jaidy and the elves as one intoned, “The line is one.”

To be continued...
Chapter 6 Awakenings by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:

Thanks to all who review... It is nice to know the story reads well.

Jeanette

Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to be kind to trolls and to clean up when we have finished.

Brendan waited patiently for the ‘cavalry’ to arrive; Jaidy had just slipped out through the portal in the private laboratory, happy at her success. He needed to ensure the rest, so he sat in Severus’ favourite chair, a mug of steaming hot coffee on a small side-table beside him with the latest copy of Potionianis Quarterly in his lap. One of the current articles, ‘Quantification of Muggle Physiology; a Study of the Effects of Belladonna nervousa’ was sufficiently fascinating that he was able to look up in startled surprise when Dumbledore stormed into the room, with Sirius snapping at his heels.

Sirius lunged for Severus without warning, overturning the stuffed chair he was in, and Brendan looked calmly at the slavering jaws close to ripping his face off. “I take it that this is not a social call?” he asked, Severus sarcasm coming to the fore, despite his somewhat untenable position. For the first time since he had ‘known’ Dumbledore, he could sense the power of the wizard, his towering rage barely kept in check, and Brendan wondered if he was going to survive this.

“No, I think not,” Dumbledore actually growled.

“What,” Brendan exclaimed as he neatly deflected Sirius from his unprotected throat, “no lemon drop, no sherbet fizz, umm, maybe an acid bomb, perhaps? My, my, Headmaster, what have I done now?” Brendan enquired, looking up at the elderly wizard. His air of self-assurance only infuriating the dog more. “Or am I simply to be mauled for entertainment? ‘Throw that traitor to the dogs’.”

“Severus, can you be serious for once,” said Dumbledore with a heavy sigh of exasperation.

“I’d rather not,” Brendan snapped, looking pointedly at the dog still attempting to reach his throat. “Down boy,” he growled in a voice very much like Sirius as he smacked the dog across the snout.

Sirius for his part flinched back from the strike before snarling even louder, his teeth bared. A venomous look directed at Severus’ throat, if the others hadn’t been there, Sirius would have tried to kill the Potions Master; that was obvious.

Dumbledore meanwhile, stunned by the oblique humour asked, “You have the audacity to tell me you don’t know what this visit is about?” Still, he did haul the enraged animagus off Severus.

With Black no longer trying to eviscerate him, Brendan was able to observe who else had arrived. The cavalry consisted of Dumbledore, Black, Potter and Lupin. All four in varying degrees of outrage. ‘My, my, just what had Jaidy done to stir up this hornet’s nest’, he wondered.

“Ah, the voice of reason, as ever, Headmaster,” Brendan said as he dusted himself off and returned the seat to its normal position. “No, I don’t bloody well know what this is about, so kindly keep that cur off my person and please enlighten me.” The tone suggested that not everyone present could actually be able enlighten him. The implied insult caused Black to lunge at Brendan again. “This is getting extremely tiresome, you flea-bitten mutt. How would you like to be turned into a rug?” Brendan pulled out a bottle from his voluminous sleeve. Sirius quickly back peddled and landed on his rump in his haste to get away.

Brendan put on his best ‘inscrutable Severus’ grin as his attention focussed on more important people. Amusing as Sirius was, Brendan knew he had to tread very carefully around the truth with such an august audience.

“Your house elf, Jaidy,” Lupin managed to choke out into the tense silence.

“Yes, what about her? The last I saw she was at Snape Manor.” Well, it was the truth.

“Are you willing to repeat that under Veritaserum, Severus?” Lupin again trying to remain the peacemaker. A difficult task given Harry was standing beside him bleeding still. The boy had refused to see Madam Pomphrey without answers about this latest attack.

Brendan just looked at him, one eyebrow raised just slightly. “If you are willing to explain to me what this is all about,” he said calmly, an air of complete indifference about him. “Of course I don’t get to ask *him* questions under Veritaserum, do I?” he asked, looking at the dog held firmly by Dumbledore.

“If it was his house-elf that had just attacked Harry, maybe you would.”

“Well in this instance I am not at all keen to comply. After all, I have absolutely no control over what questions you intend to ask, and I’m very certain you won’t like some of the answers.” Brendan turned his attention to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘Yes old man’, Brendan thought, ‘you have put Severus into uncomfortable positions often enough, let’s see you get me out of this one’. “Are you willing to take my word of honour that the last time I saw Jaidy she was in the Potions Laboratory of Snape Manor?” No lies there.

“And you know nothing about Jaidy breaking Harry’s nose?”

“Absolutely not!” Brendan’s icy demeanour seemed to be getting through to the people present. Jaidy must have been angry; still he hadn’t known she’d broken Harry’s nose.

“And the fact that she broke Harry’s nose has nothing to do with you?”

“Correct,” Brendan’s voice took on a bored quality that intimated that he really couldn’t care if they believed him or not. ‘Severus yes, me, no’.

Dumbledore watched the younger wizard field his questions. He was skilled enough at reading people that he would swear that Severus was telling the truth. But, if that were the case, then what had the house-elf been up to? Any further contemplation of Severus’ answers, and what further questions to ask were forestalled when Harry suddenly collapsed on the floor face first, breaking his nose further with a sickening crunch.

The older wizards turned sharply to look at Harry just as a wave of nausea rode over them.

Brendan, upon seeing the others falter, swiftly followed suit, though he waited for Lupin to make to obvious statement. “What in Merlin’s name was that?”

Brendan didn’t answer, but inwardly he rejoiced, prompting a sharp look from Dumbledore.

Brendan schooled his features to the best innocent look he could muster, facing down the Headmaster. Dumbledore nodded once, but said nothing.


Severus floated, dreaming, on a sea of pain, the currents of agony, doubt, fear and loathing pulling him this way and that. Death, the ever-present siren, sang to him of peace and oblivion, of gentle dreamless sleep. It was a song he had heard many times before, and would undoubtedly hear again, but something always called him home; duty and promises long forgotten by others, but never him. Still, there was a kind of peace to be had floating here alone, no immediate needs except to remain, and so he continued to float.

A sudden, sharper pain intruded on his conscience, the death mark. Clawing and clutching, he only subsided back to the dream when he felt known hands touch upon his shoulder: Brendan. The touch however, was enough to rouse him from his somnolent state, bringing him a little closer to the real world. Severus continued in this half-aware state until he heard *her* voice call. It was soft and low, a voice unknown, but maddeningly familiar; he heard her, and felt the first touches of healing as crystals of light rained down on him.

He turned his head towards the voice and when the powerful magics reached out to draw him home, he was ready to come. The magics, a woven cloth of light of silver, green and gold, blanketed him. Silken threads of magic slipping through the layers of self to his very heart; here they began to knit and rebuild his broken body. As the fabric of self was rewoven, he felt new threads weave themselves into the matrix. Threads of crystal pulled from the healing rain, threads of gold pulled from the blood. These new threads strengthened him, added to him, and remade him, old and new. Washed away that last pain held over from childhood, he realised at last that he was never alone.

The last of the magics faded away as the last thread was tied in the new fabric that was Severus. Still a sharp indrawn breath was the only sign to those who watched that anything had changed, the nose twitched once and then Severus lay still as the dead again.

Jaidy was torn between joy at any sign of life from Severus, and trepidation at his reaction to the magics performed on his behalf. She, as well as the other elves stationed about the circle did not move. The blood magics might have faded, but they still ran, still healing.

To supplement the ritual magics, Jaidy still held the house magics about their Master, and would do so until sure signs of recovery were seen.

Severus meanwhile lay still as the grave. He had not survived the years of torment as a Death Eater and spy without developing, and honing, a healthy sense of paranoia. So instead of opening his eyes and announcing to all present his return to consciousness, he lay still and brought his most formidable weapons to bear; his mind and his nose, cataloguing his environment. As he swam towards full consciousness he noted a remarkable absence of pain, the very absence caused him a moment of disquiet, as it was feeling completely alien to him.

‘Maybe Death finally has me’, he thought, thinking on the strange and powerful pull that had dragged him from his painful solitude. His disquiet faded, though, as his nose was assaulted by a myriad of well-known, and common smells, the scents of home.
Overlaying the scents of home he smelt other things, frightening things. Apple blossoms, feverfew, lavender, tansy, valerian and willow, all herbs and flowers he was very well aware of. The sharp tang of… blood? startled him as he feverishly listed the ingredients, his encyclopaedic mind rattling through the combinations. At the very limits of detection, plum and peach mixed with…ink? What was *she* doing here? The computations were complete, and the answer startled him to wakefulness. With a soul-destroying “No,” Severus jerked awake involuntarily, being thrown to the floor in a tangle of sweaty sheets.

“Master, no,” Jaidy wailed, unable to move until all the magics that were invoked were released. Severus had fallen on the other side of the bed from her, added a despairing note to her cry. She needed to be able to see Severus to determine when to release the spell.

“Miss Granger,” she said turning her head sharply to face the girl.

Hermione froze, not comprehending the sight before her. The Snape shape quivering and flailing around on the floor tore at her, and she quailed when she realised that he was…crying. A keening sound of loss tore from the man’s throat, a sound like that of a cheetah she had once seen on a nature special; crying for a cub, lost to a lion’s jaws. The sight tore at her in a way she could not comprehend, but, without thinking about the consequences, she stumbled towards her Professor. She crossed the wards as if they were never there.

Hermione was surprised at her own reaction. That Professor Snape, bane of all students could be reduced to tears was a frightening thought, that she would care that he had been reduced to tears frightened her more. Still, she could never leave anyone in pain; it was for that reason she told herself that she had amassed her courage and gathered the wreck that was her Professor into her arms. She sat with him cradled on her chest, letting his tears fall as they would.

Hermione had crossed the circle without disturbing it, and that brought a slow creeping smile to Jaidy’s face. There was hope, after all. For her own part, Hermione sat there with Professor Snape hugged to her chest like a little boy lost. Severus was totally unaware of his position, too overcome by the horror of what Jaidy had done.

The shaking man in her lap slowly settled, tears falling less frequently, and his breathing eased as Hermione gently stoked Severus’ hair. She was surprised at how fine those black locks were, but it was the welts of old scars under his hair that brought more tears to her eyes. Hermione crooned softly, rocking back and forth gently like a Mother whose child has fallen; her tears fell silent upon his head. Making eye contact with Jaidy, over the bed, Hermione mouthed, “He’s settling.”

“Letting me knows when quiet he is. Magics should have worked by now.”


Severus, his heart racing as the implications of Jaidy’s actions permeated his brain was surprised to find himself clasped in a gentle embrace. The hand stroking his hair soothed him, chasing some of the panic away. As the fear melted away he was able to relax into the arms that held him, not Brendan’s, but strangely comforting. He could feel the last of the blood magics fading, but they were held in place still; he could also feel the house magics strong in the background.

While realizing that Jaidy would not release any of the magics until she was certain he was whole, Severus was strangely reluctant to indicate his return to consciousness. Still he was curious about the current state of affairs, and he had more than one question he needed to ask Jaidy, thus he began to open his eyes. The sight that met him was not one he would have expected, his head was apparently resting on the gentle rise of someone’s breasts; he stiffened as he realised exactly whose breasts they likely were: Hermione Granger’s.

He could feel the dampness where her tears had fallen, and he could now hear the gentle croon as she rocked him back and forth. It had been so long since anyone had held him thus, gentle and safe; he was loathe to end it. “Miss Granger,” he croaked, as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

His eyes rising to meet hers were lit with a gentle smile. Hermione was having trouble with the concept of smile and Professor Snape in the one universe, let alone one sentence. She just stared back, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry Miss Granger... Hermione… more than you can possibly imagine, but it appears you will be my guest for a while,” he said with surprising gentleness before turning his attention to Jaidy.

“Jaidy,” his voice gaining strength, “you can let the magic go now.”

He felt, rather than saw, the effects as Jaidy began to dismantle the magics and the wards, it was while this was happening that he finally noticed both he and Miss Granger were *inside* the circles, not outside. Now that he was inside the circle wasn’t surprising, after all he was the target of the magics invoked, but how in Merlin’s name had Miss Granger ended up on this side? Severus was certain the girl would not have been on this side when the circle was cast.

As the last of the magics fell away Severus stood confidently, holding a hand out to assist Hermione to her feet. For the first time in many, many years, there was no pain, no twinges, nothing. Even the Dark Mark was strangely silent. Before he had even straightened up fully, he was embraced by the elderly house elf.

“Yous better, yous really better?” Jaidy asked.

“Yes Jaidy,” Severus sighed, “but what exactly has been going on?” he asked politely, though he did notice that Miss Granger was looking at him somewhat strangely.

“She be waking early,” Jaidy nodded her head at the bemused girl, “the boys are still held in sleep, had to be rebinding the Kedavra binding, losing you we was.” The elderly elf took a moment to glare at him, fondly, but still it communicated her disquiet. “At Hogwarts Brendan is, playing with the dog, he is. Chased me he did, catching me he tried to do.” A small grin played over her face at that last comment.

“Playing with the dog… Oh, Merlin, please tell me you don’t mean Sirius.”

Jaidy actually looked uncomfortable, a sight Severus had only seen once or twice before.

“Jaidy,” his tone was questioning, “you haven’t left Brendan to face Sirius alone have you?”

“Brendan insisted, he did,” she said proudly. She wasn’t going to back down on this point. “Needed to be in quarters you did, Brendan stayed, playing you, there to questions answering he be.”

“Questions?” A look of disquiet crossed Severus’ features at that; he knew the vital ingredient Jaidy would have needed to work the blood magic. “You were seen?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Could not be helped,” Jaidy replied, “so Brendan is staying, answering questions.”

A horrid thought hit Severus as Jaidy spoke, “And just how long has Brendan been wearing my form?” he asked, worried that the answer was going to be as bad as he thought.

“Twelve hours, Pepper is waiting opening door at 13 hours.”

“Why isn’t the portal open now?” he asked.

“Because likely he got company, master Severus. We can’t be chancing opening door if Dumbledore there. WE waiting as long as possible, Brendan said do.”

“Bugger, I’d better get to work then,” Severus said briskly. Brendan was likely to be in a bad way after being under Polyjuice. “Miss Granger, I’ll need your help.” Severus grabbed Hermione giving her no choice but to follow. He clung to her desperately as he dragged her down to his private Potions Laboratory.

Hermione barely had time to register the surroundings as he and handed her a set of vials and a recipe to set her creating a ‘simple’ restorative. “Everything you need is here, Ms Granger. For your own safety *please* do not touch anything you don’t have to.” Seeing Hermione’s gobsmacked expression, Severus relented fractionally. “I’ll give you a tour later, young lady, but for now, I need that potion and fast.”

Freed from the need to make the restorative, Severus was able to concentrate of brewing the Polyjuice counter, whilst Brendan was likely to be coming out of the Polyjuiced form ‘naturally’, the counter would ease the final transition. Still Brendan was going to be a very ill young man after this. Hermione thought she heard Professor Snape mutter “Bloody addle-headed muggle,” but all Severus gave her was a sharp look reminiscent of Potions Class when she looked at him.


Thankful that the ‘cavalry’ had finally left, if they’d remained much longer they would have been treated to the most amazing technicolour yawn imaginable; even now Brendan was having trouble focusing on the swirling mass of colour, he could have he’d seen shades from the other side of the rainbow. Unfortunately Brendan was fast losing the ability to hold himself together, whilst he wouldn’t actually fall apart, he would feel like he had soon.

Unable to move away, Brendan watched with fierce concentration the space where the Portal home would appear. Pepper was likely waiting as long as possible to minimize the chance anyone remained with Brendan, but he was cutting the time limit to the line Currently, Brendan was ‘barely’ able to stay on his feet, and the thought of having to cross the room quite frankly scared the living daylights out of him. Still he would make that crossing once the portal opened, though no bets were accepted how far he’d get after that. Of course he also hoped Pepper had a very large bucket on standby. While he had lost all of breakfast already to the slow wearing off of the Polyjuice potion, the effect of portal crossing on his Muggle physiology added to effect of the Polyjuice wearing off was going to be rather uncomfortable.

The portal finally opened after what had seemed like an eternity since Dumbledore and company had left. But, instead of seeing Pepper waiting on the other side of the portal Brendan was surprised to see Severus stride through; Severus garbed informally, black pants and white shirt, Severus alive. The sheer joy this sight brought overwhelmed Brendan, and as he had already used up today’s, tomorrow’s and most likely the next week’s worth of energy, he collapsed gratefully into Severus’ waiting arms.

“Hello, sir. You’re alive,” was all Brendan managed to say before he fainted into safe harbour.

Severus for his part was still questioning that fact as well, but none of those thoughts showed on his face. Instead he had a wry sort of grin, one that would have shocked any member of the Hogwarts staff. Few believed he could smile; that he could grin with such gentle humour was inconceivable. Shaking his head he commented to thin air, “What am I going to do with you, Brendan?” Expecting no reply Severus turned and quickly carried the younger man back across the portal’s threshold.

Glad of the need to concentrate on Brendan, rather than the miracle of his own recovery, Severus strode through the halls of Snape manor bearing Brendan to back to his rooms. Hermione Granger had been safely stored back in his old bedroom with enough books to hopefully keep her occupied. With luck this meant he’d be able to get Brendan back on his feet and able to answer questions before he was bombarded with her inevitable questions.

Jaidy had as usual worked miracles. Brendan’s room was heated; the bed turned down and from the smell of things heated itself with Lavender Packs. On the table sat a set of vials, newly brewed, special potions that Severus had concocted with Miss Granger’s help that would help Brendan deal with the after-effects of the Polyjuice potion. Sliding the young man onto the bed, he pulled the covers up before turning to select one of the vials.

“You’ll feel better after this,” he murmured, placing a couple of drops on Brendan’s tongue. Severus then pulled up a comfortable chair so he could stay and monitor Brendan’s recovery. Brendan finally woke an hour or so later. Severus had actually fallen into a light sleep when he was rudely awakened by Brendan diving off the bed and heading for the room’s ensuite.

To be continued...
Chapter 7 Blood by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to leave the temple alone.

Severus listened closely to the sounds coming from the ensuite. He’d let Brendan have his privacy so long as his health was not endangered. When it became obvious from the sounds issuing forth that Brendan was in severe trouble, Severus raced into the room taking the potion kit with him. He also conjured a damp, warm, lavender scented cloth as he went. Brendan was doubled over, his physical form morphing and straining as it tried to return to its normal state. The effect was probably worse than normal this time given the portal crossings and the time Brendan had spent under Polyjuice.

Holding the cloth to the young man’s neck, Severus just sighed, “You really do have to take better care of yourself, Brendan.” Severus grinned as he felt Brendan ‘snort’ and barf at the same time in his arms.

“Pot calling, Severus,” Brendan got out around another bout of retching. When that finally settled, he accepted the vial Severus pressed into his hand, drinking it swiftly. The effect, whilst not pronounced, did ease the retching and allowed Brendan to take a few much needed deep breaths. The cloth on his neck also helping. “You’re not angry?” he finally asked, turning his head to look at Severus.

“Absolutely livid,” Severus snapped, a smile taking some of the sting out of his words. “I’m leaving the castigation until you are well enough to handle it.”

“Thank you ever so much, old man,” Brendan replied as dryly as possible, all the while thinking, ‘Better warn Jaidy’. Severus rarely pulled rank, but when he did he was as frightening as the students at Hogwarts believed; as far as Brendan was concerned he’d rather be raked now, at least Severus would moderate his anger, later it would be uncomfortable. ‘I must be worse off than I imagined’, he thought given that Severus usually didn’t wait to rake either. “What time is it, by the way?”

“Late enough, about one in the afternoon. You really did push it this time, Brendan.”

“Well at least everyone at Hogwarts thinks you are hale and hearty. Though I’d avoid Black for the next millennium or so,” Brendan said grinning slightly as he remembered Black being dragged off by Dumbledore. “Hmm, better make that Lupin, Potter and Dumbledore as well, come to think of it.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow at that. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” he muttered. “Just what exactly happened this morning, or don’t I want to know? No, no, don’t answer that just yet,” he finished as it looked as though Brendan was going to launch into a long explanation, “let’s get you cleaned up first.”

Helping Brendan, who had finally settled into his own shape, to his feet Severus wondered at the fierce loyalty shown him by the young man. He still found it difficult to accept that anyone could actually like him after so many years of playing the bastard. He lead Brendan back into his rooms and helped him settle back into bed. “Now that you have had sufficient time to marshal your thoughts, can I have a concise run down, please?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Severus?” Brendan asked as he prevaricated.

“Collapsing in the laboratory. I think I remember giving some instructions, but it’s all a bit hazy,” Severus admitted, not exactly comfortable with the loss of any memories.

“Ok, long and sort of it? Jaidy revived you with House magics, long enough for you to tell us you needed to be seen whole,” Brendan started by way of explanation. He then went on to cover the ‘bare’ bones of what had happened between then and now, glossing over most of the details about Hermione Granger’s involvement. “You were seen at breakfast; whole, hale and hearty by the students and the faculty, though Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were rather aghast, I suspect due to your apparent quick recovery. Dumbledore decided not to go with an ‘arrest story’, instead you are now on leave of absence due to your sense of loss.”

Severus snorted before asking, “And just how did you manage that?”

“Dumbledore actually suggested it, in fact he was thinking of ‘stress related’ illnesses. He’s warded your quarters and removed it from the floo network.”

“And who’s looking after my Slytherins?” Severus hissed, dreading the answer.

‘Déjà vu’, thought Brendan, ‘and he’ll probably react worse that I did when I tell him’. The thought did little to cheer Brendan. “Black and Lupin.” Brendan said as fast as he could.

“Of all the incompetent, ignoble ignoramuses that Dumbledore could have picked…Those two are in charge of MY Slytherins. By Merlin, they’ll be dog food within a day.” Brendan wasn’t too sure to whom Severus was referring too, and wasn’t too keen to ask for clarification. Brendan could see the vein in Severus’ temple throbbing, and flinched. An inarticulate cry, or was that growl, and Brendan, well versed in self-preservation, dived for the floor. The ceiling above disintegrated from the force of the spell that was released in Severus’ towering rage. Fortunately, Severus still had some modicum of preservation, and stopped the debris from squashing them both flat. Severus was breathing irregularly, but far more calmly than before. “Never liked that décor anyway,” as he casually put it all back together, with modifications.

Brendan continued, “To make matters worse…”

“Worse, they can get worse?” Severus sighed.

“Jaidy was seen leaving Hogwarts.”

“And?” Severus asked waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“She broke Potter’s nose getting the blood.”

“Has anything gone right?”

“Well, you’re whole again, so you can put that down as a definite yes,” Brendan said defiantly, not backing down at all on this.

Severus just rolled his eyes as he recognised the intransigence in the man opposite him. “Ok Brendan just what did you leave out?” Severus’ eyebrow quirked. “This time, go back to the beginning and I want all the details.”

Reluctantly, Brendan complied but refused to falter, watching Severus’ expression get more and more severe. “Can I have that scroll please, Brendan?” Severus said as Brendan filled in the final details. Dumbledore had effectively ‘confined’ Severus to quarters after Harry had collapsed again, though the fiction would be maintained that Severus was on leave. “I want to know where you are at all times Severus,” Dumbledore had said implacably as he’d turned to help Black and Lupin take Harry to the infirmary, “though I won’t remove the wards on your quarters,” he continued, casting a look at the fuming Black. Dumbledore had then handed Severus a scroll, “Use this to notify me of your movements. Hitting it against any hard surface will cause it to ‘port’ directly to me, and it is spelled so only I can read it.”


Hermione Granger found herself ensconced in the room she had woken in this morning. How she got there she wasn’t quite sure, as her last recollection was of handing Professor Snape the completed potion. One moment she had the potion in hand, the next she was standing in front of a desk, facing out through the window she’d awoken to. That the desk was suddenly piled high with text books that looked to cover the curriculum for the rest of sixth year, and a large portion of the seventh year curriculum as well did little to ease her frustrations. How Professor Snape had ‘remotely’ apparated her here she had no idea, but she added that to the list of questions she wanted answers to, a rather long list, and growing by the moment.

Whilst part of her, a fairly large part given the quality of the books, actually contemplated sitting down and reading the books on the desk, she pushed that thought away and headed for the door back to the corridor. She had questions and she wanted some answers. The door should have been exactly were she had left it, she was sure of that, but whilst the bathroom door was where she had left it, the double door leading to the corridor was not. Pulling her ‘new’ wand out from a pocket in her robes she began casting every opening spell she knew, all the standard ones, plus a large contingent of spells even the seventh years weren’t taught.

After an hour-long display of Gryffindor stubbornness, Hermione finally accepted that the door was not coming back, at least to her calling. What she had noticed whilst practicing her casting skills was that she seemed to be able to focus with a degree of clarity of mind she’d never felt before, given her ‘native’ ability to focus, this new development was somewhat surprising. “The wand chooses the wizard,” she remembered Ollivander saying, “The wand chooses the wizard.” Just what was special about this wand? Given that she appeared ‘trapped’ until someone decided to come and get her she decided to focus on how the wand may have affected her other magical levels.


