Chapter Three - A Friend In Need
If Albus Dumbledore thought that Snape was going to dance for joy, he would have been sorely disappointed. Always the consummate spy, the potion master kept a blank expression and accepted what Dumbledore said with no condemnation or comment. When dismissed, he retired to his quarters in the castle and poured himself a whiskey.
It was a lot to absorb. Ever since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts, Snape had observed the headmaster sinking more and more into manipulative, and dare he think it, dark dealings. Severus was a powerful wizard in his own right, and he could sense the blockings put on Harry's magic as soon as he arrived. He never questioned the headmaster, as he had assumed the ancient would remove the blocks and teach the boy personally when he matured some. That never happened, and now the moody and morose 15 year old was still sporting the magical level of an average 11 year old. There was the occasional burst of energy, when magic would pour out of the youth despite all restrictions, but it only happened under extreme emotion and duress. It indicated that Potter was an extremely powerful wizard, or could be if given the chance.
The big question Snape pondered as he drank was what were his feelings about the situation? True, he had no love for the boy. He looked too much like his hated childhood rival, and Snape was not a man to easily let go of a grudge. Even if he had liked the lad, he didn't dare let the children of Death Eaters or the headmaster have any inkling he felt anything for Potter other than contempt. That was simply a matter of self-preservation.
But Severus Snape had turned spy for a reason. And the reason was simply that he didn't want to live in a world ruled by an insane and violent dictator. Was Dumbledore any better? He emptied his glass and glowered at the flames. Perhaps Potter could bring the Dark Lord's death by dying himself, but every human being deserves the dignity of choosing their destiny for themselves. With disgust Snape concluded he couldn't sit back and let Potter die.
Standing abruptly he glared at the clock on his mantle. A bit past three in the morning – the headmaster was most likely sound asleep. He swiftly gathered books, food, and a few items into his special trunk and shrunk it, placing it in one of his deep pockets. Severus was glad that he had one of the few working floos in the castle – a necessity for getting to and from Death Eater gatherings. He threw on his outer cloak and tossed in a hand-full of glittering green powder. "Diagon Alley" he called and stepped into the green flames.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Snape stood outside the Dursley residence, hidden from the moon and any prying eyes in the shadow of a carefully manicured tree. He had floo'd to Diagon Alley as it was a logical place for a Death Eater/spy to be wandering at night, in case he was being traced by the headmaster. From there it was easy to apparate over to Potter's house. Auror Tonks was obviously on duty – she had tripped twice in the few minutes since Snape's arrival. He waited for her to move up the block, stealthily crept to the front door, and swiftly unlocked it with an Alohomora to let himself in.
It didn't take him long to find the small, dingy insult of a bedroom the boy's family had given him. He charmed the room for quiet, woke Potter and healed his back and ribs of various injuries. The wolf was right – the boy had been enduring far more than just spankings. They sat on his bed in silence, sharing some sandwiches Snape had brought. The boy looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
The food finished, Harry looked up at his professor with curiosity. "Thank you sir. Thanks for the food, the healing, and the company. What do you want?"
"Subtle, Potter" Snape sneered. "We have a lot to discuss, and we don't want anyone to know I was here." The boy flinched a bit, but held his tongue and waited.
"You are in danger" Snape held up a hand to stop any sarcastic comments about to come out of Harry. "More than you realize, and not from the Dark Lord. Let me share a memory of last night with you – it will be like a pensieve memory without the pensieve."
Harry tensed – he certainly hated the prying and pain of occlumency – but his burning curiosity got the better of him. He nodded his agreement and bravely looked the dark-haired man in the eyes. Snape returned the gaze, waved his wand and muttered a strange spell bringing Harry into the memory of the conversation between the headmaster and Remus, Molly and Snape the previous evening.
When the memory was over Harry sat huddled up on his bed, arms around his legs rocking gently. No emotion showed on his face – just a hollow, defeated agony in his emerald eyes. Snape sighed inside – he knew danger and rejection all too well. Bringing the shrunken trunk out of his pocket, he enlarged it on the floor and gestured to it.
"Put anything you wish to keep in that. It will remind you of Moody's trunk to a degree except it contains living quarters. It is stocked with many potions you will find useful, books that the headmaster would have denied you, and food for several weeks. There is also a good amount of cash in there – both muggle and wizard."
In a daze Harry pried up the floorboard under his bed and retrieved his invisibility cloak, wand, and photo album. He threw some clothing into the open trunk without looking and with a gesture Snape shrunk it back again. The boy rubbed his scar in bewilderment.
"I will make sure the Dark Lord learns about your connection – it should get him to back off at least" Snape spoke as gently as he was capable. "I can take you to Diagon Alley – I booked a room for the day under my name. Tomorrow you can leave when it gets dark."
"Leave for where?" Harry asked, feeling the start of panic. "Where do you think I should go?"
"I don't know and I don't want to know" Snape snarled. "I have two very powerful wizards who would love to pry that kind of information out of my head. If I were you, I'd leave the country and never come back. Leave this war to the people who started it – they should never have put that kind of burden on a mere boy."
