Warning Signs Read Desolation
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I do not own the published masterpiece of Harry Potter. I also do not write and publish this story to earn any sort of profit. I simply do it because I need to.
Claimer: I do, however, own and take full responsibility for this twisted story.
Chapter Fourteen
"Care for a drink?"
Severus sneered darkly, and hastily pulled the skirts of his robes away as Fletcher scurried past to rummage about in his dark, grimy kitchen. "No, thank you," he drawled and moved closer to the middle of the living room in order to avoid stepping in or brush against any of the trinkets and garbage that lay about in piles all over the room. "I am needed elsewhere, and so shall keep my visit short."
"Don' even 'ave time for a drink, ey? Shame that," Fletcher responded with a grin, leaning against the door frame as he took a deep chug out of his hipflask. "More for me then, I suppose," he said, wiping his mouth and then screwing the lid into place. "You should loosen up a little, Sev'rus," he said then, zigzagging through the clutter towards a threadbare sofa, which he dumped himself in with a contented sigh. "Life's too short, you know? 'Specially in times like these."
"All the more reason to keep a level head," Severus said through clenched teeth. "Mistakes don't come cheap these days."
Fletcher threw his head back in a high-pitched cackle, and wiped with both hands at his head and down his long ginger hair, as if to get stray strands out of his face. "Truest words I've 'eard for a good while, Sev'rus. I should'a had you around to remind me of tha' a good ten years back, shouldn't I? We like keepin' things cheap around 'ere ... bu' seem to forget tha' little detail every now an' then."
A sharp burn on the sensitive skin of his left arm stopped him from making a short-tempered retort, and instead, by reflex, a forceful calm settled over his mind.
"Somethin' the matter?" Fletcher asked, leaning forwards in his seat. "You went awfully pale there for a bit."
"That is no concern of yours," Severus answered coldly and crossed his arms over his chest. "You seem to be under the misconception that I am subjecting myself to visiting this dump in order to make a social call."
"'Ey!" Fletcher called out, arising and laughing with his hands raised. "Let's keep it civilised, ey?"
Severus only smirked darkly. "Give. Me. The ingredients, Fletcher."
"What's your bleedin' 'urry?" the grubby little man replied shiftily and narrowed his beady brown eyes.
"My hurry, Fletcher, is that you promised the Order to provide rare potions ingredients – and as it so happens, I shall require some of those." Severus took a menacing step forward, clenching his teeth against the raging pain. "Or perhaps, you have not acquired the ingredients? Perhaps, you had never intended to do so. Perhaps, you do not wish to stand with the Order after all ..."
"Wh-wh-wh – No! Of course, tha's –" Fletcher stuttered and wiped at his forehead.
"Then prove it," Severus demanded sharply, and after giving him a frightened glance, Fletcher broke into laughter and stumbled across the room, kicking some stools and trinkets out of the way to get to a thick wooden lore standing in the corner.
"'Ere you go. Take wha' you came for," he said with a bitter grin, muttering "Order business – burnin' a bloody big 'ole in my pocket, it is. Would 'ave been no chicken feed, that," as he scurried off into the kitchen.
Severus paid him no heed, knowing full well that nothing Fletcher wanted to earn a hack from was his to sell or own in the first place, and put the ingredients into his right cloak pocket. Next, he slunk out of the dingy apartment and out on the streets, navigating through Knockturn Alley to the Apparition point in its outskirts. There, he fell back into a dark corner and pushed his wand up his sleeve, so that its tip touched his searing mark, before he took a deep breath and Apparated with a sharp crack.
He arrived on a small patch of rocks in the middle of the ocean. The sun was standing low on the clear blue sky, and a hefty wind whipped around him from all directions, making his cloak, robes and hair flap dramatically. Severus relaxed his stance once he realised that he was not about to be attacked, and instead opted for orienting himself. Twisting and turning, he looked around for any sign of land, but didn't see anything other than the billowing ocean surrounding the little patch of rock, sticking up seemingly at random. Was this another of the Dark Lord's meeting spots? Severus found that highly unlikely, since the Dark Lord was not present.
