Child of the Dark Moon

by Sw-0608

Fleeing from Dudley and the 'Harry-hunters' under a full moon, Harry Potter saves his hated cousin from a giant wolf and is nearly killed. Severus Snape comes upon the bloody body not ten minutes later and takes the child into his home, against his better judgment. Can Snape come to terms with the vulnerable boy and help him to adapt to being a werewolf? (Manipulative Dumbledore)

32. Chapter 32: Conspiracy

Rated T

(Disclaimer: don't own, never will, don't plan to. Just doing it for fun.)

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Chapter 32: Conspiracy

Something was up with Severus. He was simply acting odd, and it all had started about twenty-four hours ago. Albus Dumbledore knew that something must have gone very wrong with the last memory purge he had inflicted on his Potions Professor, but Severus would not sit still long enough for him to check. Striding back into the dark, hushed halls of Hogwarts, the Headmaster sighed heavily at the thought of forcing Severus to submit yet again to a mind surgery. It was not desirable, of course, to keep meddling with someone's memories and very identity, but it was necessary. Poor Severus could not handle the pain and eventual madness of his terrible memories. In order to protect his Potions-Master from such a fate, Albus had to help bear the burden of such things.

He arrived back at his office and gazed around the crowded space. The whirring artifacts and snow globe depicting Harry's blood-wards were quiet and dim. Albus was of no relation to the boy-who-lived, and so could not reinitiate them at his own manor. A brief thought of Severus entered his mind, but Albus shook his head firmly. Snape needed to be free in order to continue his role as a spy. If he had permanent care of a child, especially Harry Potter, there was no way he would be able to continue in his position.

He sat at his desk and accessed the wards of Hogwarts. It was far easier to search for individuals while the school was empty than during school days, naturally. But he couldn't find Severus anywhere. Filch was on the ground floor, Hagrid was in his pumpkin patch, and there was absolutely no one else on the grounds. Frowning, Albus canceled his magical manifestation of the wards and glanced up at the portraits of Hogwarts' former headmasters and mistresses, most of whom were sleeping. Phineas Black was one of those awake, watching him with a scowl.

"Phineas?" Albus spoke up in his most polite tone. "Would you be so kind as to visit the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy and tell me if the door to the Room of Requirement is visible?"

Headmaster Black scowled for another few seconds, and then with a mutter, he left his frame. Albus was surprised by such easy compliance, and wondered if he ought to be suspicious of the Slytherin portrait.

"Looking for someone, Albus?" the portrait of Headmaster Diggle spoke up in a sleepy voice.

"Only Severus," Dumbledore replied, glancing over his shoulder and smiling at his painted predecessor.

"Oh, the one ye took the memories from, eh?" another Headmaster spoke up, his deep Scottish brogue tainted with disapproval.

Albus shook his head sorrowfully. "I had no choice. His own mind was driving him insane. I merely stabilized him."

Phineas Black suddenly reappeared in his portrait. "The door's not visible," he growled.

"Meanin' nobody's in there," the portrait of Headmaster McMurray concluded.

"You know most of us don't approve of how you're handling this, Albus," Headmistress Hilda Tarragon's painted likeness informed him gravely. "There are Mind Healers for a reason, and you are not qualified."

"Oh, you forget that it's fine for him," Headmaster Black's portrait sneered before Albus could answer. "Professor Snape's just a slimy Slytherin, so that makes it fine, am I right, Dumbledore?"

"We've been over this," Albus sighed, pulling his spectacles off and wiping them clean on his bright fuchsia robe. "I do what I must, and I do it because Severus needs it, not because he happened to be sorted into Slytherin as an eleven-year-old."

"Liar," Black scoffed.

"It isn't right," Tarragon lamented.

"Ye're lucky we're enchanted t'be on yer side, laddie," McMurray grumbled. "Back in my day, ye'd be hanged, drawn, an' quartered fer meddlin' wit' a man's mind this way."

Albus shook his head regretfully and folded his hands on the desk before him. "I know," he said firmly. "But I have told you all before; desperate times call for desperate measures. I need Severus. The whole wizarding world needs him. As a wise man once said, it is better for one man to suffer than for an entire nation to perish." He sometimes appreciated having the embodied likenesses of Hogwarts' past Heads to advise him, but just like a conscience, they tended to annoy at certain times.

"Thou are filling the poor boy's head with naught but lies," Headmistress Amelia Honeysuckle interjected in her soft, high voice, having been woken by their voices. "What good wouldst thou believe to come of such deception?"

"You've based your entire career on lies," Phineas Black added with a mocking sneer. "And you think Slytherins are evil? Hah! You're the master liar of your time, Albus Dumbledore."

