Chapter 3 - The Return

Hi Everyone,

This is just a short note to thank you for your patience. Sorry about the delay in getting back to you, but I have just arrived back home. I will try to post more regularly from now on, although I am sure you will understand if things are a little hectic during the actual Christmas/New Year period.

Just wanted to say that I got through all my exams, so I am now two thirds of the way through my university course. By this time next year I will be looking for work! I am already excited.

Take care everyone, and if I don't post again before Christmas, please have a pleasant and safe time.

Karren.

*****

The blonde haired woman walked quietly through the Forbidden Forest listening to the creatures that dwelled there moving away from her. She remembered this place well, or at least would have had she ever been there, she thought. It was still dark and silent as it always had been, but there was a new energy in the darkness of the forest, and she realised it was the souls of the dead rising. Whatever dark magic Voldemort was using, she assumed it was him, had made the dead unhappy, stirring them from sleep into renewed activity. It made her shiver, it had been a lifetime since she had faced such darkness and she wondered if she was ready, not that she had an option. This was what she had come here for. Her whole life had been spent preparing for this moment.

There was a ripple of energy a little way ahead of her in the gloom. It made her shiver. The energy felt black, not just dark, but black. It was a sign of true evil. Irina sighed and prepared herself. Wand drawn, the gentle blue glow emanating from the sapphire crystal it was made of lighting the path in front of her slightly, she moved cautiously towards the energy source.

"Luminos." She breathed quietly when she reached the point of the energy surge. The tip of the wand glowed with an intensely white light that lit her surroundings and thrust the darkness of the forest back. The light revealed what appeared to be a large pile of black rags just ahead of Irina in a clearing. She realised with a start, that it was in fact a body, but there was not much energy being emitted from it. Whoever the darkly clad man or woman was, they were as close to death as one could be without passing through the veil.

Irina moved quickly to the body and held her wand against it. "Medica Parinate." Energy passed down Irina's wand, into the fallen body, and she waited while it moved through the body before returning to her. She gasped as she realised the extent of the damage. If she hadn't been there to help, if no one had been there, this poor soul would have been dead within minutes.

Kneeling now, she gently took the body and rolled it over onto its back. Irina's pale cheeks grew paler. She knew this man.

Snape felt hands take his shoulders and gently roll him over. Barely still alive, barely conscious of anything, he still heard the small, sharp, intake of breath. He struggled to open his eyes, wondering who was disturbing his death. The face of a woman emerged from the haze of darkness in his eyes. He was almost reluctant to let go of the opportunity to escape life, but the woman's eyes drew him back. Those eyes were the most beautiful he had ever seen, except perhaps for one other person's, and she had left him a lifetime ago.

He drew in a straggling breath, then another, before his throat closed over and he almost choked. He panicked, unable to draw air into his lungs. Suddenly there was a gentle hand on his face, and soothing words rolled over him.

"Quiet, be peaceful. Don't struggle, you will only make it worse."

He paid heed to the stranger, using his iron will to control the rising panic and his throat opened as he relaxed again.

Irina watched, as fear grew in the dark haired man's eyes then receded. Good, she thought, at least he was capable of reason; that showed his mind was still intact. "You will be alright, but you have to relax. You have been badly injured both by physical and magical abuse. I have sent a healing charm into you, but it needs a little more time to work. Let it do its job."

Snape closed his eyes and listened to the soothing voice. It clearly belonged to a foreigner. Her English was perfect, but there was the slightest hint of an accent. The sound of kindness was such a beautiful melody that he vowed that should he survive he would follow this woman anywhere.

Irina waited while Snape calmed down. As he relaxed, his breathing eased, and her healing charm took effect. As he recovered, she relaxed, grateful again for her extensive and varied training. A Mediwitch would never have arrived in time to save him. It was only luck that had found her in the forest at just the right time to maintain his life.

Snape tried to sit, but he didn't have the strength. He was surprised when the woman put an arm around his shoulder and drew him upwards. "Thank you." He hardly recognised his own voice, his recent, close shave with death having reduced his normally sonorous tones to a jagged, hoarse sound that barely resembled a voice at all.

Irina smiled. "It is my pleasure. How do you feel?"

"Two minutes ago I was dying, and glad to be - there is nothing in my life to live for after all. Now I am alive and while I am not entirely pleased with that I am grateful to you for helping me."

Irina's heart cried out at the thought that the dark haired man had so desired death as a release from his life. He was as bad as the Headmaster had said in his last letter, if not worse. He had accepted her help this time; it didn't mean he would accept her help again. She was, in fact, almost entirely certain that he wouldn't. After the treatment he had received, she wasn't surprised he didn't know how to hope and trust.