A sudden hiss coming from a crevice close to his feet made him look down and take a weary step back. Out of the hole, the tiny head of a grass snake poked up, looking at him unflinchingly, before letting out another hiss and starting to slither over the rocks towards the surface of water. Surprisingly, once it neared the water edge, more rocks arose out of the water to meet it, letting it travel easily forwards without getting wet. Severus followed it, treading carefully on, recognising the signs of a Fidelius Charm.
Interesting choice to use a snake as Secret Keeper, he thought to himself, pondering on how easily it would be for him to kill it if he chose to – rendering the Dark Lord's stronghold completely vulnerable to attack. I wonder what security precautions the Dark Lord has taken to protect the snake. If I went for a Killing Curse, would it simply go through it, because it is not truly the snake itself but a mirage? Or if not, would, upon its death, an identical snake – the new Secret Keeper – appear to take its place, without disrupting the Charm? Or would, perhaps, even the barest sign of a threat make the snake multiply into a hundred identical snakes, making the original immensely difficult to find?
In front of him, more and more rocks shot up out of the water the longer they travelled, creating a sort of rocky pier in the middle of nowhere, leading to nothing; that was, until what shot up out of the water was not rock but a stony shore. The snake slipped off the rocks and onto the shore, and after it had coiled into a heap on the pebbled ground, and Severus had set foot on land himself, the rest of a proud, fairly oval island shot up out of the water in front of him.
In the middle of the island was a scarce pine forest, with a couple of Ravens sitting in the trees, staring down at him with dark eyes. To the right of him was a stony road, with little blue flowers imbedded in it, leading uphill to the other side of the island, where a handsome grey fortress with tall windows and two towers stood.
The Dark Lord's stronghold, he thought to himself, drawing in a deep breath of fresh ocean air, before starting to trek up the path, carefully avoiding stepping on the flowers. His eyes were eagerly taking everything in, every little detail, and his mind was putting everything to memory, to be examined and considered at a later date. Once he had arrived at the grand gates of the fortress, he firmed his grip on his wand, and knocked. A couple of seconds later, the left door swung inwards, admitting him, and once he had stepped into the tall Entrance Hall, he saw it was an elf that had let him in.
He carefully refrained from calling out Dobby's name, and instead forced himself to calm and continue to take everything in. It wouldn't do to be hasty. "Good day, Mr Snape, sir," said Dobby and bowed low to him. "Master is expecting you," he said once he had straightened up. "Dobby shall takes you to him, sir. Do you wish Dobby to takes your cloak?"
Severus watched the elf closely, trying to discern what he was up to, and decided to play along. "Yes." He easily undid the clasp of his black cloak and let it fall from his shoulders, folding it on the middle before handing it over to the short elf, who readily accepted it with a grin.
"This way, Mr Snape, sir."
Dobby headed up the stairs, doing his best to peer over the thick bundle of fabric in his arms, and after pocketing his wand, Severus was about to follow when he caught sight of an old man, heading down the staircase from the first floor.
"Severus," the old healer said with a neutral face once he caught sight of him. "Good to see you – Hogwarts, is it? Potions Master, if I recall correctly. A highly impressive position."
"Yes, thank you, Healer Abbott," he replied and stepped to the side to allow the old man to descend from the staircase. "That is correct. Are you still at St Mungos?"
"I am," Healer Abbott croaked proudly. "Healer-in-Charge of the Janus Thickey Ward since December last year ... truly fascinating patients ... horrible fates, of course ... Well, it was good to see you, Severus. I must get going."
After nodding respectfully to the old man as he left, pondering on his current involvement with the Dark Lord, Severus followed Dobby up the stairs and through a windowless corridor lit up with candles, sitting in silver holders on the walls. The vague sound of conversation could be heard from several of the doors they passed – many of them standing ajar. Having made a left turn and walked to the middle of the corridor, Dobby stopped in front of a closed door and knocked on it steadily.
