1. The Convicts.
Years like fruits, full of sweetness, ripe with good future, were extended before the wizarding population of Great Britain. They won their war with darkness that was threatening to overcome them. They won it with little but substantial help from outside. The fight, soon to be known as the "Battle of Hogwarts" was the most brutal hunting game the wizarding world have seen in the twentieth century. Voldemort called for giants, called for werewolves, called for vampires and they came to do his bidding. British wizards had no chance of defending themselves by their own, even if Voldemort was seriously weakened due to one Harry Potter. His army was numerous and far more dangerous than a bunch of Aurors, civilians and teenage wizards.
So, Kingsley Shacklebolt swallowed his pride and called for a help from outside. And to his amazement the help came. But maybe he shouldn't be so amazed after all. Americans were after all known for their wish to be the nation who maintains peace in the world. Immediately after being called, they arrived: forty battle-trained Aurors followed by the special and not that widely advertised division D3.
D3 was what really made the difference. They were dragons or, to be precise, dragons ridden by the Aurors. Kingsley have heard of course that Americans were experimenting with dragon breeding but he was no wiser that they succeeded in producing domesticated ones. They were strange creatures, smaller than the dragon should be, in fact no bigger than three horses put together and rather hairy too. It made Kingsley wander if those dragons were really dragons at all. But they produced fire all right and for their size they were really ferocious so he supposed their genetics made no difference. They took care of giants all by themselves and killed nearly half of the werevolves.
The forces of good have won, albeit with many loses on their side. And while Islands those days were mostly about happiness and hopefulness, Americans spend the post-war time counting their fallen ones. There were tears, followed by funerals. They have lost seventeen Aurors, five dragons and two dragon riders. Americans decided it was worth it, but anyway they called Great Britain for repayment.
Repayment was mostly about money. But British Ministry of Magic decided it will be more meaningful if they added some personal touch to it. Besides, they just have completed an experiment of their own, one that was supposed to unburden the already too-crowded Azkaban and make Dementors unnecessary for the functioning of the prison. Experiment proved to be successful.
So, they gave Americans the convicts.
"Here they are, bastards."
A bulky-looking wizard spit on the ground, seeing the 'cargo' loaded down the gangway ladder into the shore. The convicts looked miserable, even more miserable than they probably looked entering that ship a couple of weeks ago. They were painfully thin, dirty rags covering their bodies, the odor coming from them so powerful that the sour companion of the bulky wizard discreetly cast a smell-repelling charm. Their faces expression ranged from hateful through mistrustful to despaired.
"A sorry bunch," snorted the sour wizard. "Luckily we only have to get them through the mountains. Any idea why the British MoM have decided to send them here the Muggle way?"
"Nope. They probably wanted to punish them even more. Or they thought it funny. You never know with the Brits."
One of the crew came to them to have them sign the acceptance documents. He looked like he was slightly sick. He didn't quite look the wizards in the eyes.
"I have no idea what those lot have done to you", he said as a parting comment. "And probably I don't want to know. But we treated them precisely as we were told to, no light, a minimum of food, no facilities. Some of those were sick. Repeatedly. I am still surprised that none of them have died out of dehydration or something. But here they are so I hope you have no complaints."
"None at all," said the sour wizard and shook man's hand.
They walked from the shore, the convicts shuffling laboriously between two wizards. None of them looked like he had even the slightest inclination to escape. They made a semicircle passing the main harbor on their left where big Muggle cargo ships were docked and walking straight into one of huge magazines. It belonged to the American MoM and inside there were wizarding custom officers working, cataloguing the incoming goods and collecting taxes. The noise was nearly unbearable, however it dropped down when the newcomers entered. The bulky wizard was hearing a lot of whispering, mostly hateful, full of words like "Death Eaters", "murderers" and "bastards". He paid no attention to it. It was normal, people were still sensitive about the tragedy that struck their soldiers. The only thing he was asked to ensure was the relative safety of the convicts. So let the people talk.
He ordered them to wash and change clothes. When they were doing that, he took his time studying one of the small magical devices that was provided along with the convicts. It fitted into the palm, was square with some buttons on it and it has a number ascribed to one of the convicts. According to the manual it was supposed to keep him on check if the magical bindings the convict had on him fail. Some amount of pain was probably included. Of course it was probably going to prove unnecessary as the bindings put on the prisoners ensured that their magical core was suppressed up to no-existance. They were hardly any threat at all.
