Undiscovered by Alexis18

Harry took a second to realise the many people looking at him. He’d stayed still when he’d heard the other voice, hoping Snape would be able to fix it. Apparently not.

He tried to pull away from that infuriating grip on his collar, but it only tightened. He met the eyes of the unfamiliar face that was his professor, hoping the man had a plan. His stomach plummeted when Snape gave a very subtle shake of his head.

He wanted to run but his legs was so tired and his body wasn’t responding, he’d get less than ten steps. Perhaps that was also part of the meaning of Snape’s shake, don’t try to run. In ordinary circumstance there’s no way he would have listened to the advice; now however...

“….Alright, but keep ‘im in one piece yeah?” He only managed to catch the last section of the sentence, his brain sluggishly recognising the voice. Thompson, of course.

He was being pulled forward, hard. Too hard. He fell face first and put out his hands to catch himself, he yelled when the impact sent a bolt of pain spearing through his shoulders. Tears sprung to his eyes but he blinked quickly to dry them.

Again he was so focused on dealing with himself that he’d missed whatever was being said. He knew roughly 3 or 4 people were speaking, one of them being Snape.

He was lifted to his feet, surprisingly gently. When he was pushed forward again, the arm doing the pushing moved violently but the actual push itself was soft.

He hated this sedative, hated it with a passion. What good is having magic if you could still be susceptible to muggle drugs?

The underwater effect was more than frustrating, hearing bits and pieces was worse than hearing nothing at all.

“….First?”, “Only, maybe..”, “Shouldn’t we….”

A strong sting in his face blossomed – he’d been slapped. The second one was on the other cheek. His reaction was about 4 seconds later, a very minimal movement.

Maybe the person wasn’t pleased because this time a heavy punch landed on the bridge of his nose. Strangely his first thought was hopefully my glasses can still sit there.

Something was pressed against his hand, and it was hurting. When he felt the liquid drip off it he realised that it must have been a knife since he’d been cut. Someone’s finger ran the length of the cut and managed to focus enough to see the cut was deep, not that he’d needed his vision to tell that. He pulled his hand away and curled it to his chest protectively.

A fingertip moved up and down his arm, like a paintbrush on a canvas. Maybe for a minute, maybe for an hour. It was mesmerising in a way, something to focus on other then the stinging heat on his cheek, the throb in his hand and now the agonising pain of something on his leg.

When the finger moved away, he tried to steady his vision to the point where he could see whatever masterpiece had been drawn. Smeared and messy but the letters were still recognisable W……I…….Z…….A…….R………D. Wiz-ard, wizard. Spittle landed on his face as someone yelled, a face that looked as red as Harry’s felt.

Pain and numbness were the two states in which he changed between. He should’ve landed on the floor hours ago, but there was some sort of support against his back stopping him. It seems even that wasn’t to be his choice.

When his shoulder was shook harshly, moans of pains escaped. Again and again, so many parts if his body ached. And though he may hate it, he wished for more sedative. At least he’d be able to escape this.

***

Once upon a time, Severus Snape had felt a twinge of sympathy for squibs. It wasn’t there fault they were born without magic, yet they were universally hated by the wizarding world for it. Thrown out, disowned, even Albus Dumbledore himself had cut off his own squib sister. Oh yes, Severus knew about that, he’d at least researched the man who he had committed his life to.

Despite all of this, there was not an ounce pity of in his shadowed face as he watched them torture a student. It was even worse feeling the small shakes of the boy’s body as they hit, spat, kicked and cut him, he held firm to the teens shoulders hoping to offer a modicum of support. His wand itched to be used in the pocket of the tawny robes he’d transfigured. Harry’s too, sat there, he’d swiftly taken it off the boy after they’d been exposed.

He knew the odds, he could not fight, and he would not die here. Neither would Harry Potter. The boy-who-lived could not possibly find his end in some muddy cave. Although a part of him might be amused at the Dark Lord’s anger if he were to find out his nemesis had been dispatched by a group of strangers who had no bearing in this war.