She smiled gently at him. "Do you think you are ready to stand?"

"I think so." Snape was surprised at the speed that he was recovering. Whoever this pale woman was, her magic was strong and she had put a lot of energy into her healing charm. He almost felt as though he had never even been hurt. Almost.

Irina stood and reached down to assist Snape to his feet. He rose somewhat unsteadily, and briefly she thought he might fall again. When he steadied, she released the breath she had been holding. Happy he was able to stand without support, Irina moved away slightly to give him room. As she stepped back she noticed something fall from within his robes, now that he was upright again. It was a white mask, a Death Eater's mask! Instinctively, Irina recoiled from the object, knowing exactly what it stood for. It was precisely the wrong thing to do, but she couldn't control the involuntary action.

Snape stiffened at her reaction; he was unsurprised that Voldemort would return him WITH his mask; it branded him as surely as the mark on his arm did. It spoke of the bearer's capacity for hatred. It hid the faces of those most evil, beings that had performed untold acts of cruelty against the innocent. Those with such black souls showed no mercy and deserved none in return. It was no surprise that she had recoiled, he thought, she was clearly untainted by the evil that filled his soul. He doubted she had ever known such evil.

"I - I -."

"Don't bother apologising." He said in his coldest voice. "There is no point. We both know what that means. Thank you for your help, but I suggest you leave now." Snape spoke quickly, the coldness of his soul hardening his eyes and voice. "It is not safe here for the likes of you."

Irina looked at him then nodded, realising that fighting now would only make things worse later. "You may well be right."

Snape turned from the woman, almost reluctantly, knowing only too well that those eyes would haunt him the rest of his life, just as those of another already did. "Goodbye." He walked slowly, almost tentatively, away.

Irina watched as the darkly clad man disappeared into the distance. It was clear that he still wasn't completely healed but she knew he would accept no more help for the moment. "Perhaps not for ever Severus Snape." She said quietly to the departing figure.

***

Dumbledore watched as the small, black-clad figure trudged slowly back towards the castle. He had clearly been seriously injured during the latest Death Eater meeting. He was almost angry with the younger man for not telling him he had been called, but that anger was mixed with a large measure of guilt and an equally large measure of concern. He was asking too much of his Potions Master, and the time was fast approaching when the young man would be beyond help or redemption. He only hoped it wasn't already too late, and that his new Professor would be able to make some sort of positive impact on the young man when she arrived.

He turned back towards his guests. "Alastor, Remus, I must ask you to be kind to Severus. He is under a great deal of pressure at the moment and I don't want any stray comments from either of you to push him too far. His sanity is balanced on a knife-edge as it is and we can't afford to loose him. Besides, he deserves gratitude for his sacrifices."

Moody grunted. "Albus, the boy is still a Death Eater. We both know that death is the only way to escape that. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater."

Dumbledore looked at his old friend. "You may be right Alastor, but the boy has died many times over for us. I understand how hard this is for you, but please try to be tolerant for me. He made a terrible decision when he was younger, but I have made many since then. His torment is great enough without you adding to his burden. I am sure you will see this for yourself when he returns."

"Well," the gruff ex-auror grumbled, looking out of the window again, "I suppose I can TRY to be tolerant AND forgetful. Just remember, the first time he tries to hex me he dies. I want that clearly understood. I won't tolerate that type of behaviour from filth like him."

"I am sure he will not try anything of the kind Alastor. Right now I don't think he has it in him, neither the energy, nor the desire."

Lupin moved to the window and watched the lonely figure as he approached. "Yes," he said quietly, understanding the Potions Master's aloneness well. "I think you are right Headmaster, he is clearly weary of the fight. I wonder how much longer he will be able to continue. I -." The quiet man paused, considering his next words. "I admit to having mixed feelings about him in the past, but those days are long gone. Regardless of the fact that he told everyone of my condition, I don't bear him a grudge. He was simply responding to what happened while we were students. I can hardly blame him - he suffered terribly at our hands. I am actually surprised that he found it in himself to brew me Wolfsbane, clearly that was an act of a contrite soul. I shall endeavour not to exacerbate his problems."

Remus remembered with a start that Severus had not only brewed his Wolfsbane during his last stint as a Hogwarts professor, but he had actually created the potion in the first place, with some help, as part of his advanced potions thesis. It had probably been created in an effort to protect himself from further attacks, after the trauma that had been inflicted by the almost fatal episode in the Shrieking Shack.

