Harry Potter: World at War
Chapter 36: The Dark Lord's Return
The small cell was dark again when Harry opened his eyes. Memories of the night rose unbidden to his mind, and it was with a sinking feeling that he realized what had happened. He had lost. Disgust and self-loathing filled him as he reflected, it had been a battle of wills and Rowle had been stronger. Harry had thrown off Voldemort's Imperius curse, but he hadn't been able to fight back against one lousy Death Eater.
The more rational part of his mind knew that it was only the torture and starvation that had weakened him, but he didn't care. Voldemort was going to come back, and every death was squarely on Harry's shoulders. He had been too weak to protect them.
Pansy's face flashed behind Harry's eyes, and he shook his head, trying to clear it. Pansy wouldn't want him anymore. She was too good and innocent to stain her soul by associating with him. He was damaged and ruined by what he had done. Damaged like Bellatrix.
He would have snorted if he had the strength. He didn't even have the same excuse Bellatrix did. A slave bond was unbreakable, impossible to fight against. It was only the years of isolation in Azkaban that finally freed Bella. But the Imperius curse. . .that could be fought. Harry had done it several times already; he had been tested against some of the strongest minds in the world and managed to shrug it off. And still he had lost against Rowle.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Harry closed his eyes as the light flooded into the windowless room.
"The great Harry Potter, reduced to nothing more than a sniveling wreck."
Harry tensed, recognizing Snape's familiar drawl. Slowly, he opened his eyes, wincing as the light dazzled him. His former professor stood in front of Harry's cell, a wide tray in his hands, covered by a domed lid.
"I expected so much more from Dumbledore's golden boy," Snape sneered. "But then again, you are James Potter's son."
Fury welled up in Harry's chest, threatening to burst out. He managed to force himself to hold his tongue, his eyes boring a hole in the tray that Snape held. Despite the dire situation, his stomach rumbled audibly, and he found himself desperately hoping that his mind wasn't tricking him, and he really could smell onion soup.
"No witty remarks?" Snape asked, one eyebrow arching.
After a moment passed, Snape balanced the tray in one hand, and drew his wand with the other. With a slight flick of the black wood, the cell door swung open, and Snape smoothly stepped through.
Harry looked up at the man. It was the first time that any of his captors had actually entered the cell with him. He eyed Snape's wand, wondering if he could somehow tear his arms free of the chains, and wrest the man's wand away.
"Against my advice, Rowle has decided to keep you alive." Snape said, and Harry's eyes snapped back up to meet the older man's gaze. "He feels that the Dark Lord would rather kill you himself."
Harry didn't respond, at this distance he was certain that he hadn't been imagining it. Snape really was going to feed him. Or else the Potions professor had just decided to screw with Harry's mind and torture him by leaving food just outside his reach.
"It wouldn't do to let you starve after all the trouble I went through to keep you alive." Snape continued, and Harry's eyes widened.
Snape lifted the domed lid from the tray, revealing a steaming bowl of onion soup. Harry felt his mouth start to water as the heady scent filled his nostrils.
"While I'm sure you would derive some sick pleasure from me feeding you, I have far better things to partake in." Snape sneered. "I will release your bonds, but rest assured, if you so much as breathe in the direction of my wand, I will happily chain you back up."
Harry froze. Snape was going to release him? This might be the opening he had been waiting for. Then again, he wasn't sure what awaited him even if he did manage to escape. The Order was almost certain to turn their back on him after what he did. Even Pansy and Narcissa wouldn't want to associate with him. Maybe it would just be him and Bellatrix, left alone to drown in their guilt.
Snape flicked his wand again, and the chains wrapped around Harry's arms loosened. Experimentally, he lowered his arms back down to his side, breathing a sigh of relief as his muscles finally relaxed. He flinched when he saw the vivid bruising and oozing cuts that decorated the lower half of his forearms.
After a few moments of contemplation, Harry tentatively reached for the bowl, and when Snape didn't react, he lifted it to his lips and gulped it down noisily.
The soup was thick and hot and very rich. Harry thought that he felt his throat blister as he greedily swallowed the soup, but he didn't care. It had been so long since he had eaten, and the soup was the most delicious thing that he could remember tasting.