A moment later, the door opened up, admitting their entrance. Following Dobby inside of the room, Severus was greeted by the sight of the unsettlingly young-looking Dark Lord, sitting behind his desk, looking up at him from his letter writing.
"Snape!"
The call of utter outrage had come from his right, and looking over at the sitting group by the fireplace, he caught sight of a very guilty-looking Potter. His eyes stood out even more starkly than usual, since he was currently lacking glasses, and Severus fought very hard with himself to be able to meet them unflinchingly. "Yes, Mr Potter," he said in a dry voice. "You have remained as ... observant as always, I see."
At once, Potter flushed and narrowed his eyes, but strangely kept his mouth shut. A quiet chuckle made them both turn to look at the Dark Lord, who arose from his chair after drying his quill and putting it down. "Such a sharp tongue, Severus, my old friend," he said in a soft voice, smiling. "I though you would be pleased to see Harry, judging by our last conversation. I was rather expecting a tearful reunion."
Severus kept his jaw taut. "I am, of course, relieved ... to see that Potter appears to be ... unharmed."
"Oh, he has come to very little harm, Severus, I can assure you of that," the Dark Lord promised with a wicked gleam in his eyes, before turning to Potter. "Harry, come here," he said and beckoned with his hand, and slowly, Potter did as asked. Once he stood right in front of the Dark Lord, he was pushed to stand facing Severus by a hand snaking around his shoulders. "You might have noticed that Harry does no longer require glasses. I personally made sure one of my healers saw to it just this morning; so in a way, one might say that Harry is healthier now than he was before coming into my care."
Harry looked to the side, pointedly avoiding looking his old professor in the eye, still sporting a guilty expression. "And does Potter ... enjoy this change?" Severus asked slowly, forcefully drawing his gaze away from the close scrutiny of Potter's eyes, only to meet the very amused-looking eyes of the Dark Lord.
"Do you, Harry?" the Dark Lord asked softly, looking down at the boy, who looked up at him with apprehension.
"Yes, master," he whispered, before lowering his head again.
Severus lost complete control of his temper, and his heart seemed to have stopped inside his chest. "Master?" slipped out of him quite without permission, and at once, Potter's flush intensified, and the Dark Lord's smile widened.
"Why yes, Severus," the diabolical man answered. "What else should my apprentice call me?"
Had Severus not already been aware of that little fact, he might have lost control completely; but he managed to keep calm, if only just barely. Of course, he had known that Potter was in this position, but he had never, never, expected him to be so accepting; so willing; so weak as to surrender to the man who had killed his parents – who had murdered Lily. He had never expected Draco to be right when he claimed that Potter was strutting around the Dark Lord's quarters as if he owned them; but he was. He was standing there, straight-backed with the Dark Lord's hand resting comfortably on his shoulder, without any fuss. And he was calling him master out of his own free will!
"Severus?" the Dark Lord said softly, tilting his head a little to the side. "Is something the matter?"
"Not at all, my Lord," he managed in a strained voice, struggling to calm himself. "I am merely ... surprised at this turn of events. I was, after all – I beg your pardon, my Lord – under the impression that you wanted to kill Potter; not take him on as your apprentice."
The Dark Lord merely answered by letting out another chuckle, clenching Potter's shoulder lightly before letting go. "Why don't you take some time off your studies for the rest of the day, Harry," he said, and Severus heard the door open up by itself behind his back.
Potter looked about to protest the unfairness of being dismissed, but seemed to think better of it the moment after and merely nodded before heading out the door and disappearing.
"I take it you have come to a decision, since you answered my call," the Dark Lord stated, rounding his desk and sitting down again, resting his elbows against the flat surface and leaning his chin comfortably against his entwined hands, studying Severus with mirth.
"Indeed," Severus answered tensely, walking slowly across the room and sitting down in a fairly hard leather armchair in front of the desk. "My Lord, during our last meeting, you made it appear as if Potter was in some danger, and that, on the occasion that I wished to keep him safe, I should ... get past my grudges and prove my worth to you."