Albus shook his head impatiently and stood up. He settled his spectacles on his nose and smoothed his robes. "Thank you all for your advice," he said a bit frostily, done with listening to their judgment. "But I believe that I have duties to attend to. Excuse me."

He left his office again, feeling pricked and irritated by the honest opinions of his predecessors. Sometimes, he wondered if he was truly doing the right thing. But he had come too far to repent. There was nowhere he could go, but forward. So, he took the next logical step and went in search of Severus Snape. He needed to get to the bottom of his Potions-Master's strange behavior before all of his plans fell through.

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Tea with Filch wasn't usually something to look forward to, but Severus was eager to see how the squib custodian could help him with his next mission. He awoke after a long, refreshing sleep in the Room of Requirement and left the seventh floor corridor without incident. Barnabas the Barmy was snoring in his portrait; and Severus was glad that he didn't see one of Hogwarts' previous Headmasters or Mistresses there, spying for Dumbledore. The door to the Room of Requirement disappeared once he closed it behind him, and he wandered down the empty hallway to the stairs. Filch's quarters were on the ground floor near his office, in a hidden little spot that young Severus had helped him ward against juvenile pranksters years ago in return for a few favours. Making his way down the hushed corridors, his cloak swirled around his feet as he walked, his boots whispered on the stones, and he realized that he felt better than he had in a while. Even without any of his most recent memories, he could tell that it had been a very long time since he had properly slept. Now, he was well rested, rather hungry, and feeling optimistic. There was only one thing that could have dragged his good mood back down again.

Albus Dumbledore.

The old man almost seemed to materialize like a specter of doom as Severus stepped off the moving stair onto the ground floor. For the briefest of seconds, he hesitated. But his hesitation was gone the next second, and his Occlumency shields were as strong as they would ever be. He stalked toward Dumbledore as if he didn't care what the old man was doing here in some of his favourite robes; the ones in that awful shade of purple-pink that only looked good on six-year-old girls. It made Severus shudder to look at them. Hoping against hope that Albus Dumbledore only just happened to be in his way because of coincidence, Severus gave the Headmaster a brief glance before he pointedly tried to ignore his presence. But before he could sweep past the cunning old man, Albus gave Severus his winning smile and adjusted his spectacles as he cleared his throat. Oh yes. The old man was a master of the 'harmless old coot' act.

"Severus, my dear boy," Dumbledore greeted him in a warm tone. "I thought I would come check on you when you disappeared. Are you well? You've been gone for nearly twelve hours."

"Keeping track, were you?" Severus sneered, aiming to slip around the old man and continue on his way. But the old snake cut him off with a smooth, casual step to the left and back. The distance between them increased by a foot or two, but Severus was not getting past Dumbledore unless he attempted to physically push his way through.

"I was worried about you, my boy," Albus replied with a smile. He sounded, and looked, so utterly sincere that Severus found that he was surprised. He had, of course, known that Dumbledore's performance around him had to be of the highest quality for him to have been fooled for so long, but still, it was disconcerting to look at that sincere face and know that underneath rested a scheming mind as black as pitch.

"I do not need your concern," Severus said coldly, fixing Albus with his iciest glare. "I am a grown man and I need not account for my whereabouts to you, of all people."

The old headmaster actually looked rather hurt. If it wasn't real, he was an excellent actor. "Severus," he sighed. "I tire of playing these games with you. What have I done to earn such cruel words, my boy? Tell me, and I will make it right."

You can start by giving me my mind back …. All of it, Severus thought viciously. He shook his head in silence and folded his arms tightly across his chest. He wondered what the old man would do if directly confronted with his crime. He doubted Dumbledore would suddenly repent and give him back what was his, so he stayed quiet.

"Severus?"

"You have no right," the Potions-Master hissed in a low voice. "You have no right to call me that, not after all you have done."

Albus blinked innocent blue eyes behind his thin glasses. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, dear boy," he said slowly. "Please tell me what I have done to you, and I shall do my best to make amends."

"I'm sure you will," Severus sneered, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"I give you my word."

"How much is your word worth to you, old man?" Severus asked silkily. "Is it worth even as much as mine?"

"… I don't know what you mean, my boy," Albus said carefully, his blue eyes suddenly shrewd and worried.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," the Potions Professor smiled. "You're wondering though, how much I know."

Silence greeted his comment. Severus wondered if he had perhaps said too much. Watching the old Headmaster warily, he dropped his hands to his sides, flicking his wand from his wrist-holster into his fingers. Albus watched the movement with sadness in his lined face.

"What do you think I have done?" the old man asked softly. "Who has told you these things?"

"Why do you assume someone told me, Dumbledore?" Severus demanded mockingly.

