DISCLAIMER: Don't own, don't earn – but I love it!

Diana Lucille Snape: Sorry, it was my bad spelling indeed.

Sevter: Everyone makes mistakes – also Dumbledore. He sometimes trusts too much and Sev not enough… The last sentence: It's very difficult to "close" a scene like this one. I spent pretty much time thinking about it so I'm glad you like it (personally – one of the best things I ever managed to write).

Enahma: Typing day and night this week, neglecting my academicals duties – and writing, writing, writing! Updating as fast as possible!!!

Ups, a bit of "poetry". Maybe too much but I think Sev tells more by this than by lecturing Harry – and his speech is shorter (and he doesn't have to admit he's talking about his own feelings, too – as you know he doesn't like it.) I hope these poems aren't too terrible.

WARNING lots blood again.

DEATH IN MALFOYS' CASTLE

Emptiness. No, not even pain but complete emptiness, cold like a fog on a November night, dense and endless.

"No, Sirius, leave me alone, please." Snuffles sighs but obediently trots out of the chamber. Harry's sitting on the stone floor in the Astronomy Tower with his head pressed against his knees, unable even to cry. Why hasn't Avada got him? As long as he's alive, Voldemort will be harming his friends. It doesn't have any sense. Why was he fighting like a madman? He'd have given up, hadn't Snape commanded him to fight. He could have let go and not suffer anymore. Suffer… Oh, he'd be suffering more than ever now, probably, but Ron would be safe at least. Harry's so deep in thought that he doesn't notice a dark silhouette, soundlessly sneaking into the chamber and hiding in the shadows. It would be hard to see him, anyhow – he makes no noise at all and in this dim moonlight you'd think you're eyes are cheating you, making you think this elusive, blurred shadow is a man.

It doesn't have any sense. Let it end. Now. Quick. He stands up and pushes the window open. When he looks down his head starts spinning – he's never noticed before it's so high – but maybe that's better. He takes a deep breath but when he puts his hands on the window frame a deep, silky voice starts singing quietly:

"My castle has burned to ashes

My family perished with it

I won't even find their bones

Under this mount of debris.

My friends' bodies ripped to pieces by ravens

My best horse but a heap of rotting meat

My falcon's wings are broken

My faithful dog won't greet me anymore.

I'm looking for my sword in vain

Another one is using my dagger

I can't find an arrow in my quiver

I can't even give you a punch

With my broken fingers.

I'm too weak to stand up

My throat's too dry to shout

My eyes burn but I can't cry."

"Professor Snape." Who else could it be, after all, prowling silently during the night? Who else cloud describe despair and loss so well? The dark figure in a long cloak emerges from the shadows. "Who taught you this song?"

"A smuggler. Was a great poet, the best I know, next only to Shakespeare. Knew what he was talking about. Knew a lot about life."

"Really? So what next?" – Harry turns and stares boldly at Snape. "What's the sense of all this? What for do spies risk their lives, for example?" Snape sighs and then starts whispering another poem:

"I take my wand out, shouting curse that kills

I bury my dagger in my foe's chest

I let a drop of poison fall to the cup of my fellow

Oh, how I hate myself, I'm but a murderer

I hope I'll give you a bit of life by that.

I know every torture on Earth

Invented a few myself, heartless scum

I can watch every pain, laughing

Oh, how I hate myself, I'm but a tormenter

I hope I'll give you a bit of peace by that.

I can tell every lie without batting my eyelid

I can laugh and cry on demand,

I can stage hate and love but forgot the real feelings

Oh, how I hate myself, I'm but a ruthless spy

I hope I'll give you a bit of truth by that.

I'm beaten black and blue

I lost count of my scars, all my bones were broken

There's no curse I haven't been hurt with

Oh, how I hate myself, I'm but a toy in their hands

I hope I'll give you a bit of dignity by that.

I lick the boots of my enemy

Staring with fake loyalty into the eyes I hate

Suave words spoken on my knees every night

Oh, how I hate myself, I behave like a slave

I hope I'll give you a bit of freedom by that.

I'm going to bed of my enemy

I kiss the lips I hate more than death

I smile at the touch I loathe more than curse

Oh, how I hate myself, I've lost even this

I hope I'll give you a bit of love by that."

Harry stares at him, shocked by the words.

"A smuggler again?"

"No. An Auror who was also a spy. Fought the Black Cat of Moscow. Had three kids and wanted them to live without that raving lunatic harming them."

"And what happened with her?" Good, Potter boy, at least you aren't thinking about anything stupid anymore. I managed to distract your attention from that.