With Brendan safely back on his feet Severus finally felt able to vent his anger at just what Brendan and Jaidy had done. Intellectually he could understand their probable motives, but as far as he was concerned the cost was too high. Knowing that Granger was ‘locked’ in his old room, and that the boys were still asleep, Severus called in Jaidy and Brendan, and from the hangdog looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were expecting a serious dressing down. However, what worried him was that they also had a number of scrolls with them; they were prepared for battle.

“All right, explain yourselves, and this had better be good,” he thundered at the two of them. For their part, Jaidy and Brendan met the storm calmly, gamely clutching to their righteousness of their actions. Brendan dumped the scrolls on his desk. Severus had to grin; they were the ‘standing orders’ in case of emergencies. ‘Sometimes I think I should never have written those’, he thought to himself, ‘too late now, and if they did not have those I suspect they would have found some other way to justify the measures they took’.

Meanwhile Jaidy was calmly but respectfully outlining their reasons. As Jaidy went into highly esoteric magical terminology, Severus had somewhat of an epiphany. He let out a sigh and Jaidy cowered a little as he turned his full attention onto her. “Jaidy, Brendan, I know what you did and I understand in some part why you did it, but you do realise that all my secrets, all my plans, all my endeavours may come to nothing if Voldemort ever gets even the slightest whiff of a link between Harry and I?”

“Begging your pardon, your eminenceness, buts he-whos-not-be-naming is no match for elf magic. To puts it bluntly, master, he having not a clue.” Severus and Brendan were treated to the unprecedented sight of Jaidy hopping around happily. If they could have read her mind they’d have been even more worried, Jaidy still remembered Granger’s tears, and she had felt them incorporate themselves into the magic she had been working.

“And what of Malfoy,” Severus enquired sweetly, his honeyed words dripping venom. “Unfortunately, he *has* got a clue, as you so eloquently put it, because of his mistreatment of Dobby, or had you forgotten that?”

“As Jaidy explained it to me, he’s got to know what he’s looking for first, Severus, and Lucius is not that twisted to even contemplate what we have done here,” Brendan said confidently.

“I hope you are right; I hope you are both right, otherwise it is going to get very sticky very fast. Just what am I going to do with you? No, no, don’t say anything, leave your notes, I’ll look over them, but it’s too late; far too late to do anything about it, so I’ll just have to live with it. Now out of my sight before I change my mind. I’ll be approachable in a few hours; I can’t afford to indulge in any more than that. Until then, I suggest you both disappear.”

Jaidy and Brendan looked at him and decided not to argue. They walked out, with exceeding haste, and left Severus to silently contemplate the scrolls on the table. Suddenly, Severus screamed, “Damn them,” and swept the scrolls from the tabletop. He collapsed in a heap and for the second time that day Severus wept. He knew that they had no choice, but he also expected their actions could and probably would have consequences that were truly awful in their capacity for chaos and destruction. He obsessively tore the scrolls into tinier and tinier pieces as he continued to cry, almost as if he was trying to erase the knowledge of what had happened. He hoped against all hope that no one worked out what had happened, too many lives were at stake.

When he had finally worked out his anger Severus sat and began to contemplate contingency plans, the fact that the sun was beginning to set triggered a thought in the back of his head. ‘That might work’, he thought, ‘but will she agree’?


Hermione Granger looked up as the double door to the corridor reappeared some five hours after she had been summarily transported back to what she now thought of as ‘her room’. The door framed a dishevelled but remarkably healthy looking Professor Snape, a remarkably embarrassed looking Professor Snape. Hermione found herself glancing out the window; no, the world did not appear to be ending, in fact it looked like a rather pleasant evening to be locked inside with a pile of school books. Even if she had now determined that said pile included the *entire* seventh year curriculum, and beyond… and that worried her a little.

Whilst she wouldn’t admit it she was actually glad to see him in one piece again. The sight of Professor Snape, bane of Hogwarts, broken as he had been, was likely to give her nightmares for a while. What surprised her was her reaction to his more casual mode of dress: ‘If he wore that at Hogwarts he’d be fighting them off with a stick, or maybe a cauldron’, she mused. Black slacks belling slightly at the ankles, what looked like black boots mirror-finished, and that shirt? Hermione Granger had never been a fan of the piratical look until now, but Severus Snape wore it so well, white shirt, belled sleeves at the wrists, open at the neck, showing muscular shoulders, and with a line of pearl buttons and lace down the front.

“Professor Snape, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, still peeved at being confined. She also realized she was almost drooling over Professor Snape.

“Miss Granger, settling in, I hope?” Severus said gently, ignoring her mood, attributing it to the situation. ‘Ah, so that’s why Potter and the boy blunder go out of their way not to aggravate her, she looks just about ready to kill’, he thought to himself as he entered the room. The door disappeared behind him.

“I don’t appear to be going anywhere,” Hermione replied eyeing off the wall behind the Professor. “Just what is my situation here, Professor?” she asked in what she hoped was a more reasonable tone; she hadn’t missed the sight stiffening in Professor Snape’s manner when she snapped earlier. Apparently it wasn’t that moderated.

“Let me be perfectly clear on this, Miss Granger, you will be my guest here for at least the foreseeable future. Unless of course you would rather actually be dead instead of my guest. Though, if that is the case, you would most likely be responsible for a few other deaths as well, mine included,” Severus replied, though he had to stifle a smile at the look that crossed Hermione’s face on the last comment. “I suppose my death might not be considered a high price, but there are a few others who would be positively crushed.” He watched her closely, weighing up his next words carefully. “At this very moment Lord Voldemort believes that I am harvesting you and your fellow Gryffindors for various components that would be useful in brewing some of the more darker potions I am apparently researching.”

Hermione had gone slightly green at the mention of harvesting, so much so that she almost missed the comment about potions research. ‘One thing at a time girl’, she admonished herself whilst she whispered, dreading the answer, “Harvesting?”

“As a fiction, it allows me to take with me whomever I happen to be ‘working’ on at the revels,” Severus replied. “Unfortunately I will need to be able to produce *some* evidence of said harvesting. Lord Voldemort can get a little testy if he doesn’t see any tangible results of his, shall we say, indulgences?” Hermione flinched at the totally dead inflection in Snape’s words, and not for the first time, wondered at the balancing act that he appeared to be attempting, admittedly very well. “It tends to keep Lord Voldemort from suspecting my activities.”

“You want to take a bit of me? Is that it?” Hermione finally asked.

“The short answer Miss Granger is ‘yes’.”

“And the long answer is?” Hermione asked.

“Voldemort has considerable protections layered about him, protection that will need to be broken if Harry is going to be able to kill him.” He sighed, frowning slightly when Hermione again looked out the window.

Hermione was actually in shock. ‘No Kansas here, no’, she admonished herself. Had she just heard Professor Snape mention Harry’s name without actually growling, snarking or generally being unpleasant? “And?” Hermione prompted, though the fact that Professor Snape flushed red at the question worried her

If she could see into he is mind at that moment she would have been more than worried. She would, in fact, be mortified, for in the same way that Hermione Granger had her own ‘internal’ calendar of ‘bad Snape days’, Severus Snape kept a veritable database of student information in his head, particularly related to the female students ‘moon’ days. He may never have ‘apparently’ made allowances, but in truth he was normally less critical of the female students during that time. It was that, and the fact that tonight was a ‘Blue Moon’ that placed him in a somewhat embarrassing but exciting position. At this moment Hermione Granger could supply one of the most potent potion ingredients ever known; how potent would be affected by her willingness to assist.

Taking a deep sigh Severus ploughed ahead, “I am aware that you are on the cusp of menstruating, Miss Granger, and before you ask, most teachers are generally aware of their female students ‘patterns’; it is considered a survival tactic. As you are well aware, magic tends to be a little, ummmm, off, you might say during that time. What I need to know is are you still chaste?”

‘Forget about Kansas Toto, I don’t think I’m in the same universe anymore’, Hermione thought to herself. “Chaste?” she asked in a bewildered tone.

“A virgin, Miss Granger, are you still a virgin?” Severus snapped, definitely not the picture of control he normally exhibited to the world.

“Professor, that is a rather personal question,” Hermione Granger said somewhat stiffly, “I mean...”

“Miss Granger, I personally couldn’t care less if you had been cavorting with the entire Gryffindor house. However, personal privacy is not the issue here. Now answer the bloody question, are you a virgin?” It took most of his formidable control not to roll his eyes as he realized the inadvertent pun. ‘Can today get any worse? No, Merlin, don’t answer that’, he thought to himself.

“Yes I am,” Hermione finally said, “but why exactly do you need to know?”

“Because, as you well know Miss Granger,” the inadvertent compliment caused Hermione to blush, “Moon blood is a rather potent potions ingredient, what you may not be aware of is that Moon Blood taken on a Blue Moon is one of the most potent of potion ingredients. In fact I may be able to use it as a basis of a potion to crack the shields around Lord Voldemort.

“In your specific case, it would also assist in maintaining the fiction that you and your fellow students are dead, and believe me, Miss Granger, I want Lord Voldemort to very much believe you are no longer alive.”

Hermione just stared at her Professor. For good measure she stared again, he wasn’t kidding. But the whole idea, “So I’m dead am I?” she asked giving herself ‘room’ to think.

“Yes Miss Granger, I am afraid you are. I will have to confine you to the manor until this is all over,” Severus said gently, allowing her time to integrate the consequences. “I can place the boys in a wizarding school in Europe, but you are a much harder child to hide.”

“But my lessons, my classes, oh Merlin, my NEWTS!” Hermione wailed as the implication of Professor Snape’s comment filtered through her already overloaded brain.

“I am sure you will find the library here sufficient for study purposes, and I am sure we can deal with the rest later,” Severus snapped despite his good intentions. “But right now I need to concentrate on fucking Voldemort, and I do not have to worry about such inconsequential things as your NEWTS.”

“But,” Hermione started to say before she thought better of it. Looking for some other topic to discuss she turned her mind to Professor Snape’s ‘unguarded’ reactions to Voldemort’s name. Hermione Granger was not an idiot, and one thing she noticed as she and the Professor had been talking was that every time Professor Snape said Voldemort’s name he’d frown, just slightly, but it was there. “Just how many children’s lives are you talking about, Professor?” she finally asked, hoping to deflect some of that anger whilst getting some idea of the extent of Snape’s deception.

“About one hundred, Miss Granger,” Severus answered accepting the deflection for what it was, it was all so Gryffindor, “and yes, you are the first person I’ve told outside of Brendan and Jaidy. Now can we please get back to the original topic?” he finished, some of the anger drained from his tone.

“Yes you may take my blood Professor,” she said quietly, “if it will help, I will gladly allow you to take it.”

Severus sighed deeply, “Miss Granger, thank you, though it is not strictly I who would be taking it. If you will come with me?” he said as he turned back to the door which wasn’t there before.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked suddenly worried about exactly how Professor Snape was going to obtain her blood given his last comment.

“You will see,” she heard Severus say as he strode off down the hall

Realizing the door was still open, and that she’d rather be anywhere else other than stuck in that room for any longer, Hermione quickly followed. Severus led her down the stairs and out into the gardens behind the manor. Lit by rising moonlight and the last of the fading sun she saw a small temple on the island of the Estate’s ornamental lake. The Goddess in her three forms, Maiden, Mother and Crone looked down on Severus and Hermione as they approached. Severus smiled gently as he helped Hermione into the small boat at the lake’s edge, “To counter Lord Voldemort, we must call on older forces,” he said, Severus hadn’t missed the look of awe that had crossed Miss Granger’s features.

Hermione for her part was remembering a comment about Russia during the Second World War. ‘An enigma, wrapped up in a mystery’, Churchill had said describing Russia. ‘That comment could as well be applied to Professor Snape’, she thought to herself as the boat glided, propelled by some unseen force, towards the temple. This was further confirmed as she watched Professor Snape make his observances to the Lady; perfunctory they were not. “Come, Miss Granger, I have someone you would like to meet,” Severus said enigmatically as he walked into the temple.

That ‘someone’ soon became obvious. In the centre of the Temple stood a statue, tall, graceful embodied with the power of woman one moment, a girl on the cusp purity shining forth then next, and sometimes, only sometimes, aged, dignified and still very powerful, the crone. The statue stopped shifting, the maiden aspect looking at Hermione. “She is strong, Severus,” the statue commented, “very strong. Are you sure you want to play with that fire?”

“I have no choice at the moment.” Severus said, “If the fire can provide a weapon, then with fire I will play.”

“You wish to help Severus, my priest, my warrior, my love?” the statue said smiling benevolently. Hermione did not think she could be any more shocked. She was wrong. The Lady continued addressing Hermione. “Do you offer freely and of your own will?”

Severus looked at Hermione sharply. “Answer her honestly, with all that Gryffindor courage, girl.”

As Hermione murmured her assent, the robes she was wearing were transformed, no longer dark and heavy, they glowed white, purest virgin silk draped diaphanously down, pooling at her feet, which she noticed in passing were now unclad.

Hermione drew her gaze back towards the Professor to find his aspect changed, pagan tales of Celtic High Priests came to mind. Like Jaidy before, Severus Snape appeared to wear an otherworldly aspect, Herne, the Hunter, in all his glory. His clothes now a robe of deep forest green, open to reveal his muscular form, trews of green hugged his legs and his feet to were unclad. The Hunter overlaid Professor Snape; the two were one.

It was the statue, though, that spoke the ritual words, the statue that questioned her, and the statue that summoned her blood. Hermione felt the ripple of power that surged through her as the Maiden drew her moonblood forth, a stain appearing on the white silken robe at the place where her womb lay. Suspended before her, awaiting the final commands, her blood danced in a suspended globe before her eyes.

The statue turned her attention to her High Priest, the Hunter, who stood as silent as the grave, waiting. In his hands a bloodstone dagger, and a vial of translucent moonstone. As Hermione’s blood had appeared, the Hunter had taken the dagger and drawn it across his chest. The incision was above the heart, at the point where Jaidy had made her incision earlier; one drop of the Hunter’s blood for every drop of Hermione’s blood spilled to the floor. The Maiden smiled as an equal weight of blood was given to the earth in place of Hermione’s blood which would not be shed this moon. It was the High Priest who spoke the words to summon Hermione’s blood to the vial.

Severus Snape felt the High Priest’s Aspect leaving him and with it came the pain of the self-inflicted wound, a wound that would only heal under natures time. Grateful that this time duty had only required his blood, he sent forth his thanks to the Powers. He stepped forward carefully and took Hermione’s hand, “Come child,” he said, his voice still overlaid with the last of the High Priest, as he drew her back towards the boat, “you have done well this night.”

Hermione, exhausted and bewildered, leaned heavily on her professor as he led her back to the boat. The trip seemed much longer this time, and she barely noticed her sleeping robes had been summoned before she was slipped in between the sheets of her new bed.

To be continued...
Chapter 8 Hair by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:

A big shout out to Bil and sunsethill for encouragement. I hope you both like this chapter.

Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Sirius Black was not a happy animagus; in fact he was not anything. Being dragged out of the Potion Master’s rooms without any real answers did not make for a happy ending; he wanted to chew Severus up and spit him out, but it seemed Severus had worked the guilt ploy too well on Albus. Black did not believe a word of it, or of his explanations for Jaidy’s actions. He was going to watch Severus like a hawk, and if that meant haunting this corridor, he would.

His intention had been to remain in human form and wait for when Severus tried to sneak out. That was the one advantage of Dumbledore’s wards; Severus would have to leave his quarters to try anything. However, like all the best intentions, Sirius’ intentions faltered as the night wore on, finally he accepted that his animagus form was better suited to the waiting he planned and so he donned it, settling in for the wait.

Around three in the morning he was woken as he heard soft footsteps in the corridor, thinking Severus had somehow gotten past him. Cracking one eye open he noticed Mrs Norris saunter down the corridor, ‘out for an evening prowl’, he thought before deciding to ignore her. One of the advantages of being an animagus rather that a dog, he could ignore the instinct to harass the cats of Hogwarts; given who the cats were, that was a life preserving ability.


Severus’ arm started to throb not much before dawn, Sunday morning, though it was more of a dull ache rather than the soul-destroying pain that the call normally evoked. He was not particularly enamoured of the early morning call given that by the time he’d dealt with Brendan and Jaidy, gotten the two Gryffindor boys safely awakened and obliviated, and finished dealing with Miss Granger, he’d only just managed to get to sleep a little after three am.

‘Better share the joy’, he thought to himself. Grabbing the especially warded scroll that Brendan had given him, Severus quickly wrote a very short note to the Headmaster informing him that he had been called away. The scroll itself was quite a feat of magical engineering. It could be hand delivered, or in an emergency, striking it on any surface hard enough would cause it to ‘port’ to Dumbledore. It wouldn’t work through the shields on his quarters however, so Severus ventured out into the hallway.

Swinging the doors to his quarters open, Severus went to head for the Potions Classroom. He was prevented from completing that simple task however by the presence of a large hairy object stationed across the doorway; Sirius Black, asleep. Severus smiled an evil smile, as this was too good an opportunity to miss. The frustrations, worries and fears of the last 36 hours landed squarely on the sensitive nose of the animagus. Sirius howled as the scroll was whacked hard on his nose and disappeared.

“Get away from here, you flea-bitten mongrel,” Severus snarled, “slink back to your Master now or by Merlin I’ll make sure your animagus form is fixed by a Muggle vet!” Confused and smarting, all Sirius could do was retreat from the Potion Master’s fury. He scrambled to get away, barely avoiding Mrs Norris, who was now dozing herself in the corridor.

Dumbledore appeared within moments of the scroll disappearing. “Yes Severus?” he asked dryly.

“You said you wished to be appraised of my location at all times during my sabbatical, Headmaster. I was just informing you that I was going to take the opportunity to harvest blood flowers under the last period of the Blue Moon. I expect to be busy for most of the day with preserving and preparation.”

“And if I need to get a hold of you in an emergency?”

“Let’s just hope there are no emergencies, I will be in the Forbidden Forest. I’ll let you know when I return.”

“Be careful Severus and...” Dumbledore started to say but Severus had already turned on his heels, and with his night robes billowing behind him he strode back into his quarters.

Remembering Brendan’s comments about Draco Malfoy, Severus wondered if the boy and Pansy would be called to the early morning meeting. As they had yet to master apparation it was essential to discover what means they used to travel to Voldemort’s presence. The question was, should he remind Dumbledore or not? If they were called, it would answer the question of Voldemort’s ability to circumvent Hogwarts’ Apparatation blocks, especially the enhanced blocks that had been activated since the disappearances. Deciding that the knowledge of Voldemort’s ability far outweighed any other considerations, Severus made no comment to Dumbledore though he could feel the Headmaster’s eyes watching him. ‘Lady forgive me’, he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him, ‘for I doubt the Order will’.


Dumbledore watched the man leave; shocked that Severus had effectively ignored him. ‘Given the level of trust you’ve shown him, is it really surprising?’ a small voice in the back of his head snarked almost as well as the Potions Master could. Shaking his head, and feeling his age for the first time in a very long time, Dumbledore just watched Severus go. “Merlin, we are doing the right thing, aren’t we?” he asked the ether; the ether didn’t answer and Dumbledore apparated back to his quarters a very sad old man watched only by two pairs of animal eyes, Sirius and Mrs Norris.

Sirius Black, angry and frustrated, stared at the door to the Potions Master’s domain. He was sure that Snape had been called, and Sirius was ready to follow. For what other reason would he have wanted to speak with Albus at this time of day? Releasing his Animagus form, startling Mrs Norris in the process, he summoned Harry’s invisibility cloak and wrapped it around himself. Expecting Snape to be somewhat paranoid, Sirius also quickly cast a series of silencing charms about himself, and noting Mrs Norris sniffing in his direction he added ‘de-scenting’ charm as well.

This time he would get some answers to the questions he wished to ask the Potions Master, and if those answers were unsatisfactory. The smile that graced Sirius’ face at that moment would have done Voldemort proud. Sirius, content with the murderous directions of his thoughts, settled in to wait. This time he wouldn’t fall asleep.


Severus meanwhile had a decision to make: leave for the ‘revel’ via his ‘back door’ or just walk out towards the forest. Normally he wouldn’t have stopped to consider it but the fact that Sirius Black had been waiting on his doorstep this morning only increased his sense of paranoia. If his quarters were being watched, and he wouldn’t put it past Black to do so even without support from Dumbledore, he was going to have to be even more careful. Under no circumstances must his back door be discovered.

With his Death Eater robes stored at Snape manner, and in this case his gift to Voldemort as well, he would need to return home before answering the summons. Gathering up the tools and utensils he would need as if he were truly harvesting Moon mushrooms, Severus exited his quarters.

Sensing no one, he overlaid a new series of wards about his quarters before he turned and walked down one of the corridors that would lead him outside the castle. Ever watchful, he left the castle. No one appeared to follow him; no one appeared to be watching from the turrets, yet every step he took he was sure he was being shadowed. Black was the most likely culprit, but if he was indeed following him, then Black had finally learned a few things about stealth; and that worried Severus more than he would like to admit. At one point Severus turned sharply to the left, looking back towards his House’s Tower, “Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

Sirius Black side-stepped Severus, barely avoiding a collision and saw what had made Snape mutter; Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson making their way from the Slytherin tower towards the Forbidden Forest.

Severus, still unaware of his shadow, dropped to the ground, and laid flat. The last thing he needed was to be seen by Malfoy and Parkinson. If they saw him, he would have to apparate directly to Voldemort, something he was not prepared to do.

That the two were headed for the Forbidden Forest should have answered the question of Voldemort’s ability to circumvent the wards but for some reason Severus was not convinced. Like his own ‘backdoor’, Voldemort might very well not want to alert Dumbledore to the fact that he could circumvent the wards, though the fact that children had been taken from the grounds should have answered that; still if Voldemort’s door was portkey based then it might be possible to monitor for any new keys on the grounds. ‘Damnation,’ Severus thought to himself, ‘how in Merlin’s name am I going to get Albus to add that to the wards without compromising myself?’

Further thought on the subject was interrupted as Severus saw Lucius Malfoy appear at the edge of the forest. That answered the question of how the students would leave today, but it added a new dimension of danger to the current situation: Lucius Malfoy himself. Severus quenched all his power until he resembled nothing more magical than a blade of grass. Still, Lucius turned to look in his direction.

‘It appears I may have company after all’, Severus thought to himself as he watched Lucius scan the area around him. In many ways they were remarkably similar men, both danced on the blade’s edge of their loyalties. For that reason alone, Severus knew that Lucius had also developed his ability to notice magic to an art form; if it wasn’t Severus’ presence that Lucius was reacting to, then someone else had to be nearby.

For his part, Lucius did not investigate further, since the children had finally reached him. They were all urgently required at this morning’s gathering. Taking one last hard look in Severus’ direction, Lucius gathered the children close to him and apparated out.

This was somewhat of a pity, as Lucius would have probably enjoyed what happened next.

With Lucius and the children gone, and now certain he had company, Severus did something he rarely did away from the sanctity of his temple’s grounds: he called on Her as was his right as Her Priest.

He sent tendrils of Mother Earth’s magic sliding silently under the ground, calling for the grass to grow, snare and entrap. The grasses answered him, crawling silently up the sides of Sirius’ feet, over the top of the cloak, entwining around his boots. When he was sure that his tail was bound, Severus reached for the port-key to take him home.


It was only as the blades slid into the base of his trousers that Sirius finally noticed something was wrong. As he tore himself free from the encroaching grasses, the invisibility cloak dropped to the ground.

Seeing Severus reach out to touch his own arm at the point where Sirius presumed the Dark Mark to lie, Sirius launched himself at the prone Potions Master. “Harvesting mushrooms are you? Liar!” Sirius screamed as his world went red.

Sirius’ attack landed him on Severus at precisely the instant the port-key activated; he was along for the ride.


Feeling the weight of Sirius land on his back Severus began cursing fate for all he was worth; given Severus’ ties this was not necessarily a good thing to do. Still he had one hope, that the laboratory would be empty when he and his unexpected passenger apparated in. The last thing he needed now was additional complications.

Fate, ever a capacious lady, was almost co-operative. The laboratory wasn’t empty; Brendan was standing watch, waiting for Severus to return. Fate however had positioned Brendan such that he was behind Sirius when Severus and his passenger appeared. Brendan, seeing Severus’ passenger, grabbed the nearest heavy object, in this case a rather large cauldron, and struck Sirius across the back of his head. Sirius collapsed heavily onto Severus, but Severus saw no need to complain, an unconscious Sirius could be dealt with.

“What happened?” Brendan asked without preliminaries.

“Do you really need to ask, Brendan?” Severus snapped, first Black and then Lucius. Today was not going well and the sun had barely risen. “I suspect our friend here does not trust me. I was followed from the castle, and in fact I have to thank Malfoy Senior for unwittingly verifying that I had a tail, so to speak. We will need Jaidy to hold him, Voldemort has called and I must go.”