"Why are you helping me?" Harry had settled his surging emotions and puzzled over the fact the one person giving him any real assistance was a man whom he thought hated him.
Snape looked down at the floor for the briefest moment, showing a rare flash of emotion. "I received the dark mark after graduation against my will. I turned spy immediately to make some use of the lack of freedom thrust upon me. A child should never be left without choice. I find myself not knowing who is the greater evil – the Dark Lord or the Headmaster. I wish to give you the choice I was never given. I am truly sorry about the occlumency lessons – the Headmaster had ordered that I not teach you properly – he wanted to keep a link open between you and the Dark Lord in case I was discovered and the Order lost its spy."
Harry grasped the potion teacher's arm and hand in a firm gesture. "Thank you. Please take care of my owl Hedwig for me – I told her to stay at Hogwarts yesterday. Any life debt you felt you had to my father is paid in full you realize. I now owe you one." Magic swirled, sealing the bond and Snape gaped at the boy.
"That wasn't necessary" he muttered, but without the usual hostility. "Are you ready?"
The two silent men tiptoed out of the unwelcoming house and apparated off into the remainder of the night.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Harry had spent two days at The Leaky Cauldron, never leaving his room and having meals delivered by house elf. As far as the barkeep Tom knew, it was Severus Snape holed up in the private quarters, and Tom knew better than to pry into a client's affairs.
Now Hermione and the Weasley's silence made sense to Harry – Dumbledore had obviously commanded them or forced them to not speak to him after the Ministry battle. But Mrs. Weasley – his so-called adoptive mum – that really hurt him. He had thought they were his 'true family', but from Snape's memory it was obviously not so. She had distanced them for their own safety and didn't have the backbone to let him know.
The Boy-Who-Wished-To-Keep-Living enlarged the trunk Snape gave him and glanced in. Inside there were stairs leading down to a door, with the belongings he had tossed in that fateful night piled at the bottom. With a shrug Harry stepped in and crept down, opened the door and moved the clothes and precious photo album inside. As he shut the door behind, he noticed the light above dimming. Experimenting, he found that shutting the door also closed the lid of the trunk.
The potion master had been generous – although it had the appearance of an old battered school trunk on the outside, it was far, far more. He looked around impressed – the room was a modest-sized parlor/kitchen combination, with dark stone walls and flickering torches, and even a fireplace. There was a large rough wooden table and two chairs, and a note for him resting on top. Harry bypassed the note for the moment to explore a bit. Off of the parlor was a small library which in return had a bathroom and two bedrooms off of it. One bedroom had a Hogwarts four-poster bed and simple wardrobe, and the other was set up as a potions lab. It was overall very dark and gloomy, but it certainly was safe and secure.
It wasn't all that Snape had been generous with - healing and pain potions, books on dark arts, occlumency, defense and more, preserved food for weeks, and even survival equipment were stored in the trunk. The trunk home was probably a resource the spy kept for personal emergencies – the life of a double agent was dangerous and a spy would need a way to assume a new life in a hurry. But the books and a couple of other specific gifts were certainly added for Harry's benefit. The note contained information on how to change the 'ownership' of the trunk so only he could open it, and what to do with the various special items left out on the table.
The first of these objects to catch his eye was a strangely engraved wand box. Reading the parchment wrapped around it, Harry was ecstatic to learn it was a tracking charm removal box. In went his holly and phoenix feather wand, and out came a new, clean, untraceable wand. Now both the ministry and Dumbledore would not know when he used it – for all practical purposes he was now a magical adult.
The next item that Snape had added really shocked him. A small potion vial with glowing blue liquid had a scrap of parchment tied to it. The writing was cramped and hurried:
Potter – drink this as soon as you read this. It will remove the blocks the headmaster placed on your magical core. You will find a dramatic increase in your ability and power – use magic cautiously for a while until you get use to it.
S-
Harry frowned darkly. Dumbledore – the great leader of the light. The headmaster of the safest place in Britain. Leader of the Wizengamot. What would the public think of their icon of justice if they knew he had evidently bound the magic of their prophesized hero, and ordered his death?
He uncorked the vial and slammed it down the back of his throat. He could feel warmth and burning in his veins, centering on his chest, and chose to go to the bedroom and lie down. It was an interesting sensation – like a gentle purging fire in his being, not painful or even uncomfortable. When the sensation passed he sat and picked up his wand. It was time to see if there was an obvious difference.
"Wingardium Leviosa" Harry spoke casually and gestured at the pillow on his bed. Mouth hanging open, he watched in shock as it shot like a rocket to the ceiling and exploded in a cloud of feathers. He hadn't put any effort into the spell at all. OK – his magic had been blocked. Just how powerful was he?
He lay back down on the bed after hastily repairing the pillow. What to do now? He needed a place to stay and wished to keep training. He wanted to live – at least he thought he did. But now the adrenaline from his escape had dissipated, he was left swimming in depression and hopelessness. All his friends had abandoned him. His headmaster and the order wanted him dead. Dying right now would kill Voldemort. The magical world wanted him to kill Voldemort without training or ability despite the fact they continued to air his personal life (fact and fiction) for the entire world to see. Remus, a man he thought could have been a parental figure in his life, was a stooge. Sirius, the one man he could trust, was dead. Or was he? The visions came back to him – he looked through the books Snape had given him looking for something on dreams and visions but came up empty.