"And have you decided to do this?" the Dark Lord asked quietly, leering at him devilishly; the expression clashing horribly with the light of the setting sun streaming through the window behind him, lighting his dark-haired head up from behind in the crude mockery of a halo.
Severus hesitated. "My Lord, from what it appears, Potter is not under any ... tangible threat."
"You would not say that his being under my care is threatening enough?"
"You wish me to swear myself to you in order to protect Potter from you, my Lord?" Severus questioned carefully; a conclusion which only seemed to increase the Dark Lord's mirth.
"That does sound a bit ludicrous, does it not?" he answered with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair with an expression indicating that he was trying to defuse the tension, but Severus stayed impassive, sensing a trap.
"Perhaps ... but not as ludicrous as some ... matters in the past," Severus answered, measuring his words carefully and watching the Dark Lord's reaction closely.
There was a tense pause, during which all signs of mirth slipped off the Dark Lord's face. "Yes ... You are, of course, referring to the prophecy, are you not, Severus? The prophecy which told of my coming doom, and of the boy who would have the power to vanquish me ... The prophecy which, indirectly, lead to the death of your beloved Lily ... and which you, incidentally, brought to my attention yourself ... Such a tragedy, is it not? The three of us bound together by the destruction of what we hold most dear – my power, Harry's family, and the love of your life. Such a fateful night. And to think it all could have been avoided, so simply, if not for that prophecy."
Severus swallowed against the dryness in his throat, refusing to subject himself to the Dark Lord's attempt in trying to make him feel guilt. The days of such nonsense were long past. "Yes ... It was truly ... unfortunate that something so unreliable as a prophecy came to ... carry such weight with the Light ... and the Dark."
The mirth returned to the Dark Lord's face. "What came to pass that fateful night is, in fact, the reason why Harry is in danger still; the reason why the only safe place for him, at least in this vulnerable state, is by my side. If you indeed do wish to keep him safe, Severus – and no, not from me, but from the people who wish to go to great lengths to destroy everything that Lord Voldemort is – then you have no other choice but to side with the Dark."
Severus held his breath and studied the Dark Lord's expression intensely, watching him arise from his seat and walk over to stand by one of the great windows in the left side of the room, looking out at the sunset.
Soon, he began to speak in a soft voice. "My memoires from that time are muddled – something had come over me, and I was not in the right state of mind. I had convinced myself, against better judgement, that the prophecy was important – that because Dumbledore trusted in it, and acted upon it, it would be fulfilled one day. So when Wormtail appeared before me, handing his friends over on a silver platter, I threw all precaution to the wind and travelled there – without backup and without a plan.
"I arrived in front of their house, and barely took any precautions before barging inside. I had put up an Anti-Apparition Ward, and I had blocked their fireplace, but that was all ... I blasted the door to smithereens, and the Potters reacted at once. James Potter came running out into the hallway, without a wand, and called out for Lily to take Harry and run. I remember laughing in his face as I killed him ... and then, I chased Lily up a staircase. She tried to block me out by throwing locking charms at the door to the nursery ... Futile, of course. I blasted the door away and levelled my wand at her, asking her to step away from Harry."
The Dark Lord looked over his shoulder at Severus, wearing an oddly soft expression. "I was going to keep my word, Severus," he said quietly, barely moving his lips. "You had been faithful and, frankly, invaluable to me ... and I had every intention of sparing her for your sake ...
"But that was not the only intention I had," he said in a clearer voice, turning back to look out the window. "Are you familiar with Horcruxes, Severus?"
At once freezing up, momentarily forgetting how to breathe, Severus added one new piece to the puzzle and hurriedly scratched out a handful of possible scenarios from his mind – if the Dark Lord had Horcruxes, he was indeed even more powerful than Severus had even dared to fear.
"I am, my Lord," he answered in a wheeze, clutching the armrests of his chair so harshly that his knuckles had grown white.
