Severus Snape was used to Apparition. He'd begun mastering it early in his career, long before he was close to being of age. So the short trip to the familiar clearing was, to him, a blink, nothing at all disorienting, meaning that he was able to arrive, feet firmly planted, vision clear, and wand drawn to confront the deranged woman who had somehow gotten her hands on the Potter boy.
Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the middle of the clearing, seeming for all the world to be at perfect ease. She had the boy tied up and held him against her body, her wand levelled at his throat.
Snape could see the boy's eyes, red-rimmed and tear-streaked. He could only imagine what she'd done to him. But there was no time to dwell on that now. Potter was clearly alive. Now Snape had to focus on keeping him that way.
"Severus!" Bellatrix cried in delight, as if she were greeting a long-lost friend. But her eyes, filled with a predatory gleam, told a different story. "I was just telling Harry here about our shared history. About how cute you were as an itty bitty first year. Oh, I remember how delighted you were when you were put in Slytherin with us. You were just beaming at Lucius, so proud…."
"I didn't come to reminisce, Bella," Snape drawled, keeping a tight rein on his emotions. "Let the boy go. I think escaping Azkaban is crime enough, don't you? Perhaps if you show some remorse, they'll let you go back without a kiss."
Bellatrix let loose a high, unnerving peal of laughter. "Oh Sev, always trying to prove yourself! You haven't changed one bit, have you?" She jabbed the tip of her wand into the boys cheek, her eyes glinting with amusement when the boy squirmed. "But you were weak. I could always tell. I don't know why the Dark Lord even let you hang around!"
This was good, Snape thought. Let her talk. Bellatrix loved to chat, to gloat, to needle. And the longer she talked, the longer he had to analyze her and form a plan.
"And then," she spat, her tone growing bitter, "you caved like the half-blood scum that you are. You went crawling to him, begging him to save your precious Mudblood girl, even after our master graciously promised to spare her—Merlin knows why. He shouldn't have even granted her a swift death, the filthy little creature."
Snape had to bite his tongue to retain his composure. He could not afford to give in to his anger, not now.
"Dumbledore will be so disappointed," Bella hissed, her lips twisting into a wicked grin. "I haven't decided, you know, what to do with you when I'm finished with the boy. Should probably kill you too, just to be safe, but I would hate for you to miss a lecture from that deluded old fool. I can just imagine the look on his face when he finds out that his pet Death Eater has gone and gotten the famous Harry Potter killed. Mm, but we'll have plenty of time to decide what to do with you, won't we?"
Snape was focusing on Bellatrix's posture, trying to see if she was the least bit unsteady. Nearly eight years in prison had not left her the picture of health, but she seemed steady enough on her feet, meaning that Snape could not count on her to falter physically. Though that did not mean that she would not run out of stamina more quickly, which might give him just enough of an edge to take her down.
Though, more than likely, this would all boil down to luck.
"You escaped from Azkaban," Snape observed coolly. "Quite the feat. It would be a lie to say that I'm not impressed. Am I correct in assuming that it was not thanks to the Dark Lord that you are once again free?" Snape wasn't certain if she would take the bait, but he sincerely hoped she would—and not just to further delay the inevitable. This would be vital information, necessary in preventing further breakouts. There were certainly enough fanatical Death Eaters to cause the Boy Who Lived enough trouble for a lifetime.
"Oh, he will be back, Severus," Bellatrix growled, the grin disappearing from her face. "You mark my words. He will be back, and he will reward me beyond measure for these little services. The head of the Boy Who Lived and his favorite half-blood traitor. The Dark Lord will give me a place of honor—"
"Ah, even more impressive. You escaped on your own. And it only took… what, eight years?"
Bellatrix snorted. "Eight. Years." She punctuated each word with a jab of her wand into the boy's cheek. "It's never been done before, you know that? You should be impressed."
Snape took a careful step forward, just a small step. Bellatrix did not react too violently to his advance, at least. "Oh, I am. Who was it, then, that finally paid your way out? I can imagine arranging for the right bribes, the right climate, all that, took a great deal of time and discretion. Narcissa was the one, I take? She always was rather fond of you. She was heartbroken after your trial—"
"Cissy?" Bellatrix scoffed. "She'd have to empty her vaults to convince anyone to let me slip away. And I would never ask that of her. Oh no, I can take care of myself, Severus. I would think you knew that."
