Motto:

"I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming, and you following."

(Ron Weasley to Harry Potter, Christmas Day 1997, Forest of Dean)

J. K. Rowling: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," GB adult version (2007) – p. 303

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Forest of Dean

Christmas Day 1997

Such a stupid waste of time, Snape swore under his breath, desiring nothing else than to kick something really hard or – even better – hex someone into oblivion. Remote place, ideal for his plan – indeed. And what about the horde wandering the forest, shouting as if it burnt? Snape admittedly couldn't make the words but whoever cried them was a potential danger – and the man was unwilling to proceed with his plan unless he knew what was happening and in ideal case also disposed of the threat…

It had been hours ago that he had Apparated into the forest and had safely found both the pool from Granger's memories as well as the clearing the two teenagers were camping at – the later only thanks to the mild tracking charm he had set on Potter the day before. Now, when the boy was not in a life danger, the tent was really invisible to him, no matter what standard point-me-to charms he had tried. Even now, after hours he had spent uncomfortably huddled in the evergreen bushes on the edge of the clearing, he couldn't tell where exactly the tent stood – the tracking charm he had used selected so that Granger would possibly not notice it and consequently quite weak. For Snape's purposes, however, it was fully sufficient – if he succeeded with the delivery of the sword tonight, he may be lucky enough to avoid Potter's company until short before the boy's final encounter with the Dark Lord. If only the intruders disappeared fast – or moved closer to him so that he could deal with them while still keeping an eye on Potter's hideout!

The shouts advanced then, interrupting Snape's musings; this time it seemed to the Slytherin that they were clearer and a moment later he could even decipher the words – instantly sighing in relief. Ronald Weasley; soon the golden trio would be reunited, he thought, slightly disgusted with the prospect and yet, satisfied that they were again coming together, the team Granger-Weasley hopefully sparing him any further save-Potter-actions.

"Harry, Hermione! Where are you guys? It's Ron…" Weasley passed the clearing without either of his friends noticing and Snape shook his head in silent disbelief. Had they broken up so badly that Potter and Granger didn't leave the red-hair any means how to find his way back to them? Very Potter-like; the boy was clearly becoming as arrogant as his dear father and Black. If only Dumbledore could see his sacred Gryffindors now! Wouldn't it be quite a shock for the old man to see how impure they were after all? Snape smirked, rising to his feet. If he would be in generous mood once he returned to the castle, he may share his opinion with the unbearable painting. But for now he had a job to finish.

Snape drew out his wand and pointing it at himself, cast the charm of invisibility he had adopted from Dumbledore. If he had gained nothing else from this charade, his magic had matured much sooner than he could have hoped for had he lived a normal life. Although, he kept asking himself if it had any sense – when his chances to survive the war were as little as they were and when he actually didn't know if he wanted to survive it at all.

Protected by the charm, Snape slowly circled round the clearing, trying to better locate the tent and Potter inside. When he remained unsuccessful, he once again found himself a hideout in the bushes on the edge of the clearing. Canceling the invisibility, Snape resigned himself for another long wait. Unlike the teenagers, Weasley especially, he was thankfully comfortably warm in his enchanted robes and when he now knew his wait wasn't meaningless, he was willing to give Potter some more time.

As he waited, his back leaned on a trunk of an ancient oak tree, the snow started to drift from the skies again and soon, the clearing was covered with fresh white dusting. This was excellent – for if Potter would even for a second step out of the boundaries of Granger's protective spells, Snape would be able to see the marks he would leave on the ground even if the boy wore his father's invisibility cloak – provided Potter had remained as careless as ever. Somehow, Snape didn't doubt it. What he was also to think of a boy who had willingly lingered in the Dark Lord's mind?

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Snape wasn't sure if he hadn't drifted off for a moment when a sudden sound in the dark depths of the forest made him jerk up, instantly alert. His eyes searched the clearing for an umpteenth time that night – his seek once again unsuccessful, and he readied his wand to search for Potter magically. Since several hours now, it had seemed to him as if the response to his charm had become more intense – Potter was probably sitting in the mouth of the tent. Snape hoped so at least – but there was no telling that it wasn't the girl accidentally leaving the entry of the tent half-open behind her back. Unprepared for the possibility of Granger following his call, Snape hadn't acted yet – but he was aware that there wasn't much time remaining.

Then, suddenly and fully unexpected, it happened – Potter must have reached forward, beyond the boundaries of the spells and Snape's wand confirmed it was he sitting in front of the tent. A small, self-satisfied smile appeared on Snape's thin lips and he summoned his happy thought – Lily forgiving him – and cast a silent Expecto Patronum.

Instantly, Lily's silver doe materialized in front of him. Approaching him slowly, she bowed her gorgeous head to lick his hand in an act of undeserved compassion – or so Snape thought. He didn't deserve her affection – and yet, when he ordered her to lead the boy to the pool wherein the sword laid hidden and she turned to walk away from him, he couldn't quite help it but miss her right away; her disappearance leaving him strangely empty.

It took Snape a few long moments to compose himself again. When he finally followed the doe, Potter was already on his way behind her – exactly as Snape had planned. Simply excellent, the man thought sardonically, troubled despite himself, despite he so desperately needed his plan to be successful; if even the Christmas night hadn't taught the boy any caution, then we are all doomed.

Staying as far away from the boy as he could while still being able to view what was happening, Snape followed Potter to the frozen pond, trying to convince himself that the boy that had been prophesied to triumph over the Dark Lord perhaps didn't really need the discipline and vigilance they had tried to hammer in him – and failing miserably. For the boy, while successfully finding the pool and clearly understanding the need to retrieve the sword under Dumbledore's conditions of need and valour, decided to dive for it with an obviously dark artifact hanging around his neck.

