26

Skewed Perspective

Severus went to speak with Dumbledore as soon as the Headmaster arose the next morning, to tell him that Harry was missing.  The words stuck in his throat, stabbing him like shards of glass, but he could not afford to let his pride dictate his actions.  His unsuccessful search for his ward the night before proved that he was up against a very good practitioner of concealment magic, perhaps more than that, and the last thing he wanted was to endanger Harry.  Though he hated to admit that he had been lax protecting the boy, he couldn’t deny the truth.  He wished fervently that Skullduggery would return, but the raven remained absent upon some secret mission for Thunderbird.  Skull would have provided moral support for the disheartened Potions Master, as well as being able to scout the forest for clues.

To his surprise, he found Minerva already there, she had already explained what had happened and Dumbledore seemed sympathetic to her and worried about Harry.  “I am sure we shall find him,” he soothed, stroking his beard.  “You mustn’t lose hope.”

Severus snorted after he entered the office upon hearing that statement.  He still had not forgiven Minerva for placing Harry in harm’s way—the boy had difficulty enough avoiding trouble, he sure as hell didn’t need a teacher placing him in worse situations.  “Are you prepared to search the entire forest, Albus?”

“If need be.” Albus said calmly.  “First I need to know what you cast and when and where he disappeared.”

Severus told him.  “Draco and Neville believe this . . . creature took him away, but I know of no creature capable of casting spells of concealment well enough to hide someone like Harry.  You know how strong his magical signature is.  I believe that a person has Harry captive.  Perhaps even the same witch or wizard who has been bombarding Harry with letters accusing me of being an unfit guardian and telling the boy to find another, more worthy person to be his guardian.” The professor said through gritted teeth. 

“Letters? Are you talking about the Howlers you received from some of the more . . . overzealous Gryffindor alumni?” Dumbledore asked, puzzled.

“No.  The letters are addressed to Harry and not me.  The person signs themselves the Fifth Marauder and claims he or she was Lily’s friend and James’ as well while at school. I have been pondering on it, but so far don’t know of too many students that were close to both of them while in school.” Severus frowned.

“Alice and Frank Longbottom were, but they’re in St. Mungos,” Minerva mused. 

Severus shook his head.  “We can figure out this person’s identity later, I want the search for Harry to continue.  The longer he is missing, the worse it will be. I shall ask Hagrid to speak to the centaurs, perhaps they will help? Perhaps Fawkes may search also, since Skull is not here?”

“Of course, Severus.  And I shall help too,” Dumbledore promised.  Sensing how agitated the other man was, the Headmaster quickly stood up and made as if to leave the office.

“And me,” Minerva said.  “It’s the least I can do, since it’s mostly my fault Harry was kidnapped.”

Severus gave a short nod, still not up to speaking with the Transfiguration professor. He might have forgiven a newer teacher more readily for making a mistake such as that, but Minerva had been a teacher for longer than he had been alive, she should know better than to assign a detention like that to mere first years and not go and supervise it herself.  Hagrid was not responsible enough to do so, and he was only one person besides. “Let us be off then.”

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

The three teachers returned in time for breakfast, there had been no sign of Harry, they had scoured every inch of the forest in a large area surrounding the place where the unicorn had died and Harry had last been seen. Dumbledore had felt a presence lingering of someone, but was unable to tell if the magic user was male or female, only that they had been present when Harry had been there.  Severus had discovered Harry’s medallion of protection face down in the dirt beside his footprints, the sight of it nearly made him tremble, for that meant his ward was defenseless against dark influences.  The chain had been snapped in two, making Severus wonder if it had caught on something or been removed forcibly.  He had carefully tucked the amulet in his pocket, he would return it to Harry when he found him.  When, not if.