“Do so. I think I can keep him insensate until Jaidy gets here. Everything else is where you left it last night,” Brendan said calmly. The cauldron hanging loosely in his hand was ready to be applied again if necessary. It didn’t; a fact that actually disappointed Brendan, as Jaidy appeared almost like magic before Severus could even finish standing up.

“Laying out things in robing room I has,” Jaidy said as she looked at the unconscious Animagus. “We be keepings him like this? Yes, we will,” she said with glee.

“Don’t hurt him, Jaidy,” Severus cautioned, “I’ll be taking enough of a chance obliviating him as it is. Unexplained bruising would cause more trouble than any pleasure we would derive.”


Hermione Granger awoke to find that she was standing once more in the Lady’s Temple. She was clad again in the silken shift she had worn when the Maiden had called forth her Moon-blood, the stain still evident above her womb. She stood silently, staring at the alabaster statue as it shimmered in the moonlight. The statue began to glow from within. The Maiden, Mother and Crone stepping out of the stone, separate, yet one.

“Welcome child,” the Maiden and the Mother said in unison, “and our blessing on you.”

Hermione found herself tipping her head in genuflection. “Lady,” she acknowledged, though her mind remained aloof. She felt strangely cut off from the world in this place that she found herself.

Hermione’s reaction was watched closely by the Crone, her golden shears snipping in her agéd hands. “The serpent’s eyes walk the halls, and our Priest is endangered. Are ye willing to help strengthen the cloth?” she finally asked, having weighed Hermione in her scales and been pleased with the result. The Mother was right, there was steel in this one.

“Cloth?” Hermione asked.

“What we spin and weave, little one,” said the Maiden. “The tapestry of reality.”

“Why ask me? Surely you construct as you like.”

“Would you really wish it so, child?” the Mother asked. “While we spin, and weave, and cut, the design is not our making but that of the threads. But now a malignant thread works its way through the tapestry, breaking and rending; that is the serpent, and he would unravel all.

“And so, some threads are special, but even most of those we can only influence, never direct. It is only those completely bound to us that we can guide, and so we protect them. Our Priest is at risk, and since the Serpent Killer is not yet ready, we must protect our Priest, for he protects the Serpent Killer.”

“And what would you have me do?” Hermione asked as the Crone stepped forward, her shears clicking.


“Why do you do it?” A voice asked as Severus Snape placed his cloak about his shoulders.

Startled, he looked up to see an image in the mirror, an image he couldn’t quite place. After a moment’s panic, as no one should be able to get into the Manor, let alone this room with out his being aware of it, he recognised Hermione Granger, just. Behind Hermione the crone was visible, at least to his eyes. It was then that Severus felt the Mantle of Her Priest overlay him. Rarely, outside of the island, did this occur and so rather than turning to face them he continued to concentrate on the images in the mirror.

Hermione was a creature transformed, gone was the ‘fuzz-ball’ of hair that he had heard it so often referred to, gone indeed where even patches of skin; she looked as though she had tangled with a hippogriff and lost. “Professor,” she said quietly, the image in the mirror coming up behind him, “this might be of use to you.”

Severus turned sharply, but no one was behind him. Looking down he saw a brown pile, Hermione Granger’s hair, all of it, as though torn from her scalp.

Severus’ intention had been to gift Lord Voldemort with Hermione’s Moon Blood, suitably tainted. That the Crone had been involved in the shearing of Miss Granger, meant that he would change his plans; to Lord Voldemort would go the gift of hair. “Ours is not to reason why.” With that said, he ‘heard’ the Lady smile, and Ms Granger frown. He had answered her question, just not in the manner that she desired.


Voldemort waited as patiently as he normally did, which is to say, not at all. “I hear that you are on Sabbatical, Severus, yet you do not join me instantly I call. Why is that I wonder?” He smiled benevolently, like a father to a favourite son, “I had hoped that you would be joining us more often.” The threat was apparent, implied, but apparent.

“Yes My Lord,” Severus said politely as he swept down in a graceful bow. ‘It seems that there are leaks still’, he mused. “That was the intention.”

“Yes, but why didn’t you think of it sooner, my potions maker?” Voldemort asked with an anticipatory gleam in his eye.

“Because, My Lord, as you will undoubtedly have reasoned, I will not have much contact with the staff and students at Hogwarts whilst on Sabbatical. I understood that I was to maintain a presence there; if not, I would have suggested this long ago.” Thinking on Double Potions with Slytherins and Gryffindors, Severus was able to imbue a sense that he would gladly have done so for his Lord and Master.

Severus heard a quiet chuckle, Lucius Malfoy, undoubtedly drawing a similar conclusion probably based on reports of said classes. He nodded a greeting in the general direction of the chuckle; noting the two smaller Death Eaters in Lucius’ company. ‘I know you’re here, bastard’.

Voldemort, pleased with the flattery, smiled. “You always did have a sweet tongue, Potions maker. Now, speaking of potions,” ‘Now we get to the reason for the summons’, “how goes your harvesting?”

Severus smiled at Voldemort. The smile was not really a nice smile, a light of unholy delight infused his smile. “Oh very well,” Severus purred, “very well indeed.” When Voldemort and the others started to chuckle with delight, Severus continued, “Even better, she was pre-menstrual. I was able to harvest the Moon Blood; though its lack of purity suggests that she was not the model student some would have us believe. I took the liberty of keeping that particular ingredient in safe keeping for the present.” Severus continued.

“That is quite a liberty you took,” Voldemort hissed.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but the volatile nature of such an ingredient, even one as tainted as Miss Granger’s appears to have been, would not travel well. I brought with me something that I believe may be of use to you however,” he continued as he held out the remains of Miss Granger’s hair.

To be continued...
Chapter 9 Bones by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:

Alastor Moody comes to play.....

Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Hermione awoke disorientated, light-headed and with a thumping great headache. For a few moments she had no idea where she was since the familiar walls of the girls’ dormitory was nowhere to be seen. Still sleep-dazed, she reached up out of habit to brush the hair from her face. Instead of finding hair, her fingers found the raw, scarred mass that was her scalp.

As memories fought for ascendency, she felt her grip on reality slipping: the crone and her scissors as they cut at her scalp; Professor Snape and his curses; her hand frying before her eyes; Professor Snape, broken, held in her lap as a house elf worked magic; Draco and his touch as he’d grabbed her when she left the Potions classroom. She may be a Gryffindor, but at that instant her courage left her and she began to scream.


Brendan looked up from the prone Sirius as a scream, loud enough to wake the dead, or in this case the unconscious animagus, echoed throughout the manor. His, and Jaidy’s, momentary lapse of concentration was swiftly taken advantage of as Sirius lurched to his feet and attempted to apparate away.

The Manor’s apparation block prevented Sirius from success, but neither it nor the wards blocked his ability to transform. Jaidy and Brendan were suddenly confronted by a very large and very angry black dog; a black dog that had gotten the scent of Hermione Granger and blood. Driven by the need to get this information to Dumbledore, Sirius lunged past Jaidy and bounded out of the laboratory. The first partially open window he passed was put to good use, and he bounded away.

In times of crisis you want people who can act. This definitely counted as a crisis and both Brendan and Jaidy could and would act as necessary. Without a spoken word they divided the current tasks, Granger and Black. Though a witch, Hermione Granger was less likely to attack with magic and so Brendan raced towards her room; Sirius on the other hand not only could attack, but also would in all likelihood attack anyone who followed him; Jaidy set off fast on his heels.


Alastor Moody walked into Dumbledore’s office minutes after the Headmaster had returned from talking to Severus. Moody was unhappy and that was painfully obvious as anger and resignation vied for supremacy on his face. “All the staff will be questioned about the disappearances,” he said without preamble, “under Veritaserum.”

“And then what?” Dumbledore asked, “Azkaban?”

“If any staff member had anything to do with the disappearance of Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Dray then they will be sent to Azkaban, yes.”

“Even if it means we lose our eyes?”

“Even then Albus, especially then.” Alastor, generally considered mad by everyone, projected the air of an inquisitor on the hunt; fully ready to play judge, jury and executioner, and Dumbledore believed it.

Dumbledore sighed; in his heart he hoped that Severus would be able to pull off a miracle, but the chances of this actually occurring was so small as to be non-existent. With Alastor apparently in charge of the investigation, non-existent seemed very large indeed. “So, how are you going to go about it?”

“At breakfast this morning I expect you to announce to all the staff that you wish to speak to them all in private regarding the children’s disappearances and the security implications for Hogwarts.”


Jaidy quickly determined where Sirius was, and knew that as long as she could catch him before he reached the Headmaster, she could drag him back to the manor. She was not subject to the same rules as Sirius, and soon caught up with him. Jaidy debated the best method for stopping him, and decided the direct method was probably the best. Sirius was too intent on sensing when the wards of the manor were no longer in effect and was extremely surprised when Jaidy landed on his back. Jaidy quickly covered Sirius’ eyes in an attempt to steer him back towards the manor, but Sirius tumbled forward into a roll to shake the house elf off and they both plummeted down a steep bank into the creek below. Jaidy seized the dog’s ears and head-butted Sirius, but the animagus shrugged that off, stumbled over to the other side of the creek, and leapt up the embankment.

With Jaidy still hanging on grimly, Sirius felt the wards snap and he apparated back to Hogwarts. Jaidy took a moment to recover and magiked an ice sheet under the animagus. Dog and house-elf skated down the path towards the main entrance and collected Mrs Norris, who was sunning herself on the path. A wild pile of cat, animagus and house-elf slammed into the wall. Mrs Norris was not an impressed pussycat and took it all out on Sirius. Sirius howled in pain as Mrs Norris bit and clawed in a somewhat delicate area, and he was shocked into human form. He grabbed the cat by the throat, and beat her on the head until she finally let go. He hurled the limp cat away, staggering about in agony, looking around wildly for a bloody house-elf to kill.

His target for the moment unsighted, rational thought seized Sirius: he had to get to Dumbledore. He sprinted up the steps, praying that no one would see him as he hurtled towards the Headmaster’s office. Pain receding, he slipped back into his animagus form and sped along the corridor that led directly to Dumbledore’s office. The corridor promptly turned sharply to the left and a small opening in the wall swallowed Sirius whole. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be, is it? Think you’re bloody clever, don’t you, house-elf? Well old Sirius knows a lot more about elf-doors than you think’.

Sirius closed his eyes and relied entirely on his form’s sense of smell. Jaidy had no way of knowing that Sirius had known of this network of doors and corridors long before his incarceration at Azkaban, and afterwards had explored them as a matter of survival, though he had never been able to manipulate them as it appeared elves could. Piles of rock, sudden turns and pitfalls tried to trap him. If he’d been in human form, it would have worked. His keen senses detected a familiar smell and lunging at a seemingly solid wall, he found himself outside Dumbledore’s office. “Spearmint leaves,” he growled. As the door to the office opened, he saw the troublesome house-elf tumble into the corridor to his left. His tongue hung out in a canine smile that had nothing to do with being friendly, and wagged his tail at the elf as he slipped through the door. Jaidy gave him one despairing look, and quickly went through an elf-door that lead to the Forbidden Forest. Jaidy apparated back to the manor to report her failure to Brendan.


Brendan reached the room assigned to Hermione with his hearing intact, just. Thankful for the complex wards that Severus had placed on the room, he was able to enter even though Hermione could not leave. Still, leaving at the moment was far from her mind as the girl was sitting bolt upright in bed, hands clutched to her skull.

“Miss Granger?” Brendan ventured to ask in his most gentle voice, damning the darkness of the room and his inability to magically light his way.

The sound in the room only escalated to the point where Brendan feared for his ears. For Hermione was still caught in horrific nightmares and believed him to be a Death Eater come to inflict more pain and shrank back against the bed head, further into shadow.

His eyes not yet accustomed to the dark, gathering his own brand of courage about him, Brendan approached the bed and sat very gently beside the girl. Carefully reaching up to take her hands, he kept making soothing sounds, similar to those Hagrid would make to any frightened, deadly creature; for deadly creature Hermione was at that moment, though without her wand in hand she was at least safe to approach.


“Ah Severus,” Voldemort purred, satisfaction colouring his speech, “such a gift. I might even forgive you your liberties for this.” The gleam in Voldemort’s eyes was remarkably similar to the look Dumbledore got when he was up to something; Severus began to worry. “I require similar pieces from the two boys.”

“But…”

“Crucio,” Voldemort cast lazily without looking up from his contemplation of Hermione Granger’s scalp, stroking it like a lover. “I need no excuses potion maker, I just need pieces.”

Draco, standing beside his father, was exceedingly glad of the half-mask that hid his features. It was bad enough watching Lord Voldemort as he ran his fingers through the mop of hair that had once graced the Mudblood Granger, but the callous way his ‘Master’ asked for ‘pieces’ sent a shiver through his soul. Granger, at least, had been a filthy Mudblood, but both Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray were distant cousins and as pureblood as you could get. Obviously ‘Lord’ Voldemort cared little for the class of blood for his toys: pure or mudblood, it was all the same to this megalomaniac. ‘What have I gotten into?’ he asked himself as he watched Professor Snape writhe. It was only Draco’s iron will which saved him as Voldemort casually Legimised his Death eaters as Severus suffered at his feet. That was one skill at least that his father had taught him well.

“I can get you some of the scraps,” Severus whispered over a wave of pain.

“Scraps!” Voldemort howled. Severus’ day seemed to be remaining on par as Voldemort intensified the Crucio. “I need more than a few scraps. Blood and bone is what I need, blood and bone, Potions ‘Master’.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Severus’ voice died away as he appeared to slip into unconsciousness.

Severus had failed to cry out, as always, whilst under the Crucio and that angered Voldemort, as always. ‘One day he’ll break’, Voldemort thought as he turned to survey his loyal Death Eaters for a new target. ‘Perhaps one of the new recruits… Let’s see what they are made of’.

Severus, glad of the respite as Voldemort’s attention turned to others, was saddened to hear a young male voice cry out in pain. Draco, it appeared, had come to the mad Lord’s attention. Remembering bits and pieces from Brendan’s debrief he wondered what this would do the young man; could he still be pushed away from darkness? Careful not to allow his conscious state to be known, Severus began to think on Voldemort’s request, and the possible consequences.

“Severus? Oh, Severus,” A gentle, cloying, voice whispered in his ear, “are you awake yet?”

Damning his inattention, Severus realised that Draco’s cries had ceased; for how long was the question.

“Surely you have recovered, potion maker, after all I do need you to collect those components for me.” The intonation suggested that Severus had better have recovered and be ready to obtain his master’s desire immediately.

“Yes My Lord,” Severus croaked, attempting to maintain the fiction that he had only just woken. The possibility that Voldemort might not believe the ruse was worrying in the extreme. Fortunately, standing was somewhat of an effort, due mainly Black’s earlier attack. Still it was a relief to be able to appear injured, anything to throw Voldemort off the scent.

“It may take me a while,” Severus said, trying to buy some precious time.

“No it won’t,” Voldemort stated flatly.

Severus’ survival instincts kicked into high gear and he agreed readily that, of course, it would not take long at all. Apparating whilst still prone at the madman’s feet, though only sufficiently far to put the gathering out of sight, Severus stopped and waited to see if he was followed. Balancing Voldemort’s less than subtle hints about the speed with which he was required to complete his task against the need for safety, Severus waited ten minutes before he activated the portkey that would take him directly to Snape Manor.

The laboratory was empty, but that raised no sense of concern. Brendan and Jaidy had obviously taken Sirius Black to a safer locale, hopefully the Manor dungeon. With time very much of the essence, Severus apparated directly to the room where the boys had been ensconced, glad to find them still sleeping, dead to the world.

Begging the Lady’s pardon; for what he needed to do to supply Voldemort his ‘proof’ of death was to invoke skills he held through her, rather than his own. He felt the Lady’s approval as she skimmed his mind and granted his request for power. He made sure that the boys would feel no pain as he steeled himself for the grisly task ahead. Summoning the Obsidian Blade from the temple, Severus made two quick, deep cuts, one to each of boys’ left forearm. Inserting the blade between the ulna and radius bones, he cut away at the tendons until he had the ulna from each boy.

Calling on the healing skills granted to him through Her grace, he made a small cut to the palm of his hand and allowed a few drops to land over the incisions he had made. The blood flow ceased and the wounds sealed at the touch of Severus’ blood. Below the skin, the muscles repaired themselves; the Skele-grow potion would be used later to regrow the missing bone.

Taking the bloodied bones, Severus then cast an aging spell. What he now held in hand resembled samples taken during a poorly performed autopsy. Satisfied that they would suit Voldemort’s needs, Severus touched the Dark Mark and returned to his master’s side.

“Ah, Severus, I knew I could count on you if you had the right motivation,” Voldemort murmured as he took the bones and casually cast Crucio. “Still, next time I would expect a higher degree of alacrity.”

Severus didn’t even have time to reply as he collapsed under the onslaught, Voldemort was definitely not a happy little megalomaniac. Trying to find the reason, Severus noticed the small heap that was Draco; it seemed the boy had not fared well after he had left, even from here he could smell the results, vomit and the result of voiding made for a sickening smell.

Whilst many a Death Eater had been on the receiving end of Voldemort’s tender mercies, and all but Severus had cried out for mercy at some point, the Dark Lord took a dim view of any sign of weakness in those of his ranks. Weaknesses in the so-called Order of the Phoenix, well that was a different matter. Those could be exploited.

His protective instincts for his Slytherins kicked in and his sense of self-preservation deserted him as he levered himself up. “My Lord,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Voldemort said testily.

“Dumbledore is already suspicious of Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson,” Severus blandly stated as he looked to where the children were. “The fact that they are missing is likely to have been noted. Given the state Mr Malfoy is in, it will take a while to ‘clean him up’.”

Voldemort appeared to consider his comment and for once fate smiled as the Dark Lord jumped to the conclusion Severus wanted. “Take them home then,” he snarled.

As he approached the still writhing Draco, Severus noticed that Lucius’ hands were shaking, small tremors that he normally wouldn’t have noticed. ‘Softly, softly’, he thought to himself. Draco cringed from his touch, which was a sad indictment of his success at playing a ‘child-loving’ bastard. He picked Draco up roughly and dragged Pansy from the crowd of Death Eaters. For her part, Parkinson shot him a look of loathing as she protested about her abrupt departure.

Apparating with both children was draining and if it hadn’t been for the need to separate himself from them before arriving back at Hogwarts, he’d have taken them directly to the front gates instead of the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“Clean yourself up, Mr Malfoy,” he said as they landed. “I do so hope you are up to a little ‘assignation’ with Miss Parkinson.”

Pansy, somewhat disgusted by the show of weakness from Draco, asked why in a petulant, whining voice.

“Because, you silly bitch, you have both undoubtedly been missed. The Ministry may have regulations about interactions with people underage, but if you give them enough of a reason, they may decide it is in their best interests to ‘interview’ you. Something I am sure that would displease Lord Voldemort immensely. You used the excuse of an ‘assignation’ on Friday, I suggest you make today’s look somewhat more heated. Of course I could simply Obliviate you, if you would prefer.”

Pansy, not liking the look in her Head of House’s eye, quickly grabbed a now clean Draco and began to kiss him as if her life depended on it.

Severus left them to their tryst whilst trying to work out what to do about Draco; could the boy be turned from his father’s path?


The fact that Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson had not returned to the Slytherin tower after breakfast was noted almost immediately, but as Sirius had yet to reappear from whatever night-time assignation he had been on, Remus was left the task of overseeing the rest of the Snake’s House: a task which allowed him no chance to even floo the Headmaster with news of the missing pair. Still, he was wary of doing just that. Something told him that would escalate matters in a way that should be avoided, so instead, he sat in the tower common room, watched, waited, and thought.

He actually heard the pair approaching long before they re-appeared, ‘one advantage of the wolf’, he thought sardonically, ‘heightened senses’. He took for granted that his senses were acutely sensitive at all times. The lack of consistent interaction with other werewolves meant he had no idea that this was not in fact normal.

“Well Miss Parkinson, Mr Malfoy,” Remus asked with deceptive mildness as the pair tried to sneak into the common room, “should I bring to your House head’s attention that you did not return to the Tower as instructed after breakfast?” These words affected the pair in remarkably different ways. Parkinson preened as though it was of no moment that she had disobeyed the Headmaster’s request, whereas Malfoy looked decidedly unwell.

“Professor Snape had some things that he wished to discuss with us, Mr Lupin.” Pansy, still riding on a high from this mornings meeting with Lord Voldemort, let her mouth run away with her.

“Did he now?” Remus asked looking pointedly at Miss Parkinson. “Then perhaps you can tell me where he is at the moment?” That Professor Snape might be anywhere but his quarters, and well and truly locked in them, was simply out of the question. After the events of the past two days, Albus was keeping a wary eye on the Potions Master.

Draco groaned loudly, drawing Remus’ attention to him. “We were a little caught up in private matters, Sir,” he said blandly, but his body language told Remus a far different story. “Professor Snape told us to return to the castle, since the Forbidden Forest was not an appropriate place for any…assignations.” Draco was smart enough to mix enough truth that the whole would be accepted, all the while wondering how Parkinson had ever gotten sorted into Slytherin.

“I see. Well I’m still going to have to mention this to your House-head and to the Headmaster. For the moment both of you are confined to the tower at all times. Am I understood?” Remus said, in quiet, implacable tones. “If I find that either of you disregard that, Slytherin will lose 200 points, each. And believe me, I WILL find out.” Remus’ mouth drew into a vulpine smile that had the two Slytherins take a step back fearfully.

The look that crossed Pansy’s face could have been learnt from Narcissa Malfoy; Remus was almost tempted to ask what had died. Draco, on the other hand, wrapped himself in his old arrogance, “We understand, Sir. Now if you will excuse us…” Draco said, turning to leave the common room. It was brief, very brief, but something in Draco’s eyes caught Remus’ attention. He smelt Draco’s fear and loathing of the Slytherin bit next to him. Remus thought fast on his feet, and trusted his instincts.

“Not yet, Mr Malfoy, Miss Parkinson. I’ve noticed that the showers in this tower are in need of cleaning,” Remus commented blandly, “I think a chance to think on the necessity of obeying the Headmaster whilst cleaning the showers would do both of you a lot of good.”

Draco exploded. “That’s house-elf work! I’m not going to do that! Wait ‘till my father hears of this!” Pansy’s expression split into a wide grin as she watched Draco wind up into a full-blown hissy fit. Remus, on the other hand, seemed to be nearing the end of his patience. A low growl started from his waist and grew louder against Draco’s protests. The two Slytherins quailed as Remus grabbed them both and dragged them towards the bathing areas. “Ms Parkinson, you will start here,” Remus snarled as he bundled her into the girls’ showers, his were-strength sliding her across the tiled area. Pansy said nothing, cowering on the floor; Remus’ expression killed any defiance that was present. “Mr Malfoy, you will have the pleasure of my company. I believe the boys’ showers are this way?” Now out of Pansy’s sight, Remus gestured to Draco with a “continue” gesture.

“Get away from me you filthy…”

“I wouldn’t finish that statement if I was you, Mr Malfoy,” Remus cut across Draco’s tirade, loudly, so that Pansy could not help but overhear. “You will regret any further comments.”

Following after the boy, Remus thought back to Draco’s actions the night before. The boy had seen or at least heard enough to believe that the children were dead, and at Severus’ hand no less, and yet something didn’t ring quite true.

Conjuring a mop and bucket, Remus set to Draco Malfoy cleaning by hand. “No magic today, Mr Malfoy. After all with Aurors visiting here today amongst other places; we really wouldn’t want any stray spells,” Remus said politely, hoping to get some form of reaction out of the sulking Slytherin. He got a reaction all right, just not the one he was expecting.

“Like Ministry Aurors are going to find anything left,” Draco mumbled under his breath. If it hadn’t been for Remus’ sensitive hearing he wouldn’t have heard a thing.

‘What do you know Draco? Or what do you think you know’, Remus thought to himself as he commented into the silence, “My…condolences, Mr Malfoy.”

Looking up sharply at the non sequitur, Draco frowned before he raised his left eyebrow in a pale imitation of Severus Snape at his best. “Pardon?”

“Andrew,” Remus answered. “He was your cousin I believe?”

Draco wasn’t really listening to the werewolf, he was thinking back on the morning’s events. The sight of the bloodied bones was what had finally broken through his self-absorbed shell. He was still seething at his punishment, but strangely, the act of cleaning allowed him to focus on what was important, with no distractions. He was loath to admit it and his pureblood heritage was screaming at himself in the recesses of his mind. But, admittedly, where did that get his cousin? He could remember a Christmas time, years earlier, when all the Malfoy family, and its various pureblood connections, had gathered. The children, himself among them for the last time, had gathered outside and the younger ones were engaged in a game of ‘ring around the roses’. Amid much laughter, Andrew had come up to his older, and much worshipped, older cousin to ask in all seriousness what the song had been about.