"I simply don't understand why …"

"Why now?" Severus laughed, somewhat angrily. "You don't understand? Truly? No, I think you understand all too well. You simply don't want to believe that your loyal snake has shed its skin at last."

The old man gazed at him sadly for several seconds before he spoke. "What are you saying?"

"I'm tired of being your lapdog. You can go find yourself another spy."

"Dog? Snake? Severus, which are you?"

"Neither!" the Potions Master shouted, gripping his wand at his side so tightly that his fist trembled. "I am not yours anymore!"

"And when Voldemort returns?" Dumbledore demanded. His sad, grieved persona was gone, and in its place stood the fearsome warrior who led the Order of the Phoenix. Severus flinched at the dreaded name of the Dark Lord and fought the urge to grab at his arm, which did not burn the way it had when the mark was visible during the snake-faced bastard's reign, but it was instinctual. "What will you do, Severus?" Albus asked a bit more gently. "I have offered you safety, acceptance, a way to make amends for your crimes … a way to remember Lily."

"That is the problem," Severus said smoothly. Lying came as second nature to him, and one lie that was close to the truth was better than the truth in this instance. "I do not remember her anymore. Thus, there is no reason to continue this façade of loyalty." It almost pained him to lie about something so precious, but he needed to give Dumbledore something; some reason for his sudden cold, hateful attitude. Without Lily in his mind, he would hate the old man just as he had before. Although, he did remember her; he remembered more of her than he had in years. But Albus need not know that.

To the Potions Professor's satisfaction, Albus Dumbledore looked both stunned and concerned at the revelation. Taking advantage of the moment of shock, Severus turned on his heel and left the corridor, planning to find Filch's quarters by another route. He was aware that he was exposing his back to an enemy, but he was also aware that Dumbledore had no reason to be hitting him with a spell while he wasn't looking. Right now, he would be trying to calculate what went wrong when he erased Severus' memories of the last four or five weeks.

"Severus!" Albus called after him, hurrying after in an attempt to catch up. "I do not understand what you mean by saying such a thing!"

Severus stopped and shut his eyes briefly before he spun around and faced the old man bearing toward him in those garish fuchsia robes. "I am not Severus to you, old fool," he snarled. "You may call me Snape, or Professor, or Mr. Snape, but I don't want to hear my given name from your lips ever again. Do you understand, Dumbledore?"

"What …? Why? What do you think I've done to you? We must talk about this …"

"You already tried that," Severus laughed coldly, not at all amused. "I ran off and disappeared for a day. I do not want to talk to you. I do not want to discuss it. I'm not your toy that you can yank around by a string anymore. You are not my master."

"Where then does your loyalty lie now?"

With my son, Severus thought suddenly, surprising himself with such a revelation. But he could not say something like that to the old manipulator. Not yet. "I bend my knee to no one," he answered dismissively instead.

"And what if Voldemort returns? To whom will you bend your knee then?"

"You don't know that he's returning!" Severus shouted, losing some hold on his temper at last. "You do not know anything! I have no reason to think the Dark Lord will return from beyond the grave, and if you do, you are not sharing that information, as usual! So forgive me if I don't believe that my dark master is returning in some way!"

"Your dark master?" Dumbledore asked gravely, spikes of worry glittering in his eyes. "Is that why you are rejecting me now? You have changed your loyalty again?"

"Don't be such a fool," Severus sneered. "Even if he were to return somehow, I will never give my allegiance to a madman who had me tortured and violated simply for …" he stopped with a strangled cough of horror. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. And it had been a suppressed memory. Shutting his eyes briefly, Severus shook his head to clear away the dreadful images and emotions. Ever sadistic as the Dark Lord had been, the snake-faced fiend had known that losing Lily had been no accident. To punish such sentimentality, he had decreed that Severus be given what he rejected … by force. Dumbledore must have suppressed the memory because of its strong connection to Lily and what had happened to her, not to mention it was simply a horrible memory in and of itself.

"How much do you remember?" the old man asked softly, almost gently. But Severus could hear the dread and horror in his voice. Dumbledore was currently wondering where things had gone so very wrong.

"I remember enough," Severus hissed, raising his wand and pointing it at the old man. There was no more room for bluffs. He needed to get his information from Filch and send his patronus to the Marauders. They needed to move before the old man realized what they were planning. "I will not be your slave or your toy any more than I would be the Dark Lord's," Severus whispered, his sibilant voice echoing eerily off the corridor walls. "You will not touch my mind ever again. Or I will kill you."

Slowly, the Potions Master backed away, keeping his eyes and his wand focused on the aged Headmaster, who had single-handedly controlled his entire life for the past eight years. Dumbledore made no move to draw his wand or follow. He looked stricken, and very old, and worried.