So he called them after they bathed. It didn't make them less miserable but at least less smelly. He looked at them, then. Really looked at them and understood that Brits were brilliant in their own way. Those faces belonged to the most dangerous men on the planet and now they were truly forced into submission. He felt only contempt for them and hatred was what they answered him with. At least most of them. Some were truly broken, but he approved. The face of one was completely blank, devoid of any feeling. This one has irked him a little.
"What is your name, Death Eater?", he snapped looking at the prisoner, thinner and uglier than the rest of them. Black eyes looked at him like he didn't understand the question.
"One thousand, four hundred seventy three", rasped the convict, his voice rusty from lack of use.
"Your NAME, you ruddy bastard!", demanded the wizard.
"Ah, you mean my civil one", said the man impassively. "This will be Severus Snape, but it's of no use anymore. Call me whatever you like, I will have to answer it anyway"
It was the strangest words he ever heard from a prisoner and he wasn't new to this business. The bulky man scowled. He didn't like any complications and he had a feeling that this man was full of them. He suddenly felt an urge to take the bastard up on it and find him some derogatory pet-name, but he decided no. Somehow he had a feeling that if he did this, the prisoner would have the upper hand over him. Absurd as the thought was.
"Clever one, are we, Snape?", he sneered. "Snape… I wonder where I heard this name. I think it was closely connected to some atrocious crime…"
"Don't overexert yourself", said the prisoner. "I killed Albus Dumbledore. You can find it in all the relevant newspapers."
"So you are famous from being the murderer of the greatest wizard of our times? Very smart of you, Snape."
The prisoner just kept staring at him blankly. One of the other smartasses chuckled. It was a truly horrendous sound. It made little hair on the back of bulky wizard neck stand up. And they were harmless! He wandered how frightening it was to face them when they were armed.
"Yess!", said the smartass. "We are not as famous as our dear Severus here. That's why he got most of the attention of our captors, didn't you, Severus?"
"Shut up, Wilkies", said Snape still without any real feeling.
"All of you shut up", said the bulky wizard, deciding he had enough of them all. "You are going on a very long trip through the mountains, up to the very heart of them. It was decided that magical transportation will be wasted on you so you will be doing this on foot. So better prepare…"
"It would be wasted on us? Who said you such rubbish?.", Snape interrupted him. Bulky wizard gave him his most menacing glare but it had no apparent effect on the bloody murderer. "Magic is lethal for us. You could send us by portkey but we would have arrived dead. But if you want to try anyway, it's fine by me."
God help him, the bastard was apparently suicidal as well. He just hoped he won't try anything during his watch. He felt more and more irritated which could have something to do with the fact that Snape was better informed that him.
"We are leaving tomorrow morning", he snapped. " We are going to Leafland. It's a magical village and a base of Auror division. You are supposed to be digging out mud and stones there as they are rebuilding right now. It will be dirty, nasty, heavy work. One that suits the scum like you."
No one have said anything after that. They just stared. Good. Maybe they finally understood what laid ahead of them. The bulky wizard was hoping it will be extremely unpleasant. He bid them good night, thinking it will be the best one they will get in times to come. Tomorrow maybe he will check if the clever magical boxes were functional. Just in case.
Logically he knew they were trekking through one of the most impressive American national parks and maybe he should be amazed. Something like year ago he would have sneered at the amazement. Now he just felt numb. On the most physical of levels he also was extremely tired, too hot and maybe a tad dehydrated, even if water was the only thing they had plenty of. It fell in cascades, flow in rivulets straight from the rock, appeared and disappeared in the green floor of the forest. Never in his life he saw so much wilderness as here in the very heart of Sierra Nevada.
But he didn't care. When the show of sun setting over the glistening mountain tops started later this day he knew that most people would call it impressive or beautiful. He just rose his tired eyes and stared. He never felt more misplaced. The feeling was eerie, like floating under the water without drowning.
But mostly it was just about numbness. It soaked through him during those long long nights which he didn't care to remember. There have been time for shrieks of outrage, for anger, for demands, for despair. It didn't help his situation, maybe even made all of it worse. At least numbness was manageable. It helped to live, even if it was the life of a looser. The man condemned because of his stupidity.