"Slower, you'll make yourself sick."
Harry paused, lowering the bowl. Snape's face was impassive, showing no indication that he had just spoken. But it was unmistakably Snape's voice that had whispered in Harry's ear, so low that it was nearly inaudible.
Carefully, Harry lifted the bowl back to his lips, making sure to consume the soup at a much more reasonable rate. Snape was right. Harry had learned the hard way that eating too fast after a few days of starving was a quick way to throw it all back up.
"Typical Gryffindor manners," Snape scoffed. "I've seen wild animals make less of a mess while eating."
Harry ignored the man, and tilted the bowl as far as he could, trying to capture every last drop of the soup. He didn't know when or if he would be fed again, but he knew that he would need the energy if he ever wanted to attempt an escape.
"Patience, we're working on getting you out of here. Dumbledore has the Dark Lord's spirit trapped on Azkaban," Snape murmured, his lips hardly moving. "Rowle and the others won't be able to bring him back. Just try to hold on a little while longer."
Harry fought not to react to the man's words as a tiny glimmer of hope sparked within him. Snape was on his side. And Voldemort wasn't going to be brought back. He brought down his Occlumency shields, and met Snape's gaze over the rim of the bowl.
What's the plan? Harry tried to push the thought towards Snape, and was relieved when the man's familiar drawl responded an instant later.
We're working on it. Rowle's manor has a Dark Mark ward around the property. You can't get it through it unless you're Marked. Dumbledore is trying to find a way to bypass it or bring it down.A jolt of surprise ran through Harry. He hadn't realized how intimate it was to share minds with someone. He could feel every emotion wrapped around Snape's words. Concern. Worry. Fear. Determination. It was all there.
Focus Potter! Snape chastised him. We only have a few moments before Rowle or Crabbe start thinking this is suspicious.
Right, right. Harry thought back, trying to banish the other thoughts from his mind. What about the ritual? Rowle will be suspicious if you don't help him with it. He's still expecting Voldemort to show up any second.
Leave it to me. Snape's words were soothing, but Harry could feel the wave of fear that followed them. The potion is complex. It will take time to brew. It also has one ingredient that will be nearly impossible for Rowle and the others to find. One of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes.
You know about the Horcruxes? Harry knew that Dumbledore was considering bringing Snape into their circle, but he hadn't realized it had already happened. Wait! Why didn't Dumbledore tell us that Voldemort had already used one of his Horcruxes?
He didn't know. Snape told him, the words tinged with smugness. It wasn't until he filled me in on the Horcruxes after your capture that we discussed the ritual. I knew that it called for a piece of the user's essence, but I hadn't spent much time researching what ingredients could be used. That's good then. What Horcrux did he sacrifice? It seems that the Dark Lord likely hid a Horcrux within Hogwarts.
So, let's just kill Nagini now. Voldemort will die without a Horcrux to tether him. Elation flooded through Harry's body. They didn't have to worry about tracking down the last unknown Horcrux. Nagini was all that was left.
Not quite. Snape didn't elaborate, but Harry could feel the regret radiating from the Potion Master's mind. Dumbledore has forbidden me from explaining any more. Just focus on staying alive for a few more days.
Abruptly, Snape stood up in one fluid motion and tore the forgotten bowl from Harry's grasp. "I think you've had quite enough." He snarled, drawing his wand. Their entire conversation had taken place at the speed of thought, so only a few seconds had passed. To anyone watching, it would seem that Snape had grown increasingly impatient with Harry, and finally snapped.
With a flick of Snape's wand, Harry was flung forcefully toward the back of the cell, and the iron chains immediately wrapped around his wrists once more. Snape casually gathered up the discarded tray and lid, and exited the cell, the door closing behind him as he did so.
As the man's footsteps faded away, Harry was finally able to take a moment to process what Snape had told him. Apparently when Dumbledore vanished during the battle at Azkaban he was laying some kind of trap for Voldemort's soul. The old man still had some tricks left.