Snape advanced another half-step as he continued, cool as ever, "Your pride is unparalleled, Bella. To think that it would lead you to tell such grandiose lies even to me, when you've already professed that you intend to dispose of me…." He tutted softly, shaking his head. "Escaping Azkaban alone, when we both know that your cell is one of the most secure, the most watched…."
"Ha!" Bellatrix squealed. "As if I would bother! I don't give a kneazle's arse what you think. The only help I needed was for my dear sister, Merlin bless her, to bring me a little mandrake leaf…."
"Ah," Snape murmured, advancing another half-step. "I see."
Bellatrix grinned, revealing two ghastly rows of teeth that had suffered heavily during her stint in prison. "Do you? My, you always were a quick study."
"You managed to become an Animagus, then, in spite of the presence of the Dementors…. I assume that, once you'd held the leaf under your tongue for the required time, your dear sister contacted a brewer and had the appropriate potion smuggled in?"
"Clever boy. You always did know your potions."
"I assume your formidable talents in Occlusion have helped to stave off the worst of the Dementors' effect. And once you were able to transform… I imagine any animal's emotional and mental presence would be different, less susceptible…."
Bellatrix laughed. "They stopped noticing me after a while. Like I wasn't even there to them. So when the day came it was so easy to just crawl out."
Snape caught Harry's eyes for just a second, and in that moment he tried to convey to him his calm and confidence to the child. But the frantic terror he saw there was not the kind of emotion that could be quelled with a mere glance.
"Is it too much to hope that your form was something appropriate, perhaps a worm or a flea?"
"Now Sev," Bellatrix chided, "jealousy doesn't become you. But if you must know, my form turned out to be most useful indeed…." She grinned again, once more flashing her rotting teeth. "A black widow. Something with potent venom, at least. Which was most useful when I needed to relieve certain daft wizard of this." She jabbed the wand into Harry's cheek again. "Even more useful for slipping into the robes of visiting officials and hitching a ride to the mainland."
"And your first order of business was to grace us with a visit," Snape continued, as if Bellatrix's revelation was not the least bit surprising. "I'm flattered. Though I must wonder how you learned about the boy's presence here…."
"Rumors, Sev. It's all the gossips can talk about, that poor Harry Potter had to be removed from his filthy Muggle home. I'm glad Dumbledore decided to have you play nanny. I was so looking forward to paying you a visit. So lovely that I didn't have to go out of my way." Bella ran a hand over the boy's head. "And as jealously as you guard your privacy… well. There are records of residence, even for Dumbledore's tame Death Eaters. And my brother-in-law is, as you know, quite influential in the ministry, in addition to being a Governor at your place of employment. All it took was a gentle nudge from me."
"Mm, then Lucius and Narcissa are expecting you for tea?" Snape inquired mildly. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. At least Bellatrix seemed to be tolerating the banter. But, he figured, she'd likely set wards long before he'd arrived in this clearing. By her calculations he was trapped, and she was now free to play with her food, so to speak.
Her overconfidence was one advantage, he thought. She was one to flaunt her power—not that it was not remarkable. She was a well-endowed witch with a frightening repertoire of Dark Magic, more than capable of holding her own in any duel.
But Severus, too, was fairly adept at defensive and offensive magic, though he liked to keep his competence to himself. Better to have an opponent underestimate him, as he believed Bellatrix would. He would need every edge in the fight to come.
"Afraid I've kept them in the dark," Bellatrix replied off-handedly. "No sense in getting them into trouble. No, a cryptic letter will do wonders with Lucius. He knows how I operate."
Snape could not help but feel a bit of disappointment, a shadow of what he'd felt when he'd learned that Lucius and Narcissa had avoided prison terms by claiming they'd been under the Imperius curse. He himself had risked his life spying for the Order of the Phoenix just to earn that same clemency, and they'd slipped out of it with scarcely any effort. And yet again, they'd avoided any concrete ties to Bellatrix's escape, though he was certain who'd seen to the gift of the mandrake leaf and the Animagus potion.
"Perhaps because you know Lucius and Narcissa would not approve of this recklessness?" Snape suggested, still as calm as if they were catching up over coffee. "After all, Lucius has expressed interest in adopting the boy. I can't imagine he will be too forgiving if you muck up his political endeavors…."