You are right to worry, Severus thought with satisfaction as he turned a corner and could turn and walk more normally. Soon, even your own home will no longer be safe from my wrath. Take my son, will you? Let's see you try to take him again after this.

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Albus Dumbledore watched his Potions Professor disappear around the corner with growing dread. Something somewhere had gone terribly wrong. The old man was not one given to panic or emotional outbursts, but in this instance …

"Damned bloody hell," he whispered. How was he to fix a problem of such magnitude? Had he broken Severus Snape beyond repair? The small, accusing voice of his conscience informed him that he was the cause of this mess in the first place. He had chosen to meddle with Severus' mind and memories and, directly or indirectly, had caused this strange breakdown. With or without the meddling hand of the Headmaster, Severus' mind was collapsing, his behavior was erratic, his words laced with double meaning or madness, and Albus suspected that perhaps little Harry was not safe from him any longer. What did Severus remember? Did he recall who Harry was? Or was his mind twisted somehow into something monstrous and insane? He had no way of knowing.

With a heavy sigh, Albus tugged on his beard, adjusted his spectacles, and straightened his robes before he changed direction and headed back toward his Office. He needed to think. He needed a clear head before he moved next. The simple thing would be to call the Aurors on Severus Snape; have them deal with him. They would be only too happy to hunt down the ex-Death Eater for breaking parole if Albus reported him. If the Ministry put him in Azkaban, then Dumbledore would be safe from charges for memory theft or modification. He was actually not certain what the penalty was for that. If Sevurus was locked up, he could no longer obstruct or destroy the old chess-master's grand plans. Any evidence of madness or incoherent ravings could then be blamed on Dementors. After all, Severus actually had spent a few months in that hellish prison while awaiting trial after the war, so it wasn't so much of a stretch.

But Albus, while a meddler and desirous of control, was not heartless. He knew how much Severus had suffered in the war, even better than the Potions Professor did. He knew that Severus Snape did not deserve Azkaban after all he had suffered, all he had sacrificed, all he had lost … consciously or unconsciously. There were few things Albus could do at this point, seeing as he had failed with polite and gentle talks and further mind surgery.

Nodding his head in grim determination, the old man quickened his steps. First, to his office; then, home to Bumblebee Manor to check on a few things. After that, he would track down Severus, relieve him of his wand if necessary, and have a long, honest talk with the Potions Master.

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He was relieved that the old meddler was not following. But Severus was too smart to think Dumbledore had given up. No, he would be off concocting a battle plan now. He knew something was up with Severus, and it was only a matter of time before the powerful old wizard trapped or ambushed him … and possibly mind-raped him again. He winced at the crude term he had just applied to it, but he could not deny that was what the old man had been doing to him for years.

Severus reached Argus Flich's quarters and tapped on the hidden door in the old pattern, waiting for the squib to open up, if he was home. The door appeared in the wall and Severus pushed it open before slamming it behind himself. The old squib was sitting by the fireplace, scowling at the embers and petting his cat.

"Urgent?" the caretaker grunted.

"Very," Severus replied just as tersely. "Get anything you need, we're going to break into Albus Dumbledore's house."

Filch turned a rheumy eye on him and laughed in derision. "Break into ol' Dumbledore's 'ouse?" he cackled, letting Mrs. Norris jump off his lap. "A'right, joke's over, Snape. What's goin' on?"

"No joke," Severus seethed. "Dumbledore kidnapped my son. I'm getting him back. Are you helping me or not?"

"Son? What son?" Filch asked curiously, standing up and stretching his creaky back.

"It is a long and incomplete story," Severus sighed, suddenly wishing he really was here for tea, despite the gloom and dust of Filch's chambers.

"I'm listenin'," the squib commented as he stood up and shuffled over to a shelf, flicking his fingers over the books until he reached a sketchbook. He flipped it open and after a few minutes of flipping through the pages, found the ones he wanted. He looked up, fixing Severus with his gimlet glare. "I ain't givin' ye these 'ere maps 'til you tell me what's goin' on, Sev'rus Snape."

The Potions Master grimaced, but he knew better than anyone not to try and outdo Filch in stubbornness. "Sit down then," he snapped. "I will be brief, but I did not exaggerate when I told you this is a long story."

"Well, gimme the basics," the squib grunted, shuffling back to his chair with the book still in hand.

"The basics?" Severus huffed, almost wanting to laugh. But he clasped his hands behind his back and glared back at the glaring caretaker. "Fine: I raped Lily Evans, (or Potter I mean) in 1979 and her son, our son, was supposedly prophesied to be the Dark Lord's equal." He took a breath and swallowed hard before continuing. "After the Dark Lord failed to kill Harry Potter and vanished without a trace, Albus Dumbledore took the baby to his mother's relatives and erased my memories of him, including my memories of what I did to Mrs. Potter. Fast forward to a month and a half ago, and I, (supposedly, for I have no memory of it) found Harry Potter in the street of a muggle village after he was bitten by a werewolf. I did not realize the child was mine, but I apparently felt an inexplicable urge to care for him … I am still uncertain if that was instinct or simply common human decency."