Harry replayed the conversation with Snape in his mind. He knew that the man had been hiding something. . .there was no reason that Voldemort should survive if all of his Horcruxes were destroyed. Then again, Harry was hardly an expert on the matter. It was certainly possible that Voldemort's wraith form could exist without the Horcruxes. Maybe they only kicked in when his body had been destroyed.
Harry shook his head. That didn't make sense. Snape's thoughts had been filled with remorse and regret, clearly it was something that the man felt very strongly about. Something more personal than Voldemort. Harry closed his eyes. He felt like he was missing something. Something important. But he couldn't place it.
*****HP: WAW*****
There was no way of keeping track of the passage of time in the dark cell, but Harry guessed that it was several hours before the door opened, a long chink of light illuminating the room once again. Snape entered the room, another tray in his hands, a small bowl of stew and a glass of water balanced on it.
"I have to say Potter, Filch may have been right." Snape sneered, disdain etched across his features. "Chains are an excellent way of teaching noisy dunderheads like yourself to be quiet."
Harry didn't respond, still trying to maintain the ruse of the broken prisoner. He was certain that Rowle and the others were watching his interactions with Snape.
Snape opened Harry's cell with a flick of his wand and stepped into the small cage. The chains wrapped around Harry's wrists dropped, and he slowly lowered his aching arms, massaging the protesting muscles.
"Eat quickly." Snape ordered, handing Harry the tray. "I have no desire to be in your presence any longer than strictly necessary."
Harry swiftly dug into the beef stew, grateful for another meal that he could eat without chewing. Intellectually he knew that his gums were fully healed by magic, and that he could gum some foods down, but the thought of trying to chew without his teeth was terrifying to him.
Any updates? Harry broadcast, lowering his Occlumency shields.
Nothing yet. Snape replied. The wards holding the Dark Lord's soul seem to be weakening, but Dumbledore is confident that they will hold long enough for us to free you.
You don't agree. It wasn't a question. Despite Snape's calming words, Harry could feel the doubt underlying them.
No.
There was a lull as Snape gathered his thoughts, and Harry took a drink of water. Although the onion soup had quenched some of his thirst, it had been a long time since he had drank anything, and the water soothed his battered mouth and throat.
The Dark Mark is the pinnacle of the Dark Lord's achievements. Snape told him, a small amount of admiration tinging his words. It is impossible to replicate, and he is the only one that can cast it. But, if anything, this ward is even stronger. Despite Dumbledore's best efforts, he cannot find any way to penetrate or bypass the barrier: you must have a Dark Mark to get through. The only other way through the ward is to carry a token enchanted by the Dark Lord himself, and tied to the owner's blood. Even if we could find one, you wouldn't be able to use it.
Snape paused before continuing. At best, we have a few more days until the Dark Lord escapes Dumbledore's wards, and he will be revived within hours of contacting Rowle.
Would my scar be able to trick the barrier? Harry asked, straining to think of a possible solution. It's bound to have part of Voldemort's magic still tied to it.
There was a pause, and Harry felt another wave of Snape's regret wash over him. What was the man hiding?
Perhaps, Snape allowed. But we wouldn't be able to test it. And if you're wrong, you would be trapped here, and my position would be compromised. If Voldemort returns to his body, the first thing he'll do is kill me.
Perhaps not, there may that we can convince him you're too valuable to kill. For the first time, Harry could feel a sense of hope from his former professor.
Snape broke off the connection abruptly, and looked away. Between the man's sneer and the hard line of his jaw, any onlookers would think he was frustrated about being in Harry's presence, but Harry knew that Snape was lost in thought.
Harry quickly finished the bowl of stew and the glass of water, placing the empty dishes on the tray and setting it aside. Snape looked up at the sudden noise, and flicked his wand when he realized that Harry was done.
The heavy coils quickly snaked around Harry's wrists once again, and he was pulled back against the wall once more. Snape Vanished the tray and dishes with another wave of his wand, and stepped out of the cell.
For a moment, it seemed like Snape was going to say something, but he simply opened the door, and disappeared up the stairs. Darkness enveloped Harry's cell once more, and he was left alone with his thoughts.
Despite the man's continued help, Harry was growing more and more frustrated with Snape. The Potions Master was hiding something. And on Dumbledore's orders too. Harry was starting to wonder if Dumbledore would ever actually trust him.