Bellatrix shrugged. "He'll get over it. Better for him if he's not coddling the Brat Who Lived when the Dark Lord returns… though I suspect he and Cissy both will have some things to answer for when that day arrives. But that's enough chitchat, I believe. Now, if you don't want to see dear Harry here suffer through another round of Cruciatus, I suggest you drop your wand."
Another? Snape thought. Sweet Merlin… But Bellatrix did so love to play with her food. Of course she wouldn't spare the boy.
Now, of course, was no time to show concern. "Mm, not really a sufficient bargain, Bella. I can patch the boy up and doctor his memories if need be. As long as he's breathing in the end I'm not troubled. I suppose you could threaten to cast a Killing Curse… but we all know how that went the last time. You could take a chance, I suppose, that it won't rebound on you like it did on the Dark Lord. Who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky. Though you never struck me as the brave type…."
The whole time Snape spoke, he searched out the boy's gaze, hoping he would be able to meet his long enough for a touch of Legilimency.
At last the boy's panicked eyes met his, questioning. It was enough for Snape to press into his mind with his command. When I cut your bonds, flee.
"I doubt you know—"
Snape did not give her time to finish her sentence. He lashed his wand at the enchanted ropes holding the boy, cutting them with a precise Severing Charm. To his relief, the young boy's reflexes were sharp, and he was able to duck out of the way and scramble off toward the forest with surprising agility. He was out of sight before Bellatrix could even turn on him.
Not that Snape gave her much time to look. As soon as Harry was clear of her, Snape sent a flurry of hexes toward the woman, channeling all his concentration so that they were as strong as possible.
Snape certainly caught her off guard, but that didn't mean that Bellatrix couldn't recover. Her Shield Charm was lightning quick; before Snape's barrage of hexes even reached her, they fizzled into nothingness.
Snape had a second's notice to construct his own Shield Charm when Bellatrix returned fire, a hail of red and green curses that Snape had no desire to experience. In the hair's breadth of a moment he had once his shield had been erected, he cast a glance off to the right behind Bellatrix, searching for Potter's scrawny body amongst the weeds. He spied the boy cowering behind a half-rotted stump, his eyes so wide that Snape could see the whites from where he stood.
Stupid reckless Potter, he thought angrily.
"Run!" he bellowed, working to make his voice as terrifying as possible. Bellatrix was likely alone as an escaped convict, meaning that there was no chance of Potter being snatched up by an accomplice. The best thing the boy could do now was get himself as far from the clearing as possible, where no stray spells could hit him.
He had no more time to spare on the boy, not if he was going to win this. He launched a storm of tripping jinxes at Bellatrix, followed by a long diagonal Sectumsempra that he vainly hoped would rend the madwoman in two.
No such luck, of course. Not a single spell landed, and several sailed straight past Bellatrix and off into the distance.
"Why, little Sev!" Bellatrix cackled, sending a jet of green light shooting just over Snape's shoulder. "You're not half as pathetic as I thought! And here I was convinced you only knew how to play with your little potions…."
It was time to stop playing, Snape thought. Plucking a dark curse from memory, he incanted the spell under his breath—too complex to do silently—as he whipped out the correct wand motion. With a low, evil-sounding hiss, the ground beneath Bellatrix's feet cracked open, loosing a billow of black smoke.
But Bellatrix was too fast and too good to let the hellish chasm get to her. She danced away from the splitting earth, arcing her wand as she went to clear the air of the toxic vapors. The crack continued to pursue her, but apparently Bellatrix had read the same obscure Dark Arts tomes as Snape. In between Shield Charms to ward off Snape's additional curses and hexes, Snape heard her utter the counter-curse. A golden light burst forth from her wand, resealing the crack and banishing the poisonous cloud.
"Ooh!" Bellatrix sang out as she returned to hurling out offensive spells. "Someone's been naughty! That's a nasty spell, Sev, bet your precious Dumbledore doesn't approve of that one!"
They were locked in a stalemate. That much was painfully apparent to Snape; they were too evenly matched. If only he'd taken a few minutes to contact the headmaster….
But no, with a deranged Bellatrix he wouldn't have risked it. He'd half-expected to find the boy already in pieces when he arrived.
He risked a quick glance in the direction where Potter had fled, hoping beyond hope that he would see neither hide nor hair of the boy.
But that, of course, wasn't the case. Because Potter was no longer behind the stump. He was crawling stealthily through the grass toward Bellatrix, something gripped tightly in his right fist.