Draco had explained that back in the Dark Ages there had been a disease called the Black Plague, one that affected wizard and muggle alike, although he hadn’t explained that bit. It had been so bad that people had thought that anyone who even sneezed was going to die. The game had evolved from the symptoms and the so-called muggle cure of the day, and had been a child’s way of coping with all the death that had been prevalent during those times. Andrew had though on this, a worried frown on his young face, before piping up that Magical Medicine was so much more advanced and people wouldn’t die like that anymore so Draco needn’t worry. “Magic can cure anything, Draco.” The young boy had said with conviction.

“Not everything, Drew.” Draco had murmured at Remus’ question. “Not everything.”

In the end it was a quiet and subdued Draco Malfoy who finished cleaning the bathroom, looking at Remus with a mixture of defiance and world-weariness.

Nothing more was said and Remus was ‘sensitive’ enough to leave well enough alone. If the boy had doubts and needed counsel, he would provide it, but care would need to be taken. ‘Funny’, he though to himself, ‘I suddenly feel like Albus’.

Those thoughts were to return later in the day and in the end, Remus would be more like Albus Dumbledore than he ever thought possible.


Handing Professor Dumbledore a vial of Veritaserum, Alastor stepped back into the role of Ministry Auror, even though in this case, it was at Dumbledore’s request. It didn’t take Alastor long to determine that as far as Dumbledore knew he was the last person to see Professor Snape before he answered the summons; no names were mentioned in case of other ears. All other information appeared to be conjecture.

Working from the staff list, Alastor continued to question all about the last known whereabouts of the children. It was quickly determined that they had all left their respective first period classes, but had failed to show up at any subsequent classes. Without permission to question any of the students, he was left with very little to go on. If the missing children turned up dead or injured, the Ministry might release permission to question the students, but until then, they were hampered by laws that guarded those children’s rights. None-the-less, some of the children, mainly Gryffindors, had come forward and, whilst nothing was said under Veritaserum, it appeared that the last people to be seen anywhere near the missing children had in fact been Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson

Dumbledore, who had been present during all of the interviews, was considering sending for Mr Malfoy and Miss Parkinson when Sirius Black bolted through the door.

“That bastard killed them!” Sirius screeched as he landed in a heap at Dumbledore’s feet.

“Which bastard killed who?” Dumbledore asked reasonably as Sirius sat himself up, a large lump visible to all gracing the back of his head.

“Your precious Potions Master,” Sirius barked. “I smelt Miss Granger’s blood in his laboratory at Snape Manor.”


Sometime later Severus walked into the Great Hall, weary and tired, but at least still in one piece. Voldemort had been well satisfied with his new toys and had allowed Severus to leave the gathering with a last gentle admonishment that he should get out more, as his potion maker was looking decidedly peaked.

Luncheon was just being served so he was unobserved as he made his way to the staff table; a fact for which he was glad of when he saw Sirius seated next to Dumbledore.

‘Great, this day just keeps getting better’, he thought as he debated turning and leaving the way he’d come. The choice was taken from him when Dumbledore looked up suddenly. Accepting his fate, Severus continued towards the high table and seated himself in the only empty chair, unfortunately next to Sirius Black.

Ignoring Black, Severus directed a comment to Dumbledore, “I believe that you wished to see me, Headmaster? I’m sorry for the delay, but it took longer than I anticipated to harvest the necessary ingredients.”

“Ahh yes,” Dumbledore said with deceptive mildness. “We have been going over Friday’s events with the other staff, after lunch would you please come to my office?”

Severus accepted the implied command, after all it was nothing less than he expected. In fact with Sirius present, he was surprised he wasn’t being dragged off to Azkaban already. Lunch was a stilted affair and Severus left as soon as he was able.

Seeing Severus get up to leave, Dumbledore signalled Alastor before addressing his Potions Master. “I’ll see you now, Severus.”

With no choice but to comply, Severus followed the Headmaster from the Great Hall.

Taking the seat indicated, Severus waited for the axe to fall; it was not long in coming. Dealing with Voldemort had taken more out of him today that he expected. It was only as he sat that he realised his mistake, the chair itself was charmed.

“Now I’m sure you can understand that as the last person that saw Miss Granger alive, we were hoping you could shed some light on what happened,” Dumbledore said as Alastor Moody walked into the room.

“And rather than trust me, you place me under the Veritaserum charm?”

Alastor realised Dumbledore’s mistake the moment Severus asked the question. Severus hadn’t been at Hogwarts all morning and thus was unaware that all the staff members had been questioned, albeit under the Veritaserum potion rather than the charm.

“I’ll take it from here,” Alastor said causing Severus to turn and study him. “All the rest of the staff have been questioned already, Professor Snape,” he started to explain hoping to get the Potions Master into a mood to co-operate.

“And I suppose nothing of great note was discovered?”

“Some things, but I need to clear up a few matters.”

“Get on with then, Moody,” Severus finally snapped. What could he say that wouldn’t damn him even further with Sirius Black on the loose? He’d have liked a chance to ponder that, but was drawn back to the present by Alastor’s first question.

“Did you kill Hermione Granger?”

“No,” Severus answered, enjoying the look of shock on Dumbledore’s face. “Why do you think I did?”

“Because I’ve just returned from your Manor and I know you’re lying,” Sirius spat as he strode into the room.

“He can’t be lying, Sirius,” Dumbledore admonished the enraged animagus.

“Why not?” Sirius asked without regard to the fact he was the one interrupting, and a very unwelcome interruption he was at that.

“The Veritaserum charm, you overblown prig,” Severus said with a dead voice as he drew further into himself. “Now finish your questions, Moody.” All traces of Severus disappeared as Professor Snape snarled, “Well get on with it then.”

Alastor was caught between an overwhelming desire to hex Sirius into the next century and the need to finish this interrogation as fast as possible. How would he be able to rebuild Severus’ trust now? He desperately needed Severus’ trust more than ever as his own instincts screamed that something did not add up.

Alastor questioned him closely with a skill Severus would normally have admired. That is, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end. Still there was a pattern to the questions, if he could figure it out maybe he could get away with his ‘mind’ intact.

“Was Miss Granger in any of your classes on Friday?”

“Yes.”

“Which class?”

“Potions, of course, you dunderhead.”

“And I suppose that is the last time you saw her?” Sirius interjected belligerently.

With all of Professor Snape’s disdain for interruption he answered, “No.” After all, the fact that he had seen her had already been established.

“And when was that, then?” Sirius continued before Alastor or Dumbledore could intervene.

“Sirius, you presence here is not welcome, but as I expect you’d try and find some way to listen in, I will allow you to stay, but only if you remain silent,” Alastor said loudly enough to cover any answer Severus may have made. The fact was not lost on Severus and he allowed himself to relax every so slightly. He, like Moody, had learned when to trust his instincts and when not.

As Sirius was about to complain, Alastor cast Silencio. “You were permitted to answer my questions this morning, Mr Black, without interruption, now allow Professor Snape the same courtesy.”

“Did you take Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Do you know who took Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Why did you leave Hogwarts on Friday morning?”

“To answer a summons.”

“Do you know how Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray were taken from Hogwarts?”

“No.”

“Did you help anyone else kill Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray?”

“No.” By this time Severus was beginning to enjoy the look of fury on Sirius Black’s face, particularly as he was answering truthfully the questions asked. Retired, Alastor Moody may have been, but he was still a very skilled interrogator and it appeared he was being extremely careful with his questions, very careful indeed. That fact was underscored by the next question.

“Do you know exactly where Miss Granger, Mr Smithson and Mr Gray are at this moment?”

Suspect where they were, yes; know definitively, no. “No.”

Turning to Dumbledore Alastor said, “For the record, you are aware that Professor Snape is incapable of lying at this time.”

Dumbledore nodded his head in understanding. It appeared his Potions Master knew absolutely nothing about the deaths of Hogwart’s missing children. “But what of Sirius’ experiences this morning? You have not asked for an explanation of that.”

“Given what we suspect happened at the meeting Professor Snape was summoned to, I am not surprised at Mr Black’s ‘nasal’ observations,” Alastor answered reasonably. Dumbledore picked up on the unspoken warning and said nothing further. Until they knew for certain, they could not afford to lose Severus Snape.

“Thank you for your co-operation, Professor,” Alastor said finally, indicating the interview was over. “I apologise for not warning you about the charm but as these interviews will form the basis of the Ministry investigation, we must be certain of the truth.”

“I’ll take my leave, Headmaster. I believe that you wished to discuss other matters with the professor.”

After the last comment, Alastor took a long hard look at Severus then before anyone in the room could react; he magically bound both Dumbledore and Sirius. His gaze still fixed on the Potions Master; he then proceeded to both blind and deafen the two men.

“Alright Severus, what aren’t you telling me?”

To be continued...
Chapter 10: Paintings by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Severus froze in the act of rising from the chair. That Alastor, of all people, would bind Dumbledore, was taking all of his intelligence to process; so much so that he almost missed Alastor’s question. He was brought back to reality when Alastor coughed.

“Merlin’s balls,” Severus thought to himself as he debated the question of how much to reveal. To reveal nothing was not an option, as Alastor had apparently already worked out something was up. He knew with absolute certainty that Alastor would pursue the hints he had until he had the answer. It was this fact, after all, that had made Mad-eye Moody such an effective Auror. The problem was that Severus had a very hard time trusting anyone; Brendan and Jaidy had both earned his trust the hard way.

“Can you accept that they are still alive?” Severus asked, trusting Alastor’s own sense of paranoia to ensure that there were no unwanted eyes, ears or Weasley Extendibles in the general vicinity, though it was hard enough to do even that; Voldemort had to have another set of ears in Hogwarts and a very well hidden set of ears at that.

“And Black’s scenting of Miss Granger’s blood is just incidental?” The Veritaserum Charm had ensured that Severus had not lied so far, but that didn’t mean he was necessarily telling the whole truth. One case Alastor remembered vividly involved a very strong-willed individual who, whilst under the Veritaserum Charm, had actually been able to say that he had not killed anyone. The fact that he had cast Avada Kedavra at the deceased had nothing to do with his answer; the spell had killed the victim, not him. With Draco’s comments leading the members of the Order to believe that Severus had cast Avada Kedavra on all three missing children, that case was a timely reminder of the inadequacies of relying on truth serums and charms.

“What has Black told you?” Severus asked, curious to see what was said, and more curious to see what was not said.

Trust for trust, the coin was asked for; Alastor recognised that fact immediately. If he failed to trust Severus, even if it meant telling Severus things that would allow him to edit his own accounting, he could not expect any trust, and subsequently truth, from the Potions Master. The manner of his interview of Severus had probably only established that he did not take at face value the information he currently held. A useful trait in an Auror, but in no way did it establish that Severus should trust him.

“Sirius followed you this morning,” Alastor began. “He had Harry’s invisibility cloak and he says he cast a series of silencing and de-scenting charms.”

‘Clever’, thought Severus in the far recesses of his mind, ‘who would have thought the mangy dog had it in him’?

“He followed you towards the Forbidden Forest and it seems that you spotted Lucius Malfoy. By the way what was he doing on Hogwarts grounds?”

“Confirming that I was coming, probably, though he may have had other reasons.” The last thing Severus needed to do was confirm Draco and Pansy had joined the fold, as it were. He knew, and he could keep them away from any dangerous secrets, but if he confirmed it to Moody, then all manoeuvring ground was lost.

Alastor promptly ignored Severus’ ‘careful’ answer. “Anyway, according to Sirius you must not have wanted to be seen as he caught up to you when you dropped to the ground. Sirius swears he saw you reaching for your Dark Mark and that is why he tackled you from behind,” Alastor explained. He was judiciously editing Sirius’ actual words, the kindest of which had implied relations between Severus and Voldemort that Alastor fervently hoped were physically impossible. That kind of communication was likely to enrage the Potions Master, even allowing for the long-standing hatred between Black and Snape.

“I’ve surmised that what you actually used was a ‘port-key’, I suspect Albus thinks so as well, though Sirius seems certain it was the mark.”

“Typical Gryffindor attitude, can only handle at most one thought at a time,” Severus interrupted Alastor, a fine degree of maliciousness in his voice.

“Severus, let’s not get distracted,” Alastor admonished before continuing. “Anyway, it appears that you ‘ported’ to Snape Manor where Sirius was coshed from behind by someone unknown; though he commented about Muggle dress later which we put down to concussion. After some indeterminate time Sirius said he was wakened by a scream fit to wake the dead.

“It was at this point he saw Jaidy and an unknown male, both were apparently distracted and he used that to make good his escape.” Given the other comments Sirius had made about his arrival at Hogwarts, Alastor was mildly hard put not to start chuckling. ‘I’ll never look at Mrs Norris the same way again’, he thought.

‘Well that answers that question’, Severus mused as he considered Alastor’s tale. ‘Miss Granger must have actually woken and discovered her new coiffure’.

Alastor, who had been watching Severus closely while he related Black’s tale, was momentarily worried by the look of panic that crossed the Potion Master’s face.

The look was a result of the realisation that Brendan would have gone to deal with Miss Granger. This would normally have been the sensible option, as he would have been unable to deal with an alert Black. The problem was, that the situation was anything but normal. A panicked, powerful witch, with or without her wand was not something any sane man went near without tactical support and a couple of Dementors. As an ordinary muggle, Brendan would not have had a chance. 


Brendan glanced into the room and wondered briefly if he would have been safer chasing after Black; at least with Black he could have attempted to roll over and play dead. Hermione Granger was currently seated in the middle of the larger four-poster bed keening away like a Greek mother at her son’s funeral. Unfortunately, unlike the Greek mother, Hermione was backing up her keening with wave upon wave of magical energy, so much so that even the totally sight-blind would have been aware something was wrong and Brendan was certainly not that.The room itself had seen better days; yesterday, for example, when it didn’t have to brave the onslaught of uncontrolled power. Jaidy was likely to be a little bit ticked at the damage done to the walls, ceiling, floor, structural integrity of the building, but only if they lived through the next couple of hours. 

“Miss Granger?” he ventured to ask as he stepped over the threshold praying fervently for the Lady’s grace; she must have been listening because Brendan made it to Hermione’s side still whole. Gently easing himself onto the bed beside her he reached out and drew her into a comforting embrace. “Come, Miss Granger, you are safe.”

Hermione, caught in her nightmare, was surprised by Brendan’s gentle touch; he fairly exuded Muggle normality and it was that which broke the cycle of fear she was caught in. Cracking her eyes open she focused on his face and was taken aback by the fear she saw in his eyes. “Brendan?” she whispered, pulling his name out of her encyclopaedic mind.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Brendan answered dryly, his eyebrow quirking in a very Snape like manner.

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“Trying to decide if chasing after Mr Black was the safer option, actually,” Brendan commented with a smile. “He at least would be trying to kill me.”

The last comment fired off a series of thought processes in Hermione’s still panicked brain, she recalled reading a series of articles about the devastating effects that the loss of magical control could have and realised just what she was doing. A quick look at the room gave her a fair indication of the destructive power she’d been throwing off. She decided that the fact that Brendan was still in one piece was a miracle of the first order. Grabbing her Gryffindor pride by the scruff of its neck, she metaphysically hauled herself up by the bootstraps and in doing so stopped buffeting Brendan with wave after wave of magic.

Brendan, feeling the danger level drop, delved into his pockets and withdrew a green silk handkerchief; the embroidered snakes winking at Hermione. “Blow, I’m sure Severus won’t mind.”

The sheer hilarity of winking snakes started Hermione giggling; the fact that the handkerchief apparently belonged to Professor Snape sent her off into peels of laughter. Precisely the effect Brendan was after.

“You’ll have to get used to the sight of these, Miss Granger, all of the handkerchiefs are like this,” Brendan commented as Hermione tentatively, but eventually with more confidence, began to affect a few repairs on the devastated room.

Nose blown and eyes dried Hermione looked again at Brendan. “All?” she asked quizzically, the idea was just too ludicrous.

“Yes, all,” Brendan commented in return. He wasn’t about to declare that Severus had found that the silly handkerchiefs were effective when dealing with panicked children, he’d even used them in the Slytherin Tower, though none of its inhabitants would every admit to it.

“Better?” Brendan asked when Hermione stopped giggling, rather glad that the spell of laughter hadn’t degenerated into hysteria.

“I don’t know?” she answered honestly, her hand drifting up to the mess of her skull; the Crone had not been careful. That Brendan hadn’t commented on her new look hadn’t slipped by her. Was this type of thing a regular occurrence around here? Still she couldn’t ask that outright, so she asked the other question on the top of her mind, “What do you do here?”

“Look after people such as yourself Miss, Severus has a few others in his care.” Brendan smiled to himself as he thought about the magnitude of that understatement; still Miss Granger didn’t need to know those details, yet. “I expect Severus will be returning soon and in all likelihood we will need to hide you and the boys away for a while.”


“It was whilst in his animagus form that he apparently scented out Miss Granger’s blood,” Alastor finished his explanation. “Now may I please hear your side?” Alastor waited patiently, seeing Severus marshal his thoughts. “Come on, Severus, something is going on, and I’m the only one who can help you,” Alastor pleaded, licking his lips.Trust, the coin had been offered. Could Severus afford to pick it up?

“He probably heard Miss Granger,” Severus said blandly.

Alastor collapsed against the chair behind him, relief warring with fear, given Black’s description of the scream that had woken him. However, Severus making that simple statement also went to fuelling his relief, and fear. What game was the Potions Master playing, and could he afford to know?

“She and the boys are alive, though I have managed to convince Voldemort otherwise. They are currently recovering from their ordeal, though I expect it will take a few days yet.” Severus spoke to Alastor in a very, very tired voice.

“Why haven’t you told Albus?” Alastor asked the most obvious question. “The knowledge that you may well have killed those three students is weighing heavily on him.”

“I can deal with Albus doubting me,” Severus lied, “but I cannot afford to have Voldemort doubt me. So it will have to continue to weigh on Albus. Voldemort believes they are dead and if they were to suddenly appear whole, hale and hearty, I am a dead man walking, and we all lose. All, you understand me, Alastor?” Severus said in a penetrating voice.

Alastor found himself almost blinded by a sudden insight; the unidentified man at Snape Manor had been dressed as a Muggle according to Black. What if he was not only dressed as a Muggle, but actually was a Muggle? “How many times have you done this, Severus?” he asked in a voice verging on respect and just a little awe at the implications.

Severus gave Alastor a wry grimace. “Enough that if word about it were to reach my ‘esteemed’ Lord, I would be exceedingly dead, and so would a great many others. Voldemort would not forgive this sort of transgression.” That was the understatement of the century.

“But that still doesn’t answer why you won’t tell Albus!”

‘In all the way, old chap’, Severus reflected. “Because, Alastor, Voldemort has another spy in the school. Someone with far more access than your general member of the student body.”

Alastor just stared at Severus after that pronouncement. “Are you sure?” he finally asked, which, on reflection, he thought was probably the stupidest question he could have asked. Severus would never have made the comment if he hadn’t been sure.

Severus Snape, scion of Slytherin, reigned in his frayed temper and answered Moody calmly. “Let us just say that Voldemort has on more than one occasion in the past made comments that reflect knowledge of the goings on in Hogwarts that he did not receive from me.”

“But with so many children here, Severus…”

“Don’t you think I haven’t considered that, Alastor? I head House Slytherin after all, Voldemort’s house. The problem is that his spy appears to have been here for longer than any ‘generation’ of children.”

“Merlin’s blood,” Alastor swore as he frantically considered the implications, particularly in terms of the Order.

“Before you worry yourself into a box, I have managed to eliminate members of the Order from the list of possibilities. But look around, Alastor, how many eyes and ears have been at Hogwarts for over 20 years? Portraits, house-elves, Ministry officials, the list goes on,” Severus said evenly; panicking Alastor was not something he wanted to do.

For the second time in only a few moments Alastor asked, “Are you sure?” This time it wasn’t a stupid question and unfortunately he knew he wasn’t going to like the answer, though it would go along way towards explaining Severus.

“Of course I am sure,” Severus snapped, before he continued in a more consilatory tone. “In my line of work, you learn to pay attention to the details; who said what, to whom and when. Voldemort plays his cards close to the chest, but even he slips up occasionally and as he knew of my ‘supposed’ sabbatical the same morning that Albus announced it, I leave it to you to draw your own conclusions, Alastor, but I cannot afford to be careless. And speaking of careless, when does Albus plan to search my Manor?”

The distraction worked as Severus had hoped it would. “What makes you think he is planning on searching Snape Manor?”

“I’m not a fool, Alastor. Black arrived back with tales of dastardly doings. I suppose it is too much to ask that the only people he has spoken to were you and Albus. No don’t bother answering; I know Black’s opinion of me well enough, and his tendency to yap at anyone about my character. Albus will have no choice but to demand that I let him search, all in the name of discounting the obviously biased rantings, and I will have no choice but to agree. So when?”

“I suspect immediately after I leave,” Alastor answered. “Is there anything you can do?”

Severus, his emergency plans already made well in advance of such an occurrence, stated firmly, “I’ll need ten minutes.”

Alastor blinked in surprise, but stated blandly, “No more?” The statement said a lot about Severus’ preparedness and incidentally a great many other things. “That will make it easier dealing with Albus at least. I don’t like the idea of needing to obliviate him.” Alastor finished though he accepted that if the need arose Albus and Sirius would indeed be obliviated.

Severus took his trust of Alastor Moody to the highest level. “Thank you, Alastor. No doubt I’ll see you soon.” With a wry grin and without fanfare, he touched the port-key that would take him home, straight through the anti-apparation wards of Hogwarts. Alastor stood dumfounded as Severus disappeared and his mind turned to the problem of Albus and Sirius.


Severus appeared in the laboratory and began to stride towards the upper halls all the while shouting for Jaidy and Brendan. Both appeared with alacrity, and that eased some of his worries. Surprisingly, Miss Granger was following Brendan, but this was neither the time nor the place to comment.“Master,” Jaidy began to speak but was cut off by Severus. 

“I know, Jaidy, and he had enough time to tell sufficient people that we will be having unwanted guests shortly.” Turning to Hermione, Severus stated in his best ‘Potions class’ voice, “I need you to just do as you are told, girl, and we have no time for questions.”

Hermione, still recovering from the series of shocks the weekend had so far delivered said nothing, but nodded as she drew closer to Brendan; it appeared he had been correct when he commented about a need to be hidden away.

“Brendan…”

“I love the navy life,” Brendan said without hesitation. He knew the emergency plans as well as Severus and Jaidy. “Come, Miss Granger, we need to hide you,” he said gently to the girl, comforter and confidant, a role he had played before.

Severus ignored the by-play, after all that was one of Brendan’s many hidden talents, and Miss Granger was sorely in need of comfort. Taking his master wand out he led the group towards the library. The Manor’s library was a bibliophile’s ultimate dream come true and normally Miss Granger could have been counted upon to fly into raptures, today she just stood quietly and waited.

Overlooking the library was the original wizard painting by Samuel Drummond: ‘Admiral Duncan Receiving the Sword of the Dutch Admiral de Winter at the Battle of Camperdown, 11 October 1797’. Severus quickly began to conjure clothing similar to that worn by the figures moving about in the painting. Brendan, knowing his part, grabbed the lieutenant’s uniform as it appeared and disappeared into the bookstacks to re-emerge the very model of a not so modern lieutenant.

Jaidy, meanwhile, had summoned Pepper and instructed him to begin ‘decontaminating’ the rooms that Miss Granger and the boys had been in. Taking a pageboy’s outfit and short brown wig that would fit the girl; she led Hermione to a screened-off corner. “Miss needs to get into these.”

Severus, meanwhile, summoned the still sleeping boys and transfigured their clothes to a style matching the young seamen at the back of the picture. When all the assembled ‘players’ had returned and were appropriately clad, he began to cast a series of complex incantations; the effect of which was to open the portrait to entry.

As Brendan quickly stepped in, Admirals Duncan and De Winter leapt off from the painting to assist. Admiral Duncan took a hold of Henry Smithson while De Winter grabbed Andrew Dray; both boys were then handed over to a pair of yeoman with instructions to hide them in amongst the netting and to keep them safe.

“Miss Granger,” Severus said gently as Jaidy bought her forward, “stay close to the Admirals if anything untoward should happen.”

Brendan and a boy dressed identically to Miss Granger came over to help Hermione into the portrait. “You’ll be taking my place,” the boy said as he led her to the front right hand area of the painting. “Just keep watch on the Admirals, that’s my role in this painting.”

“Brendan,” Severus called as he prepared to leave the library.

“I know Severus. Just come home safe.”

A wry smile crossed Severus’ face but as only Brendan saw it Severus wasn’t to worried. “I expect to be back soon with guests, so I should be home safe.”

Admirals Duncan and De Winter joined Brendan in watch Severus leave the Library. It was De Winter who commented, “Well we’ll finally see if this plan actually works now.” 


With everyone safely installed in the painting, Severus had one last task before he could return to Hogwarts, Hermione’s blood sample needed to be stored somewhere safe and it was to the temple he apparated. The moment his feet touched the ground he felt the Lady’s influence pulling on him, before he was even consciously aware of the fact, his aspect as Herne had manifested about him.“My Severus.” Her voice was polyphonic in the air. 