"Huh, you? Decent? Unlikely," Filch snorted unkindly. "But irrelevant, I guess. What else?"

"According to witnesses, the boy and I apparently grew … close. To the extent that Albus Dumbledore erased my memories of those two to three weeks we spent with one another."

"Hang on, hang on, Dumbledore erased more memories?"

"Days ago," Severus answered grimly. "My mind is destabilizing from the frequent mind-tampering, and if I do not find some way to mend some of the damage, I may go insane. I wish to find my son before that happens and hopefully put him somewhere that Albus Dumbledore cannot reach with his meddling fingers."

Filch gave a phlegm-filled grunt and suddenly held out the battered sketchbook. "Copy what ye need," he said gruffly. "And fer Merlin's sake, don't let the old idiot know I helped ya if'n ye fail, 'cause I need this job."

"I'll obliviate myself if I fail," Severus promised. "I know too much by now anyway so I doubt he'd complain."

He took the cracked leather book from the squib's gnarled fingers and perused the sketches on several pages. There were images of rooms, and a few blueprints. He looked up curiously. "This is Bumblebee Manor?" he asked.

"Yep," Filch grinned like a snarling animal, showing off his yellowed teeth. "Gotta problem with it, Snape?"

"Merely curious as to why you drew floor plans and made detailed sketches of Albus Dumbledore's house and apparently saved them like this," Severus muttered, drawing his wand and conjuring copies of the pages he needed.

"Let's jest say, yer better off not askin'."

Severus shook his head and let it drop. It wasn't as if he cared, and it was benefitting him, so he didn't say anything. After he had the copies he needed, he handed the sketchbook back with a terse thank you, and left the squib's quarters. He had to move quickly lest the old meddler come after him. He stopped in an empty classroom for a moment to send a patronus to Black … and it took his nervous fingers three tries to produce the magical guardian.

Watching as the delicate creature spilled from the end of his wand, he marveled again at its changed shape. His patronus had been a doe ever since he and Lily had both managed to create patronuses at the young age of fifteen … Actually, it was the last thing they did together without fighting, as far as he could remember. They had dedicated half their fourth year and a few months of their fifth to learning to cast that particular charm, and the shock when their patronuses had turned out the same had sent them both scrambling for the library to research why such a thing would happen.

But now it was unmistakably a fawn; which was the offspring of a doe, obviously. Did that mean that his magic recognized young Harry as the object of his affections now? He had not entertained any doubt that his doe had represented Lily, the only bright spot in his miserable existence before … well, before something, anyway. He could not remember and trying made his head throb.

He ordered his patronus to find Black and give him a quick message, figuring that Lupin and Black would be together anyway, and if they were not, Black was more likely to be alone. If Lupin was not at the cabin, he might very well be shopping or around other people. A patronus appearing in a crowd often caused confusion, if not panic, since most witches and wizards didn't know the charm could be used to carry messages, only that it repelled dementors. And if Lupin was in a muggle area … suffice it to say, Black was the safest, if not the most desirable, choice. Ordering them to meet him at his home in fifteen minutes, Severus stuffed the copied maps into his robe pocket and followed his patronus out of the school Of course, the magical construct was much faster than he was and soon turned into a streak of light faster than the wind. No one would even be able to tell what its shape was when it moved like that, which was a good thing. No need to display still more weaknesses to the old meddler or his spies. The minute he was out of Hogwarts' wards, (without incident, thank goodness) Severus turned on his heel and disapparated to his home's backyard.

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It had been almost a whole day since Snape left and the last two Marauders were going a bit stir-crazy, waiting for word from the Potions-Master. They didn't talk much after they finished speculating, theorizing, and verbally fretting, but that was on Remus. He seemed to think Sirius should quit babbling about worst-case scenarios and just be quiet.

Sirius was pacing again and he knew it was irritating Remus, but he didn't care. He was too anxious to sit still. He almost couldn't believe that it was Snape of all people that he was worried about, but he kind of couldn't help it by now. They may not ever be friends, but they were allies, and the magical pull toward wherever Harry was burned in his chest, driving him half-crazy with the itch to be doing something, instead of just waiting. Remus went in and out of the cabin a few times, stoking the stove, preparing more tea, and then sitting down at the table to read something he brought out of his bedroom. He was obviously tense as well, just hiding it better. Even before Azkaban, the Werewolf had always been better at controlling his emotions.