"When I learned of Harry Potter's significance, I knew, at once, that he should be the death to empower my final and most powerful Horcrux. I thought it beautifully ironic that the boy who should have ensured my demise would instead ensure my survival. So, preparing for finally killing him, not intending to kill Lily but to spare her, I initiated the ritual ... but when she did not comply; when she continued to defy me; the madness came over me and I killed her. Not thinking clearly, I then turned to Harry ... and sent another Killing Curse his way ... I think you might have guessed what happened next, have you not, Severus?"
Severus drew in a raspy breath. "The ritual was initiated ... the sacrifice was accepted, and the wand was going to create the Horcrux ... but you cast another Killing Curse instead ... So two things must have happened at once."
"The ritual was completed," the Dark Lord filled in, "making Harry himself my Horcrux." Severus's heart grew cold as ice. "But additionally; the Killing Curse bounced off Harry and onto me, killing me. And thus, Magic tore Harry's soul apart, and my soul – anchored to the world of the living – became his Horcrux."
Silence rang between the walls of the room once the Dark Lord's tale had come to an end, and Severus struggled to regain control of his frozen body; completely paralyzed with shock. He tried to clear his mind, but he could not get rid of the insistent ringing in his ears, or the persistent repetitions of the Dark Lord's last statement. Magic tore Harry's soul apart ... my soul became his Horcrux ... his Horcrux ... Magic tore Harry's soul apart ... apart ... tore Harry's soul ... my soul became his Horcrux ...
"So, you see, Severus," the Dark Lord continued, turning around at last, scrutinizing his reaction closely. "Harry and I are bound to each other ... irrevocably. If the wrong people – people who could find it in themselves to kill the boy for the greater good – found out that he is a Horcrux ... he would, indeed, be in danger."
"Yes," Severus replied, still struggling to shut out the insistent voice in his head.
Watching him with predatory intent, the Dark Lord stalked closer, and sat back down in his seat behind the desk. "Do you agree, then, to swear yourself to Lord Voldemort, and the Dark Cause, once more?"
"... Yes," Severus replied at length, once he had finally managed to calm himself enough to make a rational decision.
"Excellent," the Dark Lord purred, leering at him with a wicked glint in his red eyes. "A wise choice, my old friend. I would ask you to make good of that promise and tell me everything you know about the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's plans at once, but, I see that my revelations have shocked you. Might I suggest another time for your much awaited report?"
Severus drew in a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, my Lord. Some ... respite to ... come to terms with this would be ... much appreciated."
The Dark Lord hummed softly, as if with understanding. "How long of a respite do you require? Two days?"
"Yes, Friday evening should work well," Severus answered.
The Dark Lord nodded. "Very well, I shall expect you at seven o'clock on Friday."
Stiffly, Severus arose and curtseyed to the Dark Lord, uttering a reverent "My Lord," before turning around and walking out of the room. He hurried through the long corridor and down the staircase, fully intending to make it off the island as fast as he possibly could manage, but was halted by a quiet call at the base of the staircase.
"Mr Snape, sir! Your cloak!"
He stopped in his tracks and looked down at the little elf, who held up his folded cloak towards him. He accepted it with dull hands, and hurriedly shrugged it on. As he looked up from the clasp, he met eyes with Potter, standing in the open doorway leading into a grand Reception Hall.
"Professor," he said quietly, looking extremely fidgety and nervous, but also determined. "Are you going to tell them? Professor Dumbledore and ... everyone? About me ..."
Severus was rendered completely speechless, and his heart pinched him painfully within the chest at the thought of Lily's son – Lily's son – being subjected to such a fate. To have had his soul torn apart against his will, and held captive by the man who killed his parents. To have to bear the burden of carrying the Dark Lord's soul around, and have his freedom restricted because of it. And worst of all; to have to pay the price of having a Horcrux without having made the decision himself. Harry Potter was not hole, and was never going to be. He would never find peace; true happiness; or love. Everything in his life would be tainted, and he would be forced to live an eternity without the ability to feel deeply for somebody else, in the way only love could make one feel; the way Severus still felt for Lily.