“Lady?” he asked as he dropped to his knees. The fact that she wanted to talk to him in this form panicked him for a brief moment, before his aspect exuded calmness.

“Take care of the children Severus, especially keep the girl safe: she is important.”

For the Lady to have said anything pertaining to the future was frightening; she had never in this avatar’s knowledge done so. However, before he could even answer the charge she continued, “she and one still to come to you.” As she finished speaking Severus felt the aspect fall away and with it the sample in his hand faded from sight. The last he heard was ‘I will keep it safe’, as he felt himself being pulled away.

To be continued...
Chapter 11 Searching. by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:

Snape Manor is searched but what is found?

Anti-litigation charm; JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe, to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

Alastor had only just had time to draw his breath in appreciation of Severus’ rather stunning exit when he saw Severus reappear. ‘That was a short ten minutes’, made it no further than the recesses of his mind as he watched in awe as the last of Severus’ Avatar aspect fell away. Silently he waited for Severus to speak, as it was obvious that his return had not been under his own volition.

Severus, shaking his head to clear the residual affects from being an avatar of the Lady, was momentarily taken aback at Alastor’s lack of comment until his normally keen intelligence kicked in. At which point, a string of invectives crossed his mind. The Lady was quite capable of manipulating time and it seemed from Alastor’s stance that he had arrived as soon as he had left. That, in and of itself, was bad enough without further complication: further complications raised its ugly head at that moment as Severus felt the last of his Avatar manifestation fell away. “Not a word Alastor, not a word.”

Alastor took the ferocious look to mean that any mention of what he had seen would result in a rather painful memory extraction. Wisely, he just nodded.

“I’ll see you at Snape Manor,” Alastor said curtly, before he released the bindings on Dumbledore and Sirius.

“Dumbledore, Sirius. Severus has told the truth,” Alastor spoke quietly to the two men as they roused; “Now I will leave you to your discussions but I’d advise you to remember that fact.”

“Well Headmaster, you wanted to speak with me?” Severus asked, full Snape persona in place as soon as Alastor left.

“Yes Severus,” Dumbledore answered somewhat forlornly, “I’m going to have to ask you to allow Snape Manor to be searched.”

‘Well at least he is asking’, Severus thought sardonically, fully aware that the asking was in fact a mere formality. “And, if I say no? Oh, no, no, don’t bother answering that Headmaster,” he said, as he looked daggers at Black, “after all your pet cur has been barking again. Must check just in case of intruders, mustn’t we? And I certainly do not want a summer vacation in Azkaban, so I’ll cooperate.”

The pet dog in question bristled, taking exception to the description, and would have lunged at Severus but for the restraining spell Dumbledore quickly cast in an attempt to avoid further unpleasantness. “Severus,” he sighed, “this is one of those times we must be seen to be doing something. I honestly believe that you had nothing to do with the disappearances, but surely you can see that allowing Snape Manor to be searched is the quickest way to quash any comments,” Dumbledore continued in a reasonable tone, all the while glad that he wasn’t the one currently under the effect of Veritaserum. He had his doubts, but to voice them would, as the muggles said, ensure he lost positive control of the potions master.

Whilst Dumbledore was thanking Merlin that he wasn’t under Veritaserum he should have remembered that Severus was a very skilled legimens and even without that skill, he was also a past master at reading people: it was one of the reasons he was still alive. He was, in fact, better at reading people and their motives than Dumbledore; he just wasn’t about to let anyone know. “When is this farce of a search to take place?” Severus snarled.

“As a matter of fact, Severus, now,” sighed the Headmaster though he was beginning to wonder if this really was a good idea. Sirius was notoriously unstable, and he could not afford to lose what little control of Severus he currently had. Being seen to believe one or the other was going to cause problems.


The sight that greeted Severus as he apparated with Dumbledore to the front of Snape Manor was rather circus-like, with all the assembled players awaiting the ringmaster. Severus looked at Dumbledore in disgust, but quickly schooled his face to a more neutral visage. The assembly consisted of most of the Hogwarts staff, the Order, with the notable exception of Remus Lupin, and many of the Ministry’s Senior Aurors. The idea behind the gathering was probably ‘the more eyes the better,’ but in this instance the ringmaster demonstrated that immense intelligence and power did not necessarily translate to wisdom. If Voldemort had any eyes directed at Snape Manor, he could now identify almost all of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as most of the senior Aurors.

“Isn’t this a little bit of overkill, Headmaster?” Severus asked mildly as he surveyed the assembled mob with a slight tilt of the head, suggesting his opinion on the matter. Any further comment he may have made died stillborn at the sight of Mr Potter and Mr Weasley amongst the gathered throng. “What the hell are they doing here?” he finally ground out once he had managed to reign his temper in far enough that his first words weren’t unforgivable.

“Mr Weasley suggested that Miss Granger’s pet might be of assistance in any search,” Dumbledore explained, “given the feline sense of smell and all.”

“If that is the only use the animal is to be put to we could have used Minerva just as well, Headmaster, without my home having to be invaded by that pair of…”

“Severus,” the Headmaster warned, cutting off any further comments as they watched the approach of Alastor and his senior colleagues.

“Albus,” Frederick Masters, head of the Ministry Aurors, nodded to Dumbledore as he approached. “You do realise that these are very serious allegations, considering Professor Snape’s history.”

Whilst listening to Mr Masters, Dumbledore was fascinated to see how well Severus, a man dressed entirely in black, was able to blend into the scenery. His attention was brought back to the Senior Auror when he asked to speak with the person who had made the allegations. After all, Alastor’s report, though unofficial as he was in theory retired, indicated that there was no need to invade Snape Manor.

“Professor Snape has agreed to allow Snape Manor to be searched to lay any and all rumours to rest,” Dumbledore answered reasonably, even though Severus’ agreement had never been sought.

At the mention of their ‘star witness’, Severus, who had succeeded quite admirably in his goal to disappear in plain sight, looked about for the aforementioned wizard. After all, Sirius Black was still listed as wanted by the Ministry. He finally spotted Black, leashed and muzzled, held in check by Argus Filch. Hogwarts’ caretaker had his hands full as Black was on the receiving end of the tender care of Crookshanks and Mrs Norris. Crookshanks and Mrs Norris were tag-teaming, nipping and scratching alternatively at Sirius’ legs and face, driving the animage to distraction.

“My home is about to be overrun by vermin. I’m not sure I agreed to that, Headmaster,” Severus’ voice sounded from the ether. Both Dumbledore and Masters jumped at the intrusion. Severus allowed himself a vindictive smile. “But let’s get on with the search. The sooner we start, the sooner I can go back to ‘teaching’ without these… interruptions.” Severus’ tongue had lost none of its bite. Despite trying to be inconspicuous, the idea of so many flea-bitten mongrels in the Manor really just finished the day off for him. Still, he could not afford to put the moment off any longer.

“Gentlemen, Ladies, ‘animals’, welcome to Snape Manor,” Severus said with a bow as he dropped as many of the wards as he could afford to. However, some of the wards were intimately tied with his link to the Lady, and those he would not, indeed, could not, bring down without Her blessing. Still, the cover of snow in this early in the season showed the Lady had already played with the Manor, so it appeared she would not fry anyone inadvertently. Severus prayed silently to the Lady, pleading with her not to interfere with the search. There was a whisper of a grin, when his thoughts strayed to Sirius, however.

Severus led the group up the Manor path past the place where the Lady’s lake was normally to be seen. He was rather amused to watch Black trying to drag poor Argus towards a lake that was no longer there; indeed it had never been there.

Sirius, searching for the lake he’d ran past on his flight from the manor, back-pedalled frantically as he, and only he, heard the words: “You saw a lake that wasn’t there, it wasn’t there again today, I wish that lake would go AWAY.” The last word echoed vindictively in his mind as he was shoved back by an unseen force. Playful laughter filled his mind as Sirius broke from Argus’ grip and rushed towards the Manor entrance arriving precisely as Severus did.

Severus was about to reach out and open the front door when Black, racing up the stairs, snapped his jaws firmly around the Potion Master’s arm. With no one else in earshot, Severus dropped all pretence at nicety. “Black, I could break your animagi form here and now if you’d like,” Severus snarled under his breath. “So be a good dog and let go… now!”

Black, surprisingly showed a glimmer of intelligence, took one look at the implacable black eyes that were watching him and adding the fright he had just received to the equation; he let go, thinking it didn’t matter, Severus would be found out soon enough.

Holding the door open, Severus let Dumbledore and Masters into the foyer, a gentle film of dust covering all surfaces. “I seldom entertain,” Severus said by way of explanation. “Is there anywhere you would prefer to use to co-ordinate your efforts?” The phrase ‘Outer Mongolia, perhaps’ was unspoken.

“Your Library, Severus, will serve our needs,” Dumbledore said with an air of assumed innocence.


Hermione stood watching as Admirals’ Duncan and De Winter repeatedly moved through the ceremony of De Winter’s sword to Duncan. She was stationed off to the left of the painting, but firmly in the foreground. Anyone with half a brain would spot her in an instant, she thought. Still, after half an hour of watching and re-watching the ceremony, she began to grow bored and started to look more closely at the other figures that shared her imprisonment.

“Severus once read a tale, ‘The Purloined Letter’ by Edgar Allan Poe,” Brendan said as he saw the look of disbelief cross Hermione’s face. “This hidey-hole is based loosely on that.”

“But…”

“Severus has hidden a great many things in plain sight and I have yet to see any discovered,” Brendan commented before he fell silent as Severus strode into the library closely followed by the unwelcome swarm.

Masters strode to the centre of the Library without so much as a glance of the room. The other searchers followed whilst Dumbledore approached the massive painting that dominated the west wall. “That’s a beautiful painting Severus,” he commented, as he approached, “I hadn’t realised that your family still possessed it.” The implication being that it, along with anything of value, must have been sold off sometime in the past.

“Yes, one of the few Masters the family managed to retain,” Severus said. Of course the self-depreciating tone belied the amount the word ‘few’ encompassed.

In fascination, Hermione watched as the library was turned into a base of operations for the search of Snape Manor. The large writing desk was cleared of the dropsheet covering it and a complex incantation was cast that created a model of the Manor in the centre of the desk.

“We’ll split up into teams,” Masters was saying, “each room, once searched, will be magically sealed and the fact noted in this model. If nothing is found, the room will glow gold.” The last comment was made mainly for the benefit of Ron and Harry who weren’t even paying attention; their eyes were fixed on the bookshelves.

“If Hermione was at the Manor at all this is where I expect she’d be,” Harry commented, impressed in spite of himself, at the sheer scale of material held in the room.

Crookshanks and Mrs Norris has sniffed around the library, rather briefly if truth be told, before deciding that the fireplace, which had erupted into a cheery fire as the search party entered, was much more to their liking than hunting around a dank, cold, and obvious, to them at least, uninhabited old manor.

It was Dumbledore that actually asked Admiral Duncan if they, or any of the other portraits in the manor, had observed anything untoward. The answer given had assured him that all was well. Portraits after all weren’t imaginative souls and therefore couldn’t lie.

Nonetheless, the Aurors and the members of the ministry had split up and were now diligently searching the Manor for any sign of Hermione, Andrew or Henry. The conversations that those in the portrait overheard indicated that no one was finding anything. In fact by the end of the search Masters was actually demanding to know who had brought forth the charges against Professor Snape, as they were clearly of malicious intent and he did not approve of anyone using tragedies such as the current one to further their own spiteful agendas.

With nothing out of the ordinary found, the search was finally called off and Dumbledore, a man so often reprimanding others, found himself on the receiving end of Masters’ tongue. “Albus Dumbledore, are you sure you’re not allowing the past to colour the present? Bringing charges like these against innocent men is how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named started. If so, let others hunt: those with a clearer mind, perhaps.” With that, Masters assembled the rest of the Aurors and left a suddenly tired Headmaster, standing in the middle of the library, to his thoughts.

Severus approached Albus quietly when Masters and company winked out of existence putting on a show, though if the truth was told it wasn’t much of a show, of anger at having the Manor searched when there was nothing to find. “Again the word of a ‘Gryffindor’ is sufficient to assume that I am guilty,” he commented in low tones to the Headmaster. “Are the residences of the other staff to be searched? I expect not.”

“Severus,” Albus answered him in a very tired voice, “the rest of the staff were questioned this morning whilst you were absent; we had no reason to search their residences and if no allegations had been brought against you we wouldn’t have searched here either, but allegations were made. Would you rather I had let that individual stew over his perception,” he continued in a placating tone, “or will you accept that this course at least lays any doubts to rest?”

Severus couldn’t help but think if similar allegations had been bought against Minerva nothing would have come of it but he kept his thoughts to himself. Rather he continued to indulge in the expected fit of outrage that this day’s actions should have precipitated. “Yes, Headmaster, I’m sure all doubts are laid to rest.” The pointed look Severus directed at the mangy dog still sniffing about the library was not missed.

“I didn’t notice any sign of Jaidy today, she is still with you is she not?” Albus asked with deceptive mildness as Severus turned to hopefully lead the intruders from his home.

Severus’ head flicked back to face the Headmaster, “Yes,” he snapped feeling rather drained after all the days events; his dungeon chamber was beginning to look very inviting but the day wasn’t over. “I didn’t realise that you wanted to see her, she tends to stay out of the way; after all I haven’t occupied the Manor in over 10 years.”
“Well there are a couple of questioned I should ask her,” Dumbledore commented.

Rolling his eyes, Severus couldn’t help but notice the feral look that crossed the features of Black, though to Severus the dog always looked feral, and Mr Potter. Preferring not to have to expose Jaidy to that twosome he commented, “I can summon her, but I’d like to know how much longer MY Manor is going to be overrun with such…vermin?”

Taking the hint, Albus indicated that the staff should return to Hogwarts; Severus, he thought, was not likely to be co-operative if he felt he was still under suspicion. Still, he wanted at least an ‘unbiased’ observer present when he questioned the house-elf, “Alastor, could you remain?”

“Of course,” Alastor answered assuming that Dumbledore meant for him to take a final discrete look about the Manor.

When everyone had left Albus turned to Severus and said again, “Jaidy, please, Severus?”

Severus spoke sharply to the ether; his tone suggesting that instant obedience was expected. “Jaidy, come here now.”


The house of the Snake historically took care of their own, both in reward and punishment, and that was the problem that faced Remus. After dealing with Pansy and Draco, he’d spent the rest of the morning in the Slytherin common room trying to fathom what was going on the in mind of the young Blonde. He’d already ruled out talking to Albus as an appropriate option, at least not yet.

Pansy and Draco had only submitted to his instruction because at the moment he and Sirius were de facto House head until the house was returned to Severus Snape’s dubious care, or was it? Having spent the last two nights in the Serpent’s tower and dealing with the Slytherin children outside of normal class contact he was gaining a very different view of their world. He’d had to deal with three separate sets of nightmares with the children involved crying for their Head of House. It was unnerving and enlightening, all at the same time.

The dynamics of the house also surprised him once he sat back and watched. Crabbe and Goyle, a pair of individuals one would characterise as first rate bullies and definitely a couple of pennies short of a pound, were observed, surprisingly very discretely, keeping an eye on two younger Slytherins who had been following one of the first year girls with mischief in mind. Remus had found out that she, in fact was distantly related to the Potter’s. The likely lads never got to perform whatever mischief they planned, due to Crabbe and Goyle’s intervention.

“As Severus isn’t here, I’ll remind you, yet again,” Crabbe had said in a low voice. Remus had no problems hearing the conversation, again taking his heightened senses for granted. “Make no mistake, it doesn’t matter who her blood is; as a Slytherin she is ours.”

“But she’s related to Potter, she could be spying in our house,” the young man had whined.

“So, anyone who is related to Potter is going to spy? Shall I tell Draco of your so-called logic? Remember, the Malfoys are also related to Potter; so is he going to turn spy as well?” Goyle had answered. “The purer the Blood the more closely related.”

Remus nearly fainted at this sign of intelligence. Appearances were definitely deceiving inside the Serpent’s Den. He mentally kicked himself at forgetting that fact. That drove him to observe things a little more closely and by the time he’d gone to lunch he was close to remembering advice from the past. It was the sight of Severus Snape, to all intents and purposes hale and hearty, billowing in to lunch after a morning harvesting Moon Mushrooms, that finally pulled the memory into place.

Severus had walked up towards the head table and to a casual observer it was with his characteristically arrogant stride but to Remus’ eyes something was a bit off. There was a shadowing in the eyes, worry and tiredness. It was a similar look to one he’d seen in the past; close to the time he remembered that Severus apparently joined Voldemort.

 

“Will you look at that,” Sirius said nodding his head over towards the edge of the forbidden forest, “The Craven,” another of their insults for Snape based on Lily’s nickname for the boy—Raven—, “is sneaking around again. I wonder what he’s up to this time?”

Remus had been about to answer when James came striding into view from the castle, a look of horror on his face.

“There’s been a Death Eater attack on London,” James growled bristling with pent up fury, “ruined my bloody date.” Bloody date appeared to be the correct term; James was sporting a rather ragged gash down the side of his cheek. “The bastard Voldemort is getting bolder by the day.”

“Aren’t you going to do something about that?” Remus asked pointing at James’ cheek.

“Not now, Madame Pomfrey’s too busy.” James answered in an offhanded manner, the truth was he rather liked the attention the gash had gotten him; everyone assumed he’d got it defending Lily.

“How’d you get it anyway?” Sirius asked.

James couldn’t lie to his best mates. “Just before the attack some bloody stupid Muggle threw a rock at me, a ruddy big rock. Knocked me over. But it looks good, doesn’t it?”

“That is does. I bet Lily’s impressed.” Sirius replied, his tone suggested otherwise. The gash did look good, added a rakish quality to their friend and probably had the girls swooning. Lily wouldn’t like that; James was hers and she made sure everyone knew it.

James just snickered. “I’m supposed to bring you both back up to the castle. Headmaster Dippit wants to head check just to be sure.”

“Then we’d better get Craven as well,” Sirius had commented drawing James’ attention to the edge of the forest. “Sneaky Slytherin bastard.”

“Yeah, we’d better get him.” James agreed.

At which point the three Gryffindors went on the hunt. They approached their quarry with care, after all Snivellus was a dab hand with curses. Sirius shifted form, as it was easier hunt that way though the other two remained human.

Remus had spotted the other boy first and he noted in the young man’s stance a similarity to his own stance post his monthly transition. Severus Snape stood in a manner that suggested he wasn’t quite sure yet if everything was working properly; like he’d been beaten and the body remembered even thought he healing potions had fixed the outward damage. They’d fallen on Severus with a vengeance and had left him tied to a tree before they returned to the castle.

It was only later, when Lily was talking to him in private, that Remus found out how close James had been to Death that day. The rock that had hit James had knocked him out of the way of a killing curse; James hadn’t even noticed. “Luckily the Raven had been there,” she’d said in passing, “always looking out for James.”

 

It was the look as though his body remembered being beaten seriously that Severus had worn as he’d approached Dumbledore, and Sirius. Yet Lily always swore that the Raven watched out for James, always. So who was he watching out for now?


Jaidy popped in directly under Albus’ nose. “Jaidy coming when Master calls,” she said subserviently. After all the Bastard of Hogwarts was a Bastard to everyone. Her head dipping, she feigned a whimper; the effect was to subconsciously manipulate the Headmaster, and it worked as expected.

“Have no fear, Jaidy,” Albus said in his gentlest of voices. “Severus won’t hurt you, will you?” The last comment was addressed to the scowling Potions Master.

Severus didn’t even deign to respond to the question. “You wanted to question her. Get on with it.”

“I’d prefer to talk to her alone, Severus. How about you and Moody do one final sweep of the property?” The question was purely rhetorical.

Feeling that he probably should be imprisoned in Azkaban for leaving Albus to Jaidy’s tender mercy, Severus removed himself from the library as requested, “Coming, Moody?”


“Jaidy, you are safe now.” Albus said as gently as he could whilst observing the obviously distraught house-elf. “You can tell me why Severus sent you to Hogwarts yesterday.”

“Jaidy is being good house-elf. Jaidy is keeping the Manor clean for when Master comes home. Why does Master not come home? Is Jaidy not cleaning properly. Bad Jaidy, bad Jaidy.” Jaidy hopped and danced about Albus doing a grand impersonation of Dobby.

“You haven’t done anything bad Jaidy,” Albus tried to soothe the poor elf, “but I need to know why you went to Hogwarts yesterday.”

“Jaidy is cleaning, yes Jaidy is cleaning. Jaidy finds picture of Master, he’s such a good Master. Why did Potter break Master’s nose?” Jaidy looked up earnestly at Dumbledore rather enjoying the confusion on the elder wizards face. “Jaidy remembers Potter at Hogwarts. Potter never did pay for breaking Master’s nose so Jaidy is good elf and punishes Potter. Jaidy broke Potter’s nose for Master. Jaidy is a good elf.”

‘Jaidy is a balmy elf.’ Albus though at he watched her preen at the idea of being a good elf for hitting Harry Potter.

“Why did Jaidy hit Harry Potter?” Albus asked thinking if he was a little clearer the poor thing might be better able to answer.

“Harry Potter?” Jaidy eyed Albus questioningly. “James Potter broke Master’s nose, Jaidy broke Jame’s nose. Black dog chased Jaidy but couldn’t catch her, Jaidy is better than black dog.”

‘She’s insane.’ Albus thought but said gently, “No Jaidy, James Potter is dead.”

“I killed James Potter.” Jaidy began to wail, “Oh no, I is very bad elf, must punish. I’ll sit in the fire, which is good punishment for bad elf.”

“No you didn’t kill James Potter.” Albus said as he made a made grab for the elf who was to all intents and purposes diving for the fire. He missed Jaidy managing instead to grab a handful of hot coals. Jaidy had come to a sudden stop when he’d said she hadn’t killed James.

“Then Jaidy is still a good elf.” She smiled as she watched Albus, his hands flaying about due to the coals. Dancing about the room she affected a vague air, as though unaware of her surroundings.

Albus, thoroughly disgusted by now, and feeling rather sore accepted the fact he’d get no coherent information out of the obviously insane elf. Even if Severus had been in the Manor Jaidy would not have known. Waiting till she was distracted by the large mural Albus carefully placed a new book on the shelves; a book spelled to observe the Manor and to transmit images of any activity back to the Pensieve in his office.

Looking sadly at the elf Albus turned as left the library. He never saw the smile of satisfaction that crossed Jaidy’s features.


Severus led Alastor outside and towards the Lady’s grace; he felt sorely in need of her peace at the moment and given that Alastor had seen the shadow of his Avatar form earlier he wasn’t about to miss the chance to seek her solace. With luck she’d even grant Moody the sight of her, maybe that would help cement the older man’s trust.

“You do realise that Albus will probably set spy wards whilst we are gone?” Alastor asked as he followed Severus outside, not really paying attention to where they were heading; after all the entire Manor had been searched and the grounds had shown nothing but an air of neglect.

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t, it’s what I’d do if our roles were reversed,” Severus commented calmly, already Her Grace was seeping into his bones as they approached the lake and its temple, though both were still hidden from mundane sight. “It doesn’t matter, he won’t find anything anyway and I won’t be back to tamper with them too soon.”

“Tamper with…” Alastor was stunned, not only by the calm demeanour of Severus, but also the idea that anyone thought they could tamper with Wards set by Albus Dumbledore and not suffer any unforeseen consequences, such as ‘death’. Even he’d think twice about doing something that insane.

Severus just smiled rather enjoying the look of discomfort on Moody’s face. The Order in general suffered from almost too much belief in Albus and his abilities; maybe if Alastor stopped and looked he might realise the error of the Order putting all its eggs in Albus’ basket.

“And the children?” Alastor asked rather than pursue the line of thinking that Severus’ tamper with comments had started.

“They’re safe for the time being.”

“And you?” Alastor asked, “Are you safe with your two masters?”

“…Two Masters?” Severus replied with a slight smile as the Lady’s lake finally shimmered back into view.

“Severus, my Love,” The Mother said as she walked across the lake’s surface and stepped ashore, gathering the man who collapsed against her into her embrace. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Severus replied wryly as he felt Her Grace flow through him; the terror, pain and sensory overload of the past 36 hours finally began to wash away.

Alastor stood dumbfounded. He’d caught a glimpse of Severus’ out worldly form earlier when he’d questioned the Potions Master but the import had not quite penetrated his brain. Now his brain was almost crying out in fear as he watch the lake Sirius had described shimmer into view. The woman who approached them, walking across the water as though it were ice held no clear form and yet she projected all forms, the Mother, the Warrior, and the Protector of the young. That this beautiful Grace should embrace Severus with such tenderness shock him more than anything else he’d seen in his life.

“Make no mistake Alastor Moody, Severus serves but one Master. Me.” She said looking over the shoulder of her love to the Auror who stood by. “He is mine."

To be continued...
Chapter 12 Memories by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
*Anti-litigation charm: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.