And in spite of all the expletives that could have easily risen to mind at that sight, all Snape could think was that James Potter's son would, without a single doubt, be a bloody Gryffindor.
XXXXX
Harry's heart was racing. He knew that he should have listened to the Professor, especially since this whole mess was his fault. If he'd just listened, if he hadn't insisted on following a bunch of kids into the woods to meet some mysterious witch who supposedly liked children….
He groaned to himself. He felt so stupid now.
He was already feeling like he'd run a marathon or something, between all that the witch Bellatrix had put him through and the awful tension when Snape had arrived, when it had seemed like the Professor was going to let him go through another round of torture. He'd seemed so unperturbed that Harry was certain he'd be in agony for hours while the witch tried to get a reaction out of Snape.
But that had proved to be a feint, thankfully. It had been weird to hear Snape in his head as he had, but the source of the voice had been unmistakable. Harry could just tell. And as soon as he felt the Professor in his mind, he knew that he wasn't alone.
He'd intended to run a lot farther than the stump at the edge of the clearing. With his heart pounding and his body trembling so terribly, he'd been prepared to run all the way back to the house in Spinner's End.
But it had felt like terrible cowardice to leave the Professor there all alone, facing off against the scary witch. The spells they were throwing at each other sizzled and hissed something awful, and Harry was terrified of what would happen to the Professor if he was hit by even one of them.
He'd paid close attention to the conversation between the two. He was completely baffled by half of what they said, but he could follow along well enough to pick out some critical details. Snape and the witch obviously knew each other—and the witch was Malfoy's sister-in-law! Not only that, but she was an escaped criminal, and she was somehow involved with Voldemort, the wizard who'd killed his parents. And she'd learned how to turn into a poisonous spider! There was no way he was leaving Snape to deal with someone that terrible all by himself.
He wanted to do something, anything, to help the Professor, even after the Professor had screamed at him to leave. But he didn't know what to do. So he'd continued to cower behind the stump, carefully watching where the spells ricocheted and landed so that if they started to come closer to him, he could back up even further to a safer place.
After what felt like hours, though, it was clear to Harry that the two were pretty evenly matched. In fact, it looked to him like the witch was holding off some, maybe even playing with the Professor. She wasn't casting nearly as many spells as the Professor, and she was smiling a lot more than he was.
In contrast, the Professor looked grimly determined. His black robes flared around him like wings as he worked incantation after incantation, sending bright jets of light flying toward the woman. His brow had furrowed deeply, and his eyes were burning with concentration.
He couldn't just cower any longer. Harry looked around desperately, searching for inspiration, and almost immediately his eyes alighted on a few misshapen rocks lodged in the ground. An idea—brazen and terrifying—formed in his mind, and he quickly pried the rocks loose.
He'd seen the Professor's quick wandwork and keen reflexes. It would only take a half a second, just one little misstep on the witch's part, and Snape would gain the upper hand and finish this. So if he could just chuck a rock at her, maybe he could knock her in the head and stagger her a bit so that the Professor could get the jump on her.
The problem was that he was awful at throwing things. Dudley had teased him incessantly about it, calling him a "Nancy boy" and "wimp". And in that instance, Harry really couldn't argue. It was usually faster for him to walk over to someone and hand an object to them than for him to try to toss it.
He'd have to get closer. And that meant braving all those crazy spells.
Sucking in a deep breath, Harry pressed himself to the ground, still gripping the sandy rocks tightly in his fist, and he began to army-crawl his way forward, just a few inches at a time, so he didn't draw extra attention to himself. He made sure to keep himself totally flattened against the ground, as small as possible.
Thankfully, Bellatrix was too occupied with Snape's mad spellcasting to notice his approach. Harry caught the Professor's eye, and the fury he saw there was not promising.
But he was committed to this. So he continued to press forward, his heart hammering harder with each inch he gained. Just a little further, he thought. He was just ten feet away now, close enough that he might be able to throw. But he would only get one chance, he thought, because then surely she'd turn around and cast that awful, torturous spell on him again, and all would be lost….
His palms were sweaty. He could feel the graininess of the dirt against his palm, mixing with the sweat to become mud. And there was something else rising in him too, something that wasn't quite an emotion in and of itself, but a force that seemed linked to them somehow…. It seemed to be wrapping itself around the rocks, enrobing them in a pulsating, nervous force.