Harry spent a few moments trying to figure out exactly what Snape had been hiding, but he drew a blank. Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he drifted off to sleep.
*****HP: WAW*****
Harry seethed with rage as he uselessly flung himself against the shimmering barrier again. He had been close. So close. If it hadn't been for the Dementors, he would have killed the Potter brat back on that beach, and he wouldn't be trapped in this helpless form.
Harry spent another few moments probing the barrier. He had never encountered anything like it before; doubtless it was a spell of the old fool's invention. Already though, Harry could feel it weakening. He could move further now, and he could actively resist the barrier. It was only a matter of time before he would escape, and then he could return to his body again.
A tremor of worry shuddered through Harry's incorporeal form. His Horcruxes were disappearing at an alarming rate. The diadem had been sacrificed to create his second body, Lucius had wasted the diary in a pathetic attempt to discredit the Weasleys, and he was certain that Bellatrix had destroyed the soul piece he had entrusted to her. And now he would need to use another Horcrux to return to his body. Harry had already decided that he would sacrifice Nagini; he was fond of the snake, but she was far more vulnerable than either the Gaunt ring or Slytherin's necklace.
Harry's musings were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps approaching. He spun around, searching for any place to conceal himself. He was still too weak to combat a trained wizard. Too late he realized that Dumbledore's prison had him trapped away from any kind of cover. He was vulnerable and exposed.
A dark hooded figure stepped up to the shining silver shield, an ebony wand jutting out from beneath his flowing sleeve. The wand moved quickly, the incantation a murmur that Harry couldn't catch. Suddenly, the barrier shimmered brightly, and then faded away.
The dark man dropped to one knee and slowly lowered his hood, revealing a large hooked nose, and pallid skin. "My Lord, I have come to free you."
Harry sucked in a breath. "Severus. You have returned to me."
"Of course, My Lord," Snape whispered, bowing forward. "I live to serve you. Rowle and the others have prepared the ritual for your resurrection at his manor. We also have the Potter brat held captive, awaiting your return."
"Excellent," Harry hissed, pleased at the success of his Death Eaters. "You have done well Severus, but what of Dumbledore? Surely he will realize that you were the one to free me." Snape's head rose, his dark hair framing his face like curtains. "He knew the spell was failing. He wanted my help in designing a more permanent cage. I will convince him that the ward degraded more quickly than we had anticipated."
Snape removed a burlap sack from beneath his cloak, and coaxed a large serpent to slither out. "I have brought you this vessel to possess My Lord. It should sustain you until we can perform the ritual."
Harry summoned what little magic he could, and slipped into the body of the snake. There was a brief struggle as the serpent fought back, but he easily overpowered it, and took control of the body. Snape held open the burlap bag again, and Harry slithered into it, coiling his body as the bag closed around him. He could feel the bag jostle as Snape tucked it back into his cloak, and then a sudden increase in speed as Snape took off, leaving Azkaban behind them.
*****HP: WAW*****
Raw, unbridled anger flooded through Harry's body as he processed his dream. Snape had freed Voldemort? Why? He had been so sure that the Potions professor was on his side. He had taken numerous risks to protect Harry ever since the battle at Azkaban. What was his end goal?
Harry roughly tugged on the chains binding him, willing them to break. With Voldemort and Snape on the way to Rowle's manor, he needed to make his escape. He could only hope that the magic of his scar would be enough to trick the Dark Mark ward. There was no time to try and bring the ward down.
Stubbornly, the bindings refused to budge, and Harry's fury soared to new heights. He struggled against the chains again, desperately trying to break their hold. He didn't know how fast Snape could fly, but he probably had less than thirty minutes to get free. Harry gathered his magic again, trying to force it through his body. He hadn't ever had success with wandless magic, but it was his only hope.
Harry's scar throbbed painfully, and he strengthened his Occlumency shields. He couldn't risk being sucked into a vision. Not now. Harry locked his jaw, redoubling his efforts to channel his magic wandlessly. He could feel it bubbling just below the surface, begging to get out. He could do this. He had no choice.