To those who have read and enjoyed, I hope you continue to do so. I have read every review with pleasure.

Please forgive my delays but, longtime no write, PhD keeps me up all night.

Now on with the story:

Enjoy all.

"He comes, beloved," the Lady whispered into Severus' ear before looking up and including Alastor in the conversation. "Remember what you've seen, Alastor Moody," she continued in a warning tone, "and do not interfere with my paramour."

Alastor still in shock at what he'd seen and the general implications just nodded his head as he watched the Lady and the lake fade from view. "What are you going to do now, Severus?" Alastor finally asked in an awed whisper as they walked back towards the Manor, and the waiting Headmaster.

"Sleep," Severus replied.

"And the Order meeting?" Alastor demanded, curious to see how Severus would react to the idea that an Order meeting was called though he had not been informed.

Severus just rolled his eyes at Alastor's rather obvious enquiry. "I'll leave that for you to deal with. As you have just seen, we have a rather powerful ally, one the Order must never know of."

'Heed me well, Alastor Moody, I may be perceived as capricious, but I have a vested interest in my Avatars survival, and I will brook no interference from anyone.' Alastor stared dumbstruck as the timbre and pitch of Severus' voice changed midstream, three voices echoing in his mind.

Severus shook his head as if to clear it, and continued as if nothing had happened. "I expect Albus will try and work out where else I could have hidden the bodies--after all, the children are still missing. Anyway we had better repair to the Manor, I'm not keen on Albus wanting to explore the grounds again."

Alastor silently agreed. He decided it was in his best interest to 'forget' the last few minutes, and was rewarded with a faint kiss and a giggle.

Though he could easily understand Severus' concerns. Albus, that is to say the Order, hadn't found anything, but it would unwise to arouse any further suspicions. Given the way Albus had spoken with him earlier in the day, Alastor believed it would take very little to cause the headmaster to begin the search all over again; this time without the Ministry's tacit approval. "Albus told everyone to return to Hogwarts, you, I and Albus are the only people left at the manor," Alastor commented as he and Severus made there way back to the main entrance. "A meeting of the Order is to be held at Hogwarts, Albus was loath to the leave the school 'unguarded' for too long."

"Understandable, though I suspect it is me that he would be loath to leave 'unguarded'," Severus commented dryly, a faint smirk on his lips.

In a timely fashion, the two men entered the foyer as Albus appeared from the library. The older man looked tired and worn down, the stresses of the last two days beginning to show. 'Welcome to my world', Severus snarled silently, though he wisely made no indication of his displeasure at the wanton intrusion into his life.

"Satisfied?" Alastor looked sharply at Severus as he queried Albus, but wisely kept his counsel. He had a mere glimmer of an understanding of what stresses Severus was under, and he was actually amazed at the Potion Master's restraint. It was truly amazing how much venom one could instil in a single word if one tried. Severus didn't just try.

Albus, his thoughts still centred on the apparently insane house elf that he'd left dancing in the library, barely acknowledged Severus' comment. If, his Potion's Master had in fact had anything to do with the disappearance of children, he had obviously not brought them here, not given the state Jaidy was in. Still, that left the question of their location unanswered. "We're going to have to broaden our search it seems," Albus finally commented as he walked silently with the other men towards the edge of the property.

Severus, weariness chilling him to the bone, ignored the presence of the other two as he re-instated the wards about the manor, careful to show no signs of 'over-warding'; after all the Manor was empty. As his energies weakened he felt the Lady strengthen him, and he almost staggered at the sheer power his Mistress channelled through him.

"Any suggestions on where else the children might me?" Albus asked in the middle of the warding, hoping vainly to catch his Potions Master out.

Without missing a beat Severus answered as he felt the wards take hold. He managed to stay on his feet and shot a look of pure loathing at his 'friend'. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Both were manipulative pricks of the first order. "If Voldemort has them, he'll tell us when he's ready and not before. The fact that they have not as yet been 'ransomed' already suggests he has other plans for them."

"So you believe they are still alive?"

"What good would come of killing them, Headmaster?" Severus said in reply. "Live bait always catches more fish after all."

Dumbledore looked sorrowfully at his Potion Master, "I'll expect you back at Hogwarts immediately," he said, before apparating away with Alastor.

Severus thanked the Lady, as Dumbledore leaving before watching his apparate out had to be the result of her interference. He was rewarded with a snarky comment that would have done him proud before the Lady withdrew. He gathered the reserves that had been granted and stalked towards the safety of the Manor. He shot a wane smile to a triumphant Jaidy before staggering up to his bed, oblivion reaching him in short order. He fought sleep briefly before a prim voice told him "Stop that," and, as usual, he bowed to the Lady's superior wisdom.


Hermione was finding it hard to hide her disappointment. Surely someone would have seen them in the painting; after all they were literally right in front of everyone's noses. Still, as Aurors, members of the Order, and even Harry and Ron came and went, verifying that room after room was empty, she began to lose hope.

Once or twice she had been tempted to draw attention to the painting but a warning glance from Brendan, and for that matter the Admiral's, suggested that such an actions would not be a good idea. The fact was that the sword being passed back and forth looked sharp and both men looked like they not only knew how to use it, but they also wouldn't hesitate to use it, was enough to overcome even her Gryffindor tendencies.

In the end, the only interesting thing to happen was Jaidy's little song and dance routine and watching that only aroused Hermione's pity. Jaidy obviously had the measure of the Headmaster and was taking great delight in tying him into proverbial knots. Noting the Headmaster sequester a small volume in amongst the bookshelves did little to raise any hope of discovery in her breast. What she'd seen so far indicated the presence of any spying devices would not discomfort the Manor's inhabitants.

When the Manor finally quieted down, Hermione turned to her companions in imprisonment and asked when they were to be released.

"That is likely to depend on when Severus can extricate himself safely from Hogwarts," Brendan replied. "Jaidy will only release us in the case of a major emergency, otherwise I expect we will be here for a while."

"What!"

"Miss Granger," it was Admiral De Winter that addressed her, "surely you can see that until Mister Severus resets the household wards and removes any 'unwanted devices', it might well be dangerous for you to be out and about. I rather suspect that the Auror's would also have left behind one or two alarm devices as well on the off chance that what they saw today was not all there was to be see; I know I would if I had been in his place.

"Whilst we saw the device that Dumbledore left, that is not likely to be the only one. Master Severus is not one to take any chances with other peoples safety, so you can be certain until he is assured of the safety of the grounds he will prefer you and your companions to remain in the portrait world."

"But..."

"Miss Granger," Brendan interrupted anticipating her next comments. "The painting acts as a form of stasis field, we won't need to eat whilst in here but we can move about the Manor through the paintings network. There is a painting in the Grand Hall of the Library of Alexandra," he continued, "Severus rather thought you might find it interesting."

'Find it interesting,' Brendan mused to himself remembering Severus' exact words. 'When Miss Granger becomes bored, point her to the Alexandrian portrait; that ought to keep her quiet for a week or more.'

'A week or more?'

'I suspect that Albus is going to be keeping a very sharp eye on me for the near future,' Severus had said with a sigh. 'I'm going to have enough fun just getting to the Forbidden Forest without trying to leave Hogwarts grounds.'

'You could tell him,' Brendan had counselled again, knowing it was futile, but for some obscure reason thinking about why he held his secrets close tended to cheer Severus up; probably the Slytherin in him.

Well aware of Brendan's motives, Severus had just smiled and allowed himself to be distracted.

The mention of a Portrait of the Library of Alexandria was met with exactly the expected response, Hermione literally pushing Brendan to show her the way.


An indeterminate period of time later, Severus woke with a start, throwing the covers of the bed of wildly, cursing his weakness. Sleep was a luxury he would embrace when he was dead. He was bowled over by a power beyond imagining, and was given a stern lecture as it was explained to him, in words of one syllable or less, exactly what the Lady thought of his maudlin thoughts. He was reminded that he could have all the time in the world, and was shoved under the shower by an unseen force. Hands soaped and massaged his abused body, and he abandoned himself to his lover's caresses. He was rudely awoken by a spray of ice-cold water as the Lady deemed him now recovered, and he was left to make himself presentable to the masses of Hogwarts. He didn't bother checking the portrait before Apparating directly to his private study in the dungeon. He checked the time and he noted that he was barely five minutes behind the Headmaster. Schooling his expression to his trademark sneer, he turned his thought to more important matters.

Whilst the Order was busy probably discussing him, he planned to use the time to have a much needed dialogue with the two vipers now at resident in the serpent's nest. It was with great interest that he watched Draco and Pansy as they walked into his private study; the contrast was interesting. Pansy was the picture of nonchalance, sure in her right to enter the private domain of Professor Snape as she possibly imagined herself being called to perform even greater tasks for the their Lord. Draco, on the other hand, walked in like a Slytherin aware of a death sentence hanging overhead; nothing overt, in fact if he hadn't been the boy's Godfather and therefore very well acquainted with him, Severus wouldn't have noticed a thing wrong, but something was troubling the boy.

"Miss Parkinson, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said as he indicated two chairs pulled up beside the fire place, "be seated." The later comment wasn't really an invitation.

Silently Severus took the seat opposite the two 'no longer young and innocent' Slytherins. He sat quietly, observing them, waiting to see who would speak first, and more importantly, what they would say.

Draco, well versed in his Godfather's methods, was well aware of what Professor Snape was waiting for; he wouldn't speak unless he was spoken to and even then he'd watch his tongue. Pansy however, still high on the euphoria of the weekend's revel was not so wise.

"Professor," she asked after only five minutes, "when do you think Lord Voldemort will call on us again?"

"That, I suspect depends upon you, Miss Parkinson," Severus began to say conversationally. He rather enjoyed watching the young bitch begin to preen; it was always fun to pull the rug out from under those who truly deserved it. "Have you other targets in mind? Perhaps Mr. Potter himself?"

"I tried, Sir, but he wasn't in class." Pansy began to justify what she thought of as an absolute failure. If she'd managed to bring in Harry Potter she would have been granted the highest of favors amongst the Death Eaters.

"Did you honestly expect to succeed where others have failed?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied bluntly, looking at him as though she believed he had failed in his duty to their Lord and Master.

"Then clearly you were not thinking, not really acceptable behavior for a Slytherin. Mr. Potter has a great many protections layered upon him whilst he is resident at Hogwarts, protections that prevent his 'enforced' removal." Severus sneered at her with malice, "He has to be lured out from under the wards."

"But we were able to easily stupefy Granger and those first years'," Pansy said expansively including Draco in her royal 'we'. "It was no trouble to drag them out past the wards."

'So he hasn't breached the wards', Severus thought to himself with satisfaction as Pansy went on to explain how ridiculously easy it had been to kidnap Granger and company. He let her rabbit on whilst he watched his Godson. Whenever Parkinson made some disparaging remark about the 'first years', as though they were of no import, Draco would flinch minutely.

"... did you see the look of fear that graced the Gryffindor table yesterday," Pansy was still rattling on enjoying her fifteen minutes of fame, "and to think we caused that. I rather enjoyed Weasley's reaction when I asked if he'd misplaced his 'dirty little girlfriend'."

"Ah yes Miss Parkinson, thank you for the reminder. The reason I wished to speak is related to your actions yesterday," Severus said finally interrupting the flow. "Your actions Miss Parkinson were so lacking in subtly that whilst all members of the faculty were questioned about the disappearances, it seems that the Ministry believed that House Slytherin, and as a result myself, were aware of the disappearances well in advance of them actually being announced. Furthermore, they concluded that my property required searching." His silky voice dripped venom and distain at the incompetence of the so-called Slytherin before him. Pansy Parkinson quailed at the malice directed at her, but managed to grimly look her Head of School in the eye. Severus watched her blanch as she processed his comments. They weren't the whole truth but she wasn't to know that, and her behavior had been less than subtle. He was a little disconcerted that she wasn't completely cowed, noting that Parkinson would have to be dealt with sooner or later.

"Did they find anything, Sir?" Draco finally spoke.

"There was nothing left to find," Severus answered with a tight smile. 'Make of that what you will'. It seemed both children did make something of his statement, Pansy smiled viciously while Draco looked merely ill.

"Need I remind you both that if it is discovered you have taken the Dark Mark, expulsion is likely to be the least of your worries," Severus stated with a finality that suggested 'he' would be their biggest problem. "Return to your dormitories and I suggest that in future you be a little more circumspect."

Severus watched then leave, Pansy leading the way though she was clearly worried now as his warning finally permeated her brain. "Legimens," Severus whispered softly, as Draco went to step out of his study.

"Not until you are twelve, Draco," his mother was saying as he asked again when he'd be allowed down to the lake without parents or some other adult in tow.

"But..." he'd started to whine as his Godfather had walked in the room.

"Dragon," Severus Snape said as he cast a quick glace at Narcissa asking her approval to interfere, "just because people like the Weasley's let there brood swim in the river unsupervised does not mean your parents should. After all, your parents, unlike the Weasley's are not praying that one or two brats accidentally drown themselves." Severus finished in a quelling tone.

The idea that he could be compared to the Weasley's worked and Draco submitted without further protest to having his father accompany him for his swim.

* * * * * *

He was twelve, finally. The Malfoy's and all their sundry connections, Severus Snape, the Drays, the un-incarcerated Le Stranges, Goyles, Crabbes and all other Death Eater families, had all gathered to celebrate the occasion in typical Malfoy Style. He was thoroughly enjoying being feted; he was a Slytherin like all his forebears; his Godfather, whom he was closer to than his father, was his House Head, and after today, he was permitted free reign to indulge his passion for water sports without waiting for an adult to be free.

Draco had taken a flying leap from the lake's jetty before gracefully diving beneath the cool blue surface. Years of lessons and practice had come together and he swam confidently through the depths. He'd been enjoying the solitary right of passage for less than ten minutes when the silence was broken by another splash. Surfacing, ready to tear strips off of whichever adult had followed him down to the lake, Draco was confronted by the sight of Andrew Dray slipping beneath the surface of the lake.

Andrew, who had fallen in awe of his elder cousin from the very first, had failed to lose the even one ounce of that adoration as the years had passed; at eight he still followed Draco about hoping to gain his notice, today he finally succeeded. He'd followed Draco down to the lake and had watched with delight as the blonde headed boy had dove off the jetty barely causing a ripple as he'd disappeared beneath the waves; think it looked so easy, the younger boy had followed his idol's example with a stunning lack of success. The Malfoy lake wasn't the safe pool at home, the lake was wild, deep, and the home a many and varied species of plants, including the strangleweed patch which the youngster landed amid.

Draco reacted instinctively with a level of bravery that would have surprised certain Gryffindors but strangleweed didn't offer second chances. Taking a deep breath, he dove downward following the faint trail of bubbles Andrew's struggles created. With his lungs screaming in protest and his head becoming dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Draco made one last push to reach his cousin. Sending a quick prayer to Merlin, Draco grabbed the floating ponytail of hair that Andrew sported and pulled.

Whether it was luck, or the fact that the weed recognized him as a Malfoy Draco could not say, but the weed released its hold on Andrew. The boy was limp in his grasp as he swam towards the surface and in the end it was only Draco's strength that got the boys to shore; Andrew remained unconscious. Lessons in water safety took over and whilst he would have been horrified to know that he used the same techniques Muggles used Draco quickly and effectively checked his cousin's airways before beginning assisted breathing thanking any deity that listened for the erratic pulse he had found. It was that way that frantic adults finally found them.

"Your cousin owes you his life Draco," Lucius had said as a warm towel had been placed about his son's shoulders. "I'm very proud of you." It was the first time his father had ever admitted pride in his son.

* * * * * *

Andrew, tied to a stone altar, as Draco raised his wand to curse...

* * * * * *

That night Severus used what he'd learnt to construct the first of the dreams that were to haunt Draco Malfoy, waking or sleeping. He had to tread very, very carefully, but he was pleased with the initial results. For so long, he had watched his godson make the same mistakes he had made, and he could do nothing... NOTHING. It had gnawed at him for the last five years, seeing Draco being moulded into a more twisted version of Lucius, but it looked like Draco was NOT his father, and for that, Severus was eternally grateful. He knew what had to be done to Lucius, and if the same had to be done to his son, it would have destroyed Severus, Lady or no Lady. He allowed himself a small celebratory shot of fire whisky before embracing the sleep of the just.


Hermione followed very close on Brendan's heels, nearly tripping him on occasion, as he led her into the painting in the Grand Hall. "Welcome to Alexandria," he said with a sweeping gesture as they stepped out into the edge of the painting.

The scene they stood in was a streetscape looking down Canopic Street from the Gate of the Moon towards Cleopatra's Needle, the Great Library visible beyond the obelisk. Priests, Priestesses, commoners and slaves went about their business oblivious to the two strangely dressed intruders. Overwhelmed by the sudden heat, Hermione was after all still dressed for the sea, the pair were forced to stop and sit; the steps of the Athenaeum beckoned.

"Greetings, fellow travellers," a lady in a mask said as she bowed before them, "the high Priestess said you would need welcome. Come, we have cool water inside."

Hermione looked at Brendan as if to ask was it usual to be accosted by inhabitants of the portraits of Snape Manor. Brendan however looked slightly worried given exactly which temple's steps he and Miss Granger were seated on; a worry that was soon to be justified. Instead of answering Hermione's unspoken question he got up and followed the retreating Priestess inside. "Miss Granger," he commanded when he saw that she remained seated. Hermione shot Brendan a startled look as she hurried to catch up.

The masked priestess led Brendan and Hermione inside the surprisingly cool building. They walked through the main atrium, its roof lost in mists above them, the hall lined with statues of the Goddess in various forms and incarnations: The Hunter, the Virgin, the Mother, the Crone, Death with a marble sheet obscuring the whole body and Life, wreathed in passionflowers. The priestess named them all: Isis, Bast, Kali, Diana, Kore, Ishtar, Athena, Anath, an innumerable multitude representing all aspects of the Lady. The corridor seemed to stretch for an eternity, but neither Brendan or Hermione were fatigued. Eventually, they were led into a spartanly furnished antechamber; a table, two chairs, a couch, and a small altar the rooms only contents.

"Come, drink and be refreshed," said the priestess as she poured sparkling clear water into two golden chalices, "you are very welcome here." Hermione could have sworn that the jug was empty, but Brendan seemed to accept the impossible with alacrity.

"Thank you," Brendan said; bowing, he raised the chalice to his lips and drank deeply of the water. The soft touch of benediction brushed against his mind as he heard a deep, melodious voice whisper to him alone. "Rest now, Brendan, your strength will be needed soon."

Hermione watched in undisguised horror as Brendan collapsed into a boneless heap on the ground. Transfixed, she watched the slightly built Priestess bend to lift and carry Brendan, as though he were but a child, to the couch where she lay him down and brushed a kiss across his forehead. The childlike Priestess then turned to face Hermione and as the mask dissolved away, Hermione felt herself falling into the abyss.

"Child, I wish to ask a boon of you," a voice as soft as silk, hard as steel, and sharp as a monofilament blade echoed through the darkness. Light flowed from the words and Hermione saw she was standing in the Lady's temple garbed again in the white supplicant robes that she had worn the night her moon-blood was taken; the blood's stain still visible above her womb.

"Oblivion seeks to destroy the tapestry and Our Priest is in greater danger than we thought." The statue separated and all three aspects of the Lady stood before Hermione.

"Oblivion?" Hermione asked.

"It is the closest word we have, that you would understand, to describe our antithesis. It is what we fight, the void that is no life." The Mother spoke gently.

"You mean the devil?" Hermione asked seeking understanding in terms of her religious upbringing.

"Not quite, though that is one of the phrases mankind has used to label the Oblivion. It is the other end of the spectrum of the tapestry of life that people weave through their daily choices. It is Oblivion , Nothingness, Sea, Czernobog, Ariman, Seth, Kaos, Tiamat... He has as many names as there are aspects of me."

"But I thought you did the weaving, fate and all?" Hermione queried. After all wasn't her best friend the subject of prophecy, hadn't the Lady already stated that Her Priest was endangered implying that fates were fixed?

"Yes child, we weave upon the draw loom of life," the Crone answered as her scissors flashed in the air, "but the pattern is not of our making. We set the weft and the warp of the tapestry, but it is the mortals whose choices are the shuttles that pass the threads back and forth.

"There is a broad pattern to which we strive just as the Oblivion has its own goals. It's through the free will of our Avatars, like Severus that are our 'draw boys' that we create the brocading patterns; they pull the strings and assist the threads to interweave themselves into ever-more-beautiful patterns. Chaos as always, strives to break this pattern."

"Then what is the difference between your Avatars and us mere mortals?" Hermione asked pointedly, "Don't we all have free will?"

"But not always knowledge," was the Virgin's answer. "You think that you know where your choices will take you, but are you always right?"

"Our Avatars exercise their free will with the full knowledge of what their choices mean," continued the Mother.

"They see all the ripples that the stone makes; all of them," finished the Crone. "It is that which makes them Ours."

"Then what is my role in this?" Hermione asked still bewildered as her mind tried to make sense of the Fates not being fate. She was rather annoyed to see the Crone smile as though she were reading her mind, which in this case the Crone was actively doing.

"Oblivion will seek to prove that our Avatar lied," The Virgin spoke again as the other two aspects faded into the background. It was her role to ask for the boon, it was her role to accept that she must seek to sever the ties that currently bound her to Hermione; she would seek to gift the Warrior with a Hermione grown.

"Lied? From what I can tell, that is all Professor Snape has done," Hermione commented sarcastically.

"But there are lies, and damned lies, child. The Oblivion seeks to use a damned lie; that your moon blood was tainted to unseat our Priest."

"Can't you just 'taint' it?" Hermione had to ask, worried that she knew where this conversation was heading.

"We can, but not in a way that would save what you have given. So we ask a boon of you, a boon and a doom."

"Doom?" Hermione squeaked. She was not pleased to note she sounded like Ron Weasley for a second.

"We ask, but we will ask granting you full knowledge of what your choice will mean, that is the doom we will place on you." As she spoke, the Virgin began to glow; incandescent light reached out to touch Hermione and as the light enveloped the child she saw:

Myriad pasts; faint shadows of might-have-beens, strong echoes of events that she now 'remembered', all fanned out behind her. The threads of the tapestry tight and well formed. Before her she saw the futures, some remote, other very clear:

Professor Snape surrounded by children...

Stonehenge, the stones broken and scattered...

Draco Malfoy, bound and gagged, kneeling before Lord Voldemort as his father cast the killing curse.

"You lied, Severus," Voldemort screamed as he raised his wand, "Avada Kedavra!"

"Damn," she muttered as she felt the insides of her brain reach critical mass, nobody had told her that enlightenment would hurt so much. Yet even as she slipped into unconsciousness, her brain focused on the last scene. Why was it that when she saw the curse strike her Professor, the tapestry, so carefully woven, disintegrated before her eyes?

"Rest Child, we will speak again soon," the Virgin said as she lay Hermione down upon silken sheets.


Alastor Moody was not a happy man. The Order of the Phoenix, minus Professor Snape, was meeting in Dumbledore's office and the general topic of conversation was "Snape Bashing" with a side order of premeditated murder thrown in.

"You shouldn't have let him go this morning Albus," Sirius was saying. "That gave him plenty of time to remove any incriminating evidence from the Snape Manor."

Dumbledore rolled his eyes, though he secretly agreed with Black. "Severus had been summoned Sirius, what was I supposed to do?"

"We only have his word that he was summoned. Since when had the Dark Lord summoned anyone on a Sunday Morning?"

"Actually we don't know," Alastor finally spoke up. The last hour the Order members had gone over the same ground so many times almost no one remembered that the original topic was 'what to do now'. "In fact we don't know a lot of things, like when normally Voldemort calls his servants or what has happened to Misters Smithson, Dray and Miss Granger."

"We know perfectly well what happened to the children, Moody," Sirius growled in anger; what the hell was Alastor doing defending the greasy-git. "Harry saw them bound, gagged and handed over to Snape."

"I would have thought, Black, that you of all people would rather not jump to conclusions based solely on what someone said they saw," Alastor replied. "We have NO EVIDENCE to back up Harry's claims.

In fact, Mr. Black," Alastor ground out in a tone that indicated everyone should be paying attention, "what we do have, thanks to your allegations and the speed on which we acted on them, is an Auror Office that is less than pleased to have been used in a manner they see as being used as a tool of malice. Nothing was found, Sirius, nothing to indicate that Professor Snape had anything to do with the children's disappearance.

"I questioned Professor Snape, personally. He said he didn't kill the children. The Ministry found no signs of a revel anywhere near the Potter's graves. And we have spent two days chasing after red herrings. Masters was not pleased." Alastor finally finished; the anger in his voice was very real, after all he'd had Masters yelling at him after they'd left Snape Manor. Of course the fact that he'd have been siding with Black under normal circumstances didn't help Alastor's temper but today had definitely proven they were not operating under normal circumstances.

"So what do you suggest we do now, Moody?" Dumbledore asked into the uncomfortable silence that descended after Alastor's tirade.

