Potions meant for ascertaining a person’s whereabouts were not easy to make, nor were they easy to understand. They had strange responses, and half the difficulty of them lay not in their actual creation but in understanding what they were telling you.
Severus had been poring over several texts about the subject, still not completely sure which he wanted to use, or if any. At the moment the ministry couldn’t find the Potter child, his wand was with Severus (him having taken the trunk) and whoever had taken the child had powerful wards against charms. However, many witches and wizards were less adept at warding against potions, many didn’t even think of potions a threat. They weren’t wrong considering that most were difficult to brew, and, as Severus knew, difficult to use.
The owl gave a low hiss and Severus glanced over at the thing to see that it was still eyeing him with what he thought was as close to hatred that an animal could convey.
Severus shook his head, wishing the bloody thing would leave him alone. He was trying to save its bratty familiar, not harm him, or for that matter harm the bloody animal either.
He turned back to the rhenium cauldron and hoped to Merlin that his attempts didn’t ruin one of the most expensive items he owned. Cauldrons made in rare metals were not common, and they usually were only good for a very specific set of potions. In this case rhenium would hopefully increase the potency of the tracking potion he intended on using. He needed its potency increased, the potion relied upon the relation to the person sought, and though Severus had spent nearly two years near the boy on a daily basis (at least at school) it was slight enough that the effects of the potion might not come through.
Positive, warm thoughts were needed, a genuine and well-intentioned desire to find the person you sought was important as well. The potion had originally been developed by mothers to be able to identify children way back when infertility was high and stealing a child common in the wizarding community.
Severus glanced at this bookmarked potion. He had searched for another option, but all the others weren’t feasible or they required things which Severus could not provide.
This potion was likely his only option. With a soft sigh he glanced back over it. He’d already taken detailed notes, had annotated as needed, and he had gathered all the ingredients. It would take mere hours to brew it.
“Well, it will have to do,” he muttered, swiftly standing and moving over to where his potions were laid out.
The owl let out a keening wail and Severus turned to see its amber eyes staring at him imploringly. He shook his head, he needed to find Potter soon. An investigation had already been opened against Albus Dumbledore, accusations of him having conducted the kidnapping, while in the newspapers two stories warred: one which painted Sirius Black as the kidnapper and possible killer, and the other one which was attempting to drag Dumbledore’s name through the mud.
Clearing his mind, Severus began carefully preparing the first ingredients.
XxX
Harry woke to pain, that and an awkward cramped feeling in his entire body as he was jostled. Someone was carrying him, much like how one would carry a small child. He protested at the idea, but the pain was too much and all he could do was keep from crying out. Blinking his eyes open he was shocked to see that it was pitch black, he could see nothing.
“Harry? Harry you’re awake?”
Harry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. His throat was dry, and his chest felt so heavy.
“Hold on, child, we’ll get you a healer, don’t worry.”
Harry could say nothing, closing his eyes again and wishing that the pain would go away. The jostling continued, whoever was holding him walking at a very brisk pace. Harry tried to stay awake, but it was impossible and he found himself drifting off in a sea of pain.
XxX
It took ten hours of nearly non-stop work to get the potion right, but considering some potions he had made, this one came together quickly. Standing in front of the rhenium cauldron, its color a strange turquoise, the metal reacting to the potion inside it, Severus stared down at the fluorescent colored mixture.
It would be ready to ingest in another five minutes. He pondered what would happen next. If it truly was Black, he would enjoy making the man suffer, but the idea that the boy was already dead was a strong possibility. Other possible perpetrators were other death eaters, ones still loyal like Lestrange and Crouch, yet they were still in Azkaban. Were there others who would and could take the boy? Voldemort had loved to play games, and keeping the identities of his servants hidden was one of them.
And if a death eater had taken the boy, what had they done to him? Was Harry Potter still Harry Potter? He’d seen the Longbottoms, and countless muggles, after their bouts with the cruciatus. A speck of grief had bloomed in chest in the last hours as he considered what he would find. There was also the matter of the evidence in the house which pointed at possible neglect, maybe more as Severus knew too well how easily those sorts of things could be hid. What would Lily say to it all?
He let out another heavy sigh and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His summer had turned into a mess because of Potter, and by extension his own many past mistakes. The brat was only a target because of having supposedly defeated the Dark Lord, and Severus knew that that had been made possible by his own choices.
A soft humm issued throughout the room. Severus’ head came up. His timer, he could put his potion to the test. He drew a glass up and with a willow ladle he poured about 100mL in. He eyed it distastefully, remembering the instructions. He had to want to find Potter, and he had to have some sort of positive feelings in regards to the boy. His mind went to Lily, to her face, to the way her nose scrunched up when she laughed, care tossed to the wind and her entire body laughing with her. He smiled, letting himself forget that she was dead. Then he let the name Harry come to mind, thinking of how Lily would want her son safe.
He knocked back the potion and waited.
Several seconds passed before a warm tug in his navel pulled at him. He frowned, drawing his wand. It tugged again, soft but insistent. It seemed to want him to go somewhere. Severus glanced over at the snowy owl which was now watching him with sharp eyes. He approached her cage and unlatched it. The creature sprang out, hopping onto his arm and then moving to his shoulder. It nipped his ear, but not too hard, then it let out a cry.