Hagrid had promised to speak with the centaur Ronan, and Dumbledore to send Fawkes to search later this afternoon. In the meantime, Severus and Minerva had classes to teach and students to reassure, since now nearly everyone knew about Harry’s disappearance, thanks to the loose tongues of Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Draco.  That was the hot topic of conversation at breakfast that morning, and while some students, mainly the ones who either didn’t know or were jealous of Harry, didn’t care, there were some who were deeply concerned and fearful that the kidnapper could be after them next.

Dumbledore actually gave a speech reassuring the students that everything that could be done was being done to locate Harry and they would all be safe as long as they remained on the grounds or inside the castle.

“Oh sure, now he says that,” muttered Ron to Percy.  “But before it was okay to send us out into the bloody Forest alone!” His face fell then.  “I hope Harry’s not . . . hurt or anything.  You don’t think he is, do you Percy?”

“I don’t know what to think, Ron.” Percy said.  “He could just be lost or hiding somewhere.”

“Then why hasn’t Professor Snape or McGonagall found him?” queried Hermione,

“Maybe they tried and he’s been knocked out or something.” Percy shrugged impatiently.

“Or maybe . . . he really was kidnapped,” Neville said with a quiver in his voice. He blamed himself for running away last night.  Some Gryffindor he was!

“I say serves him right for breaking the rules and losing all those points.” Craven sneered. 

“Shut up, Craven!” ordered Hermione angrily. “No one deserves to be kidnapped, no matter how many points they’ve lost.”

“Well, if you all hadn’t been out of bed at night we wouldn’t have lost points and you wouldn’t have gotten detention!” Craven pointed out, puffing his chest up to look more important. 

“Maybe so, but we don’t have a choice as to what kind of detention we serve,” Hermione pointed out.  “We should have been polishing trophies or something, not wandering about the forest with only Hagrid to look out for us.” She felt betrayed by McGonagall.  A teacher should have been with them, then maybe Harry wouldn’t have . . . run away, vanished, been taken? Not knowing what had happened to her friend was making her sick.  She pushed away her plate of toast, eggs, and fruit.  She recalled how frightened she had been that night, scared enough to hold Malfoy’s hand and not even feel awkward.  But not as scared as Harry must have been, seeing that vampire feeding off the unicorn, or whatever it was.  She felt unaccountably guilty for some reason she couldn’t even name.

“Aw, listen to the little Muggleborn whine,” sneered Craven.  “Can’t handle a few minutes in the forest. Boo hoo!”

“If you’d been in the forest last night, Craven, you’d have wet yourself,” Ron snarled.  He disliked the other boy and his big fat mouth.  He was sure that Craven had been the one to trash Harry’s bed and trunk that time, and the kid was a sneaking coward not to own up to it.  Ron couldn’t figure how someone like that had ended up in Gryffindor.  He belonged in the gutter.  “Now shut up and quit talking like you’re somebody, you little toad.”

Craven opened his mouth to say something back, and Percy cut in.  “That’s enough! Craven, shut up, before I give you a three foot essay on the properties of poisonous herbs and fungi to write for me tomorrow. Maybe that will keep you quiet and keep you from starting trouble.”

“No fair!” the boy whined unpleasantly.  “All you Weasleys stick together.”

“That’s right, we do,” Percy said coolly, meeting the other’s gaze sternly. “Don’t forget it.  Now shut up and eat.”

Craven shut up.

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco was eating his omelet quietly, not really saying much.  He couldn’t believe Potter was gone.  His sometimes rival and friend, the boy who both intrigued and irritated him, was missing.  He wondered what would happen now.  Would there be Aurors and Search and Rescue patrolling the grounds, looking for Harry? Draco wasn’t sure what Neville and Ron had seen in the forest last night, but it had been pretty bad.  What would Snape do now that Harry was missing?

He cast a quick glance up towards the staff table and saw Severus sitting next to McGonagall, looking stone faced, picking at his breakfast.  He did not look happy at all.  Then again, Snape never looked happy. 

Crabbe nudged him, “Old Snape looks really cold, like an ice statue.”