"I suggest we ask Masters to organise the searching of all staff residences, as well as a thorough search of Hogsmeade and the surrounds."

"What!" chorused the Order Members before everything degraded into a babble of "I didn't do it's", "how can you even think that's", and "how dare you." Funnily enough it failed to occur to anyone that their own loathing of the implied distrust and the invasion of privacy were acceptable emotions for Severus to have felt.

"Alastor, would you ask Masters if that could be arranged?" Dumbledore said quietly as he ignored the general round of protests. At least this way they could be seen to be doing something whilst he waited for his sentinel devices to provide the actual evidence they required.

"Are you sure, Albus?"

"It is that or we admit to ourselves that we no longer trust Severus, and whilst I'm no longer sure of him I'm not yet willing to cut that last tie," Dumbledore replied in all seriousness. "If we are seen to do nothing else we still signal that we believe it was Professor Snape who orchestrated the abductions. This way, if he didn't we might yet find the culprits," Dumbledore's tone indicated quite clearly what he thought about that likelihood, "and if Snape did, well he might just drop his guard enough to let us catch him." If Severus was no longer theirs then they had a viper in their midst, but, and it was that but that held Albus from the final break, if things really were not as they seemed. Anyway a known spy was better than an unknown spy.

"Alright Albus. When do you want these searches to take place?"

"As soon as possible, Alastor," Dumbledore replied wearily. On occasions, the Headmaster felt all of his years, and this was definitely one of them


Hermione woke, her head still throbbing as a result of all the images that had crashed through her mind. "Why?" she asked before she was even cognizant of speaking.

"He will die because he has lied," the Virgin answered her.

"Because he'd lied?" Hermione couldn't keep the incredulous note from her voice if she'd tried. "He's a spy, of course he's lied," she said with a touch of exasperation.

"Severus has never lied to Tom Riddle. He may never have told the whole truth, but he has never lied. It is for that reason he lives where others have failed but this time he has had to lie and that lie will kill him unless..."

Even if Hermione had not been labeled as 'the brightest witch of her generation' she would have recognized the danger that the word "unless" represented; still she was a Gryffindor and so she asked knowing she would not like the answer. "Unless?"

"He told Tom that your moon-blood was 'tainted', implying that it would not be very useful as the basis of any potion, but Tom will find a use for it, a use we would not normally allow but it will weaken him in ways he cannot see," the Virgin said sadly.

"Then we taint the sample," Hermione said as though the deity should have been able to work that out for herself after all it was logical.

"Yes child, we need a 'tainted' sample."

The sorrow in the Virgin's eyes said more than words, tainting the moon-blood appeared to be somewhat more difficult that Hermione thought. "Ummmm?"

"The moon-blood of a virgin is very different to that of a woman sown and in truth it is not a 'taint' but the mark of passage; one that you have not yet take."

The implication was unfortunately very clear. Professor Snape was going to have to provided Voldemort with moon-blood from a non-virginal Hermione or, and it was the 'or' that was the problem, the tapestry would fail. "The choice is mine, isn't it?" she asked.

"As always, and one other's," the Virgin said gently, "but it is my 'passing' that you must celebrate, and it is my Glory that you would wear, and you will be blessed, but it is still your choice; one you must make and one we grant you the right to make with full knowledge."

Hermione Granger, the girl who had to know, was suddenly wishing that she only had a little knowledge. With a little knowledge the choice clear cut and simple, without those blinkers, the choice was not a choice but a burden. 'Is this what Professor Snape feels like?' she asked herself.

"Yes child," the Virgin answered her unspoken question, "many are the times he has had to do things he would not but for the greater good. To be mine, body and soul for eternity and beyond is not an easy task. Have you not grasped the fact that Severus is merely the latest aspect?"

"When?" She would not ask who, not yet.

"When the year dies and Avalon needs to be replenished. Your blood will be the sacrifice and the land will live."

As she placed her hands upon Hermione's brow, the Virgin willed away the cloth that covered the girl, leaving her standing naked in the temple's centre. Stepping back, the Virgin melded into the Lady and the Crone and the three as one walked around Hermione inducting her into their care.

"Thought: Our Lore we mark upon you." A kiss placed on the top of Hermione's head.
"Light: Our Sight we mark upon you." A kiss placed at the centre of Hermione's forehead.
"Sound: Our Voice we mark upon you." A kiss placed at Hermione's throat.
"Air: Our Love we mark upon you." A kiss placed at Hermione's heart.
"Fire: Our Power we mark upon you." A kiss placed over Hermione's sternum.
"Water: Our Heat we mark upon you." A loving and tender kiss placed at above Hermione's womb.
"Earth: Our Life we mark upon you." The last kiss was placed at the base of Hermione's spine and sealed her to the Goddess.

One last circuit the Lady walked and as she walked jewels, Dark Amethyst, Sapphire, Lapis Lazuli, Emerald, Amber, Fire Opal, and Ruby appeared and embedded themselves at the points where the Lady had kissed.

"Thou art mine," the Lady said as Hermione collapsed, 'and you will be His," echoed in the recesses of the Lady's/Hermione's mind.


Monday morning dawned bright and clear which made up for the long, tired and in some cases extremely stressed faces that dotted the great hall. No demands had been made; no threats received and the fact that the search of Snape manor had revealed nothing had travelled through the school like wild fire; the fact that only Snape manor had been searched followed hard on the tails of the first story and speculation was now running rampant through the student population.

Dumbledore in his infinite wisdom attempted to quell any rumours concerning Professor Snape and the disappearance of the three Gryffindors in a manner similar to that employed by Dolores Umbridge when she attempted to quash 'The Quibbler's story'; his attempt was just as successful hers and the result was by midday students were fainting in terror at the very sight of Professor Snape. Madam Pomfrey was swamped with students suffering all manner of ills though the underlying cause was attempting to get out of attending Potions' classes. Only the Slytherin students attended any Potion classes that day.

By Monday's end Severus was just about ready to submit to an extended session of Cruciatus; he'd survived the weekend only to have to put up with what he felt was a completely unslytherinistic approach in subtlety from Miss Parkinson, the only saving grace was she confined her efforts to the Slytherin Tower, but as Severus was well aware the walls have ears. Add the rumours fast churning through Hogwarts; the knowledge that until he could 'safely' return to the Manor, Brendan and company were trapped in a portrait; and the fact that two senior Aurors, both of whom had been present at the manor search, were now missing and it was surprising that Severus hadn't hexed all and sundry to Hades and back. Instead he had calmly gone about his teaching duties, deducting 50 points per class per student who failed to attend whilst showing no outward concern about the events of the weekend. The week was to continue in much the same vein; nothing was heard or seen of the missing children.


Friday morning, a week after the disappearance of the three Gryffindors, and Hogwarts gathered to remember them. The Quidditch field had been transformed, the stands enlarged to accommodate the entire student body of Hogwarts with a fifth tower added to accommodate friends and family of the missing children. The staff, with the exception of Professor Snape, was seated on a podium erected in the middle of the field. Professor Snape, still on 'sabbatical', stood at the base of the Slytherin Tower, his eyes hooded and his expression blank.

Albus Dumbledore looked out the gathering of students and other visitors, including the Muggle parents of Hermione Granger. His eyes were dark and troubled, no sign of his habitual twinkle showing. "We are gathered together to pray for the safety of Hermione Granger, Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray, taken from our midst by the foulest of cowards." Dumbledore's eyes strayed to focus on Professor Snape, promising justice. "The purity of their blood was not an issue; terror was the issue and it is that which we must fight. Voldemort is not dead." He ignored the collective gasps as he named He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "His followers are not dead," and this time his gazed fixed on the Slytherin tower and the dark Professor at its base.

Before Dumbledore could continue, a shocked murmur rippled through the gathered throng. The Gryffindors were the first to see the figures walking towards the pitch from the castle, their collective joy soon overshadowed as an orange streak, hissing and snarling, leapt from the stand and raced across the Quidditch field directing all eyes to what was causing the commotion. The answer was not long forthcoming. Crookshanks, fur bristled, anger in every line of his feline body backed away as Hermione Granger, walking like automaton, and a badly programmed one at that, led Henry Smithson and Andrew Dray into the pitch area. The trio strode with jerky, spasmodic movements towards the podium on which the staff were gathered. Hermione, her head twitching badly, approached Dumbledore, a black parchment in her hand.

Dumbledore, having observed Crookshanks' reaction, signalled the staff to remain where they were, casually casting a binding spell towards the Gryffindor Stand freezing Harry and Ron in place. The Headmaster stepped forward and took the parchment from the girl.

"See my works and glory in them," Voldemort's voice howled out loudly and clearly throughout the Quidditch arena. The automatons turned as one and bowed, in a parody of courtly grace, towards the stands. "My hand can reach wherever I want it to; it can take whatever I want; it can kill whomever I want." As the words died away, the three automatons collapsed where they stood, disintegrating to dust, leaving only Hermione Granger's scalp with its long hair blowing gently in the breeze.

To be continued...
End Notes:
Love JustJeanette and Desmond without whom this story would not be as good.

References used

www.marlamallett.com/obi.htm
www.iloveulove.com/spirituality/hindu/chakratantra.htm
www.crystal-cure.com/chakra.html

Special thanks to Jaded Colonel :) Hope you continue to enjoy

Chapter 13 Potions by JustJeanette
Author's Notes:
*Anti-litigation charm: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter Universe to her we bow. Warner Brothers and Various Publishers also have their own rights. We are just playing in their backyard and we promise to clean up when we have finished.*

Many apologies for the long delay but I’ll admit to being thrown for a loop by HBP… Please note this tale is NOT HBP compliant and I will not be revising it to make is so. I also want to thank two people in particular for their encouragement, I can never really thank these two ladies enough; anyway Keket and LOTM thank you.

Those who have read and enjoyed, I hope you continue to do so. I have read every review with pleasure.

Please forgive my delays but, longtime no write, PhD keeps me up all night.

Now on with the story:

The Boy Who Flipped

Exclusive Rita Skeeter

 

Scenes of chaos and confusion abounded at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry today as the Dark Mark of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named blazes above the School’s Quidditch pitch at the memorial service being held for three missing students. It is now confirmed that the students in question (see pg 5 Brilliance Lost) are deceased; the Ministry is exerting all of its powers to investigate these senseless deaths (see pg 8 Is the Ministry of Magic up to the Task Ahead?).

Amid the terror, this reporter was witness to a display of such mindless grief that even now I shudder as I put quill to parchment. Harry Potter, the much vaunted Boy-Who-Lived, today showed a very different nature to the world. Demonstrating an advanced knowledge of the Dark Arts, he attacked a faculty member severely wounding Professor Severus Snape (see pg 2 Was Snape the Real Target?) before being subdued by the combined efforts of Headmaster Dumbledore and three other teachers. As the boy was being led away he kept yelling, “I told you Snape killed them! I saw it! I saw it all!”

The school’s Medi-witch, Madam Pomfrey, refused to comment later other than to say that the Boy-Who-Lived was under supervision and had been under a great deal of emotional strain. No word is available yet on Professor Snape’s condition.

Albus left the Gryffindor Tower with a heavy heart. They had taken three solid hours to get Harry to calm down, or at least calm enough that the boy could be left in Minerva’s care. Three hours of anguished pleas and impassioned accusations from a distraught and troubled child that had felt like three years. Three hours in hell, as Albus was forced to choose between Harry’s sanity and the Order’s need for information. Three hours spent second- and third-guessing himself into a black hole of doubt. In the end it had been the need for information, no matter how tainted the source, that had won the day and forced him to concede the need to protect Severus from Harry and any others who would now be hell-bent on seeing the Potions Master in Azkaban. Only because he refused to waste the deaths of Miss Granger and Messers Smithson and Gray. He felt all of his years as he made his way to his sanctuary, of sorts.

The call of ‘Lemon Drops’ was a subtle siren towards a moment of peace and tranquility before dealing with the problem that was Severus Snape. Unfortunately, that moment of peace was not to eventuate. Waiting in his office sat Frederick Masters; and the Head Auror did not look pleased.

“Albus,” Masters said in a neutral voice as the door to the office opened. “May I have a moment of your time?” The question was entirely rhetorical, of course.

Headmaster of Hogwarts he might be but even he couldn’t just turn around and leave, much as he would have liked to. Masters was going to ask questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, not yet, and possibly not ever. He sighed as he slipped into his other chair. Tonight was not a night for comfort. Even Fawkes did not come over from his perch. A rarity in his life, Albus Dumbledore thought Dark Thoughts.

“How is Professor Snape?” Masters asked.

Not the question Albus was expecting.

“Severus?” Albus managed to keep his voice calm, not hinting at the turmoil in his heart. “He’s currently in the infirmary. I was about to wander down there and speak with Madam Pomfrey.”

“And Mr. Potter?”

“Resting. I believe the last week’s events have upset the boy more than I thought.”

“Yes,” replied Masters. The Head Auror looked inordinately pleased at that comment. “Last week’s event; just what I wanted to talk to you about. Can you tell me why Mr. Potter felt justified in attacking a member of faculty? A faculty member, who as I understand it, has been shown to have had no involvement in those events. Or does Mr. Potter, a student, a student, Albus, have a means of investigation not available to the Auror Corp?” Masters sounded suspiciously like Severus in a mood at that moment; harassed, peeved, snarky even. The image of Masters as Snape failed miserably to cheer Albus up. Fawkes crooned sadly in the background.

“Whilst I’m aware, Albus, that you believe Mr. Potter has a special role to play in the current conflict with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as you have failed to share your thoughts with the Corp; I am disinclined to ignore what happened today,” Masters commented. He was warning Dumbledore that a trade in information, or services, was about to be tabled with the price likely to be Harry Potter.

Once he was sure of Albus’ attention, Masters continued, apparently at a tangent to his likely request. “We had a young man attack an unarmed individual with calculated malice, and I would suggest a reasonable degree of forethought. Yet it appears that you have spent the last three hours ‘dealing’ with the boy without once attempting to ascertain the status of his victim… I would have thought that Professor Snape’s well-being would have been paramount in your mind.”

“There is… a prophecy,” Albus explained reluctantly, well aware that Harry’s action today put him at real risk in regards to what Masters could, and possibly would order. Masters was an accomplished Occlumens , which helped but he still wasn’t about to let the entire prophecy become public. The room darkened perceptibly as Albus’ voice intoned, “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies.

Masters listened intently as Albus spoke; quietly factoring things heard, said and done, particularly in the last week. “Given the boy’s actions today, I’d be very worried, Albus. An attack using Dark Arts, for Merlin’s sake! ‘The Dark Lord’s equal?’ indeed…”

‘Trust an Auror to pick up on that fact and that fact only,’ Albus groused to himself as he surveyed the bowl of lemon drops on his desk. Taking a particularly large piece of candy from the bowl, Albus considered what else he could afford to tell Masters. It was unfortunately, painfully obvious that if he didn’t give a ‘little,’ Masters would take Harry into custody. In many ways the current situation paralleled the incident with the Shrieking Shack so many years ago, and again someone else other than Severus Snape was to be absolved of blame. “Harry was marked as an equal by that scar he bears. At times of heightened emotion he can feel, and sometimes see, what Voldemort sees.”

“And he believes he saw Professor Snape kill Miss Granger?” Masters was stunned at this revelation.

“He believes that is what he saw, yes,” Dumbledore answered reluctantly.

“But he doesn’t know for certain, does he?” Masters continued, showing the ruthlessness that had won him the post of Head Auror.

Looking uncomfortable, Albus had to answer in the negative.

“I’m reactivating Alastor Moody,” Masters said suddenly. “I want him assigned to Severus Snape… at all times.”

“All times?” Albus cocked his head to the side. Albus was very surprised that that was the price. A price he was very willing to pay.

“All times that he is not engaged in his... extracurricular duties,” Masters replied.

That comment bought a frown to Albus’ face. ‘What is it that Masters thinks he knows?’ Albus mused.

Masters continued speaking. “If Snape has played us false, Alastor will be up to the task, and if he hasn’t, I don’t want Mr. Potter alone with Professor Snape.”

“I understand,” Albus replied with a sigh. Merlin knew few were up to the task of dealing with Severus if he had returned to Voldemort in truth. Thinking the unpleasantness dealt with, Albus went to offer Masters a lemon drop. A precipitous act as it proved.

“I want everyone who was at Snape Manor questioned under Veritaserum, Albus, everyone.” Master said as he left Albus’ office.

Contemplating Masters’ orders kept Albus distracted as he made his way, finally, down to the infirmary. He rather suspected that what Masters wanted to know was why he had Snape Manor searched. Given that Sirius Black, still fugitive from justice, was the sole reason, Albus felt somewhat uneasy about the request.

Arriving at his destination, he was surprised to see Alastor Moody seated beside the bed where Severus lay unconscious. “Alastor?” The unspoken ‘why are you here’ was heard by the retired Auror.

“After Harry’s little display this afternoon, I thought it would be prudent for someone to remain close by Snape,” Alastor said as he stood to greet the Headmaster, a look of grim determination on the old Auror’s face. “You do realize that someone is going to need to keep an eye on Snape, don’t you?”

“Has Madam Pomfrey indicated when we can expect Severus to wake?” Dumbledore asked across the bed as he settled into one of the chairs near the Potion Master’s bed. He was still taken somewhat aback that Alastor was there, and that he was indicating a sense of… genuine concern towards the Potions Master. ‘What has changed your mind, Alastor?’ Unfortunately, Albus did not think even he was skilled enough to scan Mad-Eye Moody without said person having his guts for garters.

“The only comment I’ve heard from Poppy was along the lines of if he wakes let me know. I suspect she doesn’t expect that to happen in the near future. After all, Harry was surprisingly vicious.” The implied rebuke sounding loud and clear.

“He had his reasons, Alastor,” Dumbledore said, defending the young Gryffindor.

“Did he now?” Alastor queried. “I thought we had established that Severus had nothing to do with the disappearance of the children, Albus. And before you start in about ‘that was before we knew they were dead,’ I’ll remind you that I asked Severus about that as well whilst he was held under the truth charm. So, unless you are going to tell me that the truth charm can be resisted,” the old, now reinstated, Auror stated unknowingly, echoing Masters earlier comments, “of which we have no record of anyone else having successfully doing so, I’d start looking for other possible ways in which the deeds could have been done, rather than focusing all of my attention on Severus.”

“But Alastor,” Albus interrupted without really having listened to a word the Auror had said, “you can’t deny that we now have proof that the children are dead and that fact backs up Harry’s version of events.”

Alastor was somewhat surprised at Dumbledore’s vehemence, and brought forth all his Auror skills to bear. He sensed, in a way that he couldn’t explain, that it was not only important, but essential, to what was to come that Albus stop closing his mind to other possibilities. “No, Albus, all we have proof of is that the children are dead. It does not necessarily follow that Severus had anything to do with it. Remember what happened last time we condemned someone based solely on what someone saw?” Alastor went on, relentlessly hoping to Albus to see past the blinkers he was apparently wearing.

“Think Albus. An unregistered animagus? Somewhat scruffy? Big chip on shoulder because of his holiday at Azkaban? You remember that fellow? Seen to kill Peter Pettigrew. Person by the name of Sirius Black?” Alastor was shouting now.

Albus, unfortunately instead of actually considering Alastor’s words, became bewildered in the face of Alastor’s fury. He was in fact rather confused as to the source of Alastor’s anger; it almost sounded like Alastor really thought Snape had nothing to do with the disappearances, all evidence to the contrary. “The problem with that argument Alastor,” Albus said calmly, “is that no one actually saw Sirius kill Pettigrew. It was all circumstantial evidence, weak circumstantial evidence,” Albus said defending his point of view.

“Isn’t it funny how you now say ‘weak circumstantial evidence’? At the time even you believed it.”

Albus had the good grace to blush slightly at the accusation. He still suffered many regrets resulting from the eagerness he had displayed to accept Black’s guilt, but this case wasn’t anything like Black’s. “In Sirius’ case, the evidence was only circumstantial, this time we have Harry’s visions.”

“Oh, yes… Harry’s ‘visions’,” Alastor said with a snort. “Apart from the fact that we have no idea what, if any, control Harry, or for that matter Lord Voldemort, has over these ‘visions,’ I would remind you… again… that we found absolutely nothing at Snape Manor,” Alastor countered.

‘Ah, so it’s not Severus he’s defending,’ Albus thought as Alastor finished, ‘it’s the skill of the Aurors.’ “And I’d like to remind you that Severus is smart enough to not leave anything incriminating where it could be found. He is a Death Eater, after all.”

“Then why did we bother searching Snape Manor at all? For whatever reason, through Snape’s compliance or some other factor, at least two senior Aurors were identified by persons unknown out of that raid,” Alastor snapped. “Identified and subsequently killed. You could say that the raid was a resounding success…for the other side.”

“Because of Severus’ history.” Albus answered reasonably. “Too many people remember that he is a Death Eater. It would have caused questions to be asked if we hadn’t searched.”

“Albus, you old fool, it was noticed and it has caused people to question; important, influential people. Caused questions because we searched Snape Manor, and only Snape Manor. Whether or not Severus had anything to do with the disappearance of the children, you effectively pre-empted any investigation. The fact, also, that we lost two top-ranking Aurors has sent the Ministry into a frenzied panic. Nothing was found at Snape Manor, nothing! Look at what Harry did today, Albus. Honestly look,” Alastor commented as his hand waved over the still form of the Potions Master. “If any other student had done this to any staff member, that student would be expelled at the least, and if I had my way, be up for a Dementor’s Kiss at Azkaban!” Albus blanched at Moody’s comments.

“I questioned the man, Albus. He was telling the truth—as much as I’d rather he hadn’t—and yet you are ready, willing and it seems quite able to condemn him on the word of a student who we know for a fact has issues with Severus.” Taking a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, Alastor looked across at his old friend. “Severus did not kill the children, unless he did so after I questioned him, and that is unlikely given the monitoring you’ve had in place.”

“No Alastor, all it means is that he didn’t kill them at Snape Manor. The monitoring only covers the Manor, nowhere else.”

“And has Severus actually been to Snape Manor, or for that matter anywhere else, since we searched the Manor without someone accompanying him?” Alastor asked.

“Not unless he can break through Hogwart’s wards,” Albus was forced to admit. “Although he will be accompanied everywhere from now on,” he continued, a ghost of a twinkle in his weary eyes. He used Alastor’s comments as a lead in to telling the man he was now assigned to guard duty.

“What?!!” Alastor roared mutinously, “Reactivated to be a… a… baby-sitter?” The Auror glared at Albus whilst secretly rejoicing at being handed a reason to stay close to the Potions Master. “What am I supposed to do if Harry makes any further attempts to incapacitate Severus?” he asked cautiously.

“Absolutely nothing,” Albus said with shocking finality.

“Excuse me?” This time it was curiosity edged with panic that caused Alastor to react. ‘What are you thinking, you idiot!? Harry will make a puddle of him without protection…’Still, Alastor was sensible enough to keep those thoughts tucked away safely in the back of his head only voicing a general query. “You do realize you might well be condemning an innocent man just to save face with Harry?”

“But what else can I do? It is Harry that has to kill Voldemort,” Albus started to say when he heard a faint whimper. ‘His’ Potions Master was apparently approaching consciousness.

His Potions Master was actually not approaching consciousness. He had been conscious since Albus had walked into the infirmary; he just hadn’t let anyone know, yet. ‘I’m not the world’s greatest spy for nothing,’ he mused, cataloguing every abuse heaped on him by Harry bloody Potter. ‘Since when did he get so strong?’ If he had not been hurt so much, he would have been almost proud of the ruthlessness that the Gryffindor had displayed. Almost Slytherin. He choked back a laugh which escaped as a mewling wheeze to be heard by the two protagonists looming over his bed. In fact Severus was quite happy to continuing lying there feigning unconsciousness, but the mention of Lord Voldemort’s name and the fact that his role as a spy was the current topic of conversation forced him to intervene. Whilst he wasn’t absolutely certain that invoking the Dark Lord’s name near the Dark Mark he bore would allow his monstrous Master to listen in on the conversation, Severus was not about to take that chance.

“Don’t.” The word was whispered, the usual volume and venom characteristic of the surly Potions Master conspicuously absent.

“Severus?” Alastor jumped into the breach having rightly guessed what Severus meant to convey. He leaned closer to the stricken spy. “Should I summon Madam Pomfrey?”

Severus, still feeling like his head had featured as the dance floor for the Hippogriff Yule Ball, nodded his head the smallest fraction, an act he immediately regretted. Closing his eyes again and attempting to concentrate on anything but the excruciating pain shooting though his limbs, Severus had to reflect that Potter could teach Malfoy a thing or two about the infliction of pain. Not a pleasant thought, given their reliance on the Boy-Who-Loathed-Him. He’d been surprised to hear Alastor defending his person, though on reflection it shouldn’t have; the Lady after all had been amazingly forthcoming with the retired Auror.