No, not even Voldemort’s humiliation and anger would be worth this. He’d thought of about 15 different ways he could draw his wand and attack, but every possibility didn’t end well. Four or five spells max he could get away before they’d overwhelm him. Then they would both die.

This way, at least they stood a chance. Stealth was the only way.

So for the next few minutes he imagined the ways he would destroy these people covertly. When Harry slumped against him, he was jolted out of thoughts. He missed whatever they’d been doing and with a morbid curiosity he watched. When he realised what they were drawing he turned away in disgust. These people were doing far worse then whatever supposed atrocities had been committed against them.

He thought about many different things in that time, possible improvements to the way one harvested monks wood, whether silver stirring spoons would be needed to be placed on this years N.E.W.T class booklist and what this new teacher the ministry would be placing at Hogwarts would be like.

Eventually after centuries, people began to tire.

“Jerry, don’t chu wanna turn?”

It took him a second to realise Jerry was him. No, he most definitely did not want a turn. “No thanks, had me fun watchin’” He carefully mimicked the rough accent the other spoke with.

Some others now watched him and he realised he was drawing suspicion.

“Aw, c’mon. Remember what their kind did to your Auntie? Now’s your turn for some pay back.”

“Here I’ll even take your spot holding the freak up.”

Some stout man, took Harry from his hold and he was suddenly left with no excuse. Frustrated at the situation he was forced into, he balled his fist, certain it would be misinterpreted. A small piece of rock imploded near him, but he paid no attention to it. Only a few of the crowded circle around him turned quizzically towards it.

He met Harry’s eyes reluctantly. The boy was delirious, couldn’t tell a hippogryph from a grindylow. However somehow, Harry gave him a very small minute smile and moved a touch forward. Giving Severus his full permission.

He swallowed his hesitations, he’d done worse to keep his cover in different situations. He lifted his fist, and swung it into the teens chest where it hopefully wouldn’t do much damage.

The others cheered and he cringed.

Again he hit, again and again. Sometimes his punches would be much softer then they should have, in these cases Harry still made noises of pain, acting the part. Severus thought he’d make a good spy, then instantly dismissed the notion. His knuckles quickly ached but he paid them very little heed.

His shoulders sagged in relief, when a women with dirty blond hair stepped between him and Harry.

“Save your fun for later boys. He’s done for tonight, anymore and he’ll be useless to us.”

She took Harry’s shoulders and guided - pushed - him to what looked a makeshift first aid kit. People began retreating to their tents and Severus was at an impasse for what he was to do. He certainly didn’t want to leave Harry, but there would only be questions if he stayed. He decided he would leave, return, stun the women and get Harry and himself out of here.

Retreating to ‘his’ tent he went behind it to check if the man he was impersonating had woken up yet. Indeed he had timed it well, as the real Jerry was beginning to stir. He murmured a small stupefy and sat waiting for a few minutes. Watching as each lantern was turned off like squashed fireflies.

He was tempted to undo the transfiguration on his clothes knowing his usual black robes would offer more stealth but disbanded the idea, if they were to be seen again it would be important to be seen as seen as ‘Jerry’.

After about thirty minutes he departed his spot. There was only one source of light now, with two figures under is pool of illumination. One unmoving.

It took very little work to make his way towards them now that it was dark. From anyone else’s point of view he was only a silhouette.

He steadily aimed his wand at the women and uttered stupefy so softly the word was inaudible. The noise her fall made had him wincing but he pressed on.

When he finally made his way to Harry his did a quick check. The womens inadequate bandages were wrapped around his torso, shoulder, leg, and hand. Those idiotic broken glasses sat nearby and the boy himself was still a confused mess.

He mended the glasses, and tried to heal some of the small cuts, abrasions and bruises. The bigger stuff would have to wait until later when he could inspect them properly or better yet, at Hogwarts. He then did a quick pain relief spell he’d seen Pomfrey do. When he’d done what he could he linked an arm beneath the boy’s shoulder and began lifting him up, ignoring the groans of protest.