Remus shuddered at the memory of how close he had come to killing the dark haired boy. Sirius was an irresponsible fool for playing such a potentially dangerous prank. It wasn't even funny, at least not to the two boys most involved. Remus had suffered nightmares for months afterwards - he expected that for Snape, the nightmares had probably lasted for years, if they had truly left him yet.

Snape had been forced into a life debt that night, one that would continue to punish him until he died. Remus thought that he should have borne a life debt too. If he had managed to kill the Slytherin, he would never have survived. As it was, very few had found out about his condition after that episode, and that was mainly due to the honour of the man he had almost killed.

Snape, probably through fear or embarrassment, had not told more than two or three people, and only a small, pureblood group of Slytherins, those that had gone on to become Voldemort's closest followers had cared anyway. Fortunately for Remus, and unfortunately for his victim, the tormented dark- haired wizard, Dumbledore had sided with the Gryffindor trio and had facilitated his continued education by protecting him from further speculation.

The Slytherin boy had received no such support, and he knew he still bore the scars of that slight. Even now, he still felt victimised - that was the reason that he so willingly risked his life by spying for the light - he hoped that it would earn him some measure of consideration. Unbeknown to Snape, he had earned more than mere consideration many years ago due to his efforts. Dumbledore and the Order held the dark haired man in such high esteem for his work that they were truly worried that they might drive him too far by their requests, and there had been occasions when alternative arrangements had been made to save the dark haired man from further burdens.

"Thank you both. I realise how hard it is for you, but please try to remember that he sees that you both have friends and support while he has none. I wish he would realise how wrong he is, but I am afraid that it is too late for that. Loneliness and his crimes have forced him to close himself to friendship and companionship. He neither accepts it nor gives it. All he knows is loyalty, honour, service and pain, and sadly I am responsible for most of it, particularly the pain."

"But not the sole bearer of responsibility Professor Dumbledore."

The three men turned from their contemplation of the Potions Master, and looked at the young woman who had entered the office unnoticed. "Professor Ivanov," Dumbledore smiled, delighted at the woman's arrival, "or should that be Tsarina?"

"Please, call me Irina, particularly in private."

"Only if you agree to call me Albus."

The fair skinned, blond haired woman shook her head. "No, Headmaster, I do not think that would be appropriate."

Dumbledore nodded. "As you wish my dear." He turned to his two colleagues. "Alastor, Remus, I would like to introduce you to Professor Irina Ivanov, Tsarina of the Russian Wizarding Community."

Both wizards bowed. "Your Highness."

"Please, Gentlemen, it is unnecessary for such formalities. I am here only as a Professor, not as anything else. Please call me Irina."

Alastor straightened and moved forward, offering his hand. "Irina it is then. I am Alastor Moody. A lifetime ago I was an Auror. Now I am reduced to teaching students Defence skills, as you are. I will enjoy working with you. Your reputation is well known, even this far from your homeland. I, for one, am grateful that you were able to join us."

Irina moved forward and held out her hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you Alastor. I believe I will enjoy working with you." She smiled then turned to Lupin. "That means that you must be Remus Lupin, the Werewolf. It is a pleasure to meet you also." She offered her hand.

Lupin looked at the woman, almost embarrassed by his scruffy appearance. It was true then, he hadn't believed it when Dumbledore had told him, but it seemed that he was to be working with one of the noblest personages within the wizarding world. He felt inadequate in his rags; he was nothing but a worthless werewolf. He couldn't believe that the Tsarina would acknowledge him.

Irina Ivanov was the closest thing that the wizarding world had to a Queen, and she dressed as one would expect one of noble birth to dress. She wore the most beautiful robes he had ever seen; they were thick and white, embroidered with a pattern of gold and blue. They fell softly over her, surrounding her like a cloud and accentuating her beauty. His eyes moved quickly over the woman, drinking in her exquisiteness, surprised that such loveliness could still exist during such terrible times. When he realised that she was watching him, with an amused smile on her face, he blushed. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He answered quietly, returning his eyes to the floor, and bowing again.

Irina noticed the quiet man's shame and was saddened by it - it was unnecessary. She moved forward and touched his shoulder. "Please, Remus, don't be embarrassed, there is no need for that." She smiled gently as his eyes met hers. "Your condition is unfortunate for you, it does not frighten or sicken me, it only saddens me that we can find no way to cure it even if Wolfsbane has gone some way to alleviating the difficulties associated with it." She added quietly so that only he could hear. She took his hand gently, and he was stuck by her sincerity and a feeling of acceptance.