“He’s probably worried over Potter,” remarked Goyle.  “I mean, he’s Potter’s guardian, it looks really bad if he can’t find him.”

“Maybe he could use our help,” Draco said suddenly.

Crabbe and Goyle just stared at him as if he had gone crazy.

“Help with what?” asked Blaise, who was sitting across from him.

“Finding Potter,” replied Draco. 

“I doubt the professor would ever let us into the forest,” Blaise said doubtfully. “You heard the Headmaster.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Zabini, grow a brain. I didn’t mean we go there alone. I meant we go there with him.  Help him search.”

“Oh.  How come you care so much about Potter, Malfoy? Thought you hated him.”

Draco looked uncomfortable. “I did. But that was before . . . before he saved me from the Pendragon.  He’s not . . . he’s not as bad as some of the lions, like that prick Craven.  And he’s Snape’s ward, which makes him family.  So we ought to help find him. If we can.”

“Malfoy’s right . . . for once,” Flint agreed, chiming in from a few seats down.  The beefy Captain looked grave.  “But so’s Zabini.  Professor would never let you two imps wander about the forest, even with him there.  He couldn’t risk something happening to you.  Me, on the other hand, could help him look.  Or Skullduggery could.”

“Where is ol’ Skull?” asked another Housemate.

“Dunno,” muttered Flint.  Usually the raven was always at breakfast, enjoying snitching food off people’s plates, imitating them, and perching on Snape’s shoulder.

“He’s probably off finding trouble,” said a Slytherin girl.

“Or maybe he’s looking for Potter,” mused Flint.

“When will you ask the professor, Flint?” a tall boy with a shock of reddish hair asked curiously. His name was Mark Tarrent, and he was a fifth year also.

“After his classes are done. Why? Plan on joining me?”

“I might.  It’s not right what old Puss-in-Boots has done, letting a little kid wander about in the forest with only Hagrid the Horribly Clueless for company.”

“Hey, I was there too!” Draco objected.

“And did you feel safe?” challenged Tarrent.

“No, not really,” Draco admitted.

“There you go then. The old witch really messed up big time.  I’m surprised Dumbledore ain’t sacking her.” Tarrent mused.

“Nah. She’s a Gryffie, like him.  He’ll let it slide. Now if it was anybody else, like a Slytherin . . .” Flint said darkly.  “He’d be booted out of the castle right quick.”

There were murmurs of agreement all around.  The Slytherins knew quite well whom the Headmaster favored, and it wasn’t them.  The only one who really truly cared about them besides themselves and their families was their Head.  Snape was always there for them, whether it was to answer a question, give advice, comfort a scared firstie, or punish them for some misbehavior.  And while he could be strict and unbending, he also would stick up for them, and that counted for a lot in a House where you were damned from the start by the actions of Voldemort and his followers.  Snape never made the mistake so many other teachers did, of thinking Slytherins were hopeless cases, bound to follow the dark road.  Instead Snape encouraged his Slytherins to be the best, and use their ambition and cunning to make themselves better students. He did not encourage them to follow the dark road, for he knew better than they where it led. “Think for yourself, don’t follow blindly,” was one of his maxims.  It was why most of them respected him and gave him their loyalty and obedience. For many of them, Snape was the father they never had . . . or wished they had.  Now they all felt for their mentor, they had all seen how close he had become with Harry, and knew he must be hurting because Harry was missing, maybe injured, or perhaps dead. Now, most felt, it was time to pay back Snape for his unwavering concern and caring. Now, their professor needed them for a change.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

Severus looked up from grading the potions his fifth-year class of Slytherins and Ravenclaws had turned in.  Several of his fifth years, including Prefect Flint, were standing in front of his desk, looking at him concernedly.  “Yes? Why are you all standing about like sheep? Do you have a question about the assignment I just gave?” he asked, somewhat sharply.