He moved agonisingly slowly towards the exit, but eventually they made it. He turned around , carefully manoeuvring Harry, and aimed his wand at one of the very flammable tents.

A spark of red flew from the tip of his wand to the canvas of the nearest tent, setting it flickering with tongues of red and orange. Again he pointed his wand at a different tent and performed the spell. He repeated until there was not a tent left that hadn’t been set a flame.

The whole cavern heating up and awash in a hues of reds and oranges.

Let them burn, for once again, there was no twinge of sympathy.

***

If he’d ever been drunk, he was sure a hangover would feel a little like this. And he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

When the restless pounding in his head subsided to the noise of dull drum, he moved. Not much, but a little.

He was having a fair bit of trouble remembering what had happened, it all got a bit blurry after the sedative. He was sure Snape had been there, although that didn’t make sense since he didn't actually remember seeing the man.

What would he see now if he opened his eyes? would it even be worth trying?

Of course it would. He wasn’t about to sleep in a cave forever.

The cave ceiling was lit with a soft white from somewhere to his right. Enough to see the shadows cast by the cracks but not enough to see the actual cracks themselves. It was steady and unwavering. Certainly cast with magic then, did that mean…?

He was lying on an actual soft blanket so yes that must mean, he’d made it out. Somehow.

Turning his head he glimpsed a very familiar black leather potions bag, if he was left with any doubt that nullified it.

“Harry?”

Well he’d never heard that tone before. What was once a very intimidating figure, appeared in his line of sight.

“Hey..” he coughed, throat scratchy and sore. “I din’t even need to correct you that time.”

“Indeed.”

There wasn’t even an insult, he must be in pretty bad shape.

“So, uh, can you explained what happened. Gotta say, I’m a little sick of waking up like this.”

Snape’s face transformed into its usual agitated and annoyed scowl, but Harry was sure there was an eyebrow out of place or something.

“You were taken by the group I had previously expressed doubts about, and I, performed my usual role in saving your life.”

“Yeah… I really owe you a Butterbeer or something don’t I?”

“How about you just stay out of trouble for more than a minute? that would be adequate payment.”

“I’m only promising things I can stick to.”

Snape snorted in an unusually undignified manner, “Figures.”

Harry began to sit up, uncomfortable with lying on his back. Strangely enough the movement brought almost no pain. He managed to make out the small grey blur that he recognised and his glasses and put them on.

“Careful, I’m not entirely sure the extent of your wounds yet, some were severe. Especially the one to your shoulder.”

He grimaced at the reminder, the image of the hammer being brought down all to clear. Yet he could feel only a dull soreness in his upper arm.

“Your leg is not faring well either.”

“How come they don’t hurt so much?”

“Because you’re currently dosed with about four different pain reliever potions.”

Ah, that did make sense, strangely it didn’t put his mind at ease. Instead he felt his stomach churn slightly.

“None of them are like, sleep-inducing, are they?” he pulled at one of the edges of a bandage on his hand, much to Snape’s disapproving eye.

“One. Why?”

“Can I not have that one?”

He carefully place the bandage back down, clipping it to the one behind it.

“Yes. It would be pointless now anyway. ”

Harry held up his bandaged hand in front of his face in a very sudden movement.

“What happened here?”

“You were cut, I’ve cleaned it so it won’t get infected.”

Hmm, he didn’t even thick about their knives not exactly being sterile.

He pointed to dark bruise on his calf and Snape picked up the silent question.

“Kicked, I believe.”

Then the long bloody bandage across his shin

“Some type of knife wielding revenge.”

He pointed to his chest where a myriad of colours blossomed.

“Here?”

“Must we go through each one?”

“Hey, next time you wake up covered in injuries you vaguely remember getting you get to ask all the questions you want.”

Snape looked a little disgruntled. Probably reluctant to admit Harry had a point.

“I hit you.”

Harry scrunched his face, slightly put out. “I’m revoking that offer of Butterbeer”

Snape looked away, towards the stone wall. “It… it wasn’t like that. I was forced to. For what its worth I apologise.”