Sometimes he still looked at the two silver bands. Thin and innocent-looking they were wrapping around his hand and leg like bracelets. But he knew there were no shackles in the whole world, no chains that weighted more. He didn't care to remember how they were put there. Two fools leading the group of prisoners probably had no idea of their true nature. Of the ultimate entrapment they represented.
Yes, it looked like Severus Snape was going to live the rest of his life as a slave.
It will probably be a very short life too. After a couple of days spent travelling by foot through mountains, he felt the permanent exhaustion getting almost too deep to bear. He never was in good physical shape and poor food and even poorer sleep didn't help. It was on trembling legs he greeted Leafland.
There were onlookers, of course. Many of them. Probably half of the village wanted to see the evil Death Eaters turned slaves. They welcomed them as warmly as it could be predicted. As soon as convicts got in the line of sight of the mob the cursing and filthy names calling began followed with a fair amount of spit and other, often rotting, objects. Some villagers wanted to get physical with them but none have risen a wand against them and that made Severus wonder a little. Was it a precaution or a custom? He have heard pretty strange things about those American wizards. It appeared as every wizarding village had a distinct set of laws and at times they were pretty bizzare.
Well, apart from that they behaved exactly as they were supposed to. Superior. Righteously angered. Scornful. They were as easy to hate as British folk and if Severus have still cared, he would have shot at them a biting comment or two. But he didn't so he just walked through indifferent to the abuse; after all it was nothing comparing to what he went through before coming to this strange country. Those nights he didn't care to remember.
They were herded to a place that looked like a stone-pit. There were stone walls in which he could see many shallow caves. On the floor of said stone-pit big heaps of rocks, soil and other elements of lithosphere were stored and between them he could see some Muggle machines. Around them mountains grew and on one of them he could barely discern an outline of complex of buildings. It was already too dark and he was desperate for some sleep, but it seemed that they were not off the leash yet.
Then the bastard who was supposed to order them around have appeared. Severus knew the type. He was muscular with a meaty neck and a round head. His little eyes were looking at them appraisingly and his smile was like a wriggling worm. He probably got a hard-on just thinking about amount of pain he was going to cause them. He was also dangerous because of being too stupid to know where to stop. Severus already felt a little sorry about those of his colleagues who will be reckless enough to cross him.
"I hate you all", said the Bastard. "Tomorrow you are going to understand what work is about. Real work."
He does not think. He does not feel. Numbness wraps around him like a warm blanket.
He just digs.
A hack clinks against the hardest parts of rock, the power of the hit like an electrical current goes up his arm. The shovel scratches the floor. Gravel crunches under the feet. Sometimes he has to use bare hands. Its stuffy down here, full of air recycled too many times. He is drenched with sweat, covered with mud. Digging. Like a lowest Muggle. Severus Snape would have sooner died than allowed himself to sink so low but the Convict knows there is no way out of here. He brought it upon himself so the only thing left is to suffer the consequences.
So on he digs. Not stopping once to wonder why and for whom they are doing this. After all he knows why they are here, in this place. A couple of days have passed, maybe even two weeks. The Bastard lets them sleep for six hours, they have to work sixteen. His body does not agree with such abuse. He is getting weaker every day, he loses appetite and soon he cannot stomach this dog food they are given.
"Eat it, I can't", he says roughly, showing his bowl in the direction of other Death Eater. His colleague does not hesitate in cleaning it. Severus looks at him apathetically.
Death is knocking at his door. He just knows it.
"Today we will be taking some fresh air", said the Bastard. "Aurors need a new building near their headquaters and you, my friends, will dig for the foundation. The rock is really hard up there, so it should be fun for you"
The joke was weakest of the weak. The only one smiling was the Bastard. Prisoners looked at him with hatred, especially those who beared signs of his maltreatment – he so loved to use the magical devices provided him by the British MoM.
Snape only shrugged internally and followed him up. The road was long and winding. Before they got to the top he felt like all remaining forces were sucked out of his body. And they haven't even began.