That potions class had been uninspiring, if Severus was being honest.  He had given that class a standard potion to brew, the Befuddlement Draught, not his usual challenging ones.  There were several decent brewers in this class, and they had seemed rather disappointed afterwards.  But Severus was not up to par that afternoon; he was extremely concerned about his vanished ward and didn’t have the desire to concentrate much on his favorite subject for once.  He feared for Harry’s life and found his attention wandering, thus his choice of subject.

“No, sir,” answered Flint, who seemed to be the leader.  He shuffled his feet and looked at his hands.  “We just . . . er . . . were wondering, professor, if you . . . ah . . . needed our help.”

Severus arched an eyebrow.  “Help? With what?”

“Looking for Potter in the forest,” Flint managed to get out at last.  “It was Malfoy’s idea, but I told him and Zabini they were too young to be involved, and you needed someone older, with more experience.”

“We can help, sir,” spoke up Nala Singh.  “If we each took a section . . . we could all keep in touch with the Speakeasy Charm,” she said, naming a charm which allowed the caster to speak with someone as if they were right next to them. 

“Why would my ward’s disappearance concern you all so much?” queried the astonished professor.

“Because he’s your family now, and your family is our family,” Tarrent said simply.  “And us Snakes stick together.”

The professor stared into all of their eyes, finally determining that they were serious. He felt a warm glow of pride suffuse him.  So far, no one from Potter’s house, save Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger, had volunteered to help look for their missing Housemate.  Indeed, Severus had heard several derogatory comments made about Harry, and one little snotrag had even gone so far as to proclaim Potter had asked for it! Severus had been hard pressed not to shake the little brat hard and give him detention scrubbing the dungeon toilets.

“Thank you. Your concern is greatly appreciated.” He told them sincerely.  “However, I think we ought to see if Fawkes finds anything before we go in again.  I do not like what I found in there last time, and would prefer it if you remained here where it is safe. I would not like to inform your parents that you went missing as well.”

“We understand, sir, but what if we went looking in pairs?” argued another boy.

“A good idea, Mr. Winters.  I shall take it under advisement.  If and when I need you, I shall inform you by leaving a note upon the bulletin board in the common room.  You may go.” He watched them all depart and wondered how Albus would react when he learned the supposed House of Darkness had volunteered to find the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Drive-Snape-Insane first. It was sure to be memorable, Severus thought, a smirk stealing over his features.  Even better than the time he had showed Albus the picture of the study group in his quarters.  Then he returned to marking solutions.  If he didn’t do something to pass the time, he would go crazy with worry. And the solutions and test wouldn’t grade themselves, more’s the pity.

Page~*~*~*~*~Break

The Fifth Marauder’s home:

Harry woke slowly, feeling groggy and disorientated. He rubbed his eyes to rid them of sleep and groped about for his glasses on the end table next to the bed.  Once he had put them on, he sat up.  He still felt lethargic, as if he were in a fog, and he resolved to not drink anything his so-called godmother gave him unless she drank it first.  He knew she had spiked his drink with something and he didn’t appreciate being drugged, not at all! He looked about, and found that the room he was in was almost the size of Dudley’s second bedroom at Privet Drive.  The bed he was lying in took up one wall, it bore a cream and crimson coverlet and matching sheets.  The walls were an odd stained wood paneling and there was a brown carpet on the floor.  There was an armoire against the opposite wall, the nightstand, and a shelf which had some books on it. There was no window, so Harry had no idea where he was.

He groped in his pocket and found his watch. He carefully opened it and smiled at the picture of Lily.  It was noon time, and Harry supposed he had slept away the day and night due to the potion she had slipped in his tea.  He scowled and tucked the watch away. He didn’t want his godmother seeing it.  He rubbed the back of his neck, it was still tender where he had struck his head.  By now Severus must be frantic, wondering where he was.  Harry knew he had to get out of here and go back to school, but he didn’t know where “here” was and he didn’t have his wand either.  He couldn’t leave without his wand or without knowing where he was so he could go in the right direction. 