Whilst waiting for the medi-witch to materialize, something that was taking an inordinate amount of time given the state his health was in, Severus took to wondering if he should warn the old Auror to run now before it was too late and Alastor found himself fully embroiled in the Lady’s machinations. His Avatar nature reared its head and soundly refuted that idea. Severus had to concede that having at least one ally appealed to him, particularly in light of Albus’ doubts.

When Madam Pomfrey finally put in an appearance, she was shocked to find the Potions Master already awake. In her professional opinion, the man just shouldn’t be conscious yet. Potter had, after all, done quite a number him. “How are you feeling Severus?” she asked as she approached.

“Alive… I… think...” Mono-syllables seemed the way to go at the moment. One breath in, one word out.

“We’ll have you right as rain in a jiffy,” Pomfrey said as her professional demeanor clicked back. Running diagnostic scans over the patient distracted her from the desire to use a very large and very cold rectal thermometer in a manner not approved of by the medi-wizard board. Potter’s beliefs, coupled with the spectacle that had played out earlier in the day led Poppy to believe Snape had killed, most likely mercilessly, the missing children.

The ‘guarded’ stance of Albus and Moody merely reinforced the idea that her patient was guilty. That her patient was currently suffering multiple contusions, three broken ribs, severe blood loss, and uncontrolled muscle spasms normally associated with the Cruciatus curse almost didn’t register. Snape deserved every pain that was inflicted upon him and the notion that she had to ease that pain, well it personally revolted her. Professionally, though, she would do her duty and see the man removed from her infirmary as soon as possible. Preferably to Azkaban for a ‘short stop and a sudden drop.’

“How long is he going to need to remain in the infirmary?” Albus asked as he watched the witch intently. Anger radiated off the woman, though she was apparently trying to keep it under control. The last thing he needed now was Severus to fall to inadequate care; his trust in the man might be sorely broken but even so he had his uses, but only if he were mobile.

“Two days, possibly three,” Pomfrey answered brusquely. “He’ll need monitoring. He’ll also need regular healing draughts.”

“Dungeons,” Severus managed to croak out into the silence that followed Poppy’s comments.

Actually looking at the man for the first time since he’d been brought into the infirmary, Poppy was surprised to realize how badly injured the Potions Master was. With him wanting to be out of her domain, ill as he was, pricked her conscience in a way that the scans hadn’t.

“Severus, you very nearly died,” she finally said.

Taking a deep breath, and regretting it immediately, Severus attempted to convey the fact he’d heal as well in the dungeon as he would in the infirmary. He had access to all the requisite potions and he’d be in his own bed, safe from students bent on revenge, especially Harry bloody Potter.

“Moody can look after him,” Albus said as Poppy looked ready to argue the point. “After all, you said he needs rest, time and potions. Given the high likelihood of Mr. Potter requiring a berth in the infirmary sometime in the next few days, it might be advisable that Severus wasn’t here as well.”

Poppy conceded the point.

Severus, who had remained still throughout the exchange, was silently amused by the haste with which the dratted woman acquiesced to Albus’ demand. Not one to look a rare gift horse in the mouth though, he kept his firmly closed. Instead he allowed the bliss of unconsciousness to claim him again.

Alastor looked up as a long, dark shadow fell over the book he was reading. Professor Snape, a man who shouldn’t be conscious, let alone vertical, stood in the doorway that led from the Potions Master’s sitting room to the bedroom. The room where Albus, Poppy and Alastor had transferred the unconscious man to less than three hours ago still thoroughly dosed on sleeping draughts and other healing potions.

“Severus? Should you be up?” Alastor queried as he rose and approached the man. Running his professional eye over Snape, Alastor had to wonder what it was that was holding the man upright. He was paler than the ghosts that haunted the castle and appeared to possess almost as much substance.

“Severus is needed at the Manor,” a deeply feminine voice issued forth from Severus’ mouth. “Thou wilt be needed too, Alastor Moody.”

“The Manor is warded and monitored,” Alastor reminded the entity that spoke through Severus Snape.

Severus’ features relaxed slightly into a sly smile; that universal smile that graced womankind features, that smile that said they knew something mankind did not. “That is of no consequence. We will not be in the same time as the warding and monitoring.”

“Not… in the same time?” Alastor asked as he watched the entity withdraw from Snape. It was Severus who answered him.

“The shuttle we ride will be a warp-end behind the now, a stitch out of time.” Severus’ voice was weak, lacking the commanding power that normally coloured his tones. “However, I need you to apparate me to the Manor border. I’m a little under the weather at the moment.” ‘A little under the weather’; that was the understatement of the hour.

“Albus will know we are gone the moment we leave, Severus,” Alastor cautioned.

“Doesn’t matter. In the now, we are here and here we remain. Just concentrate on sidelong apparating me to the Manor grounds, Alastor. My Lady will take care of the rest,” Severus said before he collapsed into Moody’s arms, “Now, if you please.”

“And Hogwarts wards?” Alastor asked his burden not really expecting any reply.

‘Are of no consequence to me,’ a deeply feminine voice replied in the Ether. A voice that chilled him to the bone with its power and contempt of so-called magic.

Less than a week ago Alastor had stood beside Snape as they’d left Snape Manor. Today he returned, but his perceptions were undeniably altered. Of course, what Alastor believed to have changed was soon to be challenged again but as he apparated the injured Snape to the Ward-side he was distressed to consider the fate of the missing children, highlighted so vilely by the Dark Lord at the memorial service. He had since observed Harry Potter apparently commit an Unforgivable on the man who, even now, could barely stand unaided, without a mention of consequence and that enraged his Auror sensibilities. He was still unsure exactly what the boy had done, and that frightened him, just a little.

“We’re here,” Alastor remarked quietly to the man he supported as they appeared beside the Ward-edge of Snape Manor. “Do you need any assistance in removing the wards?”

Severus, Presence supported, snorted rudely, the very idea that anyone else could take down the wards, backed as they were by the Lady’s Grace, was laughable; the only laughable thing about the day so far in his estimate. “No, Alastor, I believe We can handle this.”

Rather big words considering that he required the Lady’s Grace just to stand, let alone deal with the wards, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Withdrawing fully into that place in his mind that was Herne, he allowed ‘Severus’ to fall away as he embraced all that he had been, all that he was now and all that he would be. Wrapped in Grace, he turned to face Alastor again just in time to field the next question the Auror intended to ask.

“Has Albus sensed us leaving Hogwarts?” Alastor used the question as a roundabout method of asking how ‘he’ had managed to apparate through the anti-Apparition wards about the school. Even Albus was only ever able to Portkey from the school, and that was with authorized keys.

“We have not left the school yet, Alastor Moody,” the deep rumbling voice that was more than Severus answered. “We used your apparation to allow us to slip back a stitch in time.”

The blank look Alastor shot at the Presence indicated rather well that he didn’t have a clue what the Presence meant.

Rather than leave the man confused, for a confused Auror was always a dangerous thing and he would be suffering enough additional confusion soon enough, the Presence attempted to explain when they now were. “What do you understand about Time-Turners, Auror?” it asked by way of introducing the subject.

“They are Ministry-level classified objects. There are only five of them in existence and their usage, where and when-abouts is strictly controlled by the Unmentionable Division. The method to create them has long been lost, and apart from Albus managing to secure the use of one for Miss Granger during her third year at Hogwarts, it is generally believed that the common wizard is no longer even aware of their existence.”

“Five points to Gryffindor,” the Presence said. Alastor was somewhat taken aback that the entity knew his background. “You forgot to mention that they are extremely dangerous, as changes in time ripple through the tapestry of life, generally in destructive ways. As the Lady is not a Time-Turner but the weaver of time, We can slip backwards in the fabric, though rarely will We drift more than a stitch.

“We have slipped back in the fabric about half a warp, thus the signals that monitor us have happened before we slip into the stitch. From here, We can see ahead but we are bound, in that We cannot change what now happens ahead. We are forced to follow in the stitch’s weave.”

Severus then turned away from Alastor and began the delicate process of dismantling the wards at this time whilst ensuring that they remained in force in the NOW. A very tricky task made all the more-so by the fact that it was not Severus who was dismantling them, at least not directly, and the injuries that had been inflicted upon the Avatar’s body had yet to be fully dealt with. Eventually, after calling forth into the Presence enough of Severus to aid in the spell casting, the wards were lowered. “This way, Alastor Moody,” the Presence said as it allowed Severus to slip back into a healing sleep, “we must get to the library as quickly as possible.”

Alastor followed, wondering all the while how Severus {who moments before had looked ready to fall flat on his face} could manage to walk, let alone run at the speed of a petty criminal fleeing justice. He was aware that there was a Presence about the Potions Master but how much of one, he still failed to comprehend. As it was, Alastor arrived nearly five minutes behind Severus and as a result was treated to the tagged end of the complex spell casting that released the binding on the portrait that hung proudly on the east wall.

The portrait, which he well remembered from the search of the Manor, spewed forth an eerie light as Severus appeared to lower an Ebony wand; not the wand known to belong to the Potions Master, or the other wand that Alastor was aware of. ‘How many wands does Severus own?’ he wondered briefly; the adage that a wand chooses the wizard, espoused as it was by Ollivander, tended to suggest a one-wand/one wizard rule. Snape had at least three wands, and that was a worrying thought.

The further contemplation of wand numbers was cut off abruptly as the weird light faded and the results of Severus’ spell casting became apparent. As Alastor approached the Severus ‘entity’ cautiously, Admiral Duncan stepped out of the portrait.

“What the bloody hell!” Alastor exclaimed when it became obvious the person was not a figment of his imagination. He was even more shocked when the portrait man addressed Severus.

“Hold on there, Severus, I’ve got you,” Admiral Duncan said as he quickly moved to support the Potions Master. “De Winter, get your blasted bones out here. Severus is solely in need of our help,” he continued as he turned to address the painting again.

Another man, silvered hair pulled back in a queue, clad in black breeches, black Hessian boots and a black military style coat of the late 18th century, stepped out of the painting and immediately focused on the immobile Alastor. “Tare an' hounds, man, get yourself over here and help us before old Snape sticks his spoon in the wall.”

Shocked to be addressed so by a painting, Alastor was a little bit too slow on the uptake, at least as far as the man ‘De Winter’ appeared to think for said gentleman let loose with a torrent of dock-side cant as Moody failed to ‘get his self over here’ fast enough. Before Alastor had a chance to fully process what was happening, another man {this one dressed as a British Lieutenant} stepped out of the portrait admonishing Admiral De Winter for his foul tongue.

The Lieutenant would have continued the admonishment indefinitely except that at that moment a small groan was heard from Severus. Instantly the Lieutenant’s focus shifted.

“Severus, what has been done to you this time?” the Lieutenant asked as he assisted Admirals Duncan and De Winter to man-handle Snape to one of the wing-backed chairs that were set around the room. “Jaidy, Pepper, I need you in the library!” the Lieutenant yelled loudly, the sound echoing about the room.

Severus’ eye’s flashed open at the sound of Lieutenant’s voice and his entire body seemed to relax. Whoever this Lieutenant was, his mere presence, more than that of anyone else in the room, appeared to be a balm to the injured man. However, before the Lieutenant had a chance to question Severus, the air was disturbed by two small ‘pops’ as house-elves appeared at Snape’s side.

“Master,” the female of the two asked, “what do you need?”

Whatever Severus replied was to low for Alastor’s ears to catch but the house-elf Jaidy, whom Alastor remembered full well, disappeared instantaneously, apparently tasked to retrieve some potion or other. The Lieutenant meanwhile bobbed down low and instructed the other elf to remain by Snape’s side. With a worried glance back at the semi-conscious Potions Master, the Lieutenant stepped away from Severus and turned to face Alastor.

“Mr. Moody,” the Lieutenant asked as he approached, “could you please tell me what in Circe’s name has happened to Severus? It will make things considerably easier if we know what we can afford to heal.”

It worried Moody that the Lieutenant’s comment seemed to imply that the full healing Severus was not on the agenda. Feeling somewhat out of his depth as a result, Alastor reply was a rather terse. “Who, the Bloody Hell, are you to be asking me such questions?”

Brendan, who had enough experience with the Lady’s Grace to recognize that they had shifted in time, was rather surprised that someone had been allowed to accompany Severus back in the flow of the fabric. Having actually recognized Moody, from the various diatribes Severus had on occasion had with regards the retired Auror, he was beyond stunned that Severus would allow the man to even glimpse, let alone become aware of his full nature. Something dramatic must have changed the relationship but even so to have the man snap at him though was outside of enough. The fact that Severus must trust this person completely didn’t necessarily translate into Brendan taking any attitude from this… entity; that was Severus’ privilege. “I’m Professor Snape’s aide-de-camp, Brendan’s the name. I know who you are, Alastor Moody,” he added, somewhat coldly. “Now would you answer my questions?”

Alastor was about to scoff, loudly, when he realized that maybe Snape did need an aide-de-camp; even if said aide didn’t appear to register to any of Moody’s magical senses. Whilst considering what a Muggle was doing at Snape Manor, Moody reluctantly decided that disclosure was the better part of ending up on the Lady’s bad side and so he went on and explained what had happened earlier in the day: the Memorial service, the Dark Lord’s gift, and most importantly Harry Potter’s reaction. It was as he was detailing Harry’s reaction that Jaidy reappeared.

“That is explaining the Malice,” the diminutive elf commented. “The injuries, bad but should not be resisting Poppy’s healing. The Malice is what is causing all the pain. We be treating that. We be leaving the rest to healing by Poppy.”

“And he’ll be alright?” Brendan asked, sounding rather worried.

“He be having multiple contusions, three broken ribs, and severe blood loss. Someone has been casting Cruciatus, or something very similar, also,” Jaidy replied enumerating the damage done. “Looking like he coming home from meeting Dark Master, the Malice is bad thing, very bad. Potion be countering it, then we be finding out what Master wants,” Jaidy said before she began to pour potion after potion down Severus' throat all the while chanting Latin verses. As she chanted, foul smelling black ooze leaked from Severus’ left eye, Pepper, meanwhile, stood on the arm of the chair to be better able to reach his master's left eye constantly wiping away the muck.

Accepting that there was nothing he could do to help Jaidy, Brendan turned and considered the other problem currently facing them; should he retrieve the children from the portrait or not? A gentle sigh in the back of his mind answered that question. Brendan grinned ruefully and he could sense the Lady’s impatience. Obviously, the Lady trusted Alastor for some reason, and it was not his position to gainsay the matter.

“Admirals, if you please, could you help with the others?” Brendan asked, drawing the men’s attention away from Jaidy and her ministration, as he walked back towards the Portrait.

“Others?” sputtered Moody as fresh light spewed forth from the portrait.

It was with amazement that Moody watched as the two (supposedly) deceased boys were lifted from the painting as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His magical eye spun wildly in confusion between the boys and Brendan, finally settling on Brendan, who just smiled at him.

The light from the portrait then increased to a painful level as all in the room had to shield their eyes. When their vision returned, Alastor stepped back in shock as Hermione Granger floated out of the portrait and approached the still unconscious Potions Master. Dropping to one knee Hermione reached out and took Severus’ right hand and bobbed her head to kiss the bruised knuckles.

Unheard by the others in the room a bell like tone sounded through the Potions Master’s brain, waking him from the healing sleep that had been induced by the potions that Jaidy had been pouring down his throat.

“Done and done, my champion!” The Lady cried as Hermione lips had touched her Avatar.

Severus sat there stunned, blinking as Hermione collapsed to her knees at his feet; sitting almost like a supplicant at Merlin’s table. Though Hermione’s mouth moved, it was the Lady who spoke. “You need more allies, my love, and she has accepted the burden with full knowledge and forethought as to the consequences.”

It was then that Severus sensed the Lady had indeed allowed the Gryffindor knowledge of everything that pertained to his nature and role as the Lady’s Avatar. He was thankful, at least, that his Lady had thought to protect the young mind afterwards, sealing off parts of Hermione’s mind until she was able to comprehend the truths she now knew; The seals would gradually open as she matured.

Whilst attempting to bring his mind into focus, Severus was distracted by the Lady’s voice, imperious and demanding as she addressed the Alastor Moody. It was only later that Severus realized that the distraction had been deliberate, for it had prevented fully contemplating Miss Granger and therefore the implications of the Lady’s Mark which was now prominent in the girl’s mind and on her brow.

“Alastor Tiberius Moody!” The imperious voice sounded so loudly that the Auror fell to his knees. “Wilt thou protect all here to the best of your abilities?”

He could feel the entity slipping through every corner of his mind, weighing, judging and finally finding him worthy of trust. “My champion is imperiled and the Snake is dominant, I cannot command thee, merely implore thee, wilt thou help?” Alastor felt one, no three implacable minds hovering at the edge of his sanity waiting for his answer. They were impatient, but would wait an eternity for his answer. “I’m not a bloody Saint Bernard,” he snarled: he sensed the entities’ amusement. “We didn’t ask for one,” they replied primly. “We need wolves, not lapdogs.” Alastor got a glimpse of the contempt the Lady had for ones such as Lucius and Sirius. He laughed out loud, startling those present, since this had all been in his mind, and for the first time, in a very, very, long time, he felt wanted and useful. “I’m beginning to see why Severus is so important,” he replied. “You want a head-kicker, I’m your man, and damn anyone that stands in my way.” He felt a light brush of lips on his cheek, and he blushed.

Severus, who had remained quiet throughout Moody’s tirade, just nodded once at the man before he let his gaze drop towards the girl at his feet. Looking closely at her, his vision shifted, as wait tended to do when he was out of time, such that he no longer looked at the girl but through her to…

“Now Lucius,” The Dark Lord Voldemort said as he inclined his head towards the blonde who had just apparated into his ‘throne room,’ “tell us, how well was our gift received?”

“Not well, My Lord. Not well at all,” Lucius replied as he approached his dread Master and bowed down at his feet. Not once, as he approached or whilst he had bowed down, had the blonde looked up to assess who else might be present at this gathering. He would not move his focus from Lord Voldemort until he had received explicit permission to do so. It was in observation of the ‘little’ niceties that ensured a Cruciatus-free encounter; mostly.

“In fact your gift did rather seem to thoroughly distress Mr. Potter,” Lucius continued, his eyes still fixed firmly on the floor. A fact that was actually a life-saving act, for at that moment, the smile just visible from behind the silvered half-mask was not exactly a pleasant smile. However, one should not enjoy another’s misfortune without first having shared it with the Master. “Mr. Potter did, however, show some… talent…”

“Continue,” Voldemort commanded as he bent and lifted Lucius’ face so that he could see into the blonde’s eyes and read his lackey’s thoughts.

Lucius, well aware of his Master’s talents, did not shy away from the inspection, nor did he seek to discover who else might yet be present at this meeting. Safe in the knowledge that Severus Snape, at least, was not going to be present due to the beating the man had taken, Lucius allowed the scenes that had played out at Hogwarts earlier in the day to scroll across his memories. He rather enjoyed watching Harry Potter demonstrate considerable skill in the precise application of pain. Still, the early memories of the day, which Lucius was currently offering up for inspection, did not show the target of Potter’s rage, only that Potter was rather capable of extended cruelty when enraged.

“Someone has obviously been teaching the boy,” he commented with considerable glee. “He showed considerable talent with the casting Dark Curses,” Lucius fairly crowed as a particular scene danced across his memories. It seemed the Golden boy wasn’t so ‘innocent’ after all. Enjoying the ability to gloat at other misfortunes, Lucius didn’t even stop to consider whether his next comment would be well received, “Pity poor Severus was the target.”

“Excuse me?” Lord Voldemort queried in a gentle tone. Too late, Lucius realised his mistake. “My potions maker was the target of Mr. Potter’s attack?” the Dark Lord continued in a conversational tone, his head tilting to the side.

“Yes, My Lord; he was, My Lord.” Lucius tried, unsuccessfully, to bow his head away and avoid further eye contact. All he got for his trouble was a sore neck and the unpleasant sensation of being the source of amusement for others; Bellatrix’ laugh, in particular, grating on his nerves. “Severus was the target of Mr. Potter’s wrath. It seems he believes that Severus actually killed the children,” Lucius babbled, intent on preserving his own life. He had no idea where Voldemort’s rage originated, but he certainly did not want to be the target.

“Show me, my little blonde snake,” Voldemort demanded, his eyes blazing red, as he forced Lucius to face him, tearing the silver half-mask off to ensure nothing obscured Lucius’ eyes.

Concentrating hard, knowing that his survival, at least for the next few minutes depended on it, Lucius called to mind with exquisite clarity the scene of Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey dragging the enraged boy from the Quidditch pitch. Voldemort saw the boy struggle and fight, all the time yelling “I told you Snape killed them! I saw it! I saw it all!”

“He saw it? Curiouser and curiouser,” Voldemort hissed, slipping unwittingly into parseltongue. Lucius’ face sheened with sweat as the Dark Lord bored deeper and deeper into his mind. “I wonder how? It is not like my potions maker to be that careless,” he mused. Still, the question of how the boy had ‘observed’ Snape dispatching the children would have to wait, the groveling Slytherin at his feet obviously knew no more. Releasing Lucius, almost like a lover, Voldemort contemplated ways in which Mr. Potter might have seen Severus Snape playing with the children.

Voldemort continued to wonder, and in that wondering decided that he would question Severus very closely next time; very very closely. However, that questioning could wait, whereas Lucius was in need of a little reminder of his place in the circle. “Now Lucius, you really shouldn’t have enjoyed the misfortunes of one of your brothers, should you?” Voldemort asked rhetorically.

Lucius, well aware of the type of punishments the Dark Lord liked to mete out to the unfaithful {and preemptively enjoying the misfortunes of another of the faithful counted as being unfaithful} was rapidly searching amongst the tidbits and oddments of The Dark Arts that he had collected and memorized over the years for something that might redirect his Master’s wrath. A small idea niggled at the back of his brain; he hurried it along as he watched Voldemort begin to raise his wand. What was it again? Yes, blood…it was an obscure use of blood… tainted blood in fact.

“My Lord,” Lucius spoke quickly into the silence that was the drawn breath for Crucio, “I believe I know a way to further weaken the blood protection on Potter.”

Voldemort’s hand stilled.

Taking the action as implicit permission to continue, Lucius explained what he knew of the Bleeding Woman Potion; he’d found reference to it in a very old, and rather obscure treatise that Narcissa had found, tucked away in a box of Dark Arts texts that had belonged to the Black Family. Unlike most potions that utilized menstrual blood as a key component, this particular potion actually required that the woman from whom it had been obtained was no longer pure, no longer a virgin. Given this perceived lack of purity, potion makers throughout history had more or less ignored general menstrual blood as a useful ingredient. It was, after all as common as muck. The Bleeding Woman Potion was the exception to the rule; it actually required the blood that others ignored.

What made it interesting, in light of the current circumstance, was that it could be used to attack blood protections, inverting the type of protection that Lily Potter’s sacrifice had placed upon her son. Lovers’ blood to negate Love’s blood.

“Lovers’ blood?” Voldemort queried with an anticipatory smile upon his face.

“Given Mr. Potter’s reaction to your kind gift, my Lord,” Lucius said as he breathed a silent sigh of relief, “I suspect that he and the Mudblood were somewhat… close. It would appear that the Skeeter woman, for once, was correct about their relationship.”

Thinking this a good time to score additional points over the man he considered his chief rival for eminence amongst Voldemort’s faithful, Lucius continued speaking. “In fact, I am surprised that Severus did not suggest this potion, my Lord. He has the Mudblood’s moon blood and from what I know of the potion it should not be outside of his limited abilities to brew.” The text in which he’d found reference to the potion was old, obscure and generally unknown, but that didn’t prevent Lucius from using its existence as a rod for Severus’ back. Slippery as the snake that characterized his house, Lucius failed to mention that he’d never even heard of the text itself, let alone its contents, until forced by Narcissa to deal with the piles of unsorted scrolls, papyrus and tomes that were stored in the catacombs of Malfoy Manor. Given the nature of many of the texts, it was his responsibility to house them correctly and Narcissa could be very shrill when angered. Having had one of her house-elves, one particularly good with coiffures, eaten by a stray book had been the final straw.

“Yes, I do wonder about that,” Voldemort replied as he considered Lucius’ words. ‘A potion to override Potter’s blood protection, yes it is surprising that Severus has made no mentioned of such a potion, but then Snape is but a Potions maker, talented but not omniscient,’ he mused as he continued to watch the Blonde Snake. “Another reason to speak with our Potions maker, I think; as quickly as possible. Lucius, I presume you have a copy of the relevant tome that Severus might need?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Then fetch it here, whilst I summon Severus. We have many things to discuss.” Upon saying that, Voldemort concentrated on calling through the Severus’ Dark Mark. A smidgeon more than the usual malice was applied to be sent as a warning. He expected his potions maker to make all haste in responding to the summons, after all he was ensconced at Hogwarts where whatever injuries Severus had sustained should have been dealt with efficiently by the school’s obnoxious Medi-wizard. Some allowances would be made for the level of injury, but only some.

‘Yes,’ Voldemort thought with a great deal of satisfaction, ‘my potions maker is in for a very, very interesting time.’

To be continued...


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