Blood started to slowly trickle out of Harry's nostril as he strained to focus. With the sudden shock of a dam breaking, magic poured freely from his body, and the chains restraining him loosened their hold, dangling limply from the ceiling.
Not pausing to celebrate his success, Harry brought his magic to bear on the cell door. It was blasted from its hinges, flying across the room and impacting against the far wall with a thunderous CRASH!
Harry sagged as he felt the drain on his magic. Wandless casting was far more exhausting than he had realized, and he knew he would only be able to use another handful of spells.
Moving as quickly as his battered body would allow, Harry crossed the room and threw the door open. The stairwell was completely empty, and he thanked Merlin as he sprinted up the stairs to the back of Damocles Rowle's portrait. "Signum."
The portrait softly swung open, and Harry stepped through it into the lavish hallway. Although the corridor was deserted, a pair of voices carried from an open door several meters away. Harry quietly snuck past the open door, risking a peek as he passed. Three unfamiliar Death Eaters stood in a partial circle around a large leather-bound text, arguing about the meaning of a particular passage.
Harry lifted his hands, ready to blast the Death Eaters with every ounce of magic he could muster. After a moment's hesitation, he lowered them again and made his way further down the hallway. He didn't have the time or energy to waste. Hopefully the Death Eaters would be too distracted by their argument to notice him.
Harry rounded a corner, and nearly collided with an unmasked Crabbe. Confusion spread across the man's broad face. "Potter? You're supposed to be locked up!"
Gathering as much magic as he could, Harry tried to shape it into a Bludgeoning charm. "Vercundus!"
The golden wave of magic knocked Crabbe over, his short wand clattering across the marble flooring. Harry dove for the wand, and managed to scoop it up right before Crabbe's scrabbling fingers closed around it.
"Depulso!" Harry shouted, casting the first spell that came to mind.
Crabbe was lifted off of his feet and slammed into one of the portraits lining the corridor. He felt to the ground, a line of blood trickling from his mouth.
Crabbe's wand felt oddly wrong in Harry's hand, but it was still better than the heavy drain of wandless magic. He hesitated for a moment, debating on whether he should finish Crabbe off or not. His decision made, Harry rapped himself on the head with Crabbe's wand, Disillusioning himself. He didn't want to waste any energy on unnecessary spells, and Crabbe wouldn't be moving for several minutes at least. Harry hoped to be far away from Rowle Manor before then.
With another wave of the short wand, Harry Silenced his shoes and took off down the hallway again. He was soon panting heavily, with a sharp stitch growing in his side. Days of torture without adequate food or drink had taken their toll on his endurance, and he wouldn't be able to maintain much more than a fast walk.
Luckily, the halls of the manor seemed to be deserted. Harry guessed that most of the remaining Death Eaters were busy preparing for the ritual. A fresh wave of fury filled him, and Snape flashed before his mind's eye. The bastard had been playing all of them. Even Harry had finally started to trust the man despite his misgivings.
Harry turned down another corridor, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the grandiose entrance hall. He was nearly there. Like the rest of the manor, the entrance hall was completely empty, so Harry raised Crabbe's wand and blasted the ornate doors open with a powerful Bludgeoner.
His Disillusionment faded as he cast the spell, and Harry quickly realized the mistake he had made. Over a dozen Death Eaters were gathered on the front lawn, preparing for the ritual. As the massive front doors swung open with a loud crash, all eyes turned to lock onto him.
"It's Potter!" Rowle shouted, drawing his wand from his sleeve. "Stop him! But keep him alive!"
"Stupefy!" A masked Death Eater roared, a red jet of light firing from his wand.
Harry ducked beneath the Stunner, and rolled past another flurry of curses the remainder of the Death Eaters sent toward him. Lifting Crabbe's wand, he took aim at Rowle. "Percutio!"
A yellow beam lanced from his wand, and Rowle jerked to the side, the Piercing hex scoring a thin gash along his cheek.
Harry sprinted across the wide expanse of grass, dodging another burst of spellfire. He could see the gates of Rowle Manor looming in front of him, only a few hundred meters away.
"Petrificus Totalus!" Rowle screamed, his voice distorted by fury.