“Well you got me out soooooo, no harm no foul.”

Snape turned back slightly startled. “You’re fine with it it? just like that?”“

Harry shrugged, “Not like you coulda done anything else, and we’re both safe and sound because of what you did.”

Harry thought Snape looked like he was searching for something else but he stayed quiet until a thought occurred to him,

“You know that’s something that doesn’t really make sense.”

“I’m sure many things don’t make sense in that small brain of yours.”

Harry frowned but continued, “ Anyway…… I thought, well, you’re the head of Slytherin. Going into a camp of dangerous strangers to get someone you hate, just doesn’t seem, well – Slytherin. It seems more brave, and impulsive than anything, Gryffindor -like. ”

“You are seriously comparing me to a Gryffindor? One action does not expose one’s true values. You would make a terrible sorting hat.”

“I dunno ‘bout that, I think I’d be great! As long as I wouldn’t have to sing at the start of every school year.”

“Merlin forbid.”

Snape disappeared briefly and returned with a bowl full of stew. Harry was salivating just looking at it, he wondered how long it’d been since he’d eaten. It was difficult to judge time down here.

When Snape offered it, Harry snatched it like a rabid animal.

“Feeling hungry are we?”

He didn’t bother to stop eating before giving his reply, “Yep, str’ving”

“Well we’re running low, so heres hoping we get out of here in the immediate future. Or else we both shall starve to death.”

Harry was too happy with his meal to pay the words much heed. There wasn’t much they could do about it anyway.

“So,” he shovled mouthfuls of food in between speaking, “Whats the plan?”

“Yes, well that is still being considered.”

“You mean you don’t know?!”

A strong sneer made him regret being so out spoken.

“Well I’m considering whether we abandon our task. A teenager in poor health makes for a difficult travel companion on the best of days. ”

“Yeah well, you’re not exactly roses and peaches either...” Harry grumbled to himself. Snape had undoubtedly heard every word. He pressed on before the man could make a comment,

“Look, the way I see it we have a task. Get the Vin-, Vin…. something stone. Now we know we have a little competition for it, its even more important that we get it.”

It seemed to Harry, that he continually spent a lot of his time trying to convince Snape of something lately. Well, hopefully it wouldn’t turn out as badly as their last disagreement had, Snape had definitely been right there.

“I do not fear so much what would happen if those …. disgusting people…. gained possession of the stone. Their group could be disbanded with little effort by a few strong wizards. I fear, that it will be the Dark Lords servants who will overwhelm them and then, we shall truly be at risk.”

Harry followed perfectly, if Death Eaters got the stone Hogwarts would be ruined. Not to mention He’d be dead pretty quick.

“I can see that happening. Thompson would probably let it slip, seems like the type to brag…..”

“Nevertheless, that does not negate the risk posed to ourselves if we continue our pursuit.”

“Since when has anything we’ve ever done been risk free? Your a spy, everyday is risky for you. I’m hated by the deadliest wizard alive. I think its more about picking our battles than it is about risk.”

“And you’d be willing to pick this one? even after what you just went through” There was an honesty in Snape’s face, as if he truly wanted to know.

He shifted a little, uncomfortable at the reminder. “Yeah I suppose. Now we know about them properly I guess we’re a bit more prepared. Even if they have my wand…..”

While they were talking he’d felt for it out of habit, realising where it must have ended up was like another blow. Defenceless and missing part of himself were never a good feeling.

“About that….”

A spark of hope had him watching Snape closely as the man picked up the nearby potions bag and produced a long thin wand. When it was offered he took it instantaneously, feeling a strange sense of Deja Vu.

“Thanks! how did you manage that?”

“When we had been discovered, I managed to remove it from your person discreetly.”

He had absolutely no recollection of that but he was glad Snape had the foresight to do it.

“Well thanks…” there was a slight awkwardness, Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to attribute it to.