The main building of Auror's Headquaters was standing on a small upland overlooking Leafland. The village from this perspective looked like it was squeezed in between mountains, the valley big enough to fit one main street, the rest of the houses build on the steep hillside. The headquaters were made from the same stone they were so laborously digging out and looked, above all, practical. The building was rather low but at the same time taking up much of the flat space, and three pairs of sliding door leading into the building were huge enough for a full-sized mountain troll to go through without hitting his head. They were closed right now and only a couple of wizards in blue-grey working robes, staff probably, was present.
Severus wasn't given much time to admire the view or to wander about the strange outlook of the headquaters. Not that he was inclined to do it. The shovel was shoved at him and he buried it in the ground. The soil was hard and unyelding here. Half an hour have passed and he already felt like he was to faint at any moment. The sun was biting at his nape, his vision was tunelling and his hands shook slightly. Idly, he wandered what the Bastard would do if he lost consciousness. Probably, he would drop him from the top of some mountain just to see his body breaking on the rocks.
Out of sudden, there was a strangled outcry from one of the prisoners. He looked up from the pitfully small hole he have managed to dig and he saw three long shapes, like arrows, speeding through the air in their direction. Most of his collegues stopped digging and stared.
"What are you gaping at?", snarled the Bastard. "You have already seen our dragons, haven't you? They won't eat you. Probably."
Three shapes turned into slender beasts, two of them green and one marron. Ther was a man on the top of each dragon. The beasts landed gracefully in the middle of the plane few hundred metters from them - or at least the two green ones did so. The marron one looked like it was having some hysterical fit. It snarled a couple of times and shook its right wing. The man that was mounting it jumped down and tried to get to said wing but the dragon will have nothing of it. It snarled again, right into the man's face. The rider looked unfazed by it.
"... getting absurd, Amaranth! It's just some spines, you are not going to be crippled by it! Derek will pull it out in no time... Stop it! I know you don't like Derek but you will survive!", the angered voice of the rider carried to them.
"Oy, Martin!", called one of the staff. "Need some help?"
"Thanks, I will manage... Hey, Amaranth, where the hell you think you are going?"
The dragon obviously just noticed the prisoners and out of sudden he seemed to forgot about the injured wing. Staring at them with an immense curiosity of a wild beast it was quickly approaching. A few jumps and it came within striking distance of them. People around Severus backed off gathering around the Bastard who, to Snape's immense satisfaction, for once looked as frightened as the rest of them. There were hushed whispers or just terrified looks.
Severus stayed just where he was. Even if he cared enough to run, he, for the very first time since arriving here, felt a little spike of curiosity. The beast was at least three heads taller than him and it's teeth looked very sharp but for the moment it didn't look like it was preparing itself for a kill. Huge greenish eyes with vertical pupils stared at him for a long moment and then the dragon's triangular snout came up to his face... and it sniffed at him. Severus felt a sudden dryness in his mounth, his heart quickened. He had no idea how to behave, so he just stood motionless. He remembered very well those beasts tearing viciously at the giants. This one looked... civilized. But to which extent he had no idea. This was a bloody dragon, after all, they were not supposed to be domesticated.
Suddendly it turned it's head and snarled something at the rider who was trying to approach it. The rider stopped and huffed looking offended for some reason. Then the beast stared back at Severus. Out of sudden it stuck out it's right wing to Severus looking a little... expectant?
"He wants you to help him, Death Eater", said the Bastard with a slightly quivering voice. "Better apply yourself to it if you doesn't want your head bitten off."
Severus swallowed convulsively. He was always meticulous with his potions so he could manage it. Or so he told himself. He walked slowly to the right side of the dragon and took the wing in one of his very dirty hands. It was warm under his fingers. He saw cactus pines sticking from it, some of them nearly translucent and barely visible. One by one he began pulling them off. It was slow going, time consuming work and all the time he felt the dragon breathing down his neck. But that was not worse than prepering some of his more dangerous brews. After a while he began to relax. He even smirked a little at hushed whispering behind his back. Cowards, all of them.
"There, I think I pulled out all of it", he said finally, looking at the dragon. The beast shook its wing experimentally and folded it. Then it gave Severus what could be considered a very toothy smile and when Snape thought it was the end of it dragon unexpectedly touched his forehead with the snout.
Out of sudden magic, strange and overpowering, flew through his body. Snape freezed at the unfamiliarity of the feeling. As quick as it started it ended and the dragon was trotting back to his irritated rider. But Severus still felt inexplicably better, like his lost strenght was back.