"Him. Was one of the three who actually killed her, got ten thousand Galleons of reward, retired and, according to my knowledge, lived till the end of his days with his family."

"But what do you mean by this?"

"That when you fight the Darkness it sometimes hurts you. If you don't want it to conquer you have to do and see things you hate."

"But why you recited this to me? Why do you tell me I should sacrifice so the others could live normally? Why should I witness all that? It's the Ministry job to ensure the safety, isn't it?"

"Count on the MOM and you'll see what happens." – snaps Snape. "One good thing my family taught me is not to trust them. And why should something happen to you? I sometimes ask myself why I wasn't born in a normal family, you know, but I'm aware I won't change this. Remember our talk about questions without answers? All you can do is accepting this."

"I can't."

"I don't mean enjoying it or something. Just don't torture yourself with senseless questions… Harry. You did your best."

"No. Ron's dead. Had I surrendered to them, he would have been still alive." A harsh, cruel laughter.

"Do you really think they'd have spared him? Would have killed him on the spot, if they were merciful enough, or took him with you and harmed him in your very eyes. Sorry, Harry" – he adds quietly, noticing his shock – "but he was sentenced to death the moment they used the Enslaver against him. Even if he survived the attack, devil alone knows what it would make with his mind. He could turn insane, loose all his memories or something. Remember what it has done to me within minutes? And he lived under its influence for months!"

"You think it was be too late to help him anyhow?"

"Quite probable." No answer. Snape steps slowly towards Harry and hugs him tight. "Come on, let's go to the dungeons, OK?"

"No, I want to stay here." All right, boy. They sit down, leaning against the wall and Snape wraps Harry around with his cloak. The boy leans his head against his shoulder.

"I feel empty as if a Dementor kissed me." Snape sighs – that's the best description of this feeling indeed. Empty. Alone. Guilty. It takes a few minutes before Harry speaks up again.

"You were talking to me, Professor." Snape raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Me? When?"

"In that chamber when we were fighting. You told me not to give up."

"If it must be your end, make it such an end they'll be telling their children about it for generations." Harry stares at him, bewildered. "My aunt kept telling me that. Taught me to fight, you know. She was the greatest fighter I've ever seen."

"An Assassin?"

"No, she was selling Butterbeer." – snaps Snape. "Of course she was one! You couldn't find a more pureblooded Assassin than her."

"And your father? Was he one of you, too?" Harry, why so interested in that? OK, if it helps you not to think about your own pain…

"No, Morgul was an Outsider."

"Outsider?"

"Wasn't born in any of the criminal families. There're some all over the world but he grew up in a very aristocratic English family of Snapes."

"So you had to admit him to your clan."

"Indeed. But you told me I was talking to you. This is a really deep magic, Harry. I always hear my aunt giving me advices, too, but I thought it works only among us, Assassins I mean. Strange indeed you could hear me."

"You think I have some Assassin ancestors?"

"No, we all lived in the Order, but wait – there's a possibility – Moonlight the Rebel. He's said to escape the Order, choosing another life. They say he fell in love with an Auror and they left and the Order never found them. Nobody was looking, to be honest – we had much more serious problems then. Still, they were living in the 13th century, Harry. Devil alone knows whether they had kids and whether you're their kinsman. I'd rather say you heard me because you saved me before."

"If a wizard saves another wizard…"

"Exactly. This is magic the deepest, Harry, and, moreover, you're not an ordinary wizard. I tell you – show the Headmaster your fingers. I bet you're the Demon Fighter. maybe that's why you tracked this demon down."

"And I did nothing to stop that Enslaver last night. It's all my fault."

"Yours? I'd like to remind you this castle is full of Aurors, not to mention that Professor Dumbledore is an experienced Demon Fighter himself and we all did nothing. He ones who fought were three kids. We should be ashamed, WE did nothing."

(Three days later, 10 pm. Snape's lab)

"Professor?" Ups, he must have fallen asleep.

"Any problems, Hermione?" Soon he'll start calling all the Gryffindors by their first names. She looks dead, with her disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes. Not only has she to deal with her friend's death but also with her own deed. Snape sighs – in the Order they'd make a solemn ceremony, giving her a grown-up name and everything. By the way, Hermione doesn't seem to be interested in any kind of philosophy now. She takes a huge book out of her bag and puts it on the table.

"You asked me about this Dark Sun, Professor. You used the expression "Broken Sun of Darkness, fear of wizards and Muggles alike.""

"That's true." He stares at the volume with curiosity – did she find the solution many Aurors and him were looking for in vain for a few months? Feanor told him a Muggle-born would help him to find the solution and there's nobody brighter of them than this girl.