Grumbling under his breath, Sirius left the cabin after he got more than enough pointed stares and stifled sighs directed at him. Remus was trying to distract himself with his book and didn't like getting interrupted by Sirius' pacing and muttering, but what was he supposed to distract himself with? Sirius slammed the cabin door behind him and contemplated shifting into Padfoot. But he rejected that idea, preferring to be able to think clearly, and he set off at a brisk walk up into the trees behind the cabin.

He wandered for a while; at least until his leg muscles protested the vigorous hiking. Seven years in a prison cell was not exactly conducive to exercise. Panting, (apparently his lungs disliked the unusual exercise too) Sirius stopped and sat down on a mossy log, squinting up at the cloudy sky and admiring his surroundings. Remus sure had picked a scenic spot to build a cabin.

He was suddenly distracted from his musings by a flash of silver light darting toward him like a shooting star. He jumped up, grabbing for a wand that wasn't there. He cursed before the silver thing leapt into view, annoying him with relief. It was a patronus.

The silver animal was slender and delicate with spindly little legs and large ears and eyes: a young deer. A very young one. He'd never seen this particular patronus before, but he could guess where it came from even before it delivered its message.

"Rendezvous at my home in fifteen minutes," Snape's now-familiar voice came out of the fawn's mouth. "Lupin knows where it is. Get yourself a wand." The patronus vanished in a shower of silver sparks, leaving Sirius gaping at the empty spot. Too many questions were spinning through his mind right now to make sense of anything. Why did Snape sound so urgent? And why were they meeting at his home so soon? And why did he have such a bad feeling about this? If Snape thought he needed a wand now … Sirius realized that it wasn't theoretical anymore. They were actually going to break Harry out of Albus Dumbledore's custody. The thought filled him with nervous shivers of excitement and a wolfish grin appeared on his ragged face.

Sirius took off running back toward Remus' cabin, wondering about what the unexpected patronus shape meant. He'd thought Snape would have a snake or a bat, considering his personality; or at least something big and scary like a panther or a bear. But an absolutely adorable and helpless little fawn? Really? He almost wanted to laugh Well, he had heard Dumbledore say once that a patronus was tied both to a person's very identity and their happiest memory as well. So, he guessed that Snape's happiest memory probably influenced his patronus shape more than his personality.

Shaking his head at himself, Sirius grumbled at himself. "Why'd you go so far, Padfoot?"

He almost tripped over a rock, suddenly rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, and shifted into his black dog form while he ran and went faster, though it still seemed a long way back to the cabin. He shifted back to human when he reached the back porch, and slammed the door open. Remus jumped up from his chair, his wand out and his eyes wide in surprise. "What's wrong, Sirius?" he demanded.

"Moony!" Sirius gasped, doubling over to clutch the stitch in his side. "Snape … patronus … fifteen minutes …. Meet at his house!"

"Slow down, Padfoot," Remus urged him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him further into the house. He poured a glass of water while Sirius got his breath back. "Alright," the Werewolf said once Sirius thirstily gulped down the water. "What were you saying about Snape? Did he send you a patronus?"

"Sure did," Sirius panted. "About … five minutes ago? Cute little fawn." He suddenly sniggered. "I'm calling him Bambi next time I see him."

Remus winced. "You really shouldn't."

"You're probably right, but doesn't mean I won't," Sirius chuckled.

"The message, Sirius," Remus huffed, looking like he was going to shake it out of his friend in the next minute if he didn't answer.

"Said to meet at his house in fifteen minutes and I should get a wand." Sirius frowned and looked down at his hands before he flexed them. "You don't have any spare wands around, do you?"

Remus grimaced and shook his head. "You?" he asked needlessly.

"The last one I had, Snape broke," he grumbled. "It was that one Prongs insisted we keep at the safe house."

"Weren't there four?"

Sirius swallowed hard. "Only one of them worked for me."

"Oh."

"Big, 'oh'," Sirius sighed, throwing up his hands. "What am I supposed to do without a wand?"

"Calm down, Padfoot," Remus admonished him, turning his wand over in his hands thoughtfully. "You know, you're still an Animagus, wand or no. A lot of protective wards don't hold against animals, you know."

Sirius lit up. He grinned at Remus and grabbed his friend by the arm. "I forgot about that, actually. Well? What are we waiting for?"

"We can't apparate while we're still inside the house, you idiot," Remus laughed fondly, dragging him to the still-open back door. "I think we'll be a little late, though, because we have another stop to make."

"Yeah?"

"I happen to know where Minerva McGonegall's house is."