Halfheartedly Harry picked up a book on occlumency and left the trunk. If he could learn to block his mind he could at least determine if these dreams of Sirius trying to escape the veil were true visions or from Voldemort. But after a few pages of the dry manual, he found himself drifting off to sleep, letting his depression get the better of him.
Harry opened his eyes to find himself back at the Ministry, standing before the veil. Sirius' hand was reaching out, and Harry could see the sheen of sweat clinging to the hairs on the arm as it trembled, grasping and groping for human assistance.
"Harry! I can see you! Please help me! Get me out of here! I don't know how much more I can take, Harry."
Harry clenched his eyes shut, and held his hands over his ears. "Sirius – I don't know what to believe anymore" he sobbed, as he violently wished for the vision to end.
He woke up curled fetal position on the bed in The Leaky Cauldron. It was one in the morning, but he knew sleep was done for that night. Sitting up, Harry held his head in his hands and cried. Where could he turn? Sirius' voice was louder and more convincing each night. He had nothing left here but a very nifty trunk.
Swiftly Harry packed and shrunk the trunk, then slipped it into a pocket of his robe. He cast a glamour charm on his hair to change the color to brown, left the room and settled his tab with the night help at the desk. With a determined stride he left the pub and entered the night life of Diagon Alley.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He stood in front of the veil, examining it inch by inch and listening for Sirius' voice. It was most likely a trap, but Harry was beyond fear or even feeling. It has been easy enough to sneak back down to the veil using his invisibility cloak. The lack of tracking charms on his wand made the security of the Ministry of Magic laughable. So what was next? If it was a trap, Voldemort would probably be arriving soon. If he killed him, that was fine – the agony would be over with and if Dumbledore was correct, Voldemort would die too and the people whom he once loved would be safe.
"Niccccce of you to join me, Harry Potter" the cold voice hissed in back of him.
Harry turned and looked at Voldemort. "So it was a trap" he stated, voice flat and uncaring. Green eyes met cold red eyes and winced as his scar exploded in pain.
Voldemort was surprised at the boy's lack of reaction. "Are you not afraid?" he mused, shielding his mind to ease the pain Harry's scar gave him. "I assume you have learned I can not kill you but Dumbledore wishes to?"
The boy shrugged. "Yeah – I know." He turned back to the veil and reached a hand toward it with longing. "I just want this whole mess over with. I don't want my friends to die, but I don't even know if I have friends any more. I just want a normal life."
Voldemort crossed his arms. He had expected pride and rebellion from Potter – not a child whose fire had gone out and was already dead. "You could join me" he tentatively suggested.
Harry gave a dry laugh. "No – I haven't given up that much, Tom. You are the reason my life has been so 'wonderful'. You have succeeded in destroying so many lives, like mine. I really don't understand what your grief with muggles anyway – you are a half-blood just like me. I can't agree with anything you do."
"I figured assss much" Voldemort nodded, ignoring Harry's question. "I underssstand your potion professsssor has given you money to lasssst a couple weekssss. I can not rissssk you sssstaying here and eventually dying or desssstroying me. I can not protect you if you will not follow me. I can open the veil for you like I did for your Godfather."
"What is the veil?" Harry asked; hope coloring his voice for the first time in weeks. "Will I be with Sirius again?"
The Dark Lord shook his head. "The veil issss a portal to other dimensionssss. Few can activate it – I have the ability. I have no way, however, of choossssing which reality you would arrive in. Many dimensssionsss in time and ssspace are coexissssting – most appear to be on ssssimilar timelinesss to ourssss. Each hasss ssssubtle differencessss." He paused and gestured to the strangely floating gauzy curtain. "I could not tell if you would land in a world where I won, or Dumbledore. Or if it wasssss a darker version of thisssss world, or a lighter. All I could ssssay is that our connection would be ssssevered – we would finally be independent of each other, and you could not return. Chancesss of landing in the ssssame world assss your Godfather are sssslim."
"Would I change once I entered a new world?" Harry barely looked at Voldemort now, his attention firmly fixed on the veil.
"No – you would keep all your abilitiesssss and memoriesssss. There would most likely be two Harry Potterssss once you arrived. You could take the money Sssssnape gave you and go anywhere you wissshh." Voldemort watched the boy with fascination. He had really expected tears and anger and some pretense of a duel. If he possessed feelings, he would have felt pity for the broken young man standing before him.
"OK – what do I do?" Harry patted his robes to make sure his wand and shrunken trunk were still on him.
"I do regret some of thissss" Voldemort mused briefly. "You could have been a powerful ally, Harry Potter." He waved his wand around the veil and a cold wind whipped the translucent curtain into a frenzy. "Sssstep through, Harry Potter. Your new world awaitsssss."
Without a backwards glance Harry stepped into the world of gray and mist.