"Fear of Muggles" – she says. "I've been looking for that in many books and – how could I be so stupid – I was looking in the wrong ones. If it's fear of Muggles, why not to look up the Muggle books?" This girl has the point, as usual. "What do you think of this, Professor?" She opens the book (Snape notice its title: "Muggle history, XIX-XX century") and shows him the picture. The impact is so strong that he can't help a groan of pain. Yes, there it is – a black, accursed Sun, with four broken arms. How could they be so brainless and not to guess this at once? The Gammadion, a favorite Enslaver of the Dark wizards, a demon quite easy to unleash but much harder to control. It allowed Voldemort to control two-three people at once but then (as Snape's unlucky night with the Angst showed) he started loosing control over it. Now everything's clear – this species affects you most when it gets into physical contact with you, so no wonder Voldemort's touch caused such an effect. He must be somehow connected with the Gammadion and, unintentionally, connected Snape with it, too. It's also easy to explain how Voldemort could use poor Ronald for his evil purposes – Perceval could help him to get his brother under the beast's influence. After all the attack happened the day he visited Ron! Maybe even Fudge was affected by it, due to Perceval but Snape wouldn't bet his life – the Minister has always been a complete moron, with the Enslaver or without it.

"Hermione" – whispers Snape – "you're nothing short of genius. That's what we were looking for."

"So now when we know what species it belongs to, we are able to destroy it, aren't we?"

"I suppose so. Please, let the others know." When she left, he hides his face in his hands. The demon is connected with Voldemort and that means it's physically bound to him. Killing it would mean pulling it out of the Dark Lord somehow and then destroying it. Well, Albus, being an experienced Demon Fighter could deal with the beast easily but how to rip it out of its current carrier? Allowing it to take him, Snape, over? The consequences can be more than tragic, if he, being enslaved, escapes, turns the Dark Lord and maybe the Dark Emperor later. Instead of one, they'd have two raving lunatics, the younger maybe even more powerful than the older but Snape can't see the other way. Wait! Feanor's words ring in his head again. "Do the second thing you're afraid of most and you'll find it." The Unicorn has shown his wisdom and deep knowledge many times and probably he's right this time as well. He has shown him the way to track the demon down without being attacked, no doubt. "Do the second thing you're afraid of most." The very thought makes Snape nauseous. Well, he'll have to try, otherwise the demon will grow in power so much it'll take him over anyhow. Last time Potter and he managed to defeat it but its possibilities keep increasing, Snape is well aware of that. Now, with all the charms his friends are teaching him he has much more chances to win the fight. He's also told Dumbledore about all what happened in the MOM's dungeons and the revealed memories are less dangerous than hidden secrets. If you dare to speak about something aloud its influence on you lessens considerably. Well,

the demon will attack him again for sure but this time he'll be prepared and armed. "Do the second thing you're afraid of most." Even hells, NO!!! "Come on, Severus," – he says to himself – "since when you're so sensitive? The Fogwalkers did worse things and didn't complain." He'll try this next time he's summoned – he even knows how. He won't simply take one of his potions and that's all. He must, he has no choice – if they don't finish the Gammadion quickly, there'll be no hope for him. He knows the faster he tries the greater chances he has but deep in his heart he would like not to be summoned soon.

A whoosh of Floo powder interrupts his musings. There're only few people who can enter his fireplace but none of them was to come tonight so he automatically aims his wand at the newcomer.

"Easy, Severus." – she whispers, shaking the ash off her dark robes.

"Naya? What the hell are you doing here? I've told you not to come unless in great need."

"I think I do what I was commanded to." – she stares at him boldly but her voice is sad.

"What's so urgent?" – he snaps.

"Marcus is missing." NOOO!!!

"How? When?"

"Was to contact me this afternoon. Had important documents. Didn't appear – I think something could have happened to him." That's all he needs – the mad Dark Lord, the raving demon and now one of his best spies, missing! Last month they lost two of them and now probably another one.

"Let's look for him in the Palantir." They go to the Dumbledore's office and stare into the purple jewel with mixed hope and anxiety. "Show us Marcus Flint." Nothing. The jewel remains dark and empty.

"Does it mean he's dead?" –whispers Naya with fear.

"No, it would have shown us the corpse but if it can't find him he's worse than dead. There are a few places the Palantir can't penetrate – places protected with powerful Dark Arts."

"Riddle House." – she turns pale.

"For example. After the night Remus "evaporated" out of the dungeons the Lord got a bit hysterical about it and the place is swarming with guards now – I won't be able to help him, if he's there."