Harry pushed himself up and whipped the rock forward. The irregular chunk sailed out with more force and speed than was natural; it was as if it had been launched from a sling. And it struck its mark with an audible impact.
And, just as Harry had hoped, the blow to the witch's head was enough. She lurched forward, thrown off balance by the impact, and Snape took that moment of disorientation to launch a glowing bolt of red light at her. The spell struck her square in the chest and she tumbled to the ground, stiff as a board.
Harry scrambled back toward the woods just in case, not trusting that the witch would stay down.
"Stay!" Snape barked, his tone so full of venom that it set Harry's heart pumping again. He thought very briefly of running off into the woods, but he knew that was a foolish idea on its face. Harry was already in enough trouble, it seemed. No need to make it any worse.
Snape wasted no time staring at the witch, Harry noticed. He immediately set to work muttering a number of spells over her. First he called up the woman's wand and pocketed it in his robes, then set to casting a number of cascading, brightly-colored spells over her.
Harry watched in awe as, before his eyes, the woman's stiff body rose up and began to shrink and darken, contorting and rippling until instead of a pallid witch floating in the air, there was a palm-sized black spider with red markings on its back.
Snape twirled his wand and conjured a large glass jar out of thin air, complete with an airtight lid. The jar opened and swallowed the stunned spider, closing tightly once the arachnid was contained.
That wasn't the end of it, though. Snape didn't pause once in his chain of spells. He started muttering strange words that Harry couldn't understand, things that made even more colorful spells blossom out of the tip of Snape's wand. Gold cascaded over the jar, then midnight blue, then a veined, shimmering green. Harry watched, transfixed, as Snape uttered another dozen or so spells before, finally satisfied, he snared the jar and tucked it firmly under his arm.
And then he swung his gaze back to Harry, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed together so hard that they'd turned white. Wordlessly, he crooked a single finger at the boy, beckoning him forward.
Harry felt as if his bones had disappeared and his body had turned to jelly. He'd crossed a lot of lines, he realized. A lot of big, important lines. And Snape didn't seem to be the forgiving type. He'd already pressed the man as far as he could go.
Which meant that Harry was going to be sent away. Oh God, he thought, Snape's going to call Dumbledore straight away. He's going to make me pack my bags, and then he's going to complain about how terrible and disobedient I am. No one's going to want me. They're going to have to ship me to an orphanage.
Harry stumbled forward, nearly tripping in the grass a few times, and then, just a scant few feet from the man, his legs seemed to give way and he did fall.
He expected an impatient growl, or a biting comment, or for the Professor to simply start yelling.
But the man did nothing of the sort. He knelt at Harry's side, his calloused hands slipping beneath Harry's arms to lift him up from the ground. Harry trembled a little, feeling the strong urge to recoil from the Professor's touch, but the Professor held him firmly enough that Harry knew he wasn't going anywhere.
"Are you hurt?" Snape demanded quietly.
Harry shook his head frantically.
Snape took Harry by the chin and studied his face closely, his expression one of intense concentration. The fury was nowhere to be found; the Professor looked perfectly neutral now. But Harry was certain that his wrath was just buried, and that the minute they returned to the house it would come pouring out like magma out of a volcano. He'd seen it before with Uncle Vernon.
Apparently satisfied, Snape turned his attention to Harry's limbs. His fingertips brushed lightly against the places on Harry's bare arms where the rope had chafed the skin raw. The Professor heaved a sigh but said nothing, instead straightening up.
Still holding the spider jar, Snape took Harry by the arm and pulled him close, closer than he ever had when they'd traveled together. Harry pressed his whole body against the black fabric of the man's clothes, feeling slightly comforted by the texture and the faint scent of laundry soap. Harry wished he could stay in that moment forever, the moment when, after the terror of the deranged witch, he finally felt safe again.
The moment before the Professor yelled at him and punished him, then sent him far away forever. Maybe back to the Dursleys, Harry thought with a shudder, even though they certainly wouldn't want him back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE ITSY BITSY SPIDER
The world started to squeeze and distort around Harry, and within seconds they were back at the house in Spinner's End, standing in the sitting room.
Snape released him abruptly, pressing him toward the loveseat. "Sit," he commanded, his tone positively glacial.
And then that moment of safety and comfort was over, lost forever. And Harry was certain he would never have another like it as long as he lived.
Chapter 7