Was he still in the forest? Or was this somewhere outside of Hogwarts grounds?

He slipped from the bed and tried the doorknob. Locked.  Frustration filled him.  If his so-called “godmother” was so concerned about him, why had she never attempted to contact him before now? Where had she been while he was living with the bloody Dursleys? He rattled the doorknob, another kind of urgency filling him.  He felt like a prisoner, not a cherished relation or whatever she thought he was.

“Hey!” he shouted. “Let me out! I need to use the bathroom!”

It was true.  Whatever she had given him made him have to pee desperately. He rattled the doorknob again. Serve her right if he had an accident on the carpet.

Just then the door opened and Marlene appeared, giving him a concerned look.  “Harry, dear, what’s the problem?”

Harry flashed her an accusing look. “I don’t like being locked up,” he snapped. “And I have to go. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Right down there,” she pointed.

He pushed past her rudely and rushed down to the door she had pointed at.

Marlene tutted at him, annoyed by his lack of manners.  It was something else she would have to remedy.

Once he had relieved himself, he felt much better.  He was tempted go and explore this house he was now in, but as soon as he stepped outside into the hallway, Marlene was at his elbow, steering him back inside his room.

“You aren’t well enough to be up yet, Harry.  That was a nasty knock on the head you took, you need to rest and regain your strength.”

He scowled.  “I feel fine.  I need to go back to school, they’ll be missing me.”

She gave him an odd sort of smile.  “Hogwarts is not safe for you.  Death Eaters like Snape teach there.  Dumbledore is obviously in his dotage to allow scum like that to teach children.”

“No, he’s not,” Harry protested.  “He hired the best Potions Master in Britain.”

Marlene hauled him up by his collar, her face suddenly losing its ingratiating smile and becoming vicious and cold. “The best Potions Master in Britain! Don’t be an idiot, boy! Snape is a traitor and evil! He has nothing useful to teach anyone, and should have been put in Azkaban long ago! Him, not my Sirius!”

Harry paled, but some stubborn streak in him refused to cower before her.  “If Snape was as bad as you said, then . . . then why wasn’t he convicted all those years ago? Maybe you’re wrong about him.  Dumbledore isn’t stupid, he wouldn’t deliberately put kids in danger.  And if Uncle Severus was what you said, why would parents send their kids to a school with an evil teacher? Nobody’s forcing them to go there.”

Marlene lowered him to the ground.  “You must understand, Harry, that Snape is a conniver, he can manipulate you.  He’s convinced Dumbledore he’s reformed and the old man stupidly believes him.  It doesn’t matter what the courts say—Snape is guilty! I know it! Now why don’t you lie back down? You’re looking tired.”

Her sudden shift from Slytherin-hating virago to sweet concerned caretaker made Harry feel confused and scared. He knew such mood swings weren’t normal, were irrational, and he didn’t trust anything she said.  “I’m not tired. I want my wand back and to go back to Gryffindor Tower.”

“I can’t do that, Harry. I told you, the school isn’t safe, you must stay here where I can protect you,” she half-purred, her eyes slitting like a lazy cat’s.  “Don’t worry, I can tutor you just as well as they can.  I know spells, old magics, that they can hardly conceive of, much less cast.”

“Where are we?”

“You are in my home,” she stated simply, shoving him down on the bed.

“Where?” Harry persisted.  “What part of Britain are we in?”

“A safe part,” she replied, not really answering the question. 

Harry ground his teeth.  “Were you the one who sent me those letters?” he asked then, his voice sharp with anger.

“Of course I did.  How else was I to try and keep you from making a colossal blunder? You should have listened to me, Harry.  You belong with your own kind.  But because you ignored my warnings, I had to punish you.”

“Punish me?” Harry repeated, then recalled a different letter. “You . . . you sent the Plague Envelope with the Hornet Dust inside?”