"No hope?"

"There're a few more places the Palantir can't see. Averys' Realm, Malfoys' Castle and Redwoods' Manor. Our Aurors should pay a polite visit to them, I think. Let's wake them up."

(5 am.)

"SEVERUS! WAKE UP!" – somebody literally tries to break down the door.

"I'm not asleep. What's the matter, Arabella?" – he asks Mrs. Figg, appearing form behind the portrait of Merlin and Viviane.

"We've just "visited" Malfoys' Castle. We need your experience to tell us what happened there." The old witch looks nauseous and she's a tough one.

"My Dark knowledge?" - he asks, lacing his boots. "Rather your Assassin one." After a few minutes, Arabella, Remus and he Apparate at the gates of the castle. "Don't you think it's a bit reckless to show in each other's company?" – he asks.

"No one here will inform Voldemort, I assure you." - whispers Remus. When they enter the building Snape's sensitive nose nearly kills him on the spot. Smell of wizards' blood and terrible stench of burned flesh nearly knock him out.

"What's happened?"

"You'll tell us that. First her." A young, tall, blonde woman is lying on the floor with her eyes wide open. A stream of blood has already coagulated on her cheek. Snape examines her carefully.

"Must have been fighting, look at the bruises on her face and arms. According to the mess" – he climbs upstairs, paying attention to every detail – "they were fighting like hell but without magic, just with physical violence. Finally her opponent pushed her off the stairs and she broke her neck, rolling down. Do you know who she was, by the way?"

"Lilith Redwood, a Death Eater." Ups, starts looking really "interesting". "Look here." – Remus pushes the door open. Narcissa.

"I think" – says Snape, showing them a crack on the metal decoration on the wall – "that she used Avada Kedavra but missed or her enemy simply ducked, the curse reflected form the hard surface and got her."

"Nothing more than she deserves." – hisses Arabella Figg through clenched teeth. There's a passage to another room and Snape steps back, unable to tolerate the stench. The Flints, also Death Eaters. Who went mad here?

"I've never seen such wounds" – whispers Arabella – "but once in Island when an idiot wizard made a nesting Balrog angry but I think it'd have set the whole castle on fire."

"It wasn't a Balrog, I daresay. Who the hell would call it here?" – finally Snape's nose gets used a bit to the smell and he can enter the room. "Moreover. Balrog's claws make much wider wounds. I think it was a sword."

"A sword?" – asks Lupin. "Severus, there's no single drop of blood here! Something slashed them, that's true, but not with steel! It looks as if the wounds were made with something hot, it cut their bodies and burnt them the same time!"

"That's why they didn't bleed out." – sighs Snape. "The blade was so hot it stopped the blood loose at once." No wonder he could sniff this terrible smell.

"So you think it was a blade?"

"Norang, Fire Steel, or something similar to it. When the fighter is very angry or desperate the blade bursts into flames."

"Norangs belong to the Order, if I'm not mistaken?" – says Arabella. "It wasn't your job, was it?"

"It wasn't an Assassin, I assure you. We always leave our sign, you know, and I can't see it. The killer didn't use our methods, too. It looks like a dramatic, fierce fight while we'd have come in a greater number and ambushed them, not giving them a chance to draw their wands and look at the mess – it was quite a battle here!"

"Was it Flint, you think?"

"According to my knowledge, he possesses no Norang, neither any other kind of such a weapon. I know there were wizards outside of the Order who could produce different kinds of weapons with the power of Fire but he's never told me he has such a thing. They're a great rarity, one can't buy them so easily, after all. They usually belong to professional killers and sometimes Slayers and this guy here, fierce as he was (or maybe it was a witch, who knows?), didn't have the skill. He was good, very good – but not a professional."

"That's not the last dead." – Remus beckons him to another room. Well, Luc has finally come to the bad end. "All I found is a scratch on his palm." – says the Auror. Snape notice something familiar on the Malfoy's sleeve.

"Poison. The blade laced with poison."

"It's but a scratch!"

"But the poison was bloody good. I don't know who brewed it but this person knew what he or she was doing – chose a very strong and fast one. Luc lost consciousness literally at once and was dead a minute or so later. This thing contains Manticore spines, Remus. A brewer must be very cautious not to kill himself while handling them, not to mention it belongs to the Class A Ministry Untradeable Goods and is expensive like seven hells. The brewer was really good and Dark like my hair."

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The Gammadion really exists. This symbol has a few names and I just chose the less popular one. Try to guess what it is, dear Readers.

And review, please!