Severus raised his wand, magic responding to the potion and telling him where to go. With an audible pop, they disappeared from the potions lab of Spinner’s End.
XxX
Professor Severus Snape reappeared in a place which was not familiar to him. Rolling plains, all nearly flat, stretched out in front of him. Turning, he saw hills which crested in rough rock. Large animals he didn’t recognize initially speckled the landscape. He blinked, they were chiru. Frowning, he realized that he was not in Great Britain anymore, nor anywhere near it.
The tug in his navel was still present, and he glanced at his companion. The owl was huddled on his shoulder, bright amber eyes wide and glinting. The thing looked shaken. Severus began walking, realizing that he couldn’t apparate closer. This potion would only take him so far, his relation to Harry Potter not strong enough to bring him all the way, and his temporary emotions already waning. As he continued in the direction of the tug, it grew fainter and fainter until it disappeared.
He stood there, staring at the rough crests of rock which seemed to capriciously sprout from the ground. Then he looked at his charge. The owl clicked her beak and let out a soft hoot. She blinked. All her aggression from earlier seemed to have dissipated. Mercurial passerine, Severus thought to himself.
“Where is he?” Severus whispered softly.
The bird blinked again before her head swivelled away. She spread her wings and hopped to his forearm. Sensing what she wanted, he threw his arm up and watched her shoot up into the sky. The snowy owl spread her wings and coasted before letting out a raucous cry and beginning to advance in a certain direction. Severus followed.
Minutes slipped by, the owl circling back every so often so as to not lose him, and eventually they came to a hill. They came to the top, and the view of a small valley was revealed, a small grouping of yurts was sprawled about fifty meters from Severus, and several qianlima. The large, black beasts -scales glittering in the sun- were wandering quite innocently around the area, and one was munching on the corpse of a chiru. Though quite similar to horses, they were a foot taller and had scales which covered their entire body.
Drawing his wand, Severus carefully edged closer. As he reached the encampment, one of the horses snorted softly, lifting its head to look at him. Severus froze, unsure if the beast would attack. It knickered quietly and turned its head away. Severus frowned, magical creatures were usually particular about who they let near them, they weren’t this friendly unless they knew the witch or wizard. It wouldn’t do to waste time on it for now, he needed to get to Potter and then get out of there.
“Point me Potter,” he said softly, flourishing his wand.
A small light burst from the end and flew away from him. It paused above the entrance of one of the yurts. Severus advanced, wand held tight and his breath steady.
Raising his hand, he pulled the cloth entrance aside. Inside the yurt was lighted by a few large orbs of light which looked like small creatures, like scaleless wyrms dancing in circles. Severus did not know what they were. Below these were three figures, one was clearly Potter, the child layed out, asleep or unconscious, and looking very ill.
There were two figures kneeling next to the boy, one of them gently pushing the boy’s hair back. The hand, dressed in rings and a bracelet, was oddly familiar, however this person’s back was completely to Severus. The other was an old woman who was only partially turned, and her grey hair fell loosely about her shoulders.
“He will recover in a few more days time, but his eyes, you need magic I don’t have,” the woman said.
Severus felt his brain freeze at the next statement.
“Thank you, Lorna.”
The voice was Severus’ own. The figure drew their hand back and straightened, they began to get up and as they turned, Severus saw himself rise. His brain ran through the slim possibilities that he knew of and settled on the only feasible one. Someone had taken polyjuice and was currently impersonating him.
Without wasting a moment, Severus spat out a curse. Red light illuminated the yurt, the light creatures screeching and flying up. The structure collapsed and the next few moments turned into chaos. Throwing himself forward, Severus ignored the walls of the structure which were quickly falling inward, his eyes only on Potter’s form. He was sidelined, a body plowing into his own and bringing him to the ground.
Hands struck out, the cloth having fallen and obscured everything, Severus struck back, floundering for his wand which he had dropped. A harshly whispered spell brought it to his hands, flourishing it, the constricting fabric turned into a thick swarm of moths. They beat against his face, so thick he could barely see, but they were quickly thinning.
Standing several feet away, his doppelganger stood, Potter draped in his arms. His own coal black eyes stared back at him and Severus felt the overwhelming prescience that this was not the effects of polyjuice. His pause cost him.
He raised his wand, but the old woman had reappeared, a sharp whistle issuing from her. The qianlima let out a roaring screech, and Severus had to quickly dodge out of the way as one threw itself at him, needle like teeth barely missing him. There was a brilliant flash of light and Potter and Severus’ double disappeared.
Severus dodged out of the way of another qianlima, and with a half second’s thought whipped his wand up, disappearing with a loud pop.
He landed a hundred meters away, gasping for breath after the tumultuous confrontation. The screech of the snowy white owl caused him to look up and see Potter’s bird descending. His eyes turned to where the qianlima were still rampaging in their search of him, the old woman standing in the center of it.
Severus let himself catch his breath, the owl landing on his shoulder. His mind was racing through the facts. If it was polyjuice, he had few means of tracking the impostor. But, if it was something else, tracking himself would be easier.
Chapter 3: Descent into Hell
To be continued...