The things got back to normal very quickly and soon they were digging again, Severus with more vigor he felt for many days past. But it looked like something more shifted in him. The numbness wasn't so overpowering now and next time he noticed he was wandering. Analysing. Like a little of his old self crept back to him.
Dragons. Curious.
What the hell was that, Amaranth?
I was just curious. They are new people here, and they smell different, answered the insufferable beast.
So you've just decided to frighten the squirming flobberworm out of them?
Why do you care? Yo have said they are evil. Killers of our kind.
You didn't look very disgusted by them. In fact you decided to ask one of them for help. What made you do it, for Merlin's sake?
Some of them are evil. Others just miserable. But the one that wasn't frightened interested me. The dragon's eyes glittered. He's not evil, maybe just lost. He smelled of despair... but he also smelled of dragon.
Martin stared at his beast. He couldn't say he understood any of it. Amaranth looked like he was secretly laughing at him.
He doesn't look like a dragon so what the hell are you talking about?
You people are so shallow sometimes. I am talking about him, not his body shape. What do you think when you think: dragon?
Martin frowned. Sometimes he hated when Amaranth got philosophical with him.
You mean traits? Fierce. Wild. Loyal to the extreme. Protective. Dangerous when crossed.
So you know what I mean. He smells of dragon.
So that's why you asked him for help?
No. The dragon was openly laughing now. I did it because I know that if somebody is threated with death, he gets very cautious. If I've let Derek pull out those spines, it would mean even more pain that acquiring them. This way it was a lot more comfortable.
So you used that guy? You swine!
What? Swine? I am a dragon!
You are a crossbreed with no conscience at all.
In fact I have more than your lot. I gave him something in return. A small part of my life force. That real swine that is in charge of him probably never noticed, but the guy is one step from death of exhaustion.
Martin stared at him incredously. You gave your life force... to a bloody Death Eater?
The beast grinned again. I have helped a fellow dragon. Now go away, I need some time for myself.
And like that Martin was kicked out the box of his dragon. Sighing once and again he walked through the stables, greeting fellow Aurors on his way out. The words of Amaranth were ringing through his head... Well no words, more like thoughts and feelings filtered through those parts of Martin's brain that held his knowledge of English. But the feelings were clear. Amaranth strongly disapproved of harsh treatment of Death Eater prisoners and thought at least one of them worth saving.
Of course the dragon was not going to move one paw to do anything about it. He, like all of them, was believing that human problems should be resolved by human means. He was just stating his opinion. The rest was left with Martin and he, a soft-hearted fool that he was, found himself already agreeing with him. Part of it derived from the fact that in the last twenty five years Amaranth was never wrong when it came to the human nature. But mostly it was about Martin mellowness, he supposed. Many of his colleagues had pointed it out to him that he was not hard enough for an Auror. But they were the same people who sneered at his sexual orientation so he just ignored their comments.
So this evening, instead of going to the resteurant with his new lover, he found himself in the village's library, looking through the last year's press, both American and British one. If he was to do anything, first he wanted to get prepared. He was going to get to the bottom of the history of convicted Death Eaters.
A/N: This story was in may head for many years now. Now I have decided to put it, as they say, on paper. This is the tale of emotional journey of a group of people whose life was destroyed by the second war with Voldemort. Severus Snape plays the main role but you will be seeing some orginal characters too. Between them starring: american Aurors, american folk and, of course, dragons. Brits will appear causing a lot of mayhem, but, as the story starts in the US, you will have to wait for them a little bit longer. The story is very AU from the point when the battle of Hogwarts starts – well, as in the book it was not very convincing, I've decided to change the story from there. Up to that moment it follows the books to the letter, so yes, Snape was the Headmaster and yes, Harry has found and destroyed Voldemort's Horcruxes.
I am shamelessly borrowing the dragon riders theme known from so many different fantasy books it's hard to count... Anne McCaffrey being the first lady. So I guess she should be recognised right here as she was the one who put the deliciously wicked idea of joined minds into my head. I'm using it for my nefarious purposes, but the originality of it is definitely hers.
Anyway I hope that you are going to like my story and show me some of that feeling by leaving reviews. You know I count on you. Leo.