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How long does it take Black and Lupin to grab a wand and get over here? Severus grumbled to himself. He was waiting in the doorway leading to his backyard, waiting for those idiot Marauders to get over here. It had been almost twenty minutes since they should have gotten his message and still there was no sign of them. He eyed his wand and suddenly debated sending another patronus to tell them to hurry up or else. Of course, usually right when one started thinking of extra measures like that, the waiting seemed to end. But he looked up and still didn't see or hear any apparitions. Huffing out an angry breath, he stepped back inside, away from the nasty drizzle pouring down this afternoon. The Potions Master examined his bag of supplies, mostly volatile chemical compounds like muggle Molotov cocktails that were easy to throw together and had served the Order of the Phoenix well in the war. But he also had some medicinal draughts (just in case) and a few other nastier potions he had invented which he hoped Dumbledore would not give him cause to use. A flesh-eating acid concoction would be a horrible way to die, even for a memory-altering manipulator like him.

Severus busied himself with resealing his bag of supplies and pulling the blueprints of Bumblebee Manor out of a side pocket. Strangely enough, a sketch of a sitting room suddenly dragged another memory forward, this one easy to place. He had just been released from Azkaban on parole, so long as Dumbledore kept an eye on him and tabs on his whereabouts. He imagined that he had been relieved of certain memories at this point, because the remembered confusion was too familiar.

He was lying sideways on that sofa, the one opposite the fireplace, wracked with shivers. He saw nothing but the warm flames, leaping and dancing enticingly. He slowly stretched out a shaking hand, watching the skeletal fingers tremble and twitch against the backdrop of the fire. He could hardly believe he was no longer in that cold, dark cell. He could hardly imagine that this was real, that the warmth was real; that this was not a cruel dream that would evaporate the moment he twitched.

He let his hand fall as the old man came into view, carrying a mug and a potion bottle. "Severus? Can you sit up?" he called gently. But the mere sight of Dumbledore and the sound of his voice filled him with strange loathing and it confused him.

"Why do I hate you so much, old man?" he rasped, looking up at the worried blue eyes and marveling that he could feel anything but gratitude toward Dumbledore, after all he had done to save him from that hell-hole of a prison.

"You're delirious, my boy," Albus murmured softly, understandingly, trying to help him sit up.

"I h-hate you," he whispered back, giving up the fight against the tears that slid helplessly down his face. "I hate you and I can't even remember why."

"Shh, you'll feel better after you drink this, Severus," the old man whispered, pulling his thin, trembling body upright and pressing the mug of hot chocolate under his nose. His hands shook, but he took the mug and stared into its dark depths.

"Why?" he croaked, choking on tears and almost spilling his mug. "My mind … It's … I don't know what is true … and what is not."

"Ah," the old Headmaster nodded compassionately. "Azkaban can do that to you. Dementors are not exactly conducive to mental health, as I'm sure you know." He drew his wand and flicked it in a familiar gesture, "Expecto Patronum," Dumbledore chanted. The silver phoenix that burst from the end of his wand settled on Severus' knees and fixed him with its strangely expressionless eyes. The trembling of his limbs eased a bit at the presence of the magical guardian and he blinked at further moisture in his eyes. Would he ever be able to create a patronus again?

"Tell me what troubles you, my son," Dumbledore said gently. "Tell me, and I shall do my best to help you make sense of it."

He hesitated, wondering why part of him wanted to fight the old man tooth and nail and run for his life. Why would he feel that way about his rescuer? "Am I married?" he blurted out. "Do I have children? Why do I hate you? And yet I don't … I don't." He clutched the old man, nearly spilling the mug again. Dumbledore took hold of the mug and gently soothed him with his other hand.

"You are not married and you have no children," the old man said softly.

"But … I …"

"You took a position as a teacher at Hogwarts for a few months," the Headmaster went on. "But you are not a father."

More tears rolled down Severus' face as he shook his head helplessly. "But I remember," he protested weakly. "I remember her … and the baby. He has my hair … my chin … her eyes …" Growing hysterical, he violently struck the mug from the old man's grasp, shattering it on the floor and splashing hot liquid over them both as he seized Dumbledore by the robes. "Where is my son, Albus? Where is he?!"

"Hush," the old man tried to calm him. "It is all in your mind, my boy. Calm yourself …"

"I know he's real; he's alive!" he screamed, fighting the old man with all strength, which wasn't much. "Don't lie to me, you old fool! I'm not stupid; I know, I remember! Tell me what you did with him!"

"Alright, alright," Dumbledore said, trying to pacify him. "I'll tell you, Severus, just calm down. Can you do that?"

He nodded, or perhaps he said something in reply, too tired to fight any longer. His memory grew hazy at that point. To 'help with the trembling', the old man had him drink the potion he had brought. His mind was not at its best. He wasn't thinking straight. He took it like a lamb and allowed the old man to enter his mind to 'help him remember' while the calming draught left him nearly comatose.