He made a sudden move to stand, pushing himself of the ground using his arm. He immediately remembered his shoulder as it pinged uncomfortably. He was glad the potions still were effective.

Snape looked ready to jump up, as if he were about to fall. He tried to appear a little steadier.

“You really should be careful with that. I’m sure at least your shoulder blade is broken, Pomfrey would be able to do a better job than I. For now I simply put a stasis charm to stop it from moving and applied a few charms to heal the muscle surronding it.”

“Its fine. I’ve had worse.”

Snape brow furrowed deeply, “The fact that you’ve had worse does very little to reassure me and certainly does not take away from the importance of your current situation.”

Taken by surprise, he didn’t really have reply. “Uh… well… it doesn’t really matter. We have a stone to find right?”

Snape left him in silence which certainly didn’t help the awkwardness.

***

They were close, he didn’t actually know for certain but Severus instinct told him they were close. Every winding walk way, shifting rock and dark passage had him expecting to see something around each corner. Of course, he was disappointed every time.

He kept an eye Potter, seeing through of course, the blatant attempts at appearing unharmed. He disliked being put in this situation, there were so many things going wrong. Potter was injured, the Dark Lord had called him and he had not come, they was another group searching for the stone; although surely after the fire he’d set they’d been….. set back.

When they got back he almost wasn’t sure what his first steps would be. Drop Potter in the hospital wing, secure the stone with Albus, answer and plead for forgiveness from the Dark Lord. Then if he survived that in one piece he’d have some choice questions for Albus.

“Uh, Sir?”

Of course, they’d have to actually get back first.

“Yes?”

“Umm I don’t really remember much clearly from my time with …them, but they did mention this door. I think, maybe, they’ve got to the door and been stuck. Like maybe that’s the final step, and you gotta speak parseltongue to open it. I’m pretty sure that’s why they kept me alive.”

A door, that was what they were looking for, if Potter war correct. Seemed so…. mundane.

“And this door, did they mention a location?”

From the edge of his vision he saw Potter shake his head. Of course not.

Now that he knew what he was searching for almost everything seemed like a door. A stack of rocks, a large crack. He briefly wondered if Potter saw it too.

There was a very soft noise, he strained his ears to even be able to hear it. When he heard it properly it was clearly recognisable as a water drop’s echo. He listened for the next one but something interrupted it

“Water? down here?”

“Shhhhh!”

He heard it again, clear as a bell being struck. Deciding they may talk, he started.

“Yes, it seems we must be near a body of water.”

“Well we did enter in near the ocean didn’t we?”

It was clear why Potter was no Ravenclaw.

“We’ve traveled days inland, we should be very far away from it by now.”

“Curiouser and curiouser ..”

“What?”

“Don’t worry.” He didn’t bother decoding whatever that had meant.

“Do you think it means we’re close?”

“No idea.”

Their dark tunnel seemed to be getting minutely brighter, it was so gradual at first Severus hadn’t noticed it, but now it was more light than he’d seen in days.

Potter glanced at him, coming to the same conclusion.

He dampened his own Lumos and it was still light light enough for him to make out the shapes of the rocks beneath him. Finally, they came across a skylight.

There was a whole in the ceiling, all the way to the above ground. Gushing light came through and filled the cavern. He and Potter both stopped to inspect it.

“I suppose its day then.”

He peered through it carefully, his eyes still adjusting to the new light. He couldn’t make out anything more than the sky it led up to, not even a cloud.

He began walking away again a fast pace, Potter scrambling after him. He stopped dead a minute later, and was promptly bumped into.

In front of them was a extremely large stone arch, big enough for a giant or troll to fit through. More holes lined the ceiling, illuminating the entire area. The arch was the outline of mahogany door, the grain of the wood deep and smooth. The middle had a crest of sorts; a spiral that, on closer inspection, was a very detailed snake sleeping.

“It’s here.”

For a second he’d believed they’d done it.

Then the cold silver blade was pressed against his throat.

A very burnt and disfigured Thompson appeared in his line of sight.

“Finally.”