She hesitated.  “I . . . I had to punish you, don’t you see?  Naughty boys who disobey get punished,” she declared sternly. 

“I’m not your boy,” Harry cried.  “You aren’t my relative or my guardian. Who said you have the right to punish me? Do you know how much that Hornet Dust hurt?”

“I am your godmother, I have a duty to teach you proper behavior.  I only put a small amount of dust in the envelope, not enough to truly hurt you.”

“How would you know a proper amount?” Harry demanded insolently, furious with her casual dismissal of his pain and suffering. “My whole face blew up and I couldn’t see and my tongue swelled up and I couldn’t swallow either and it hurt like hell. Madam Pomfrey had to give me a shot of antidote in my bum and that hurt too!”

“Oh? You were probably allergic to hornet stings then,” she said, sounding rather indifferent.  “I didn’t know that.  Had you listened to me in the first place, you wouldn’t have gotten punished.”

She’s insane. Totally batty. Harry thought, feeling utterly desperate.  He couldn’t think of anything else to do but to try and get information from her.  Severus had always preached at him to know his enemy when he had taught Harry and Ron defense over the holiday.  “Do you always use magic to punish someone?”

Marlene shrugged. “Only when necessary.  It was how my father punished me and my brother when we misbehaved.  The McKinnons are an old pureblood family, you know.  We have hardly any half-bloods or Muggleborns in our lineage.  We are strong in magic and have often mingled our bloodline with other pureblood families, like the Peverells and Blacks and Prewitts.” She said proudly.

Harry didn’t like the satisfaction in her tone when she said that. It reminded him of Draco before he had changed his attitude.  His “godmother” sounded like a prejudiced bint.  “My mother was a Muggleborn,” he reminded her softly.

“Yes, I know. Lily was an exception to the rule.  She was brilliant, both in magic and in intelligence.  That was why I was her friend.  Most Muggleborns are stupider than dirt, they can barely master basic spells and wand movements.  But Lily was different.  It was why she attracted James Potter.  He could overlook her blood status because she was full of talent, and he wanted a witch who could pass that talent down to his children.  It’s why pureblood marries pureblood. It’s why Sirius was the perfect match for me, not to mention he was deliciously handsome!” she gave a short chuckle.  “Your mother soon learned the difference between a noble pureblood and a scummy half-blood like Snape! In the beginning, she didn’t realize how she was demeaning herself associating with him, but once I explained what a gutter rat Snape was and how he had lied to her about his true motives, she changed her mind about being his friend.  Snape was worthless and she forgot him once I convinced her to give James a chance.”

There was something sinister in Marlene’s tone that made Harry shiver.  She looked so . . . gentle and unassuming, but all of Harry’s instincts were screaming at him that she was dangerous.  How could his mother have trusted her? Unless . . . she didn’t trust Marlene, and that was why she hadn’t named the witch as his official godmother?

“It was because of me that they got together,” continued Marlene.  “Well, me and Sirius.  Both of us felt that they were the perfect couple, and all they needed was a few nudges from close friends to start the ball rolling.  Once Lily dismissed Snape, she could see what a perfect fellow James was and then they married and had you.  You look just like your father, Harry. Except you have Lily’s eyes and unfortunately her poor judgment in friends.”

Harry stiffened.  “My mother never had poor judgment.  She came to me in a dream, after Professor Snape saved me from the troll on Holloween.  She told me she loved me and that even though she couldn’t be there for me, there was someone who would love me just like she did.”

Marlene eyed him with keen interest.  “What’s that you say? You had a vision of Lily?”

“No, it was a dream, but not like a normal dream,” Harry replied, wishing he’d never mentioned it.  He silently upbraided himself.

“Lily projected herself to you in a dream?” Marlene repeated.  “Tell me exactly what she said!”