"Mr Potter," he began stiffly, clenching his jaw as he thought about what he could say. "I will do ... whatever I can ..." Potter looked perplexed, but Severus didn't feel he could say anything further, and promptly wrapped the cloak tighter around his body and headed out through the door.
He rushed down the path, eyes set on the pier, trying his best to keep it together. He stepped onto the rocky path and hurried across, until he felt the wards grace over the skin of his face. Then, he Apparated into his own living room at 12 Spinner's End and collapsed on the sofa.
At once, he Summoned a tumbler and a big flask of Firewhisky from his kitchen cupboards and poured himself a generous amount. Before closing the flask, he took a deep swig out of it, hissing against the fiery burn travelling down his throat and dulling his senses.
The liquor heated him up at once, so he struggled out of his cloak and tossed it carelessly onto the right armrest of the sofa. A heavy thump was heard as the potions ingredients he had collected from Fletcher fell to the ground, and grimacing, he swooped down to the floor to check on the damage.
To his immense relief, the ingredients had survived the fall, and he hastily scooped them up and put them down onto the coffee table to be taken care of at a more preferable time. Looking down at the pile, he frowned and picked up a tiny scroll of parchment which he did not recognise.
Sinking back down onto the sofa, he unrolled it and read the horribly poor-written message with greedy eyes.
Master has find out ser. Master has put a curse on Dobby but Dobby has find a loop hole ser. Dobby can brings Harry Potter down to the edj of the wards ser. Pleas writ back to Dobby ser if you wants Dobby to do this.
Harry sighed deeply, sitting by one of the windows on his huge pillow in his tower, looking out at the darkening sky. Snape's sudden appearance had caught him off guard. After he had met Quirrell by the Mirror of Erised, and not Snape, he had thought that he had been wrong about his old professor, and that he had been loyal to Dumbledore after all. But now, it appeared as if he had been on Voldemort's side all along.
He didn't know what to think anymore; who to trust and who to mistrust. He had hoped that the people at Hogwarts were the good guys, and that they would try their best to find him. But now, it seemed as if they had given up on him. Harry had thought for sure that Dumbledore would be able to find him, but apparently, that wasn't so.
Also, the more time he spent with Voldemort, the less he felt like he was the bad guy. Black had called him that, and he really didn't seem like someone Harry could trust. And now, it appeared as if Snape thought Voldemort was the good guy. They seemed like good pals – Voldemort had even called him 'my old friend'.
Harry shivered a little, remembering Snape's disappointed face when he learned that Voldemort didn't intend to kill Harry anymore. He was probably mourning the fact that Harry was alive after all, despite what the Daily Prophet wrote. He had certainly seemed angry when he learned that Harry had become Voldemort's apprentice. He probably hated the fact that Harry was not only alive, but was actually taken care of as well.
"I wonder what he'll do," he sighed, resting his face against the cool, blue-stained glass of the window.
"You don't need to worry," James assured him softly, making a warm feeling cocoon around him and sooth his worries. "He can't do anything much."
He can tell everyone at Hogwarts, Harry thought, flushing with shame at the thought that everyone would know that he was cooperating with Voldemort.
"Yes, but he isn't the only one who can ... Malfoy, for instance, also knows about you."
Yes, but I don't think people will believe Malfoy that much, Harry thought, frowning, but Snape is an adult ... and Dumbledore trusts him.
"You don't need to worry either way," James soothed again. "Voldemort won't let anything happen to you."
I just ... I know it's wrong, okay? I know that I should fight and scream and shout and ... refuse to cooperate ... that's what they'll think anyway, and they'll hate me when they find out.
James sighed mournfully, and Harry sniffled as tears started to build up in his eyes. "They don't know what you've had to do, and why you've had to agree to the things you've agreed to. They might not like the outcome, but they haven't been in your position. If they should blame anyone for this, it's Voldemort ... You haven't done anything wrong, Harry."
Harry soaked up the soothing words, and stopped crying, but the searing feeling in his chest refused to disappear. As the night fell and the starts twinkled alive, he sat still, and watched the world darken.