It took less than half a second for him to fall in love with this kind woman. She was as bewitching as a Veela, but far less dangerous. She didn't steal your mind; she stole only your heart. She left you capable of thought. She was the most beautiful and kindest thing he had laid eyes on since Lily Potter's death. Lily, too, had quickly seen beyond the surface of an unlovable creature to the lonely, lost boy within, but she had seen the good in many of their fellow students, including the boy that was to become the tortured Potions Master.

Lily had been one of only two students to be genuinely kind to him too, and it hadn't been just because he was one of the Marauders. Lily had been kind to almost everyone, including the Werewolf, and Remus unlike Snape, hadn't rejected that friendship; he had accepted it gratefully instead, knowing the value of friendship.

Remus had been fortunate enough to have loving parents, and clever enough to realise that Lily's friendship was genuine and built on a loving soul. He had been grateful for Lily's small kindnesses, and for the times she would forsake her crowd of friends to enquire about him. Just knowing there was someone who cared had been enough to help the child he had been through painful and turbulent years of teenage transformations.

If adolescence had been difficult for every student, it had been doubly so for Remus, going through painful monthly transformations as he did. His natural shyness was only exacerbated by the thought that should any student find out about his condition he would be an outcast again, or killed.

Before the invention of wolfsbane, something he realised he had never thanked Snape for, the most likely outcome for a werewolf living in society was death. Most of society felt so threatened by the possibilities that it was far easier for a werewolf to be condemned to death than tolerated. Lily had shown that there was another way. They had shared a personal relationship that few others understood and he had missed that relationship for almost a lifetime. For the first time in years Remus was stirred deeply by a feeling of acceptance.

At that precise moment, the office door was slammed open and the dark haired Potions Master stalked in like a thunderstorm.

"Ah, Severus, I see you have been away. I am glad you have returned safely to us," Dumbledore offered in way of encouragement.

"Yes, I am sure you are." He responded curtly. Those in the office noticed that there was exhaustion as well as antagonism clearly evident in the man's features. They worried about both, but of the two, the exhaustion was by far the greatest threat. If exhaustion affected his performance in Voldemort's presence, he could well be dead before he even realised his mistake.

Dumbledore ignored the irritable comment, knowing only too well how delicate the man's sensibilities were after a meeting with the Dark Lord. It was hardly the ideal time to introduce him to Irina, but he had no option, given the fact that she was standing right beside the darkly clad man. "Severus, you are already acquainted with Alastor and Remus. I would like to introduce you to Professor Irina Ivanov."

Snape tuned to the woman with a look of disinterest, having managed to ignore her to that point. Forced now, as he was, to consider her, colour drained from his face as he recognised the woman who had helped him in the forest then recoiled when she realised what he was. And he was supposed to work with her! He should have known, he thought moodily. It was the final straw. At least it wouldn't be too hard to get rid of her. She would run from him readily, with just a little encouragement, given her earlier reaction.

Irina watched the dark haired man closely, briefly thinking he might collapse from the shock. She wanted to move to him in case she was needed to render assistance, but she doubted that would be appreciated. Instead she bowed slightly, not letting her eyes leave him. "You must be Professor Snape, your reputation as an extraordinary Potions Master is renowned even in my own country. It is a pleasure to meet you finally."

Snape watched the woman, trying to ignore the compulsion to lose himself in those eyes. He wondered if she had told Dumbledore of their meeting in the forest. He chastised himself for his foolishness; of course she had! After all, it would be her job to spy on him and report back to his new Master, that was the real reason he had to work with her, and he knew it. "Yes, I am sure it is. Unfortunately I can't say the same."

Irina continued, ignoring the remark. "I look forward to working with you. It will be a pleasure to work with such a Master of the art of the shimmering cauldron."

"Don't worry, I shall make sure it isn't, if I can't avoid being burdened with you altogether that is." He turned and stormed from the office in much the same manner as he arrived.

Dumbledore turned to Irina, who was watching Snape depart with a look of sadness in her eyes. "Professor, please forgive Severus for his rudeness. He is always a little testy after he meets with Voldemort."

Irina shook her head. "There is no need to apologise. I completely understand. Not that I think it will be easy to integrate myself into his world." Privately, Irina realised it might well be impossible. That would have to change though if they were to have any chance of defeating the Dark Lord. Only then could she return to her homeland and family, and while that was the most important reason for her wanting to make the relationship with the bad tempered Potions Master work. It wasn't the only reason.