“She . . . she said she loved me and missed me and I shouldn’t feel guilty that she sacrificed herself for me.  I told her that Uncle Severus had said that too, and she said I should listen to him.  That he was her best friend and she loved him.  She told me to be happy and to live my life.  She said she was sorry she couldn’t be there for me, but there was someone else who would be, who would love me as she would,” Harry said.

Marlene’s mouth twisted. “She called Snape her best friend? You must be remembering that wrong.  She hated Snape! She would have never forgiven him for what he did!” Then she whispered, “She told you there would be someone else who would love you as she would? She must have been speaking of me.  She knew how much I adored you as a baby.  She knew that I would have taken care of you like my own. I think of you as the son I never had,” she crooned, reaching out to stroke his hair.

Harry shuddered and tried not to flinch away.  She was looking at him like a little girl he’d seen once looked at a beloved doll she had been holding—with a possessive adoration.  He felt as if he was smothering under her gaze and he almost preferred her anger to this creepy infatuation. He wanted her to go away and leave him alone, he wanted Severus to find him, or Skull, or even McGonagall, and wondered if they were looking for him now.  He recalled the petrifying fear cast by the vampire and hoped that Neville and Ron had gotten away safely from the monster.  He had to get free of her, of this place.  But right then he was trapped.  He tried again to reason with her.

“If I’m like your son . . . Aunt Marlene . . .” he forced the title from his lips, it tasted foul. “Then why can’t I get up and explore the house? Or go outside?”

“Because you’re still recovering from your concussion, darling.  But with a few more doses of my potions, you’ll be well enough for me to take you on a tour.  Then maybe you can go outside for a bit. One thing at a time, godson. One thing at a time.”

Harry reluctantly lay back on the bed, deciding for now the best solution was to comply with her wishes.  There was little to be gained from defying her yet.  Had she been the one to set the storm spirits on him also? Or did he have two enemies? So many unanswered questions swirled through his head that it began to throb again.  He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.  He hoped it would convince her to leave.  Meanwhile, his brain spun round and round, trying to concoct a plan of escape.  But he couldn’t think clearly and soon his thoughts scattered as he drifted off to sleep.

Marlene smiled gently at him, then drew the covers over him and left, going to consult the Codex Magicka, an ancient spellbook of bindings and concealment, summoning and charms.  It had been old when the Society had acquired it, and contained many spells which were no longer approved by the Ministry for use.  Marlene no longer cared about the Ministry’s approval.  She would use any means necessary to reach her goals—to destroy every Death Eater and put all Slytherins on probation, and to teach her godson how to be a good wizard and love her as his foster mother.  She knew she had her work cut out for her, since Snape had corrupted the boy. But she would succeed.  Harry would learn what was appropriate and not . . . or else.

Page~*~*~*~Break

Fawkes returned late that afternoon, having found not a sign of Harry.  Dumbledore continued to cast locator charm after locator charm without success.  The old wizard was very upset, convinced that Voldemort’s followers had stolen Harry away, and vowed to keep searching.  

“Whoever is hiding him is excellent with concealment charms,” the Headmaster admitted.  “Everything I have tried so far has met with a barrier that bounces my own spell backwards.  It’s an old kind of magic.  But one that is done well.”

“You can’t break the spell?” asked Severus, sounding both astonished and angry.  

Dumbledore shook his head.  “Not right at the moment. I need to study on it some more. Forgive me, Severus.  But we must be patient awhile longer.  I promise you we shall find Harry.  But I have never dealt with wards like this before and it will take me some time to unravel them.”

Severus nodded, disappointed but determined not to show it.  He prayed Skullduggery would return soon.  The wily raven had never failed him yet.  And the bird knew the old magic as well. He departed the Headmaster’s office, pondering what else he might do, when he recalled that Lena and Irma were of the Society and might know of some old spells he could try.  Anything was better than this endless waiting.  

He quickly Flooed to St. Mungos, hoping against hope that Irma had regained consciousness.