Quite close to the boy now, twin massive oak trunks concealing him from Potter's view, Snape groaned as he saw the chain of a locket or medal or whatever it was resting on Potter's chest tightening around the boy's slender neck, so that he started to suffocate. Damn, damn, damn! The day was not only going to be an utter waste of time – it was also threatening to become Severus's undoing. If he hasted to save Potter's life for yet another time, the boy would certainly recognize him – and either attack Snape himself (whereas Snape couldn't very well fight him, if he wanted not to accidentally kill the boy in rage Potter was so very likely to awake in him) or reveal his true alliances to the Dark Lord through the abominable connection the two other wizards shared. Snape groaned, running a hand over his suddenly weary face. Why the hell did he think his plan was just about flawless?

The boy was trashing, suffocating, desperately trying to get rid of the chain that had closed tight around his neck – and Snape finally got to his feet, hasting forward, in the last second remembering to recast the invisibility charm and whisper the incantation that made the imprints of his feet disappear behind him.

He almost reached the pond when a familiar red head flashed past him and a panting Ronald Weasley jumped fully clothed in the ice-cold pool and got hold on Potter, pulling the unconscious savior-to-be out of the hole in the ice surface of the pool and behind him also the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Wrong man to pull it out, Snape frowned from where he was watching nearby, but then remembered that the conditions were more than fulfilled. He was about to Apparate away when Weasley berated the golden boy and Snape decided he had more than earned this little amusement.

"Are – you – mental?" The Weasley boy panted at Potter's careless offspring from above, water dripping from his drenched clothes, one hand holding the sword and the mysterious broken collar swaying in the other. Potter looked up at the sound of his voice, clearly startled, but instead of grinning stupidly as Snape had expected, he simply rose, remaining quiet – him wearing only underwear a strange sight in the frosty, snow covered night landscape.

"Why the hell," Weasley continued, a deep frown on his face, "didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" Yes, why indeed, Snape thought, glad now for having stayed. But Potter remained mute as long as he pulled on his clothes. When he finally spoke, he asked his own question instead of answering.

"It was y – you?" Potter's teeth chattered.

"Well, yeah," Weasley nodded, appearing quite confused to his former Professor.

"Y – you cast that doe?" Potter stammered and Snape smirked. Weasley, indeed. Grow up, Potter, where would Weasley come to the sword?

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!" Snape shook his head. Weasley was as careless as Potter.

"My Patronus is a stag." Potter said and Weasley nodded: "Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers." Snape had to bit his lip to stop the bitter laugher threatening to overcome him. No antlers, really. The two were helpless.

For the minor chance, either of the boys would mention the strange collar again, the man remained in his spot but as the conversation centred on the sword, he was rapidly loosing hope to hear anything more of importance. Then, however, Potter claimed that there was only one way how to find out if the sword was the real one – and motioned to a rock on the other side of the pool on which they placed the puzzling item. "I am going to open it," Potter said, "and you stab it. Straight away, OK? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me…"

Snape didn't listen any further, nor did he really watch what was happening before him. He only stood frozen on his feet, his mind racing. A diary that had tried to kill Potter – the bit of Riddle in it – Dumbledore's injury from the previous year – the cursed ring the old man had so foolishly put on – the chain closing around Potter's neck, attempting to suffocate the boy – Potter's scar – the time to come when the Dark Lord would fear for his snake…

Suddenly, it all made sense; the Dark Lord had created more vessels for his rotten soul. Dumbledore must have found out about their existence – and train his golden boy to destroy them and himself in the process. Snape trembled with sudden rage – the arrogant Potter's son changed in Lily's boy again, in the pig for slaughter Dumbledore had raised so carefully to conclude his plans. – Or had he? When the boy's inability to keep his thoughts for himself would sooner or later alert the Dark Lord on what was happening?

Snape angrily kicked in the heap of snow in front of him, by a lucky chance remaining unnoticed by the teenagers who were still occupied with the locket. If his predecessor in the Headmaster's chair thought his plan perfect, then Snape didn't agree with him. Not at all. Unhappy about the prospect but conscious of the necessity, Snape resolved to add his bit into Potter's training. This time he would be successful, or damn both him and the boy!

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Snape spent another half an hour watching as Potter and Weasley attempted to destroy the locket, more than once sorely tempted to step in and either shake some sense in both the boys or get rid of the cursed thing by some safer means. But he felt that Dumbledore probably had well known what he had been doing, leaving the Gryffindor's sword to the boy.

Finally, Weasley won his inner fight and stabbed the dark artifact with the ancient weapon – and Snape viewed next the reconciliation of the two friends, sickened by the sentiment they exchanged. When they left together, he followed them from safe distance, adding a sound-proof charm to his protections.

Soon, the man was back on the edge of the clearing where Potter's tent stood – contemplating his next course of action. The teenagers were inside their shelter now but there was no doubt that one of them would guard the tent's entry during the night as Potter had done before. Considering the exchange by the pool, it was very likely that Potter would leave Weasley and Granger some space to make up – and if he did come out, Snape would get hold on him.

It didn't take long this time and the tracking charm alerted Snape that the boy was out of the shelter. Quietly, the man approached closer to where he now knew the tent stood – and caught Potter on his collar the moment he, foolishly reassured by the recent success, stepped out of Miss Granger's defenses to gaze at the snow-covered landscape. Harry's gaze searched for his capturer over his shoulder - his eyes widening in dread as they found Snape.

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