The rest, as they say, was history. He clearly remembered recovering in Dumbledore's home over the following weeks, but he had never recalled that hazy bit of clarity he'd had hours after his release, until now. The dementors had been enough to dislodge several suppressed memories, (unarguably some of his worst) and Dumbledore had simply stuffed them back under wraps. It wasn't even enough to anger him anymore. He was just too mentally exhausted to feel anything right now but resignation. Dumbledore re-wrote his whole existence, remapped his mind, and rewired his personality. He knew that already. Getting even more furious about it wasn't going to help anyone.

His head snapped up as the loud whip-crack of apparition sounded out in the backyard. Severus drew his wand, although he was fairly certain that it was Lupin.

"Knock, knock," Black's irritating voice shouted from the back door, which he had left open in the kitchen.

"Get inside," Severus ordered him in disgust. He met the two Marauders halfway and aimed his wand at them to dry their clothes before they dripped on his floor, and then he halted in shock at who they'd brought along.

"Severus, such a nice surprise to be invited back to your home," Minerva McGonegall announced cheerfully, de-transfiguring the umbrella she had created out of a quill. Impressive.

"What are you doing here?" the Potions Master asked faintly. "I looked for you but I couldn't …"

"I know where she lives," Lupin butted in helpfully. "I figured having two animagi might prove useful with the wards."

"Lupin's already explained part of the situation," the Transfiguration Professor announced briskly. "But I think we're all curious. What is so urgent? Have you found Harry?"

"We're going to raid Albus Dumbledore's house," Severus replied, aware of how ridiculous he sounded and bracing himself for counter-arguments.

"About time!" Black shouted predictably. "When do start? What's the plan?"

To Severus' surprise, Minerva and Lupin seemed almost just as supportive as the idiot Black. How about that?

"I was hoping it was something like that," the Werewolf said with a grim smile. "We're to rescue Harry, right?"

Severus nodded, feeling slightly off balance by the strange show of support from the Marauders, of all people. Minerva though, was the real surprise.

"Tell us the plan, Severus," the Scotswoman demanded, fire flashing in her green eyes. "Albus had best pray to whatever god he believes in that he don't try to stop us rescuin' the poor lad."

"These are maps of Dumbledore's home," Severus said as he spread out the blueprints and sketches he had gotten from Filch. "This is where Harry is, I think," he said, pointing out a tower-like building in the north wing. It was where he'd put a Rapunzel, anyway.

"How are you sure?" Minerva asked, bending over the blueprint and then giving Severus a searching look over her spectacles.

"We performed a locating spell," Severus explained. "Black, Lupin, and I now have a magical bond with the boy that we can use to find him, and we caught a glimpse of where he is."

"Getting through Bumblebee Manor's wards may be a problem though," Black grumbled, scratching his head.

Severus waved a hand at the animagus in irritation. "I was keyed into those wards years ago. I'm not the one who needs to worry, since I doubt Dumbledore has bothered to remove me yet."

"But he might," Lupin interrupted with clarity bursting onto his face like sunrise. "Which is why you wanted us to hurry."

"Precisely."

"Animagi can usually slip through ordinary wards," Minerva offered, brushing small water droplets off her sleeve. She threw the Azkaban escapee a suspicious glare, she added, "I suppose Black and I are the scouts?"

"Of course," Severus agreed easily. "Since I doubt Lupin is keyed to the wards, we will need to create an opening for him … unless you simply want him to be outside support."

"Bad idea," Lupin grimaced. "You could use my enhanced senses to check for traps and if Harry's not in the most likely spot after all, I could help you find him."

Severus nodded slowly, seeing the logic in that. "Loathe as I am to admit it, you have a point," he conceded grumpily.

Lupin brightened and turned to the others with a grim smile. "Then we are agreed? We breach the wards together?"

"Together," Black agreed emphatically, bending over the table to get a better look at the blueprints. "Say, how'd you get such detailed maps of Dumbles' house, Snape?"

"Trade secret," Severus answered dismissively.

"Severus," Minerva suddenly spoke up, sounding hesitant. "We don't know what we're going to find there."

"I know, but I don't care. I'm going alone if I must."

Minerva shook her head, looking conflicted. "Merlin knows I love that boy as much as you do, Severus," she said firmly. "But rushin' against Albus Dumbledore without a plan is suicide. Even for Harry."

The Potions Master gave the Head of Gryffindor house as supercilious a look as he had ever given anyone. "Who said we are going in without a plan?"

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Yes, it has been a while, my friends. I have literally lost hours of sleep agonizing over this and the next chapter. I really hope it turned out okay, because I'm too exhausted to keep messing with it ;)

Thank you for your patience!