Harry threw himself to the side to avoid Rowle's Full Body-Bind, but fell right into the path of a Leg-Locker curse cast by another Death Eater. He fell to ground, his legs stuck together by invisible bonds. Crabbe's wand skidded across the wet grass, out of Harry's reach.
"Stupefy!"
Harry twisted, trying to avoid the spell, but it clipped his thigh. A red haze washed over him, blurring his vision, and then everything went black.
*****HP: WAW*****
Harry lifted his head from where he was draped around Snape's shoulders, and took in the sight before him. A dozen Death Eaters circled around a gigantic stone cauldron, already bubbling with fiery sparks and thick clouds of steam. Rowle was knelt before the cauldron, tending to the flames with a flick of his wand.
Harry would have smiled if his serpentine body was capable of such an action. Everything was all coming together. Nagini had willingly crawled into the cauldron when he revealed himself to her, and now all he needed were the final three pieces. The most important parts of the potion. There was a loud chime echoing from Snape's pocket, and the man quickly lifted Harry's body from around his neck, and passed him to Rowle. "The Headmaster is contacting me. I have to go."
Harry curled around Rowle's arm, eyeing Snape suspiciously. The man had proven himself to be one of his most loyal servants as of late, but Harry still could not bring himself to fully trust Severus Snape. The man spent far too much time in Dumbledore's company. Snape quickly crossed the large lawn and Apparated away with a loud CRACK as soon as he crossed the wards. Harry and his followers watched him leave, before turning back to the ritual. Rowle bent back down, and adjusted the flames one more time before rising. "The Regeneration Potion is ready My Lord."
"Excellent," Harry hissed, although the blond Death Eater couldn't understand him. "Let us begin."
Slowly, Rowle uncoiled Harry's body from around his arm, and lowered it into the cauldron. Harry quickly sunk to the bottom, a soft thud echoing within the confines of stone. The potion bubbled around him, eating away at his possessed body, and drawing his incorporeal form out once more.
Rowle's voice was softer, muffled by the potion, but Harry could still hear him speaking. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"
The potion fizzled and sparked as the last remnants of Tom Marvolo Riddle Sr. were dropped into the cauldron, and it turned a vivid, poisonous blue. Harry was thankful that he had thought to have Crouch Jr. set aside half of his muggle father's bones as a precaution. He had saved just enough to complete the Regeneration Potion a second time. Hopefully, it would not be needed again.
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" Harry was pleased to hear that Rowle's voice was strong and unwavering, a far cry from Wormtail's blubbering as he performed the ritual.
The was a soft splash as Rowle's flesh fell into the cauldron. The potion turned a burning red, and Harry could hardly contain his glee. Everything was working as expected. Rowle quietly murmured a healing spell, before speaking again, his voice still steady. "Blood of the enemy forcibly taken you will resurrect your foe!"
There was the unmistakable sound of a vial unstoppering, and a quiet sloshing sound as the Potter boy's blood was added to the bubbling potion. A blinding white flash took away Harry's vision, and if he had had a throat, he would have screamed. The ritual was even more agonizing than he remembered; the Cruciatus, creating a Horcrux, even dying was far less painful than feeling a piece of his soul shredded even farther and crafted into a new body. There was a shrill whistle sounding in his ears as the potion boiled his very soul. The whistling grew louder, deafening, all encompassing, and for a brief moment, Harry was afraid. Would it ever stop? Had his Death Eaters made a mistake? Would he be stuck like this forever?
A blistering surge of white steam billowed around him as the potion quickly evaporated. Slowly, Harry felt himself rising, and took a deep breath as his senses returned to him. The rough surface of the cauldron felt like heaven after being disembodied for several days, and he stood for a moment, relishing the feeling of the light breeze against his naked flesh. Finally, he opened his eyes, basking in the fear and wonder of his followers. "Rowle," Harry rasped, savoring the sensation of his mouth and lips forming words. "Robe me."
The man silently nodded, and flicked his wand. A pile of black fabric rose from the ground in front of Harry and quickly swathed him. Harry stepped out of the cauldron, the soft grass was wet with morning dew, and he relished in the feeling of it squishing beneath his bare feet. He had been reborn again.